2. Thalia’s POV
Chapter 2
Thalia’s POV
T he twilight sky casted an menacing glow over the academy, the shadowed landscape both beautiful and daunting. The gothic towers with sprawling arches... It looked carved from the very essence of the mountains, as though it had always been there, existing beyond time. Its towers reached skyward, intricate and jagged, blending seamlessly into the peaks behind it, defying gravity with impossible elegance.
The stone bridge arched across a canyon beneath, connecting to the structure before me that rose with terrifying grace, its exterior covered in moss and carvings that seemed to move with the setting sun. It looked less like an academy and more like a place where forgotten magic had made its home.
I hesitated at the base of the bridge, my heart racing as I gazed at the academy's monstrous beauty. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the soft whispers of wind. It felt as if the academy itself was alive, watching me, judging me—deciding if I was worthy to enter.
My fingers tightened around the handle of my suitcase, the worn leather creaking in protest as my knuckles turned white. Forcing my feet to move, I crossed the threshold of the bridge. The wrought-iron gates glistened with symbols that seemed to pulse with power. A shiver ran down my spine as the gates opened with a low, ominous creak.
This was it.
No turning back now.
With each step, the gates creaked shut behind me, the sound growing fainter until all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the whispers of the academy itself, drawing me deeper into its darkness.
Nearing the towering doors, their pointed arch at the top giving them an imposing appearance, I felt a strange hum vibrate through the stone. The iron handles were cold and slick beneath my fingertips as I pushed them open, causing a light creak reverberating through the grand foyer.
The foyer unfolded before me like an overwhelming dream. Towering marble columns, decorated with elaborate carvings, stretched towards the vaulted ceiling, where three chandeliers hung like stars in the sky. A lavish staircase, its steps worn smooth by generations of Gifted, swept upwards, where students walked.
“Welcome to Nexara Academy,” a voice called, bringing me back to reality. I turned to find a tall man with silver hair and light brown eyes approaching. “I’m Professor Lorian, and I’ll be guiding you through orientation.”
"Thalia," I managed, offering him a small, nervous smile.
"Ah, yes, Thalia," he said, his smile tightening slightly. "The one destined for great things." He paused, his eyes seeming to bore into me, as if trying to discern something.
"Yeah, guess that's me." I laughed, the sound a little too high-pitched, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling very small beneath the towering marble columns and the weight of his expectation. "Do you know why I received the invitation? I don't think I have any gifts to be here, and I—" I stammered, but was cut off.
"In time, Thalia, you'll get your answers. In time. For now," he gestured towards a dimly lit corridor branching off from the foyer, shadows clinging to its edges, "let's get you settled in. Right this way."
Trailing behind, the echo of our footsteps mingling with the distant murmur of the students above us. We continued through what felt like endless corridors, each one decorated with portraits of past graduating classes and complex tapestries that spoke of ancient tales. As we walked, Professor Lorian filled me in on the events and lessons I had missed so far this semester.
Stepping out into the courtyard, the cool evening air washed over me, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth. The sky had deepened to a velvety indigo, and the vast reach of the courtyard seemed to stretch endlessly before us. Buildings of different shapes and sizes were scattered across the emerald lawn, connected by winding cobblestone paths.
"The campus is small but spread out. We just left Evermore Hall, which houses most of the faculty offices, the library, and the auditorium. The north side of the campus contains the men's dorms, cafeteria, and women's dorms. The south side will have the training grounds, locker rooms, and Eldrin Hall. Eldrin Hall is where a few classes take place, as well as our academy events. Directly west of us will be Leyndell Hall, which is where most of your classes will take place." Professor Lorian explained as we passed the men's dorms, their dark windows giving nothing away of the life within.
Ahead, I noticed a large lake shimmering through the trees, its surface reflecting the dusky hues of the sky like a mirror to another world. Beyond, the towering silhouettes of mountains encircled us, their peaks piercing the heavens as if standing watch over the grounds—silent guardians of this hidden world.
"Do you know who I would talk to about why I was invited here?" I asked as I followed him deeper into the heart of the academy grounds. I still couldn't quite believe I was here—that this was real.
