Despite my certainty that I did not belong in Uttira, I had no clue how to leave. Every time I thought about trying to walk beyond the township’s limits again, the smell of burnt hair surrounded me so intensely that I struggled to breathe. However, as soon as I stopped thinking about leaving, the smell would immediately disappear.
I could no longer delude myself that what I’d seen, felt, and smelled was a dream. Yet, admitting that there was a magical barrier being used to keep people and creatures inside Uttira sounded completely crazy.
So, I spent the rest of my weekend on the internet, researching plausible explanations. Nothing more turned up on the town than what I’d already discovered. A search on griffins was a joke. Not a single bit of information matched what I’d seen. Magical barriers proved mildly entertaining. People had videos of themselves doing incantations or spells that didn’t prove anything. Yet, their complete certainty that they’d performed and documented an act of magic had me looking for medical conditions that would make a person smell burnt hair.
By Monday morning, I hadn’t found anything to support that what I’d experienced was even possible, and my non-life in Uttira once again felt like one long bad dream, which worried the hell out of me. Last time I thought events were a bad dream, reality bitch-slapped me. I had the bruise on the back of my head to prove it.
Frustrated and lost, I considered my options. Reaching out for help from anyone official was impractical. What would I say? Help me; I can’t leave Uttira because of a magical barrier. At best, it would land me in foster care and at worst, a padded room. I had no one to turn to but myself. And the only way I’d understand what to do was to leave the house again and learn more about this place I now unwillingly called home.
So I showered, dressed, and ate breakfast like a normal person while my mind came up with a ton of weird possibilities regarding what I’d find when I reached town.
A sudden, loud pounding on my front door brought me to my feet. Any triumph I should have felt at disabling the doorbell over the weekend sunk to my toes at the sight of Trammer on my porch. Since he was staring at me through the now clean glass of the door’s side windows, I had no choice but to answer.
“Good morning, Trammer.” I tried for pleasant. I really did. But, it came out more sneer than anything. What was wrong with me?
“Let’s go,” he said, motioning to his car.
“Go where?”
“Girderon.”
The name sounded familiar, and I quickly recalled how I knew it. It was the name for the preppy Academy here. The school that Mom had given me the paperwork for. The very one she said wouldn’t require my actual attendance.
“Why do I need to go there?”
“It’s Monday check-in. If you refuse, they gave me permission to arrest you. Are you refusing?” He set his hand on the device hanging from his duty belt.
“Check-in? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Get in the car or I’m taking your procrastination as refusal and arresting you.”
I focused on breathing and not the increasing need to cause him physical harm.
“I’d like to grab my jacket if that’s all right with you.”
“Hurry up, and keep the door open.”
I turned and went to the kitchen where I grabbed my phone and the Academy paperwork, all of it untouched since the day Mom left. Trammer stood in the same spot when I returned, and he waited as I locked up.
The ride in the back of his cruiser gave me a few minutes to thumb through some of the Academy papers. The welcome letter gave instructions on how to get to their special website to review the courses offered. They stressed that Girderon specific courses would not be available online for security reasons. Instead, they would be covered during the required attendance Mondays. The dress code, code of conduct, and internet safety policies seemed pretty standard at a glance.
Wondering what I was in for, I neatly stacked the papers once more and watched out the window. The curvy road on which I lived led straight into town. The place had a lot of buildings but seemed dead. No one walked along the street or moved from shop to shop. A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Where were all the people?
Trammer turned onto a boulevard lined with stately trees. Not far down the drive, he stopped the car at a gate and pushed the button beside a mounted speaker box.
“Yes?” a voice asked from the speaker box.
“I’m delivering Megan Smith as requested,” Trammer said.
“Enter.”
A buzzer sounded, and the gate rolled open.
He drove around a slight curve that revealed a huge stone building at least a mile ahead. The thing rose three stories high and sprawled out to the right and left, consuming more space than any one building should.
The cream stone shone pale in the morning light, giving the whole place a clean, new appearance. Yet, the date beside the grand, double-doored entry clearly stated the building had existed for over two hundred years.
Some part of me registered Trammer stopping the car and coming around to open the door.
