“I wish,” said Juliette.
“No, not superheroes—just part of human nature. It’s a natural progression of growth, if we allow ourselves to grasp it,” Harold added.
A shame, Isla thought. Her friend had posted her a clipping from the American newspaper in 1936 where thePhantomcomic strip had made its debut, and she had enjoyed reading it to the children at the orphanage she visited. Though she would never let her esteemed academic colleagues know that she secretly enjoyed the idea of superheroes and comics. If only that fun distraction had been around during her childhood.
She looked around the group, wanting to shift the attention from herself. “And what was the name of the one that attacked me again?”
“AnIgnis Summoner,” Andrew said. “They can summon shadows, as well as fire.”
Isla felt Juliette stiffen beside her. She looked at her briefly before asking, “So why was I attacked? Are people who use fireand shadow—theseIgnis Summoners—evil? That shadow creeping over me certainly felt evil.”
She noticed the shared glance between Harold and Andrew, a flicker of concern passing between them before they both turned to Juliette.
“Juliette?” Harold prompted gently.
“I’ve always feared that they are—or could become—evil,” Juliette said quietly, eyes fixed on her lap, fingers twisting anxiously in her skirt.
Andrew’s voice was softer than Isla had ever heard it. “Juliette is anIgnis Summoner.”
Isla blinked, stunned. Juliette? The kindest, most lighthearted, irrepressibly bubbly person she knew could possess such ... intense, frightening powers?
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t ... I mean, I didn’t know,” Isla stammered.
Juliette finally looked up, meeting Isla’s eyes. “No, it’s okay. I actually received my abilities younger than most, and I wasn’t ready for them.” She turned her palm outward—the one furthest from Isla—and in an instant, fire bloomed in her hand, bright and controlled. Then it vanished into a ribbon of smoke that curled and twisted, forming delicate patterns before fading. She closed her fist and snuffed the last of it out. “I have always feared my power, dark and destructive as it is.”
“One need not fear the dark, Juliette,” Harold stated. “Without the dark, we would not see the moon or the stars. We could not enjoy a cozy evening reading by the fire.” He grinned at her with this comment, and she gave him a small smile in return. “It is not darkness that is evil; it is how we choose to use the darkness, or what we try to conceal within it.”
Juliette still looked uncomfortable, so Isla tried to steer the conversation away from her dear friend, though she still felt a little shocked at sweet Juliette’s revelation.
“But why was I attacked by someone who chose to use their power for ill intent?”
Harold sighed, looking weary. “Honestly? We don’t know.” He shared a look with Andrew.
“So why am I the last person in this room to know about all of this Aetheric Arts business?”
“Well, studies have shown that most people awaken between sixteen and eighteen, though as Juliette mentioned, she was exceptionally early, so that isn’t always the case,” Andrew replied.
“So I’m late. Am I broken?”
Andrew reached for her hand. She let him hold it, much to her surprise.
“No,” Harold said, meeting her gaze. “I think your tendency to suppress emotions kept your gift dormant. Until today.”
“I do not suppress my emotions.”
Andrew and Juliette both snorted.
Isla yanked her hand back and glared. “I don’t.”
Harold raised a single eyebrow but didn’t say a word. At least he hadn’t snorted in disbelief.
“If people with these abilities are so rare,” Isla said, brows furrowed, “why are we all here? The odds don’t add up.”
Harold nodded slowly. “Although we are the minority, it is not as rare as one might think; furthermore, Osbaldwick University is where the Aetheric Arts department is based.”
“There’s a departmentherefor the Aetheric Arts?” Isla blinked.
“There is,” Harold said, smiling faintly. “Students come to learn how to hone their gifts. It is the only university in England that offers such a program.”