"Dean Astor, but he is terribly busy and is away right now," he responded, his tone short, almost dismissive.
"I'm just trying to wrap my head around why this is happening." I sighed, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the being here pressing down on me. I studied the statues that stood guard near each building—majestic griffins, fierce dragons, and creatures I couldn't even name, their stone eyes gleaming with an eerie life as if they were watching my every move, judging my presence here.
Finally, we reached the women's dorms, nestled within a grove of towering trees at almost the end of the grounds, their branches intertwining to create a natural awning. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron hooks flickered like captive fireflies, casting playful shadows that danced along the path. With every step, the academy seemed to come alive.
"This is where you'll be staying," Professor Lorian said, gesturing towards the dormitory. He gave me a quick nod and practically vanished into thin air, like he couldn't wait to escape.
Charming.
I took a moment to admire the building, its walls a deep, brooding gray, like storm clouds gathering. A small stone path, lined with overgrown shrubs and flower beds bursting with untamed blooms, snaked its way towards a wooden door, its surface weathered and worn.
I stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind me with a soft thud that echoed through the entryway. The dim lighting gave the space an almost brooding elegance, with deep green walls that seemed to swallow the light, leaving only the glimmer from the chandelier hanging above. I paused, taking in the polished woodwork, the molding framing the walls, and the ornate railing that ran along the stairs. Everything felt old, regal—imposing in a way that screamed I didn't belong here.
My eyes studied the chandelier. It gave the room a strange warmth, contrasting the cold, dark tones. A plush rug lay before me, rich with detailed designs, its deep green color complementing the somber decor, leading my eyes to the staircase.
When I reached the top floor, I found another hallway lined with doors, each one uniquely decorated, reflecting a different personality. I stopped at the door marked with a simple plaque: 313, just as it said in my paperwork. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and stepped into my new sanctuary.
Inside, the room had deep green hues that matched the foyer downstairs. A large window with diamond-patterned panes overlooked the courtyard, allowing the moonlight to spill in, casting a silvery glow across the room. Heavy, dark curtains framed the window, their thick fabric lending an air of privacy.
To the left, an inviting small bed was tucked against the wall, dressed in deep green and dark gray linens, with a few throw pillows in muted crimson. A small black dresser sat beside it, which was more than enough room for what little I had. Against the opposite wall, a sturdy desk sat bathed in the warm glow of a brass lamp. Placing my suitcase on the bed, I glanced out the window, letting the weight of my new reality settle in.
This was it. My new room. This wasn't a joke, though a nagging voice whispered the possibility of a trap. But why? What did I have that anyone would want? Like Vicki would say, I needed to start looking at life as a glass half full instead of perpetually empty. Shaking my head slightly, I pushed away the lingering unease. Maybe this was my time—maybe this was the start of the exciting new life I'd always dreamed of. A small smile touched my lips as I started to settle in.
* * *
The next morning, I found myself staring into the mirror of the tiny ensuite bathroom, the unfamiliar weight of my new uniform settling heavily on my shoulders. There were six uniforms hanging in the small closet in the bathroom, crisp and identical—a stark contrast to the worn, mismatched clothes I was used to. Folded neatly on the shelf above were several thick white towels and a basket filled with basic hygiene products—soap, shampoo, even a new toothbrush. The deep blue blazer, trimmed with silver accents, felt more like a costume than a uniform, and the crisp white blouse beneath it did little to stop the rising tide of imposter syndrome.
What am I doing here? I thought, the question echoing the nervous flutter in my chest.
Following the map I found in my welcome packet, I followed the cobblestone path towards Leyndell Hall. Rushing into my first class of the day, I slipped into the middle row, hoping to blend into the background. The room buzzed with the energy of students already engaged in lively conversations, their easy confidence only intensifying my anxiety.
The classroom itself was grand, with the branded high-arched windows lined the far wall, letting in soft, diffused light across the wooden floor. The room was arranged in a semicircle, with tiered rows that rose up like a theater, giving every student an unobstructed view of the professor.