“Thanks, Jeeves,” I said, not looking at him as I continued to stare at the building. Preppy didn’t begin to accurately describe the grandness of Uttira’s school.
I walked straight up the steps toward the woman waiting there.
“Megan Smith?”
“Yeah.”
She gave me a kind smile before she looked over my shoulder.
“You should leave, Trammer. Thank you for your service.”
She didn’t look at me again until the sound of the car faded, which gave me a moment to study her. Her long, dark hair fell loosely down her back. A plain grey business suit, white top, and grey pumps gave an air of authority. I waited for my infamous irrational anger to grip me and drive me to do something that would ultimately get me kicked out on my first day. Instead, I didn’t feel anything but curiosity for the school, the locked gate, and the personal greeting.
“Welcome to Girderon Academy. Allow me to give you a brief tour and an explanation.” She held out her arm, indicating I should lead the way inside.
The grand entry rose the full three stories. Glass windows on the roof domed the ceiling and provided light. Potted plants filled the space and created imaginative walkways to the dual staircases leading up.
“My name is Adira Grenald. I’m the studies coordinator for all the students at Girderon.”
I tore my gaze from the impressive entry to look at her.
“What’s a studies coordinator?”
“The person who tells you what sessions you need to take to graduate, follows your progress, and makes recommendations based on your performance and skills.”
“So you’re a guidance counselor?”
“Something like that.” She flashed me another kind smile and started down the hallway to the left. I followed.
“We strive to make Girderon a safe place to learn for all of our students. As you can imagine, it’s not a simple task. Certain safeguards are in place to prevent death on Academy grounds, but you can still be hurt.”
I’d been trying to see through the narrow windows set into the classroom doors we’d been passing when her words registered. My steps faltered. The recent blow to my head must have messed with my ears. There was no way she’d said what I thought she had.
“Did you just say death?”
She stopped walking and met my worried gaze.
“I did. Like you, not all of the students have yet learned to control their impulses.” She turned and continued down the hallway. “Most of the general studies are located along this corridor. If you test sufficiently in the core requirements, you will likely spend little time in this area.”
She turned a corner to a wider hallway with fewer doors.
“Time between assigned sessions can be spent in this section doing independent, voluntary studies. Each room has an occupancy schedule, which I manage. If you would like to book a time, come see me. The rooms are warded so no one can come to harm and nothing inside can be destroyed.”
“Right,” I said, drawing out the word.
At the end of the hall, she turned again.
“These are the administrative offices. We’ll pause the tour here so I can become more acquainted with your aptitudes.” She opened the door to a spacious room with an executive desk and a chair set before it.
“Have a seat.” She waved me toward the chair as she moved behind the desk. A maroon folder on the surface caught my eye. She noted the direction of my gaze and set her hand on the folder.
“I’ll update your file after each aptitude review, which we will conduct every Monday. Now, Megan, tell me what you know about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell except that I’m pretty sure I don’t belong here.”
She sat back in her chair and considered me for a moment.
“Why do you think that?”
What could I say that wouldn’t make me sound as crazy as she’d sounded on the way here?
“Look. You said this place is warded. What does that even mean?”
“That magic protects the Academy and the students within it.”
“Exactly. Magic. Something I don’t believe in.”
“Even after your run-in with the barrier?”
My eyes rounded.
“Yes. I know you tried to leave. I wouldn’t have expected anything less, but I do discourage you from trying it again. Without the mark of Mantirum, the barrier will repel you.”
“And the mark of Mantirum is…?”
“The mark you receive upon graduation to signify you are a full member of the Mantirum, the world of magic.”
I snorted and grinned. “Right.”
“I see,” she said. “Doubt will not help you learn what you must.”
She stood and held out her arms. As I watched, her clothes changed to wisps of material and her skin lost its pinkish hue, turning pale and almost translucent. Light moved just under the surface. Instead of looking creepy, I found it beautifully mesmerizing.
“Do you see me, daughter of Paxton? Do you see the magic pulsing in my veins? Magic is real. The world you knew has been kept blind to this fact. It’s time for you to see our world for what it really is. It’s time for you to see yourself for what you really are.”
“And what am I?”
