9. When life gives you lemons
When life gives you lemons
KYRA
Tonight is the Awakening, and all day Angie and I have been sparing, preparing for whichever House Leader I’ll be up against. Though she still hasn’t disclosed who they are.
She is more worried than I am, which helps ease my anxiety, but deep down I’m hoping tonight will be worth everything I’ve endured.
She inquires about my bruised hand, and I deflect on account of Alise using her blood magic to heal it. Regardless, Angie rids the remaining effects on my knuckles, despite me ignoring her questions, along with all the other scars and bruises she gifted me.
I don’t speak of Raine, or us exchanging numbers.
I want to keep that private. Also, I omit running out of Speak Easy without paying.
But then again, Alise did it as well, so I can just blame her.
And I sure as shit don’t voice a peep about the unsettling dream regarding those pink eyes, reducing my body to a state of unease. I loathe those damn eyes.
My stomach growls, and Angie raises a brow in question while organizing the furniture. I whisper ‘absentis,’ pressing a hand against my stomach, and the rippling stir dissipates. Smirking with pride, she giggles, gesturing a bow .
“You’re getting better. You might be ready for enchantments, which don’t require speaking.”
“Huh, I thought all spells required speaking.” I help push my sofas back in place, stepping over a few blood stains.
“It’s an incantation, not a spell,” she huffs.
“Think of it this way. When you recite a phrase or set of words to produce a magical effect, which we call an enchantment, it’s an incantation.
Normally they are spoken in an ancient dialect, thus why I’m teaching you Latin.
” She pauses, letting me do all the work while taking a sip of her iced coffee.
“Spells produce a particular outcome or effect, using a word, phrase, gesture, and so forth. An example being the sigils you’ve seen us use, requiring a hand motion. That’s a spell.”
“Makes…sense,” I grunt, moving my desk back in place. Not true, but if I can grasp being a hacker, learning this shouldn’t be difficult. Right?
“There’s high level magic you can do without words. But once you get through your Awakening and start your classes, you’ll learn all about it.” Angie helps at the last minute and gloats like she has done all the work.
“Thanks,” I scoff. “Are there other students who haven’t come into their magic yet?”
“Nope. You’re the only one. The lone survivor. The last of its kind. One in a million. Unique–”
“Angie.”
“Sorry. Sorry. But it doesn’t mean their second magical order has been obtained. Most students don’t unlock it until after the Awakening and they get their respective House’s.”
“I thought whatever magic you have tells you which House you’ll belong to?” Yeah, I’m out of my element. Not like hacking at all.
Striding away from the desk, I flop on my sofa. *Sigh*
“Nope. It depends on which magic is stronger if their orders are not from the same House.”
I lean my head back in deep thought, hoping someone can make this decision for me when Angie shuffles over, holding a book.
“Maybe this will help you understand.”
She places it on my lap and returns to her empty mug for a refill. I sit up, looking through the pages left open, and notice it’s titled, So, you want to know your Magical Order .
Reading through it, sure enough, it helps explain it better than whatever Angie was going on about.
“I get it. In summary, if your magic’s order appears before the Awakening, it doesn’t mean it’ll be your only order, nor is it the House you’ll be placed in.
Your second or third order could be lying dormant.
The Awakening unlocks all your orders, and the trials scale your dominant magic and place you in your respective House. ”
Angie scoffs, fixing me a cup of iced coffee. “That’s what I said. You should pay more attention.”
“Any who…” Not giving her comment a second thought, I continue, “If I had to choose a House, I’d pick Death, with some type of magic draining ability.
You know, in case someone wants to kill me.
I can drain their power before they have a chance.
” I’m thinking about Alise while hinting at Ethan, but Angie is only half paying attention.
I messaged Alise this morning with thanks for last night, but she hasn’t responded yet. Raine, on the other hand, texted back with a flower emoji and the words; ‘Since you’re breathing better, stop and smell the roses. Or do you need help finding them as well?’ I’ve been smiling ever since.
“Just yesterday you were going on about the Earth order, why switch to Death now?” Damn, yesterday was long on account of everything I did, and I’ve yet to adjust to their timeframe.
She hands over my mug and watches me take a sip for approval.
“I still don’t know how you make these, but it’s good.
Thank you.” I smile. “And the name, Death, alone sounds badass. Like, ‘hey, don’t mess with me, I’m part of House Death.