The dark wood of the desks was polished to a gleaming finish. Paintings of distinguished-looking individuals hung between the windows—I assumed to be past professors or scholars.
As I settled into my seat, a prickling sensation danced across my skin. I turned my head to find a massive, broad-shouldered figure slouched in the back row. His posture exuded an aura of quiet authority, his broad shoulders tense, hinting at a disciplined strength. Intense emerald eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, were fixed intently on mine—his gaze unwavering and almost predatory.
He was undeniably striking. His sharp, angular features were perfectly proportioned, and his dark hair, styled in loose curls, framed his face with effortless grace. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in the depths of those emerald eyes, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins.
A shiver ran down my spine as I tore my gaze away, my cheeks flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the stuffy classroom. Sure, he was ridiculously handsome, but was I seriously blushing? Over a guy who looked like he'd murder someone for breathing wrong in his direction?
Get it together, Thalia.
Before I could dwell on the hot stranger, the loud thud of the door shutting took my attention toward the professor—an older man with a permanent frown etched into his face. The hum of conversation faded into silence as he made his way to the front of the room.
"Good morning," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that commanded instant attention. "Today, we delve into the fascinating world of ancient runes."
I attempted to focus as the lecture began, scribbling notes on the origins of different runes and their mystical properties—which, honestly, sounded like a completely foreign language. Sigils for protection, symbols of power, gateways to other realms… My hand cramped as I tried to keep up, the symbols blurring together in a dizzying swirl of lines and curves. Was it even possible to memorize all of this? I glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else felt as lost as I did. But the feeling of eyes boring into my back persisted, and I couldn't resist stealing another glance towards the back row. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding had gone from an unreadable expression to full-on scowling. Before I could even begin to understand the reason for his sudden mood shift, he abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the polished floor with the screech of a banshee. Without a word, he stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the very foundations of the academy.
A wave of whispers rippled through the room. The professor cleared his throat, momentarily silencing them. He gave a weary shake of his head, a gesture that spoke volumes about the temperamental stranger, before launching back into his lecture.
With a few minutes to spare, the professor's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on me. “You. The newcomer.”
I held my breath for a second, feeling the weight of all everyone's eyes on me.
“Would you care to share your gift with the class?” His tone was sharp, almost accusatory, as if he were daring me to admit I didn’t belong here.
"I—I don't… I'm not sure…" I stammered, my throat constricting with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. Was he really calling me out in front of everyone? On my first day?
The professor's eyebrow arched. "Not sure?" he echoed, a hint of amusement lacing his gravelly voice. "Then perhaps you should think about that. Quickly. This sacred institution is reserved for the most gifted and powerful in Nexera, not for those who wander in blindly." His smile was tight as his eyes studied me.
Heat flooded my cheeks as the whispers erupted once more:
"What is she doing here, if she doesn't even know what she can do? Do you think she's even Gifted?"
"That's so pathetic. How did she think coming here was okay?"
"How did she get an invite? There are so many Gifted who’d kill for her spot."
I felt like a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed by the scrutiny and judgment. The weight of their eyes was suffocating, each snicker cutting deeper than the last. My throat tightened, and I desperately searched for words—anything to defend myself—but nothing came. I grabbed my things and fled the room, my heart pounding as the whispers got louder, their laughter following me out into the hallway.
* * *
Entering the cafeteria that looked more like a cathedral, the design echoed the Evermore Hall with soaring arches and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. The room filled with students gathered in groups, their laughter and chatter filling the grand hall. Tall columns twisted upward to meet at the carved ceiling, covered with symbols and glowing accents that gave an otherworldly effect. Grand chandeliers hung above, casting flickering patterns across the stone floor and rows of long wooden tables. It was more a banquet hall than a cafeteria, with its grandeur and enchanting atmosphere.
As I moved through the crowded space, I couldn’t ignore the lingering glances cast my way, the whispers that followed me like a shadow. The energy of the room felt heavy, almost suffocating, and every chuckle seemed like it was at my expense.
