10. P
10
P
M y name?
My freaking name!
His words collide in my mind repeatedly, making it impossible for me to process them. My breath turns to pants as my face heats and I track his every move.
Professor Whitmore is far too level-headed to be dropping bombshells like that; his shoulders are relaxed, his smile is one of ease, and his entire demeanor makes it clear he’s having a good time. The sparkle in his eyes is the only thing making it abundantly obvious that he’s enjoying this.
He must get some pleasure out of telling every set of new students that there’s information up for grabs. Information that we should already have, but the way he’s dangling it like a carrot in front of my face, damn, the semantics don’t even matter.
A shriek from my left startles me from my thoughts as the room comes back to life around me. The shocked moment of silence has been shattered, and as the weight of surprise lifts from my shoulders, it takes a little of the brain fog with it.
Apparently, there's a sigil on me, hiding my name, just like everyone else from Florentine’s. I don't even know what a sigil is, or what it might look like, but if I were to take a guess, I would say that it had something to do with magic.
The prospect of learning my name has me more than ready to jump through the hoops that Professor Whitmore may place before us.
Hope.
That word is deep, nestled straight in my soul, and I'm powerless to it. I am powerless to the knowledge that I may learn something about myself today.
“Now, if we would all like to get to the good part, shall we begin going through the list in alphabetical order? We’ll have each Florentine student join me on stage when their name is called, and then you will join your appointed faction within the academy,” Whitmore explains, clapping his hands together excitedly. The moment his hands collide, the other students join in, cheers rippling through the hall as a few of my fellow Florentine students clap along too.
A woman appears on the stage, handing Whitmore a rolled-up piece of paper before scurrying back off the stage. Professor Whitmore instantly refers to the parchment now in his hands, unfurling it to reveal the first initial on the list of the fifteen new students, myself included.
“B, please,” he summons, and my gaze whips to the other side of S. B's eyes are wide, his jaw slack, and his knuckles white as they lay curled into fists in his lap. He nods slowly, rising from his seat, likely aware that all eyes are set on him now. He takes the steps cautiously, meeting Whitmore at the center of the stage, and the professor guides him to the table I noted earlier.
“Now, let me quickly explain how this works while, unfortunately, using you as an example, B,” Whitmore states, a warm smile on his face as B nods nervously. “This chalice is filled with enchanted water. You must scoop both hands into the liquid and bring it to your lips. In doing so, the sigil will reveal your supernatural ability, and the chalice shall call out your name. Do you have any questions?”
B shakes his head warily, staring down at the chalice before him, and I think my heart is going to explode in my chest.
Slowly, without any further prompt, B does as he's asked. His hands scoop into the water. The tremble is noticeable from where I sit, and I watch with intense rapture as he brings the liquid to his lips. The moment it reaches his mouth, his head jerks back, his eyelids closing as another booming voice rings through the air.
“Benjamin Flasker.”
I gasp, disbelief curling through my stomach as the truth falls free. I don’t know where the source of the sound is coming from, but it’s there.
Benjamin.
Benjamin.
I tilt my head as I look at him with fresh eyes. It actually suits him. A shy smile teases the corner of my mouth as I play his name on my tongue, and the second the whispered word leaves my lips, a thought comes to mind.
B.
B equals Benjamin.
Would that mean P stands for a name that begins with a P?
Have we had the initial for our true name this whole time? I guess I’m going to find out when my time comes.
“It seems, Benjamin, you are indeed a human cursed by blood,” Whitmore states, pointing toward a shimmering symbol glowing on the chalice. It looks like the outline of a pair of hands, but my focus quickly whips back to B, I mean Benjamin, watching as he stares at Whitmore with confusion morphing his features. “I understand the disappointment, Benjamin, but please join the humans on the far right; they are now your quads.”
Applause comes from the group Whitmore indicates, encouraging B to head in that direction, despite how reluctant he seems. His steps are slow and almost sad as he loses everyone’s attention before he makes it even halfway. Seems we’re all just as desperate to move on to the next person.
One after another, I watch more of my peers approach the stage and repeat the process. There's an array of wolves, vampires, witches, and a few more humans called out. I get lost as more and more repeat the method until the one letter I’ve been waiting for with bated breath comes.
“P.”
