In a loud clear voice, she chants, ‘The path to wisdom is carved in the rings of Agate.’
My skin pebbles with goosebumps. Agate has produced some of the most influential strategists and scholars in Valmora. The strategists are sent to the war fronts while the scholars are sent around the continent to teach and train others. Not only that, but the most powerful air wielders have stemmed from Agate. I’ve only met a few in my life, one being the teacher Lukas and I had before my mother retired to homeschool us.
Agate makes me nervous, as it’s the unit I know the least about, and when you walk into a place like this, knowledge is power. The blonde leader nods to the man on the dais before retreating to the side of the archway, a mask of indifference settling over her features.
The dagger is pointed at the iridescent white archway next. Tilly straightens beside me; a small smile curves her deep pink lips. Excitement flashes in her eyes and I try to recall that feeling; I know I had it in me once. But it seems so lost in the sea of every other emotion I have been wading through the past few months. I hardly remember what it was like to want to be here. Corvin refused his acceptance to the academy because he didn’t feel like he’d fit in, but the thing is, if he were seated here right now, he’d be more welcome than me.
‘Unit Leader of Opal, come forth and greet your new acolytes.’
A shadowy form appears behind the stone of the archway, as if someone is getting closer to it from the other side, before another student appears onourside of it, wearing a white robe.
He steps forward and faces the crowd before speaking.
‘In the prism of the broken, Opal weaves the light.’
The words ring a familiar tune in the back of my mind; memories of my parents uttering those words like incantations after difficult spells or whispering them during Solstice celebrations. Small prayers to Opalus before sitting down to eat. The words are familiar to my ears, but not to my tongue, having never uttered them myself.
The unit leader of Opal faces the dais, nods in acknowledgement and then retreats.
Finally, the third archway is presented. I feel my heart start to pound rapidly as anticipation and nerves fight for control beneath my skin.
‘Unit Leader of Malachite, step forward and prepare to meet your new acolytes.’
There is no slow build up this time. Instead, green flames burst up, as a hooded figure in dark green robes steps through the archway with long powerful strides.
‘With shield and flame, Malachite meets the edge unshaken,’ the figure chants, deep and clear, in a voice that I’d recognise anywhere.
My breath stills.
My mouth goes dry.
The voice beneath the hood finds root in my memories. A deep ache starts to build alongside the hopefulness I feel upon seeing him here, safe. Alive.
I’ve had no contact with him since Lukas died. No way to know how he’s been handling the situation. We never had a funeral for Lukas, so it’s not like I was able to see him then. It’s a bit hard to bury a body when you’re not given one. We weren’t even afforded his ashes after they’d burn t him.
If there’s one thing that’s been holding me together the past few months, it’s been the thought of confiding in Sebastian, in finding his familiar comfort at the academy among the unknown. I let my hood slide back, just an inch, wondering if he suspects I’m up here. The last time we saw each other was one month before Lukas died, when he travelled to our home with him. Something he often did when Lukas put in his requests to leave the academy. Students are allowed four home visits ayear for up to three days at a time, other than Winter Solstice, which is a week-long holiday. Lukas took advantage of every single home visit, and because Sebastian wasn’t close with his family, he was always a step behind my brother as they walked through our front door.
My heart leaps into a quicker pace than usual as his eyes scan the crowd, darting from face to face. I swallow thickly when he gets to the furthest row.Myrow.
It doesn’t take him long to find me. But when his green eyes connect with mine, what I see in them catches me completely off guard.
THREE
Sebastian Zain’s glare cuts through me like glass. Never have I seen him look at me like he is right now, as if he’s struggling to hold himself back from stalking over and ripping me from my seat.Hatred, that’s what burns in his eyes. Hatred – for me.
I was eighteen when he arrived on our doorstep for the first time. The two of them were at the end of their first year at the academy, and it was Lukas’s last allocated visit for the year. I spent the entire week following them around like a lost puppy. I was enamoured with Sebastian, hypnotised by his green eyes. For three nights I lay awake dreaming of running my fingers through his dark brown hair. I’d replay the way his playful smirk lit up his face when he and Lukas practised combat in the backyard, showing off their new skills.
It was on their second-to-last night when my father and I got into a particularly nasty argument. It was one we’d had before: him berating me for my lack of magic and general inadequacy in the family, which always sent Lukas into a tailspin, jumping in for my defence. Which would result in Mom shutting down and disappearing while I just sat there, feeling my chest tighten as my hands shook under the table, wishing I didn’t care so much what my father thinks of me. Wishing that I didn’t care that he does not love me.
I hadn’t sat there that time though. Instead, I was so embarrassed that Lukas’s friend had heard how useless I was that I fled the room with tears pricking my eyes and found myself sitting in the dark, by the narrow stream that ran by our house.
Sebastian found me, and he sat with me until I stopped crying. He didn’t say a word, just stayed beside me, a silent companion in the dark. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me … simply being there when I needed to feel less alone.
A cold sense of dread settles over me as I look down at a person I hardly recognise. His frame is bigger, more built; even beneath his robes I can tell he’s filled out since I last laid eyes on him. His hair is longer, too, and a few dark strands fall over his forehead and into his eyes. Eyes that narrow at me before he takes a step back, retreating to the shadowy cove of the archway.
Something is wrong. Does he know it’s me under my hood? Maybe he thinks I’m somebody else?
‘There we have it!’ My attention snaps back to the man on the dais. ‘Agate, our Scholar Unit. Opal, our Healer Unit, and Malachite, our Warrior Unit. I will now begin to call you each forward. You may try your element if you feel it’s strong enough or come forth and give your blood with this blade.’ He lifts the dagger. ‘I am your Headmaster, Bartollo Zain, and I welcome you to Valmora Academy.’