I kept my head down, focusing on the seemingly endless food line, but the weight of their scrutiny bore down on me, making my stomach churn. I tried to distract myself with the impressive array of dishes—platters piled high with exotic fruits, steaming cauldrons of fragrant stews, and glistening trays of pastries. But my heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the cafeteria's din.
And then I saw him .
The mysterious stranger from this morning, seated at a table slightly apart from the others, flanked by two equally striking figures. Those green eyes locked onto mine with an unwavering intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His posture relaxed yet exuding an unmistakable air of command. He sat with an almost royal confidence, the black curls on his forehead just as unruly as before. His gaze was sharp and unrelenting, pinning me in place.
The first figure beside him glared at me with dark blue eyes, a mix of challenge and suspicion swirling in their depths. I felt like an unwelcome intruder, an irritant disrupting their carefully constructed world. His hair was perfectly styled—deep brown with the sides cut shorter while the top was textured and brushed back, a single rebellious strand falling across his forehead, doing nothing to soften the harshness of his gaze. His features were striking, rugged, and intense. He carried himself with an undeniable aura of power and authority, every movement deliberate, as if he were always in control, assessing and judging.
And the last one, with amber eyes met mine with open curiosity—their warmth a welcome break from the icy glares of his friends. His dark hair cascaded in soft waves, partially obscuring his face, and elaborate black tattoos snaked around his arms and hands, their patterns shifting and shimmering as he idly toyed with the rings on his fingers. There was an airy quality about him, a delicate, otherworldly beauty that drew my gaze like a moth to a flame.
He must be a fae, I thought, mesmerized by his presence. I had never seen one in person before, but the pull I felt was undeniable—almost intoxicating. His lips curled into a subtle smirk as he watched me, clearly enjoying the attention.
I was frozen, like a rabbit caught in a predator's spotlight. There was something about them that held me captive. I couldn't tear my eyes away, my gaze darting between them, taking in every detail.
"Ah, you must be the famous human I've been hearing about," a melodic voice snapped me out of my trance. I turned to see a girl with long chestnut hair and eyes with the faintest red tint, like glowing embers.
"I'm Elara, but you can call me El," she added with a playful wink, as if we were already old friends. "You can sit here."
"Thalia," I replied, offering a small, hesitant smile as I took the seat across from her. "And yeah, it’s... been interesting."
El laughed. "I bet. Heard you've made quite an impression already." She leaned in, her eyes glinting with amusement, but there was a kindness there too—like she understood more than she was letting on.
"I didn’t realize how quickly news travels around here," I muttered, glancing down at my tray. I could see them clearly in my peripheral vision and could feel the weight of three intense stares bore into me from across the room.
El shrugged, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder. "Welcome to Nexara Academy, where rumors spread faster than fire in dry grass. When you're surrounded by powerful Gifted, they love a good story—especially one about the mysterious new girl." She rolled her eyes, though there was no malice in her voice. "But don’t worry, I've got your back. They may be talking now, but soon enough, they'll get bored and find someone else to gossip about."
Her words were a lifeline, and I felt a surprising warmth in my chest. "Thanks."
El grinned. "No problem. Besides, I've already decided we're going to be best friends. You've got that whole ‘mysterious outsider’ vibe going on, and I'm the fiery witch who's going to show you all the ropes. It's fate."
I blinked at her, a laugh escaping before I could stop it. "Is that so?"
"Absolutely," she said with a mock-serious nod, as if sealing the deal. "Now, let's eat. You're going to need your strength to survive the rest of the day. What class do you have next?"
"Combat Training," I groaned, picturing myself being tossed around like a rag doll. "It'll be the cherry on top of the worst first day ever."
"Oh, me too!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. "Don't worry, we can be partners. Trust me, it’ll be fun. Or at least less miserable with me around."
I blinked at her, startled by how easily she’d decided we were in this together. It was strange, this sudden camaraderie—yet it felt… right. A wave of relief washed over me. Thank the gods for El. For the first time all day, I didn’t feel completely out of place. Maybe this whole academy thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
* * *
When we reached the women's locker rooms, I slipped into the academy-issued gym clothes—a simple but comfortable set of dark sweatpants and a long-sleeve top with Nexara’s emblem on the chest.
