5. Ivy #2
Completing the family tree, my mind wanders to my father. The mere thought of him stirs the phantom heat at my cheek to life as if the slap of his palm against my skin happened just now, and I quickly choose to forget about him.
“Pay attention,” the girl with the flag hollers, peering over her shoulder for a moment as the group falls into silence at her command.
It’s impressive. “The rooms for the new arrivals have been allocated. Once inside your personal quarters, you will find an enrollment package waiting in your room along with your belongings.” I falter at the latter piece of information, completely aware that all I have is the dress and heels I’m wearing right now, but there’s no time for me to worry over it as she continues.
“Remember this walk because you’re going to do it again tomorrow for your welcome gathering,” she adds, and I glance back to see the academy building in the distance.
It should be easy enough.
“The enrollment pack will give you everything you need, from maps to stationery, but more than anything, it will detail the values of the academy for you to absorb. Yet your one priority is the moral code of a Fire Protector. Memorize them, breathe them, live by them,” she hollers, and I nod eagerly.
I will do whatever they want if it means freedom from my father.
The wildflowers come to an abrupt end as tall hedges replace them, and as we turn to the right slightly, I gape at the sight of four buildings nestled at the bottom of the incline.
Each is painted the same soft gray, which almost shimmers with silver under the moonlight, but the stark difference between them lies in the flags that hang between each set of double windows. They match those being carried by the corresponding leader.
From left to right, the colors drift from red to blue, then gray, and finally green on the far right.
Fire. Water. Air. Land.
As we continue down the slope, I quickly realize there’s another sharp difference between each of them. The entryways aren’t just a simple set of doors. No, that would be too lackluster. Instead, my gaze is drawn to something else entirely.
On the far right, the land dorm’s entryway is filled with vines, each stretched from the tall height of the arch, all the way down to the ground.
As the land protectors draw closer, the vines open for them willingly.
Intrigued, I snap my attention to the air dorm, where a vortexed wind tunnel gracefully swoops each approaching person closer.
Dragging my attention to the water building, I spot Teddy at the entrance, where a waterfall cascades before him.
He doesn’t falter as he grows closer, the water parting just enough for him to slip inside, and I almost fall to my knees in a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I turn my attention back to the fire dorms, and my gaze instantly latches on to the flickering flames that consume the entire entry point.
They’re stunning.
Insane, but beautiful.
Excitement washes over me as I continue to follow the crowd, but I’m not lost in the suspense that gnaws at my gut, reminding me that for the first time in my life, I have no idea what’s going to happen tonight, tomorrow, or the next day.
That’s what freedom feels like, and the uncertainty is a price I’m willing to pay to have it.
Approaching the firewall, I watch in wonder as the flames part for everyone until I’m the last person waiting outside. Once I step inside, I know there’s no going back, and I’m ready for it.
With a deep breath, I approach the blaze, feeling its heat against my skin as it parts, allowing me entry. I can’t hide the smile on my face as I step inside, noting the crowd gathered is much smaller now as the leader lowers her flag and speaks.
“You will each find your names on the board, with a room number assigned to it. Get comfortable, and get some rest,” she adds before heading for the stairs without a backward glance, her duties done.
I wait as everyone takes a look, the line between me and my room number dwindling quickly until I’m standing before the mahogany wood, searching out the gold ink that scrawls my name.
Room Twenty-One - Third Floor.
Curious, I peer at rooms twenty and twenty-two as well to see who my neighbors might be, and I freeze.
Twenty is occupied by a girl called Talia, but twenty-two houses my worst nightmare.
Archer.
Pretending he doesn’t exist just got a little harder, but it won’t be impossible.
I force him out of my mind as I head for the stairs, my muscles aching with every step as I silently acknowledge what I’ve been through today.
It doesn’t take long for me to reach the third floor, despite the tightness of my thighs and swelling of my feet.
The first room number I find is twenty-two, so I hurry past it and come to a stop in front of my own door.
My name is etched in gold on a mahogany plaque, matching the board downstairs. My cheeks ache from reading it, but my smile quickly falters when I come to realize the fact that they assumed I would say yes. Otherwise, how is this all here?
I purse my lips as I consider what that might say about me, but I’m instantly reminded of everything I’ve been through to get here. Not even considering everything that’s happened in the past two years ago, but today alone.
How many hours has it been? Not enough for the rollercoaster I’ve been on, that’s for sure.
Sleep calls for me, exhaustion strong despite the fact that I can’t recall the last time I ate something.
Reaching for the door handle, I’m drawn to the compass etched beside my name on the plaque, and before I slip inside, I can’t stop myself from running my thumb over it.
Movement behind me makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I freeze.
Archer.
I know it.
If I couldn’t guess alone, that familiar scent of leather and vanilla joins him.
Attempting to ignore him is impossible when he’s so close. I’m sure there’s nothing more than an inch between us. Peering back, our noses nearly touch, and it takes everything in me not to leap back.
“What do you want?” I bite, my muscles clenching tight from head to toe, and I wonder if the aches I’m struggling with are from their proximity or the actual activities I’ve been up to.
“The compass is our symbol.”
I scoff, on the brink of delirium as I stare at him. “There is no our .”
The corner of his mouth tips up, but the grin is wicked, weighted with a promise I can’t even begin to understand as he plants his hands against my door on either side of my head.
“Get used to it, Angel. It means something to you now, whether you like it or not. No matter how much you try to ignore us, it’s going to be there. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”