2. Quill
Quill
“Breathe,” I said aloud, feet pounding against the earth as I ran. “Just keep breathing.”
My legs were screaming. At first, I hadn’t felt the burn. After mile one, it became so intense that I almost gave up. But then it faded, like it always did, the motion of running becoming almost second nature to me.
However, now, after nearly three miles, I was beginning to think I might actually die if I stopped running.
“You got this, Quill,” I huffed. “No more last place on the team.”
The path wound through the pine trees that bordered the Widdershins campus, their needles soft beneath my feet.
I’d been running the cross-country route for the past three days, trying to shake off the rust and rebuild my endurance before the semester officially kicked into high gear.
Tomorrow classes started, and I wanted to be ready.
I wanted to prove to Coach Martinez that I belonged on this team, that I wasn’t just some witch coasting on natural ability.
My lungs burned as I pushed through the final stretch. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy in golden shafts, casting long shadows across the trail. I could see the finish line coming up; it was the stone marker near the athletic center where we always ended our runs.
I dug deeper, my muscles protesting. That was the thing about being on a mixed team of witches and monsters.
We all had different advantages. The werewolves had raw speed and endurance.
The fae had supernatural grace. The few shifters we had could draw on an animalistic power that I didn’t have access to.
But me? I was just a witch with decent cardio and a stubborn streak that refused to let me fall behind.
And I wasn’t allowed to use my magic to help.
The marker came into view. I pushed hard, feeling my heart hammering against my ribs, and crossed it with a final burst of speed. My breathing came in ragged gasps as I slowed to a walk, my legs still trembling with exertion.
“Not bad, Quill,” a voice called out.
I looked up to see Greg, one of the other witches on the team, jogging toward me from the athletic center. He was tall, thin, long-legged, and barely winded, the bastard.
“How long?” I managed between breaths.
“Nineteen minutes. That’s solid.” He fell into step beside me as I walked off the burn. “You’re getting faster. Coach noticed.”
I felt a small bloom of pride in my chest, beneath the exhaustion.
After everything that had happened over the past few months…
the attacks, the fear, the constant wondering if Widdershins would even be open this year…
getting back to something as simple as running felt almost surreal.
But I was glad for it. It felt… normal, and I was holding onto that.
“Yeah?” I asked, finally catching my breath enough to speak properly.
“Yeah. She pulled me aside after yesterday’s run and said you’ve got potential. Said she thinks you could actually place in the regional championships if you keep this up.”
I hadn’t expected that. Honestly, I’d just been focused on not being the worst on the team. The idea that I might actually be good enough to compete at a higher level was... well, it was motivating as hell.
“Any word from Florence or Xavier yet?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath. “They’re our best runners.”
Greg shook his head. “Florence’s parents sent a message over from the Fae realm. She won’t be coming back this year. And Xavier… well…”
I glanced up at Greg, noticing the tension in his face. “What? What’s wrong?”
He hesitated. “I… I don’t want to spread rumors.”
“Dude,” I huffed, putting my hands on my hips. “You know me. I don’t spread shit around. What’s going on?”
Greg glanced back toward the athletic building, making sure we were alone before he leaned forward. “Xavier’s parents were arrested by the Elder Council two weeks ago?”
“What? Why?”
“They were suspected of being… you know… involved.”
My heart did a weird sort of flip in my chest. Involved with the Purity Front?
That couldn’t be true, could it? Xavier was such a nice guy.
He was from an older witch family that was fairly wealthy, like most witches.
But he’d never given me any sort of indication that he was prejudiced.
And I’d spent a summer at his estate when I was a kid.
His parents were super nice. They made sure we always had ice cream in the house and took us anywhere we wanted to go.
“Who did you hear that from?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Some of the freshmen were talking about it in the locker room—”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Freshmen? Really Greg? You know you can’t believe a word they say.”
“Yeah, but Xavier’s not here,” he retorted. “Nobody has heard from him.”
“People are scared. Maybe his family is hiding.”
“Would they hide if they weren’t guilty?”
“Do you think Florence is guilty?” I shot back. “Because she’s staying in the Fae realm?”
“Well, no… but she’s a Fae, right? She probably just doesn’t want to get attacked.”
“Two of the Elder Council members who were killed were witches,” I said. “Nobody is safe right now, regardless of their race. Honestly, the only people in this world that are safe are probably us because this school is warded up the ass.”
Greg just stared at me for a long moment. “Oh. I… I guess you’re right…”
Typical Greg. Long legs, great form, lots of gold medals. Fucking shit for brains.
“So maybe don’t spread that rumor around, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’re right. I won’t tell anyone else about it.”
“Right,” I replied. “I’m heading for the showers.”
I peeled off my sweat-soaked shirt as I headed toward the locker room, my muscles finally starting to loosen up now that I’d stopped moving. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a pleasant sort of exhaustion. I could tell I’d actually pushed myself today, and I felt good about that.
But my mind kept circling back to what Greg had said about Xavier though, no matter how hard I tried to shake it.
The Purity Front had killed five Elder Council members.
They’d attacked students. They’d tried to tear our entire world apart.
It made sense that people would be suspicious of each other right now. Fear did weird things to logic.
But Xavier’s parents? I just couldn’t see it.
I shoved my gym bag into my locker and headed for the showers, grateful to find them mostly empty.
The hot water felt incredible against my sore muscles, and I let the spray wash away the sweat and dirt from the run.