The desire to hear it quickly dwindles to nothing as my excitement is replaced by a clawing panic. My limbs tremble, my eyes unable to focus as I rise from my seat and carefully make my way to where Professor Whitmore stands.
I don't think I can take it. I don't think I can bring myself to know. It feels like I'm going to self-combust. But despite the inner turmoil, I reach the chalice in the center of the table and look to Whitmore for guidance.
Can I trust him? No.
Should I be expecting him to lead me? Definitely not.
Is he the only option I have for direction? Yes.
Dammit.
With a single nod from the professor, I feel every nerve-ending zap through my body as I dip my hands into the water and bring the liquid to my lips. A tingling sensation courses through my veins and my head tilts back as my eyelids slam closed.
A gasp falls from my lips, my body bracing for impact, when the crackle of the booming voice echoes in the air around me.
“Polaris Beauchamp.”
Emotion gets the better of me as I hear a word that refers to me yet holds a meaning I'm not yet familiar with.
Polaris.
Polaris Beauchamp.
That’s me.
Blinking my eyes open, I turn to Professor Whitmore, ready to hear my supernatural fate as I feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“My dear, you are a witch.” I look down to where he points to the glowing light on the chalice to see a star illuminated. “Join your quadrant,” he commands, pointing toward the cheering crowd, and I gulp as I follow his line of sight. It’s impossible to process what any of this actually means, and as I feel myself start to sink, my eyes draw to the left, settling on a familiar face and a cocksure grin that has been haunting me since I first collided with them.
He knows he has my attention. He winks like before, but I quickly shake my head and turn away, only to see a row of ridiculously hot guys flanking both sides of him.
Wolves.
It seems they’re a soft spot for me already.
Shaking off the distraction, I turn my attention to my new group and approach them. Just like with everyone else, by the time I reach them, no one’s paying me any attention anymore. I take a seat at the back, and a few actually turn to smile at me. I hope I return the sentiment, but something in their eyes tells me I’m coming across as cold and distant as ever.
There’s no time for me to delve further into overanalyzing because S is called to join Whitmore on the stage. Excitement coils in my stomach as I watch her swoop her hands into the liquid, bringing it to her lips before the familiar booming voice rings in the air.
“Sian Gloom.”
Tears instantly stream down her face, her disbelief evident as Professor Whitmore points to the chalice. “Sian, you are a vampire.” He points to the glowing symbol that looks like it’s shaped like a teardrop, perhaps a drop of blood.
A vampire.
It’s going to take me forever to wrap my head around the fact that I’m apparently a witch and my not-friend is a vampire. This is bizarre. Too bizarre. But if a blood curse is possible, I guess all of this is too. “Welcome to Trinity Falls Academy; please join your quad,” Whitmore adds, smirking in amusement at how slack Sian’s jaw is. Nervously tucking her hair behind her ears, Sian joins the group sitting center.
T is called up next, and despite my irritation towards him, I gape at the announcement of his name.
“Terence, you are a vampire.”
I’m still reeling from all of this new information when the final person takes the stage.
V.
I watch in awe as she cups the water, and her name is echoed around the room.
Veronica.
“Welcome, Veronica, you are a wolf. Please join your pack.”
The glowing symbol looks like a crescent moon this time, but it quickly dims as the whole room beams with pride, the chants and cheers echoing so loudly I almost need to cover my ears. A few of the witches around me, both boys and girls, lean in close, rubbing a hand down my arm, cheering, patting me on the back like I've done something miraculous, but all I've done is find out way too late in life who I truly am. As if the disadvantage of time doesn’t matter.
Professor Whitmore lifts his hands in the air to bring everyone’s attention back to him as he speaks. “Florentines, welcome to Trinity Falls Academy. Please follow your guides back to your houses, where everything you need will be waiting for you in your rooms. If you have any questions, please ask those around you. If not, lessons will begin tomorrow, and the professors will be able to offer support as needed. But please, more than anything, get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and work must begin immediately.”
Surrounded by my fellow witches, we cut through the path that leads through the immaculate lawn area, trailing toward four buildings that stand powerfully tall in the distance. As we draw closer, following the perfectly manicured shrubs and flower beds, I can't help but notice the only real difference between the four buildings are their colors.
