Chapter Five
My fingers grip the edge of my desk in Mr Herringford’s class as I shift in my seat uncomfortably, my legs still restless at what I have just witnessed.
He addresses us students, though his words are lost in translation, like he is speaking a language in which we are all illiterate—our minds too preoccupied by the tragedy unfolding just under our noses.
No one speaks about the greenhouse, but it lingers in the air between us like smoke, heavy, choking and impossible to ignore.
Fear claims our breath like soot settled in our lungs, a disease infecting us, as if whatever rot that touched the greenhouse followed us into this very room.
Mr Herringford tries to keep us focused, encouraging us to draw on the sun’s power the way we have been trained, but the source feels… off.
I close my eyes and reach for the metaphorical power originating in my mind, expecting a slight tingling heat to ripple in my chest. But the energy doesn’t hum through my body the way it usually does, it doesn’t buzz with potential beneath my skin or shower me with warmth.
Instead, it is barely a whisper, a flicker of a flame half as bright as it usually is, weak and unsteady.
Like a match trying to strike in the rain, a small light embers on my palm then snuffs out.
I furrow my brows and try again; it reignites, but it does not rage with the fierceness I am used to.
The invisible tether that binds me to the sun is weakening.
The orbs that hang in the corners of each room flicker slightly, and my heart skips multiple beats.
My eyes connect with Mr Herringford’s, a fragile ember shames his palm, and his cheeks redden.
If I didn’t know he was a master of his craft, I would’ve thought that he had only had his Gift for all of four minutes, let alone forty years.
And if he had the audacity to tell me he taught others how to yield light, I would laugh in his face.
A half-eaten flame licks at his hand as he frowns, staring intensely at it like it is an alien invading his palm.
Around me, students are frowning too, concentrating harder, palms glowing faintly.
Too faintly.
Then something snaps. Alex’s light flares with a violent spark, throwing him backwards into his chair.
If I weren’t so shocked, a small smile would’ve stretched on my face at this.
Trina’s glow twists wildly in her hands, turning a sharp, sickly white before vanishing entirely.
We duck beneath our desks as bursts of fire shoot across the room, uncontrolled and volatile.
My portal opens up uninvited and dances in my palm.
I gasp and try to conceal its darkness with my hands, my heart thumping with adrenaline.
It fades out, but my light Gift doesn’t take long to reappear, this time brighter than ever, sending bullets of light speeding through the room like fireworks.
Shit.
Shouts break out as we cower under our tables, victims to our own power. The orbs flail and ricochet off walls, threatening to singe the hairs on our eyebrows.
Fear claims us as someone knocks over a chair, and the sudden sound makes us all flinch.
Alex stands up slowly, occasionally ducking when a bullet threatens to scorch him, and holds up his hands, confused.
His light barely flickers before dying out completely.
His face changes from confusion to anger as he realises he is not in control of his Gifts.
He barely notices the arrow of light beaming straight for him.
It catches him off guard, flames eating at his blue shirt, he quickly takes it off and shoves it onto the ground, stamping out the flames in a fright, revealing the ridges of his abs.
He may be a dick, but boy is he ripped. Another wave of panic ripples through the class.
As I look around at each nervous face, I notice that some can only summon half the strength they usually do, while others lose control entirely.
I grip the edge of the desk, my heart pounding as the realisation sinks in; it’s not just the garden, whatever is happening…
It’s affecting our power too.
The array of orbs frantically spiralling through the classroom simmer down, and Mr Herringford dismisses us. I don’t know what frightened me more, our powers losing control or the look on Mr Herringford’s face when they did. For a naturally pale man, I did not think he could get any paler.
Turns out I’ve been wrong twice today.
I grab my bag off the back of my chair and sling it over my shoulder, catching Trina’s eyes as I walk out.
“Could this day get any stranger?” She says, her lip ring spinning as she talks to me, exiting the room by my side.
“I know, what the fuck is happening around here!?” I look over to Alex, who is nursing a singed arm.
He gives me a deathly stare, and I turn my head quickly, cautious of reigniting his target on my back.
Although Ryder did fuck him up pretty good last time, and he hasn’t dared to cross me since or tell anyone about my unsanctioned meetings with a Moon.
Still, Alex is and always will be an asshole, so I will keep my distance.
“First fire-breathing bunnies and now this.” Trina forces a laugh, but I can sense an anxiety claiming the tip of her tongue.
The same anxiety that is claiming us all.
As we file through the education wing, the potion class’s door swings open. Panicked voices travel out into the corridor and echo off the arches of the hall, followed by a loud crash of some sort. Trina raises her eyebrows at me, and we both quicken our steps and peer around the door frame.
Cauldrons of bubbling liquid ooze and overflow out of their basins, their pots shaking violently on the tables, leaking their contents onto the surfaces.
The cauldrons tense and vibrate like they are going to explode.
And the oddities that were once trapped within the glass walls of jars are now running wild amongst the students.
Toads spring and hop from each surface, instilling panicked screams around the room, and eyeballs roll over the carpet like they are alive.
The potions students swarm madly around, clutching various ingredients tightly in their trembling hands; my eyes feel dizzy watching them all scramble to calm the boiling beasts.
The room soon descends into madness, a shaking pot finally tumbles, throwing up green guts all over the blue carpet.
A toad heads towards us, looking for an opening, a chance to escape the insanity unfolding around it, but the green liquid catches up to it and clings to its skin, enveloping the toad in a thick slime.
The toad tries to escape from the liquid’s grasp, but its legs are stuck, now one with the potion.
Its skin fizzes as the liquid eats away at the toad’s flesh, leaving only the tiny toothpicks of its small bones.
I gulp.
The teacher catches us lurking and slams the door, trapping the hysteria inside with her.
Another loud bang sounds from down the hall, and my head snaps violently in its direction.
Like a bird soaring through the wind, a table uproots from the ground and flings across the corridor, crashing and splintering into the far wall.
A group of shocked students circulate the destruction that seems to have come from the Influencing class.
I look at Trina, who shrugs her shoulders at me.
I’m starting to think this whole school is descending into madness.
“I guess I spoke too soon.” She says as we watch three more objects spiral uncontrollably out of the classroom.
A sea of students runs past us, all frantic, their shoulders barging into us as they run through the corridor.
I find myself being pulled with them, dragged with their current.
Trina is not next to me anymore; I’m afraid the seas have taken her.
The more I resist, the stronger the wave of students takes me.
I decide to give in to their motion, to follow their whirlpool even though I don’t know where I will end up.
We file out into the courtyard shoulder to shoulder.
A series of gasps and panic strikes the sea of faces, a turmoil twists in my stomach.
At first, I thought they were all looking at the greenhouse again, mourning their loss for the second time today.
But when I looked a little closer, I realised their heads are all tilted the same way.
They are looking up.
My eyes follow suit and claim the skies, and suddenly, the panic makes sense.
Suddenly, the undying garden dying has a morbid explanation, and I cannot control my heart as fear takes hold of it, squeezing it so tight I fear it may explode.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I am seeing.
The sky is a few shades darker than it was a moment ago, and the clouds hang like grey sheep on the horizon, sparking with electric current and threatening to be struck by lightning. But it is not the storm looming that sparks dread within me.
“Oh. My. Gods.” I hear Nala say as she makes her way through the tumultuous sea towards me. I don’t say anything. There is nothing I could say that would hold enough weight in this moment.
“The sun… It’s dimming.” Her lips tremble with uncertainty, like she does not want to believe that something as terrible as this could be true. But sadly, it is.
The sun stares back at me, and like our power, it is only half the intensity it should be.