My thoughts drifted as the steam rose around me.
I thought about classes starting tomorrow, the semester ahead, and whether I’d actually make it to regionals like Coach thought I could.
With Florence and Xavier not coming back to Widdershins, I had a really good chance.
It dented my pride a little to know that I’d only be in the top because the others were gone.
But then again, I guess it just proved that sometimes showing up was truly half the battle.
Plus, it felt good to have something to work toward.
Something that didn’t involve fear or worry or wondering if the people around me were secretly harboring hate.
And I wasn’t just going to rely on their absence to put me in the top running.
I was gonna push myself and really try to break some personal records this semester.
Between that and classes, I probably wouldn’t have much time to think about anything else.
All I had to do was finish out this year, get my degree, and take my place in the family business.
The running didn’t really help with any of that, except melt the stress away when I needed to unwind.
But it was better than getting caught up in parties, politics, and drama.
I had enough to worry about without getting into all of that.
I finished rinsing the shampoo from my hair and turned off the shower, the sudden silence was almost jarring after the constant patter of water. Steam curled around me as I stepped out and grabbed a towel, rubbing it roughly through my red hair before wrapping it around my waist.
The locker room was still quiet, which I was grateful for.
I didn’t feel like making small talk with anyone else right now.
I dressed quickly in clean clothes and headed back to my dorm, my legs still pleasantly sore.
The campus was beautiful in the late afternoon light, the Victorian architecture of the newly refurbished conservatory casting dramatic shadows across the manicured lawn.
Security witches patrolled the grounds in pairs, their presence a constant reminder that things weren’t normal, no matter how much we all wanted to pretend they were.
My dorm was one of the older buildings, which meant smaller rooms but more character.
I climbed the three flights of stairs and found my door at the end of the hall.
Inside there were two beds, two desks, and two dressers.
My roommate hadn’t arrived yet. His side of the room was bare; the bed was nothing but a bare mattress, his desk empty and waiting.
I was surprised he hadn’t shown up yet. When I asked the housing office about him, they refused any information.
Maybe I’d be spending the semester alone.
I collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind still churning.
Xavier. His parents. The idea that people I’d known my whole life might be connected to the very thing that had torn our world apart.
It seemed impossible, but then again, a lot of things had seemed impossible until they weren’t.
And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Greg’s story had gotten to me.
I hadn’t heard from Xavier since last semester, before the attacks.
“No sense worrying about it now,” I mumbled, turning over in my bed. I reached onto the desk, pulling my class schedule from atop a pile of books. “What do I have tomorrow?”
I squinted at the paper, my tired eyes struggling to focus on the tiny print.
Advanced Potion Making at eight in the morning.
Of course. Because the universe hated me.
Then Magical Theory at ten, followed by a break for lunch, and finally Entrepreneurship and Magical Law at two.
It wasn’t a terrible schedule, all things considered.
At least I didn’t have anything too late in the day.
I liked having my evenings free for running or extra study time.
A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Yeah?” I called out, sitting up in my bed.
The door swung open and I found myself staring at someone I definitely hadn’t expected to see. He was lithe and muscular, with long, curly blonde hair that caught the fading sunlight streaming through my window. His green eyes were bright with amusement as he looked me up and down.
“Well, well,” he said, leaning against my doorframe with a confident smirk. “I was wondering who they stuck me with this year.”
My eyes immediately went to his long, pointed ears. He was a Fae. That explained the overconfidence and the dramatic entrance.
“I’m Lysander,” he said, straightening up and sauntering into the room as if he owned the place.
“Lysander of the Seelie Court, if we’re being formal, but literally nobody calls me that.
” He dropped a single linen duffel bag on the bare bed across from mine and turned to face me with a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. “You’re cute. What’s your name?”
“Quill,” I managed, still taken aback by his entire… everything.
“Quill what? Don’t tell me you’re one of those mysterious types who doesn’t share last names. That’s so boring.”
“Quill Aster,” I said, watching as he turned his bag over and dumped all of its contents onto the bed. Several books slipped off the edge and clattered to the floor, the noise making me wince. “You’re a fae?”
“Guilty,” he said, tossing a handful of clothes into his dresser without bothering to fold them. “But that’s the most boring thing about me.” He glanced over my way, giving me a wink. “So, are we going to be roommates or like… roommates?”
He glanced down at my crotch, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant.
“Regular roommates,” I replied. He’d been in the room for less than a minute, and I was already exhausted. “I’m not interested.”
“In guys or Fae?”
“Neither,” I said, going back to my schedule. “I’m here to study, not to fuck my roommate.”
Suddenly he was closer to my bed, his green eyes wide. “Oooh, the studious type, huh? I do like a smart man.”
“And I like a quiet roommate,” I grunted. “Look, it’s nice to meet you and all, but I really need to get ready for classes tomorrow.”
“Homework already?”
“I just liked to be prepared.”
Lysander gave me a shrug and headed back to the door. “I’m gonna go see if I can find a party to crash. If you change your mind, come find me.”
“Thanks,” I nodded. “I won’t.”
Lysander just shrugged again and pulled the door closed behind him. In his wake, he’d left his bed a complete mess, his books on the floor, and sticking out of his sock drawer was, unmistakably, a silicone butt plug.
I let out a sigh and flopped back onto my bed. It was going to be a long fucking semester.