The first one shimmers in a metallic bronze, a sight to behold as it looms ahead. The second stands just as strong in a startling silver, the light reflecting off the windows only making it seem brighter. The next is washed in gold from roof to floor, regal among the buildings, while the fourth and final building stands dark and dangerous, dripping in onyx. Just looking at it sets me on edge.
“Ours is the first one on the left,” the girl beside me states, and I nod in acknowledgment. “Whenever in doubt, always look for the sand. That's where you'll find us,” she adds, and I nod like it makes total sense to me, but it doesn’t, even though she seems to be very sure of her words.
I have no idea what her name is, but she's taken it upon herself to walk beside me, pointing out things along the way. It doesn't take long for the pathway to reach a fork, branching off in four directions, each one leading to a different building as the textures begin to change.
That’s when I see it.
The path shifts from perfectly paved stone to a winding sand trail.
Follow the sand.
I don't have a moment to take a deep breath or prepare myself for entering another new space. Instead, I’m hustled inside to find a substantial communal area. Sofas and chairs line the walls. There are coffee tables, a television in the corner, and an open archway leading to a minimalistic kitchen area.
There’s more here than I’ve ever seen before, and I watch in bewilderment as over half the group flops down into their familiar surroundings like it’s no big deal.
It’s definitely a big deal.
A commanding voice rings through the air as soon as the door clicks shut behind us. “All the new witches, please follow me. I'll guide you to your rooms,” says the girl who was walking beside me on the way here.
I’m hesitant to question whether I should follow her anymore, but it seems I’ve let her lead me this far; going up another flight of stairs won’t make much difference now.
She marches up the stairs, stopping halfway to turn to face us. “I’m Bryany, by the way. If you need anything, please ask. I'm always here to help. But for now, we need to focus on the fact that none of you have access to your magic yet, and you've got a lot to learn.” Without another word, she turns away, ascending another flight of stairs with determined purpose guiding her footsteps.
Trailing after her, we reach the fourth floor before she finally stops. She sweeps her hand to the side to reveal a few doors behind her.
There are three of us, three new witches.
“Your names will be engraved on the doors. This will have happened the moment you touched the chalice back in the Grand Hall. Everything you need will be inside. I know you’ve recently eaten, but we will be leaving for a late supper in about two hours if you would like to join us.” Without another word, she heads back down the stairs, leaving the three of us to look at each other. D and H. That’s who they were back at Florentine’s, but I wasn't paying enough attention to know what those initials stood for.
Instead of extending the awkwardness between us, I turn toward the doors Bryany signaled to, searching for my name. I find the words Polaris Beauchamp engraved in cursive font across the plaque fixed to the second door.
Rubbing my lips together nervously, I take a deep breath before I wrap my fingers around the door handle and twist. The door falls open, stealing my breath as I prepare myself for whatever may follow.
Before I dare take a single step over the threshold, I stuff my hand into my pocket, curling it around my coin for comfort.
I need the strength it offers. More than before, more than usual, more than ever.
Pulling it out, I uncurl my fingers to see the imprint and rub my thumb along the face. Emotion clogs in my throat, but I try my best to tamp it down. Stuffing it back in my pocket, I head inside and startle when I see my few meager belongings on the bed in the center of the room. I don't move toward them, though. Instead, I take in the space surrounding me. There's not much in here, but it's a complete contrast to the room I had at Florentine’s.
A double bed sits under a massive window sill, central to the wall ahead. There are nightstands on either side, a desk to the left, an oversized chair in the corner, and an armoire to my right, with a matching chest of drawers beside it.
There are a few piles of clothes on the bed that weren't mine before I came here, and I take cautious steps toward everything littering my new sheets. Rubbing a hand at my chest nervously, I spy a folder nestled among the madness with the words “Trinity Falls Academy” scrawled across the front.
I’m definitely going to have to read that, but something else captures my attention and everything else around me drifts into nothing. Collapsing on the bed, I wrap my fingers around the familiar leather binding, grabbing the pen with excitement burning through me. I flip open the book, pressing the ink to the page, and the rest of the world drifts away.
Dear Diary,
Florentine’s is no more, not for me, at least.
It seems I'm now a student at Trinity Falls Academy. It seems I’m now a witch.
It seems I also have a name.
I don't know what's in store for me anymore, and I definitely don't know what tomorrow may bring, but there is one thing for sure that I can no longer deny.
I don't want to die.
Not when there’s a chance of survival.
No matter how small.
Polaris x