’ They’d run scared and leave me the hell alone.
” There is much more to it, but right now is not the time for disclosing my plans.
“Kyra, that’s ridiculous. Not a single fay would run.
If anything, they’d laugh and proceed to battle you.
” Angie frowns, huffing, and crosses her arms. “Your House and order doesn’t define whose magic is stronger or better.
Take House Fire for example. You’d think a fay with scorch magic could beat a House Earth fay who uses plant magic, right?
Wrong. If their sole ability is shooting fireballs, which is such a pathetic ability, they’ll lose against a fay wielding plant magic who creates clouds of toxic poison. The fire fay will die.”
Here we are, back to death and destruction with her. “Why does everyone perish in your analogies?”
“Why not?” She shrugs.
We share a few giggles and drink our iced coffee over discussing what it’ll be like if I stay past tonight. Her excitement paints a colorful picture, and I sit, listening whilst thinking about later endeavors, thankful we’re not sparring.
Before long, the sun takes a rest behind a large, sparkling, white building in the distance. Rays of orange, red, and gold dance across my walls in a peaceful ambience, before a knock interrupts our tranquility.
“Expecting someone?” she asks with a raised brow.
I yawn, “Not at all,” but scurry to check the peephole. “There’s no one out there. Maybe they had the wrong door?”
She nudges me aside with white energy flowing around her hands. “It could be rock guy,” she adds, opening the door and shifting her head in both directions.
“I–Is it him?”
“Nope,” she chuckles, picking up a package laying by her feet. With a wide smile, she kicks the door closed and skips to my desk, swinging her thin white dress. “It reads, ‘To Kyra. Good luck tonight.’ Ohhh, someone here likes you,” Angie taunts.
“Now I know you’ve gone insane. There isn’t a single person here who likes me, besides you, of course,” I too chuckle.
It takes half a second for my cheeriness to fade due to her tense demeanor.
“Kyra, remember we’re fay, not people. The terms mortal, human, person, mankind, child, and yes…
people, are terms we as fays do not use.
Others despise being addressed as such. Males, females, guys, girls, men, and women are fine.
Or a safe bet, fay. Just keep it in mind if you want to avoid fights around campus,” she warns, without directly implying I’m pissing her off.
Yet it still stings, and my lips thin as a mix of foolishness and shame intertwines within my stomach.
She befriended me, and I’ve been insulting her this entire time.
“You’re right, I’ll be more mindful.”
Her shoulders relax with a warm smile as she changes the topic.
“Who do you think sent you this?” Angie reverts to the package. “Or maybe it’s not a happy one. There’s been tales of students receiving transformation gifts.”
“Come again? Transformation as in a shifter like Celine? Because I’d like one of those.”
“Nope. When opened, it triggers a spell, transforming you into something animal-like. But it lasts for seven moons.”
“Oh, hell no. You mean like a dog or cat?” I choke, distancing myself from her and it . Not like Celine at all.
“Of course not. Those animals are adorable. I’m hinting at the lesser ones. We should open it and see.” Angie rattles it, and my retreat grows vast. Two steps back–four steps–continuing until my back presses against the wall.
“What if I’m turned into a worm, or worse, a damn frog?” Shuddering at my own disastrous thoughts, I add, “We can kiss the Awakening goodbye.” No pun intended.
“Pish-posh. Don’t worry your curly little head.
You’ll be fine. Plus, I can always freeze time before you fully transform.
Now open it.” She waves me over. Why do I even listen to her horrid ideas?
The wrapping appears neat at least, matted silver donning a shimmering black bow.
My hands twitch as I pluck it from her itchy fingers, careful not to make any sudden moves. “Open it. The suspense is killing me.”
I flinch at her sudden outburst, rolling my eyes and stationing the gift on my desk. With a deep sigh, I remove the bow and wrapping, then lurch back in preparation.
“What are you doing?” Angie scrunches her face as though I’m being dramatic. Whatever.
Moments pass before my courage returns, and I reclaim my will to open it. Removing the silver lid, a dark cloth-like material appears, folded neatly inside, hiding something beneath. “Interesting, it’s not a transformation gift or fay head,” she whispers.
“A fay what!” I know damn well I didn’t hear head.
Shock widens my eyes whilst fear scrunches my brows, and Angie ignores me as usual.