She heard the shuffling movement around her room and smelled the familiar scent of signature lavender candles before she opened her eyes. The fog of the smoke from her dream still tickled her throat as if she was back in the fire, reliving every detail. The annoying whine of her alarm clock elicited a groan as she rolled over to hit the button, burying her face in her blue pillow. She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

“Ashhh!” A twinkling, singing voice echoing from the bathroom she shared with her roommate finally got her to crack her eyes open, “It’s time to get up, lazybones. Breakfast starts in 20 minutes!”

Ash groaned at the prospect of leaving her comfortable and warm blanket cocoon but she hauled herself upward. The mirror on the opposite side of the room showed dark circles under her blue and gold-flecked eyes and a wild mane of platinum blonde hair she would be lucky to tame with a brush.

A voluptuous, pearl-colored curly-haired girl stepped out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth dressed in a crisp slate-colored uniform with a blue necktie. Amysa was a tan-skinned beauty with platinum hair half pulled up into a ponytail with delicate ringlets framing her gently angled face. Her striking violet eyes were the color of morning glories as were with most Siren-blooded Theurgi or magic-users and she wore matching golden wristlets and earrings.

“Come, come now! I’m done using the bathroom so get in here and get ready! We have the opening ceremony for the Melding today. So you better look your best or else.” Amysa’s voice dropped to a playful threat and Ash smiled knowingly. The siren-blooded girl was her roommate but also her best friend and always had a high enough appearance standard for the both of them.

“I’m getting ready, don’t get your curls in a fluff” Ash shot back with a grin as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and trudged into the bathroom.

Their shared room was a bit cramped with two twin beds along either wall with small identical dressers next to each other. Two desks lined the foot of each bed frame with dressers symmetrically placed on either side. Amysa had taken the liberty of decorating with planters and herb gardens set on almost every surface and twinkling fairy lights hanging from the ceiling.

“I’ll save you a seat in the Commons!” The girl’s high-pitched voice barely flitted through the doorway as she disappeared with her backpack and books in hand.

Ash dragged a brush through her unruly hair, wrangled it into two silver braids, and slipped into her school uniform. The gray skirt reached about mid-thigh and she hated how exposed she felt in it despite wearing skin-colored stockings underneath. She wore a stark white button-up shirt with a brown necktie, unlike Amysa’s blue one, and the same color gray jacket over the top.

Pausing by the mirror, she rotated her hips to look at her side profile. She wouldn’t consider her figure to be particularly attractive, but she was proud of the flatter belly she had worked hard for. She would be called “top-heavy” with generous breasts and narrow hips and she was frequently teased about her slender legs and small feet.

She hastily stuffed her books in her creme-colored backpack that had seen better days and rushed out the door, almost running into a crowd of students lingering at the top of the grand staircase. The paintings along the ornately decorated hallway stared in judgment at the group gathered there and large light fixtures hung from the ceiling a few meters apart in either direction. The voice caught her attention and she slowly glided her way through the gathering crowd to the front to see what was happening.

“You are nothing, you useless Null. You don’t belong here if you can’t make it through the Melding.” The boy motioned with his hand to the rest of the crowd with a triumphant grin, “We all know you won’t and know where you come from, and if the Headmaster had any sense, he would expel you and send you right back.”

A murmuring chorus of agreement rumbled through the hall and a sea of blood-thirsty faces were huddled in a semi-circle facing a girl on her knees with her arms clenched tightly to her side and tears streaking down her face. Her books were littered in front of her and her backpack was torn open on the carpet. Ash recognized her as Salien, a quiet girl that had excelled in studies but had not displayed any magical prowess yet.

Standing in front of her was a tall, muscular boy who radiated an aura of contempt with the side of his lip curled up in a taunting expression. His raven hair was long and half covering his scarlet irises and his tie was pulled loose and lopsided. He was flanked by two slight framed shadows, a girl and a boy, dressed in all black with a similar air of disgust and malice.

“Ah, just where a Null whore like you belongs, on her knees.”

