Everyone else slowly approaches the top of the stairs, where there are two dark, oak panelled doors, with gold finishes. I open the heavy door, being hit with the cold January air. I wander outside onto a stone balcony, getting a view of the castle for the first time. “Today couldn't have been weirder,” I say while looking out over the stone and brick estate. “Yeah, you could say that,” Grace says sarcastically. “What happened to you?” I ask. Only a little while ago, she had been all bubbly and huggy. “I found out my parents moved across the country this semester without me, and I won't be able to go home over break.” Well, that makes two of us, then. “Well, if it makes you feel better,” I start as everyone gathers around the balcony. “My mother, a council member, was surprised I got off this easy. Most people would be incarcerated the rest of their lives, but that’s besides the point. She basically shipped me off without a goodbye, like me still being a free woman was an awful thing. And, to make matters worse…'' I pause, taking a breath. “The Reaper paid me a little visit, probably curtsy of my mom. Sending the master of death to scare me into submission, before my trial” I finished grimly. Expecting silence after the drama dump, I was shocked to find Elias whispering, “Life is all stories in the end.” His quiet breath flowed past my ear, a devilish smirk sliding onto his face. “So… don’t let someone else write yours, don't give them the satisfaction of taking your words,” he continues. I turn towards him. “Push past the words, push through the letters, and make space for your voice. But never, ever, forget to leave a space for revenge,'' I finished, smiling the same grim smile I did all those years ago.
225Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOFNCO7h3KA
5 Years Previously…
“Eli!” I called after him, panic clear in my voice. I heard his footsteps before I saw him. “ What, what's wrong?” I gasped, my eyes darting side to side, looking over my destroyed family apartment. “Oh, crap,” he muttered under his breath, passing by me in the threshold of the room and pushing forward. The wallpaper was torn, the couches de-stuffed. The tv was cracked in two. I slowly sifted through the belongings, searching for anything salvageable. When I pushed my way to my bedroom door, still shut, I was hopeful that my room would remain intact, that this was too far, that no one would trash an 11 year old’s room. Right? I twisted the knob, expecting the worst. The only thing I found was a piece of paper, held to the wall by a kitchen knife. The paper read: Darkness is etched into your soul, destruction is your path, demons worship you. Now… don't be the death of us all. But it is certain, you will be the death of yourself. It was written in black ink, the kind from the cartridge, not a pen. My steps falter, attempting to run to the note, but it's almost as if my feet were stuck where they were. Elias marched into the room, holding out his hand. He looked determined, and with a sharp jerk of his hand, the knife clattered to the ground. He grins at the small display of magix. When I finally regain feeling in my feet I walk forward and snatch the paper, examining the words. “Destroy, darkness, death, demons.” Panic fills my head, swarming. What does this mean? What, how, who would dare do this? My breaths came short and were quickly fueled by anger . “Eliza,'' Elias murmurs “Life is just stories,” he says, grabbing the paper right out of my hands. “Don't let someone else write yours. Don't give them the satisfaction of taking your words. i take a breath, anger running through my mind. I nodded gently to these words. His words. “Push past the words, through the letters,” I say. “But never, ever forget to leave a space for revenge.” An evil smirk plastered itself onto my face.
A week later, we found out who did it. It was the one kid in our school obsessed with all things death related. and played some cruel jokes on the first unlocked apartment. Which happened to be mine. But what we did after we learned that the kid did it, well, let’s just say Elias and I didn’t have to worry about money anymore. As it turns out, money laundering isn't that hard. If you know the right people, that is.
I return to the real world in a flash, back on the balcony, with these random people. “What's that supposed to mean?” Grace asks. “An old story, back when Eliza and I had budding magical abilities, and 8.3 million people couldn't know about them,” Elias says, his laughter forced. “So back when you lived in New York city?” Margo questions. “Yes,” I say flatly. I came here to start a new life. (Well, technically I was sent here) I won’t let my old life in New York define me. I also will not spend all my time reminiscing. I yawn, listening to Margo and Grace’s conversation about what classes they will take in semester two. I look out over the balcony, suddenly racked with a need for sleep. “Hey guys, would someone mind taking me back to the dorm? I'm insanely tired and I'm sure I'd get lost on my way back,” I say, mainly to Nico or Violet who seem to be in deep conversation. But Ivy, who I’d almost forgotten was there, smiled, nodded her head, and started walking back towards the door. I follow after her, taking one last glance at my newfound friend’s. Elias, Grace, Leo, Ivy, Violet, Margo, Nico, and some random kid named Toby, who had started talking to Leo while I was having a serious deja vu. I soon catch up to Ivy, not taking time to view the beautiful stairway, or the party. Despite it being very early in the morning, it still rages on. I only try to remember where we're going. Ivy is significantly shorter than me, yet she carries herself in a respective manner, making me think she could be a junior. Almost as if she read my mind, Ivy’s soft voice penetrates the silent hallway. “So, what grade are you in?” she asks. “I'm a sophomore. How about you?” I asked after I answered her question.” 9nth year,” she says plainly. I smile in disbelief. “No way,” I mutter, “You look like a junior, at least.” I finished the sentence with a short sigh. “ I get that a lot,” Ivy says. “I thought you were a 11th, maybe even a 12th year, to be honest,” she adds. I smile gently, laughing at the thought. “Me, an 11th year… no way.”