My anxiety started again, my chest tightening... Combat training? No way I would do well in this class. El, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed, her fiery red eyes glinting with excitement.
“Ready?” she asked, grinning as she tied her long hair into a high ponytail.
I gave her a smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The training field stretched before us, vast and intimidating. Its borders blurred into the dense forest that encircled the academy, its towering trees casting long shadows across the manicured grass. The air thrummed with an electric energy—an unmistakable anticipation that sent a chill coursing through me.
Scattered across the field lay a seemingly endless array of training equipment: wooden dummies, weathered punching bags, and intricate obstacle courses that resembled jungle gyms designed by a sadistic genius. Groups of students sparred against each other, their movements a blur of flashing limbs and crackling energy. The air filled with the rhythmic thud of punches, the sharp snap of kicks, and the occasional roar of laughter or victorious yells. A nervous flutter erupted in my stomach. I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to appear nonchalant, but the sheer display of raw power and honed skill was more than a little intimidating.
As I stepped onto the field, the immensity of it all threatened to overwhelm me. It was a world unto itself—a crucible where warriors were forged, and here I was. What am I doing here?
El let out a small laugh at my expression. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive. You'll be okay, but—oh no,” she said, lowering her voice with a teasing lilt, “looks like you’ve caught the attention of the Shadow Brothers.”
I followed her gaze, and sure enough, there they were—the trio of impossibly handsome men I had noticed earlier, lounging against the stone wall with an air of effortless cool. Heat crept up my neck, and I quickly turned back to El, lowering my voice. “Why do they keep staring like they want to murder me? It's terrifying.”
El laughed, shaking her head. “They’re the Shadow Brothers—Nox, Zarek, and Damon. The most powerful guys at the academy, maybe even all of Nexara. And by the looks of it, they’re intrigued by you. I’m not surprised. Word about the mysterious new girl is already flying around campus.” She smirked. “And before you ask, no, they’re not actual brothers. They’re closer than most real siblings, though. No one really knows what their deal is. They’re powerful and secretive, and frankly, a little intimidating. Although,” she added with a thoughtful hum, “Zarek does have a certain charm.”
“Charm isn’t enough to offset the whole ‘murderous vibe’ they’ve got going on,” I muttered, groaning inwardly. “Great. Just what I needed—attention from the three most powerful Gifted here. I'd rather face a horde of snarling dogs.” I cast another glance over my shoulder at them, only to see them still watching me, their gazes intense and unwavering.
El patted my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, they’ll get bored eventually. Hopefully.” But the playful glint in her eyes told me she didn’t believe it for a second.
Professor Lorian strode into the field with the confidence of someone who had seen more battles than he cared to admit. His presence was commanding, and as soon as he stepped into view, the murmurs among students stopped. He walked to the center of the field, taking in the class with a steely gaze.
"Today, we’ll be focusing on sparring," his deep voice carried across the expansive field. "Find a partner. The rules are simple: no drawing blood, no magic, no abilities. First one to tap, loses."
I glanced around, noticing the students started to pair up. Turning my attention back to Professor Lorian, I realized his eyes had locked onto me. They lingered for a moment—too long. Then he smiled, clapping his hands together with finality.
"Let’s begin."
El flashed me a playful grin, her red-tinted eyes gleaming with excitement as she sized me up. "I’ll take it easy on you," she teased, winking before getting into position. She looked confident—like this wasn’t her first time sparring. Meanwhile, I awkwardly mimicked her stance, feeling the unfamiliar tension in my muscles as I got ready to defend myself.
"I’m not sure I’m cut out for this," I muttered, trying to loosen the nerves tightening in my chest.
El laughed softly. "You’ll be fine. It’s just for practice."
But as I stood there, preparing for whatever El was about to throw at me, my mind wandered to darker memories. I’d never had any real training in fighting—only the kind of experience that came from desperation. I hadn’t thought about that night in a long time—the night after I got kicked out of the orphanage for being "too old." I had been walking home from a late shift at the diner, my feet aching and my body exhausted, when a man approached me.