He stepped towards the girl and motioned suggestively toward himself suggestively, “you ready to do your duty and serve your betters?” The word dripped like acid off of his tongue and he ran it over his pointed canines, his eyes both condescending and hungry for the poor lamb in front of him.

Zayin. Cypress Academy’s supposed best and brightest, though how he fit into classrooms with how big his ego was, Ash didn’t know. She only knew a majority of the school was either in love with him or terrified of him and his entourage, the demonic Mirror Twin shadows named Moira and Ariom. Their backup muscle stood behind them in the half-giant named Rujiin and between their bloodline, powers, and his strength, they were untouchable by students and teachers alike. On top of this, Zayin’s psychic abilities kept this girl trapped for as long as he concentrated on her, even though the use of it was forbidden on campus.

“Come on Zayin, needing an ego stroke this early in the morning? Must be losing your edge if that’s the only thing that will get it up.” She drawled in feigned boredom. She must have a death sentence and murmurs of surprise rippled through the crowd.

Despite his shriveled, black heart, she had to admit that Zayin was strikingly handsome when his eyes whipped to her. His jawline was sharply defined and his features were in perfect symmetry. His elongated canines could just be seen over his thin lips and his muscles flexed under his tighter button-up. He wore the same uniform as every other male; a black jacket paired with black slacks, a white button-up, and his jet-black tie, a color given only to the school’s Elite.

The group of onlookers all slowly shifted to gaze at Ash with abject horror, stepping back in textbook fashion to create a rowed gauntlet between them. The color of his eyes shifted to a dark, rich red and the tension thickened the air surrounding them.

He straightened and slowly sauntered forward, the sea of students stepping back in reverence as if he was their god. Girls fawned as he strode past them and a few flushed a deep scarlet when he brushed his thumb across their cheek, stroking the fire of their adoration. Her eyes rolled and she crossed her arms waiting for him to finish his display. He was charismatic and how she hated to admit that.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our up-and-coming Null-to-be, Soot, or was that just your childhood home?” He sneered at her as he approached with apathetic steps. The twins continued to flank him on either side and hissed their allegiance with forked tongues. Their pointed teeth came into vision and snake-like irises that burned a similar deep crimson.

“It’s Ash.” She ground her teeth and lifted her chin in defiance. With his attention fully on her, his power weakened enough for the traumatized girl to scramble for her books and bolt away before the group noticed their target escaping. Ash breathed in relief as her distraction worked, but how much heat did she just bring down on herself?

No one ever accused me of having a good sense of self-preservation.

“Glutton for punishment already, Null-to-be?”

The insult stung as it was what those without magic or very little magical ability were called and her mind echoed in agreeance with its fears and doubts regarding her enrollment.

A boy, obviously emboldened by the taunts, shoved her forward but she caught herself on her tiptoes before it could send her sprawling. She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth and shot daggers at the spindly boy named Owen in her History of Ithaeris class who did it. He looked almost sheepishly at her, but she knew the mob mentality was strong.

His footsteps brought him face to face with her and his potent aura made her stomach flip, but she held her ground. Bullies were only tough until someone called their bluff...right?

He stood about a foot taller than her and loomed menacingly over as he hooked a finger underneath her necktie and pulled her close to his face, his breath hot on her face. The onlookers gaped and slowly reformed their circle of anticipatory support, like hyenas surrounding their prey.

“You want to take her place on your knees? Are you that desperate for it?” His sultry voice dripped with venom and his breath licked over her face. Her body froze in fear, yet began to shake with rage. Her heart thundered in her chest causing blood to roar through her ears. A normal mage would reach for their magic to defend themselves against this humiliation, but where she would reach ... was nothing. She couldn’t let him know that, so she tensed to fight if she needed. She did terribly in her Physical Defense class, but she had a fighting heart and would go out swinging regardless.

“You come from no one and you don’t have the blood, Soot. Your parents were nobodies and the Mending will identify the useless baggage. The Academy shouldn’t waste its time with the likes of you.”