She dropped her arms, and her clothes and skin returned to normal. Well, what I considered normal.
“What you are is for you to discover in your own time,” she said. “Now, tell me about yourself.”
“Besides questioning my sanity for even considering to believe any of this, I have a problem keeping my mouth shut and my fists to myself.”
She smiled slightly. “You’re sane, Megan. And, with time, you will find the truth about this place and yourself. I think, for now, letting you acclimate would be wiser than continuing with your assessments.”
She stood and motioned for me to join her. Not sure what else to do, I did as she wanted and followed her out of the room and up a flight of stairs to the second floor. At the third door, she paused.
“I will talk to you again soon.”
She opened the door and stepped in. Through the opening, I saw a room full of desks like school back home. In the sea of faces, one winked at me. My gaze stayed locked on Fenris as Ms. Grenald spoke.
“Good morning, Lucas. This is Megan Smith. Please make her feel welcome.”
“Hello, Megan.
I tore my gaze from Fenris’ grinning face and looked at the older man at the front of the room.
“Good morning.”
“Please take a seat.”
I looked back at Fenris and the body of occupied desks. The her-herd from Friday surrounded him, including the bitchy blonde driver. Ignoring her glare and the itch of annoyance creeping just under my skin, I moved further back in the room toward the only open desk. The teacher started speaking again as soon as I sat.
“Your very natures will tempt you. The Gods created you and gave all of you purposes that center around the humans. Whether to defend or devour them, you must learn to blend and avoid exposing your true selves.”
I didn’t care if I was being mentally redundant, but this couldn’t be real. Who were these people? Magic? Gods? Devouring people? No, thank you.
Before I could fully form the thought to stand, the person to my left moved. I glanced over and met the calm gaze of the guy from my not-dreams. He was wearing clothes this time. A whole outfit, not just pants.
His deep blue eyes held mine for a moment while I struggled to believe he was actually real.
Ever so slightly, he shook his head then returned his focus to the teacher.
He was telling me not to leave? Why? Was something going to knock me on my butt again? Frustrated, I stayed in my seat through the duration of a lecture about keeping who we were secret while fulfilling our purposes.
When the bell rang forty minutes later, everyone stood.
“Megan,” the teacher called before I could do the same. “If you wait a moment, I can explain your schedule.”
I stayed in my seat and watched the rest of the students file out. Fenris’ girls gathered around him, touching him on the shoulder or arm, all vying for his attention. He glanced back and winked at me while responding to a comment about someone’s new hairstyle.
If all the kids in here were some kind of creatures that needed to blend, I had no idea what Fenris was supposed to be. Other than a girl magnet, of course. When I glanced to the left, that seat was already empty, too.
Lucas grabbed a stack of papers from his desk and came to me.
“Your mother indicated that you’ve been in the human public schools until this year, which should mean that you’ve already met the general requirements needed for Girderon. However, you’ll need to complete the assessment tests in the core classes to verify that. Since you’re choosing to homeschool, I’ve included a packet for English, Math, Social Studies, and Biology that you can use as a study reference if you feel the need. When you log into your Girderon account, you’ll see an assessment test link. Whenever you’re ready, you can take the tests.”
Overwhelmed by everything that had been happening to me so far, I automatically took the papers when he handed over the packet.
“Until then, you will be required to attend History of the Gods, Human Studies, which is this class, and Self Discovery. Standard curriculum for your age.”
He handed me another sheet. This one had a schedule with the names of the classes he’d just mentioned. It took a few seconds of silence to understand he was done speaking and waiting for a reply.
I had no idea what to say, though. I’d already tried to tell Adira I didn’t belong here, and it hadn’t helped me any.
He set a hand on my shoulder and gave me an understanding look.
“I know you must feel lost right now. Living out in the human world without knowing who and what you are for as long as you have might make this seem unreal. I promise it is very real, and you do belong here. The sooner you accept that, the easier your transition will be.”
“Transition?”
“Yes. To the life you were really meant to live. Welcome to Girderon, Megan. If you ever need someone to listen, you can knock on my door or seek out any other instructor here.”
“Uh. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You better hurry. Self-Discovery’s on the first floor.”