We walk in a comfortable silence as I slowly try to remember where we are. I thought we were at least 2 turns away from the dorm when Ivy suddenly stopped and opened the door to our room. I thank her, then climb up the small staircase. I wander around the conversation pit to grab a glass of water from the small kitchen. With my water, I find my way to my bedroom and fall into the bed Margo has kindly made for me. “Good night!” I shout to Ivy, who's walking into the room parallel to mine. “Good night,” she replies, her head sticking out from the doorframe. I check my phone. There are a few missed messages from my friends back at The House of Ivory and Ice, my house. A Duolingo notification, which seems unnecessary given the fact that I already did my lesson for the day, but then it hits me. It’s 2:45 am, so I guess I haven't done my Duolingo for the day. I quickly do my lesson, then open a search tab to see what information I can get about this school I’ve been sent to. At the houses, they talk about Grimrose Academy like it's the best school a young magical person could go to, but that wouldn't make sense. They sent me here. First, I searched the Houses of magix. The House of Ivory and Ice, nothing. The House of Roses and Fire, nothing. The House of Snakes and Stories, The House of Stones and Glass, still nothing. Grimrose Academy. Nothing.
Well then. If the houses aren't on the internet, can I assume that this is a specific school for magix? Damn it, I wish I paid more attention at my old school. There was exactly one piece of information I remembered from my History of the Magix class. The houses all have one founding family. For example, the House of Ivory and Ice was founded by the Mayhearts, like me, Elizabeth Mayheart. The House of Roses and Fire has the Thornburn family. The Leeren family founded The house of snakes and stories, and the house of stone and glass was made by the sandins. Every house has a relic, one that possessed high magix value, passed down only to the most powerful. The relics must stay near where they were found. So most magix stays up north, in Scotland. Maybe all of it. The houses also have their own counties, because the relics, when they get too close to their source of power, explode. That's why there are only 4 relics, though there is a rumored fifth. Grimrose Academy has a mix of all 4 houses. I saw the house banners in the entry hall I was in earlier. There also was a trophy case, and I made the assumption that since most people here would have magical abilities, they're not competing against the local high school, so there must be another magix school nearby. The people who designed this system clearly didn't plan for some random New Yorker to be thrown into the mix, otherwise they would’ve made this far less confusing. In New York, the hardest thing I had to understand was where the subway went in relation to where I wanted to go. I also guess they expected people to live in this society for the rest of their lives. Learn magix from when they were little, start practicing with their magix in their early teens, go to a house-specific high school if you can't get into one of the fancy ones like Grimrose Academy. Then try and get on the council.
I try to banish these confusing thoughts from my head. I'm sure that there is a class I could take that will explain all of this. Just when my eyes close, and my mind rests, I slip quietly into sleep.
Margo enters her bedroom and a grim line falls on her face as she spares a glance to Eliza. Violet, standing at her side, whispers, “Are you sure it's her?” Margo looks back at her with a knowing glance. “I’m sure. I can feel it, I can feel the energy radiating off of her. I don't know how she realized it herself.” Margo mutters, still glaring at the sleeping Eliza. “Maybe she’ll be on our side, Maybe she will help us against Michell,” Violet hopes. “Vi, all I know is that Eliza Mayheart is a kind girl, one who wouldn’t hurt a fly, not on purpose.” Margo says definitely. “Yes, but,” Ivy interjects from the doorway, having appeared there without Violet and Margo realizing, a matching solemn expression plastered on her face. “But still, she is in fact an angel of death. Eliza Mayheart is the new reaper, she will have to destroy michel, she will have to be stronger than him by a tenfold. And she is. Our reaper, and someone has to tell her...”
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