He tugged on her necktie and brought her cheek to his lips, dragging his thin tongue up the side of her face before facing her again. She reared back in disgust as his gaze turned predatory and his eyes sparkled with an unnatural hunger.

A booming voice of authority sliced the tension into ribbons and scattered all the students like roaches. The twins and Rujiin remained watchful but retreated to lean against the pillared stairwell. Zayin maintained his hold on the front of her shirt and his eyes roamed the features on her face.

“What is going on here?”

The man who spoke stood in a doorway opposite the staircase with his hands clasped behind his back and strolled towards them. He was so large that Ash had to crane her neck to see his expression, towering over them both. His skin had a grayish hue and his body and face were dully angled. His hair looked gelled back, but as he got closer, she could see the waves were actually made of stone.

Gargoyle thought Ash in relief. Someone immune to Zayin’s “suggestions”.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Zayin released her necktie and retreated backward but held her gaze with furrowed brows and a promise that they would continue this altercation later. She rubbed the spit off of her cheek with the sleeve of her jacket with a quiet huff of annoyance.

“Ah, cool it, Rennox. Just giving the first-years a pep talk before the Melding. Ya know, from the one who will get a perfect score” He turned with a toothy grin toward the vice principal and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“That’s Mr. Rennox to you, Mr. Faeris. Now, get to your class before the bell rings and your perfect score ends up in detention” The giant man approached and stared down with his hands on his hips, waiting for the boy to leave. Zayin scoffed but strode away down the stairs with the twins and muscle boy in tow.

“Are you alright, Miss Grim?” After ensuring the boy was out of hearing range and sight, the vice principal’s voice softened towards her and she straightened herself before looking up at him. His smile was comforting and she nodded with a shrug.

“Bullies will be bullies, Mr. Rennox.” She signed in resignation, adjusted her backpack, and smoothed her skirt before turning to make her trek down the stairs to the Commons. “I’m to face far worse in the Melding, I assume anyway, so might as well take this as training.”

He nodded solemnly and the corner of his lips tilted up slightly in support before he turned away to stride down the hallway. Gargoyles weren’t known for their sentimentality, but this one had a heart of gold. She would question if he truly was a gargoyle, but she had seen him transform in front of her class before.

Turning left at the bottom of the stairs after waving her greeting to Mrs. Ilinorin, the Light Fae secretary whose bright demeanor was always a welcome sight. Her quickened footsteps reverberated down the hallway as she made her way toward the Commons, their meeting area, and subsequent breakfast hall. Pausing at the swinging double doors, she tightened the straps on her backpack and nudged one side open.

Rows of elongated tables with columns of chairs lined the Commons room filled with students of all shapes, sizes, and affinities. The rumbling conversations rolled off of the walls like thunder and intertwined with the clinking of silverware against plates. Large floor-to-ceiling windows along the south side allowed soft sunlight to naturally illuminate the space through enormous drapes between flags and photos of times past. At the pinnacle of the room, a large podium stood tall waiting to enunciate the words of its speaker of choice.

She skirted along the wall, passing cases of photos and cases of trophies with students’ achievements, and slipped into line behind three girls almost vibrating with excitement. They paused when she approached and continued their conversation in hushed whispers. Before she could roll her eyes at their antics, she was interrupted.

“Ashy, you ready for today?”

The deep and rich voice was familiar and a smile split her face before turning around to address them. Her chest tightened with dread-filled unease at the question, but she feigned confidence.

“Eione only knows how ready I am, Kieran” It came out more an exasperated sigh than a reassuring notion, but she at least hoped her smile was convincing. The moment he raised his eyebrows at her to give an incredulous look told her it in fact was not.

Kieran stood only slightly taller than Ash did with a lanky athlete’s build. Light brown, well-groomed hair clumsily hangs over a sculpted, tense face. Rich brown eyes set buried gently within their sockets and they traveled lightly over her facial features with a worried expression. A scar reached from just under his left eyebrow, running towards the left side of his lips and ending on the left side of his chin, a reminder of pleasant memories of his former life.