I still remembered the stench of alcohol rolling off of him in waves and the way his eyes tracked me like prey as I tried to slip past him. My heart felt like it was going to explode from the frantic beating, but I kept walking. His wicked smile still haunts me. Before I knew it, his hand had clamped down on my arm with a bruising force, yanking me into a dark alley.
Terror choked my scream, a silent cry trapped in my throat. Even if I could have screamed, it wouldn't have mattered in that part of town—nobody was coming to save me. I fought, kicking and scratching like a wild animal, my movements frantic and uncoordinated. My nails raked across his face, my feet connected with whatever flesh they could find, but he only laughed. That guttural sound—a chilling symphony of amusement and cruelty—still echoed in the darkest parts of my mind. My body shuddered involuntarily at the resurfaced memory. I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, the sharp pain a lifeline dragging me back to the present.
"Thalia?" El's voice was soft, laced with concern, her head tilted as she studied my face. "You okay?"
I shoved the memory back into the shadows, forcing a casual tone. "Yeah," I lied, my voice catching slightly, "just... let's do this."
El didn't push, sensing my unease. She offered a small, reassuring smile and stood up straight. "Okay. Let's start slow."
I nodded, grateful she didn’t question me further. My past wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on, but it had a way of creeping up when I least expected it.
After a few rounds of El taking me down effortlessly, I started to find a rhythm. My body—still a little hesitant—slowly caught on to her moves. Each time she lunged at me, I learned to anticipate her, blocking her strikes more and more successfully. Though I still couldn’t quite manage to take her down, I was at least able to defend myself, and that felt like a victory in itself.
We laughed as we went back and forth, testing each other’s reflexes. El was quick—quicker than I’d ever be—but after a while, the fear of failure melted away, replaced by the thrill of the sparring. Time flew as we traded jabs and dodges.
The sharp sound of the whistle rang out across the field, cutting through the noise of our laughter. I glanced around, seeing other students gasping for breath, their faces red and sweaty as they stood with ease. Professor Lorian’s booming voice echoed from the center of the field, instructing everyone to head to the showers.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, still catching my breath as I turned towards the locker rooms. Across the field, those mesmerizing amber eyes locked onto mine, the same curious expression dancing in their depths—making my heart skip a beat.
He had draped his shirt carelessly over his shoulders, giving me an unobstructed view of his sculpted chest. Sweat glistened against his sun-kissed skin, catching the light and emphasizing every chiseled muscle—from the curve of his shoulders to the sharp definition of his abs.
Black, mesmerizing tattoos sprawled across his chest and down his arms. They were like living art—vines entwined with symbols so ancient they seemed alive, shifting subtly as his muscles flexed. My eyes, betraying me completely, trailed downward, lingering far too long on his torso, down to where his sweatpants hung low on his hips—the sharp lines of his V-cut disappearing beneath the waistband.
Heat crept up my neck as I forced my gaze back to his face, catching him watching me with an amused smirk playing on his lips. He clearly enjoyed the blatant appreciation in my eyes. With a teasing wink that sent my pulse racing, he turned and disappeared into the men's locker room
"Which one was that?" I asked, still watching the door he had just gone through, my curiosity getting the better of me.
El glanced in the direction I was staring, her lips curling into a smile. "That," she said, drawing out the word, "was Zarek. Dangerous, powerful, and way too good-looking for his own good." She sighed, shaking her head. "He’s beautiful, but pure trouble."
El laughed as she continued, shaking her head. "Those brothers are dangerous in their own way. Most of the guys around here fear them, and the girls? They’re all fighting for their attention."
As we walked toward the women's locker rooms, I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant to catch the attention of someone like Zarek—someone who, by El’s account, was far more dangerous than he appeared. His amber eyes, the way they seemed to pierce through me, the subtle smirk that played on his lips—it was all so intoxicating, yet troubling. Was it genuine interest, or was I just another conquest for him?