9. Thea
Thea
Little Miss Natural Disaster
Ishouldn’t have snapped at Zair. He’s been nothing but nice. Too nice.
But I saw Mavis. And if Mavis is here, Anita’s not far.
My stomach twisted the second I spotted her.
I don’t want her to see me talking to Zair.
That would be a nightmare. She wants him for herself; she’d probably try and use me to get a shackle like my bracelet on him.
His strict no touching rule is probably the only thing that protects him from her.
My nightblind classes pass quickly. I head to lunch in the secret school, and as I’m grabbing my tray, a notification from GhostChat pops up.
You’ve been added to Misfits by Prof-Tea.
Prof-Tea:
Misfits in Greenhouse 4 today.
DreamingShaman:
Working with elements today?
WitchInBloom:
Nope. We’re gardening.
Even the professor calls it ‘Misfits.’
The double serving of enchiladas doesn’t fill the emptiness in my stomach. I wonder if I’ll ever be sated.
After I fail a pop quiz in Magical Contracts and don’t have the assignment for Advanced Curse Theory, I decide I’d better spend some time tonight working on catching up in these classes.
I head to the greenhouse, my thoughts buzzing with curiosity. I can’t decide if the butterflies in my stomach are from nerves or excitement as I approach my first Misfits class.
It’s breathtaking here, a sanctuary of vibrant plants and tangled beauty.
Sunlight filters through the glass walls, illuminating greenery that climbs trellises and spills from hanging pots.
There are only about ten students scattered throughout the greenhouse; I recognize many of them from their reputations.
Kai who’s a memory walker. Better stay away from him.
Sage who can animate inanimate objects, and Vero who does blood magic.
Professor Tennant enters the class and stands with an air of quiet authority. Her sharp features and upright posture are mirrored in the crispness of her British accent as she begins.
“Welcome, class. Today, you’ll choose one element and perform a simple manipulation.
The objective isn’t to control the element, but to attune yourself to it.
” The room stirs with quiet activity as students get to work.
I linger for a moment, unsure of where to begin.
I flooded a basement last time I touched water.
I’ll look like an idiot waving my hands in the air.
Definitely not fire. That leaves earth. After my display in the park yesterday I know I can connect.
A patch of soil catches my eye, and I make my way toward it, kneeling hesitantly.
Before I can fully settle, a quiet voice speaks beside me.
“I’m Lira, are you new?”
A witch with a calm, grounded presence stands above me.
“Yes,” I tell her. “First day.”
“Name?” she asks sweetly. Is it genuine? I honestly can’t tell. I only understand two languages: sarcasm and manipulation.
“Thea.”
She drops down and sits cross-legged beside me.
“Earth?”
“I think so,” I hesitantly reply.
“Good choice. Let’s see what you can do,” she says simply. I glare at her. Her eyes widen at my hostility.
“What?” she asks. I’m about to lay into her when the professor walks over.
“Good afternoon, Lira,” she says, her sharp gaze flicking to me. “And who’s your friend?”
“This is Thea.”
“I see.” Professor Tennant raises an eyebrow. “You’re my transfer? Any idea what your magic is? Or what elements you can connect to?”
“No. My coven priestess always had me focus on Illusions. But I knew that wasn’t right. I wasn’t sure what I needed, but the foresight faculty left a note in my file to place me here,” I explain
“Wonderful,” she says. Her tone is so dry, I’m not sure what she’s actually saying. “Well, only way to find out is to test, remember, elemental magic is about relaxing and letting go. Let’s see what you can do.”
“Let go?” I repeat under my breath. I don’t know if I can do that. Control is all I have left.
“Are those real?” Tennant asks sharply and I look around confused. Are what real?
“Your eyes,” she clarifies. Not waiting, she casts an illusion blocker over me. It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over my head and I’m left feeling like a drowned rat. I wasn’t wearing one. Except my wrist. I tug my sleeve down to hide the brand.
“Interesting.” She studies me for another moment before shaking her head. “Lira is my aide, she’ll sit with you, ask her any questions you have.” Tennant walks away.
No one has ever commented on my eyes before. A side effect of breaking the shackle? Should I cast an illusion? I like my green eyes. They look like my mom’s. Tennant is British — does she know what my eyes mean? Did she ever spend time at Briarhold? This is an unexpected complication.
No. Thema Verdelace is even deader than Adora Lockwood.
My eyes sweep the greenhouse. The other students move the elements as if they’re born knowing how to shape them, a fluid ease to their every motion.