“We will see if the Goddess of Fate smiles on us pleasantly today, won’t we?” As he approached her, he wrapped his arms around the back of her head and squished her face into his chest despite her playful protests. When he released her, he ruffled her hair with a hand in a gesture of an older sibling and she pouted.

“Kieran, my hair!” She mockingly crossed her arms, fighting a smile, “It took me a whole five minutes to do!”

He grinned at her and motioned forward with his head, a flick of water from his palm smoothing down her hair again. She shook her head in mock disbelief, they weren’t supposed to use their magic outside of class, but if you weren’t seen, what could happen? A pang of sudden jealousy squeezed her chest as she glanced down at her fingertips, wishing that she could reciprocate. Maybe she really was a Null with no aspirations and the professor’s hopes for her future potential were misplaced.

They inched forward with the line until they reached the breakfast line and Ash pushed a plate through the line of cooks of all species, although all strictly non-magical by the Headmaster’s decree. She barely was able to take her seat before the lights dimmed and a spotlight fixed on the podium for an uncomfortable amount of time before a figure stepped into the light. She poked at her plate of pancakes and eggs, unable to truly eat from her stomach roiling with uncertainty.

Headmaster Trawyn was an aged, silver-haired night elf who stood at least a foot and a half taller than Ash and held himself with an air of authority. His ears flared out along the side of his head and his skin was tinged a bluish shade like the majority of the members of his race. It wasn’t uncommon for elven races to run a government or be the lead voice of reason in groups even full of dissension. They were known to be wise beyond their years and their magic ran deep in their blood, passed down through royal bloodlines, and diluted as the tree branched out and crossed itself in places.

“First-year Theurgi, welcome. Welcome to the beginning of Cypress Academy’s Mending. This is the test of your abilities that you have been preparing for since you arrived on these hallowed grounds not that long ago.” His voice was rich and orotund, seemingly to clearly reach even the corners of the room. Ash stole a glance around and spotted Amysa whose eyes were wide with wonder and were locked on the Headmaster, barely contained excitement on her face. Her eyes whipped to motion directly close behind her and she rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day and it was barely past breakfast.

Zayin. Great.

“The Mending will push you to your breaking point, make no mistake. It is designed to separate the wheat from the chaff and will decide if you continue at the highest Academy level or you are better suited to pursue a different line of work”

Murmurs rose between the students and she heard snickering behind her. She was considered an outcast or a “wildling” with no known parents or specific magical bloodline. It was already against the rules technically to allow her into the school without a known heritage, but her circumstances required an exemption.

“Better get your mop and bucket ready, Null” His breath was hot on her neck, the words whispered threateningly into her ear and she shuddered at his proximity. “After this week, your next test will be how clean can you get my suite” More muffled giggling from his entourage of popular girls and chuckles from the boys.

Ash narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth at his incessant belittling, but kept a tight rein on her temper. Everyone knew his disgusting lack of respect for women, his raging promiscuity, and knew that almost every girl or a new flavor of the week would spend several nights in his private dorm room every week. Against the rules of course, but who was going to touch the son of the Blood King, the fiercest Vampire Lord since before the Theurgian War? Definitely not the Headmaster.

She closed her hands in tight fists determined that she would not be his next course and would not give him the satisfaction of an answer.

“For those of you that do not know, though I imagine our professors have been briefing you for the last few months, the Mending is a magically adaptive exam designed to test your personal aptitude. It will determine what classes you are placed in for the remainder of your time here and assess how strong your magic potential is or what it could become.”

He paused momentarily, then motioned with his hand towards a line of eight cloaked figures along the south wall seated at a long table adorned with silver placements and large candelabras. Even she could tell from this distance that each one had a different affinity for the arts indicated by the symbols on their cloaks and the variety of races and sizes from Dragon-kin and Fae-Folk to Gargoyles and Elven nobility.

“It will be scored in three categories which will each be respectively scored out of 10. First is your Thaumaturgy which measures your capability for magic. This determines your mental and physical limits to your magic. The second category is your willpower. This measures your drive to succeed and your capability of leadership. The third and last category is your sorcery. This score indicates how strong the magic is in your blood.”

