“Nice to know the patriarchy doesn’t change no matter what you are,” I murmur. When I open my mouth to argue again, Celestine cuts off any further protest by handing me two official-looking brochures.
Dreadhurst College of Dark Magic.
Edenwood Academy of Light Magic.
Pretty people with perfect, plastic smiles that immediately make my stomach churn fill the pages of the Edenwood brochure. Gleaming glass buildings and manicured landscaping make the campus look more like a resort, rather than a school. I toss the brochure aside and begin flipping through the one for Dreadhurst. This campus looks like what a magical college is supposed to look like: some gothic, Hogwarts-style monstrosity, nestled between a dark forest and the Atlantic coast.
After a few moments, Celestine breaks the tense silence. “I wish we had more time to explain more, but Augustine wasn’t wholly incorrect earlier. We are on a deadline. The Council has a vested interest in recovering you, and if not us, it will be someone else who’s not as invested in your success as we are. Whatever school you choose, we’ll deliver you there in time for classes to begin on Monday. The term has already started, so if there’s any more delay to your studies you’ll be even more at a disadvantage amongst your peers. Aside from the obvious, do you have any questions we can try to answer?”
“You mean besides ‘what the fuck’?” Augustine chuckles at my derisive question. Under different circumstances, we might have been friends.
“She said besides the obvious, cupcake.”
“Where’s your fucking off button?”
“Lost it,” she quips back.
“None of this is helping right now.” Celestine tries to mediate our verbal sparring match, but I groan and turn back to the brochures.
“I take it you went to this Dreadhurst? You mentioned something about Boston.”
“Yes. Dreadhurst is one of the best schools on the continent. Both the student body and faculty are diverse, with a wide range of Orders and affinities represented. I believe the method of instruction would be more conducive to your success, considering how far behind you’ll be starting out. Whereas Edenwood is renowned for its curriculum of light magic, it also serves as a compulsory military academy for angelic students. While witches and shifters, etcetera, are exempt from the additional requirements, the faculty has been known to be less… accommodating of extenuating circumstances.”
“That’s code for a bunch of pretentious, perfectionist pricks,” Augustine cuts in, and her sister rolls her eyes.
I blink for a minute to make sure I heard her right. “Are we talking Old Testament angels, like with the eyes? Or the pretty ones like Michelangelo?”
“Michelangelo only wished he could paint angels this pretty.” Augustine says, and my lips twitch before sobering once more.
“So… say I go along with all this. I just choose a school and leave my life here behind?”
“What life?” Augustine counters.
“Have some tact, Auggie, for Fate’s sake,” Celestine cuts her off, and I hold back an inappropriate giggle at the censoredswear as Augustine rolls her eyes, just like her sister. “Yes, Nyx. You would pack your things, notify whomever you need to about your work and apartment, and then we will escort you to the campus of your choice. You’ll be assigned a dormitory, and tomorrow someone will take you to gather whatever materials you need for your classes.”
“How exactly does anyone expect me to pay for any of this? Assuming this is real.” Celestine brightens before I’ve even finished asking the question.
“I should have mentioned earlier—there are funds set aside in the Council budget for unique situations like this. In your particular case, an education grant has been established to mitigate any undue hardship as you integrate into the magical community.” I look down at the brochure in my hand and laugh under my breath. It occurs to me that if there’s even a remote chance that what they’re telling me is true, then everything I’ve longed for since I first realized there was a world outside of Lynden is within reach. I don’t trust it. The picture they’re painting is so far beyond what I ever imagined, but the thought of finally escaping, freed from the only life I’ve known…
My throat spasms, and I try to hide how vulnerable I feel in this moment, cornered by these two strangers. Warring emotions wreak havoc as I consider the possibilities—I’ve lived so long preparing for the worst, that I never learned how to expect the best: a way out. Out of poverty. Away from everything I hate about Lynden—about myself. And now here in my hands, is a chance for it to come true. The life that could have been mine if I hadn’t been dumped as a nameless baby. To start over. To meet the person in the mirror I imagine every morning.
My eyes burn from the tears that threaten to betray my weakness, and I struggle to reconcile what’s holding me back in this pivotal moment.
Fear.
Paralyzing panic.
Not the mind-fuck of learning everything you knew about yourself with absolute certainty, was wrong.
Not the prospect of being dragged into a world for which I am utterly unprepared. Those are things that normal people who go to therapy would be afraid of.
It’s breathing life into the fragile, nebulous wisp of hope I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to crush, so the disappointment doesn’t crush me first. Of everything I’ve survived in Lynden, I don’t know if I can survive this. I don’t know how to survive if I let myself hope this is real, if I imagine for a moment that my life could be better, only to find out how wrong I was.
It won’t be disappointment that kills me, but hope.
“Nyx?” Celestine asks softly, and I tear my eyes away from the brochure in my clenched fist. When I look up at her, I’m like a child again, seeing the sun for the first time and begging for its warmth, for the light to chase away the shadows.
“Do you promise?” whispers the small, broken girl I used to be.