I feel the weight of my own hesitation, the part of me still tethered to my past mistakes, to the danger I hold in my hands.
The elements don’t bend for me, not like they do for them.
Just as I start to slip into the moment, something shifts in the corner of my vision.
A shadow by one of the trees. It’s out of place, stretching in a way that doesn’t match the direction of the light, as if it’s a little too far from where it should be.
The dirt is soft as I sink my hands into it. I focus my attention on how it feels, the coolness of the soil, the subtle hum of energy beneath my fingers. Slowly, the connection begins to form, a shimmer of awareness spreading from my hands into the roots of something deeper, older, listening.
The earth stirs beneath me. A faint ripple, like a distant whisper. Then it grows. A pulse of energy, stronger now, flowing upward into my palms. It feels alive. Not mine to command, but responding, inviting.
I open my eyes as a tiny sprout breaks the surface; delicate, trembling. Real.
“I did it!” I gasp, maybe too loudly for something so small.
“Very good,” Lira says. “Now—”
But in my excitement, I push more magic into the earth, unthinking.
The sprout jolts upward.
It grows faster now, too fast. The trunk thickens, the bark curling into coarse, intricate patterns. Branches explode outward, unfurling leaves so green they almost glow.
“Thea, stop! That’s too fast.” Lira’s hands close over mine, tugging on me, trying to physically sever the link. But I’m frozen. Caught somewhere between awe and fear.
The energy twists inside me, expanding beyond anything I mean to give. It swells and swells until it swallows me whole. The tree surges higher, its crown scraping the ceiling. Roots shove against the floor, testing its limits.
It’s too much. I can feel it. I hear people yelling. But I can’t stop it. My hands are still pressed to the earth. They burn. The magic rushes through me like fire through dry grass.
A sharp crack tears through the air.
Then heat slams into me, sudden, searing. The trunk splits open, deep fissures glowing with embers. And then, flames. They race up the branches, ravenous and bright, devouring everything they touch.
“No,” I whisper, breathless. “No, no—”
I wrench my hands free and cower away from the tree, curling in on myself. The heat claws at my skin. And the memory hits like a lash.
Fire swallowing me whole. Screams in my throat. Pain, thick and endless. The memory bleeds into the moment, blinding me. I can’t tell what’s now and what’s then. And the fire, the fire is everywhere. Pressing in, choking me, burning through every inch of control I have left.
I can’t breathe. I’m going to die again. In this fire. Alone.
Without Lazlo.
The oppressive heat breaks as a shadow moves, stretching long and wide across the greenhouse. The air cools instantly, and the fire’s roar dims to a low hum, like a storm passing in the distance. My breath catches in my throat.
A voice, quiet and steady, threads through the silence.
“Breathe, little firefly.”
It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, carried on the dark tendrils curling around me. The shadows close in. They slip between me and the fire, blunting the heat, smothering the light. Wrapping around me like protection.
Cool air rushes into my lungs. I breathe again, deeper this time. The greenhouse is dim now, the shadows thicker and more alive than they should be. They twist with purpose, wrapping around me like a shroud.
“There you go.” The voice again, soft, like it’s afraid to break whatever spell is holding me together. “Professor got the tree out. You okay for me to let you out of the shadow?”
I nod, trembling. Not okay. But not broken either.
The shadows withdraw and the warmth of the greenhouse returns, but it feels less suffocating now. The tree is blackened, its once-vibrant leaves now charred and curling in the air.
Everyone in the class is staring at me like I’ve grown another head.
I take a deep, steadying breath.
“Sorry.”
“Are you okay, Thea?” Lira is beside me, her voice low and careful.
“Yes. I—I don’t like fire.”
It’s probably not the safest thing to say out loud in a room full of witches, but the tear stains on my cheeks already gave that much away.
“Thea.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You’re glowing.”
I look down and sure as shit, I’m glowing. The light pulses gently beneath my skin, in sync with the beat of my heart.
Before my anxiety can spike again, Professor Tennant crouches beside me, calm and unreadable.
“That’s enough,” she says to the room. “Everyone back to work.”
No one moves.
Her gaze sharpens. “Now.”
There’s a shuffle of movement, kneeling bodies rising, boots scraping as students return to their work, pretending not to watch. But I feel their stares like a brand.
I glance around. Mavrik isn’t among them. But he has to be here. It had to be him with the shadows. My eyes catch on a far corner, thick with unnatural darkness. Too dense to be just shade. He’s there. I know it. Watching. Waiting.
Why did he help me?