The dull hum of anxious murmuring rose in volume in disbelief in how a test could measure such things.

“These here are your appointed representatives from all across Ithaeris to assess your abilities and decide your fate!” He looked around the room for amusement at his attempt to make light of the seriousness and anxiety of the students, but the room fell silent.

He cleared his throat, gathering the papers in front of him on the podium and shifting his weight on his feet before continuing.

“Today is the commencement of the Mending and over the next three days each first-year student will be called upon and taken to the East Wing to demonstrate your powers and receive a rating.” Headmaster Trawyn’s gaze turned solemn, “Based on your rating you will be placed in the appropriate class level and be afforded opportunities relative to your score. High-scoring students will be elevated to our advanced classes while lower-scoring students will be placed in classes specifically tailored to prepare them for jobs more ... suited for their abilities” The inflection in his voice turned sour as if the last sentence was distasteful.

“In the meantime, you will continue your classes as normal, but please remember, no using magic or dueling on the grounds outside of instruction, please. You will want to be at your best for the exam.” The Headmaster looked pleased with himself for giving the warning, but everyone knew that was only a rule of convenience and nothing more.

He began to drone on about the week’s activities and announcements, but Ash’s mind stayed firmly on the exam, and intrusively the doubts whispered. They raged against her strength and caused such a commotion in her mind that she didn’t hear someone take the seat beside her and call her name. So many voices overlapped in her head and all spoke of the possibilities if she failed. It took the person nudging her with their elbow to break her trance.

“Ashaera? You okay there?” A blue-tinged female elf with wide, round glasses, a soft smile, and wide braids with the same hue came into view when Ash focused her eyes again. She was short and stocky, unlike other tall and wiry elves, and always carried at least 2 books in her arms at all times. A headband of blue and yellow flowers adorned her hair and the light from the windows made her look almost angelic.

“Yeah, just worried about the exam, Amvri.” She exhaled a sigh and slumped towards the table, “You know they all expect me to fail. Gods, I even expect me to fail at this point.”

Her bright smile faded slightly and she adjusted the books clutched to her chest, pushing up her glasses with a knuckle. She spoke with the gentle, melodic voice of the Moon Fae with a tilt of her head, “since when have you adhered to their expectations, Ash? Since you were taken in by Mr. Greymoon at least.”

The room was buzzing with low conversations and chairs scraping on the wooden floor as students got up to leave. Apparently, the Headmaster had finished speaking and dismissed the room. She rolled her eyes with an amused huff and elbowed the elf. She hated when her friend was right, but she did have a point this time.

“Come on, Ms. Wisdom, Practical Magic class is waiting,” Ash linked her elbow with hers after they rose from the table and dodged through the waves of dissipating students towards the classrooms. However, the doubt still lingered like a shadow in her heart and she almost felt as if she glanced behind her, she could see a manifestation stalking her.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

He cursed under his breath a foul, low-born insult and ran his tongue over his pointed canines until he felt his mouth pool with blood. He paced back and forth in the darkened cavern, kicking out at the gothic-styled room decor as he passed. Muttering to himself and pacing, his dark brown hair was secured to his head in an intricately braided pattern, and his brightly colored cloak was a stark contrast to his demeanor.

“Sir?” A mild voice stammered from the doorway. A mouse-like female servant wearing rags that had muddied, dirtied hair that hung past her breasts hid behind the wooden door like a shield.

He whirled to face her, fury etched into his amber-colored eyes that seemed to glow with the power that was drawn to the surface from his core, and strode purposefully towards her, “What do you want, and why are you disturbing me? Speak quickly.”

“T-th-the.. The....” The girl’s knees visibly trembled and her voice was stolen by her fear. She was little more than the palace’s slave and he could not even recall her name to distinguish her from the others. He snarled at her in disgust at her lack of words and bared his fangs close to her face. The blood that had pooled dripped from the corner of his lips.

“T-the Oracle w-wants to see you-u, sir.”