Willing my thoughts to focus on the trees only, I tighten my grip on my duffle and keep walking.
Magnus takes us by the Caldera: an ancient colosseum carved directly from black volcanic rock down into the ground. Rows of tiered granite benches lead down to an arena—a large oval of smooth obsidian and scorched basalt. Deep channels have been carved into the floor in rune-like patterns, likely remnants of forgotten rituals that this arena once honored. A stage for elemental prowess, and duels. The air around it simmers with residual heat, imbued with the element whose power is displayed there. Fire.Noa’s power,I think as my heart twists.
Behind the Caldera rises a five-story cream-colored building, its windows framed in dark bronze—giving it a modern edge in contrast to the ancient stone architecture surrounding it. Most likely home to our core academic classes: History, Potions, and Elemental Theory.
Everywhere we walk, my eyes search the grounds for a familiar tall figure with brown hair. But fourth-years are probably off doing things far more important than worrying about first-years’ orientation. Plus,he doesn’t even know I’m here.
Oh gods, what if I see him, and he walks right past me—whole while I’m still haunted? I shudder slightly at the thought.
“You okay?” asks Rozsen.
No.
“Yeah, it’s just colder than I’m used to in Virginia,” I lie. I curse myself for even thinking about him right now.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought… or in my case—memory.
Magnus points out a few more buildings in the distance and spouts off various descriptions of their purposes and uses.
“Green and Silver Squads are in the Silver Fern Commons.” He points to an ivy-covered stone manor. “Black and Gold in the Obsidian Sun Commons.” He nods to an angular building, modern and brutalist in style. He then points up the hill. “Blue Dahlia Commons—Red and Blue Squads. Your new home away from home.”
A three-story Victorian house stands above us, painted a deep dusky blue that seems to change with the light as the clouds pass by. White shutters frame each of the tall, arched windows like delicate lace. Every corner of the white trim is carved with swirls and stars and other arcane sigils I can’t place but feel like I’m meant to know.
The house itself leans slightly forward, like a forgotten storybook wedged between spreadsheets. Ivy curls up the wrought-iron railings of a wraparound porch, and ceramic pots filled with porcelain-blue dahlias bask in the afternoon sun.
“Used to be the headmistress’s house back in the 1800s,” Magnus informs us.
We are ushered inside, away from the chill, into a grand entranceway. Arched doorways open into a parlor and study. Twin staircases curve up in an elegant scroll to a wide landing. The balustrades are made of wood carved into twisted vines.
“Boys’ dorms to the left, second floor, girls’ on the right. Your room numbers are on your orientation letters.”
The scent of rain-damp wood, threaded with lavender, drifts out to greet me as I begin the climb—cool, calming, and alive. Rozsen, Elliot, and a quiet girl named Amelia follow behind me as we head to our shared room.
The door opens into an airy living space painted a soft, stormy gray-blue. A deep comfy-looking sofa faces a white stone hearth where a cozy fire is ready to welcome us. Pale wood cabinets and white marble countertops make up a small kitchen tucked behind a half-wall. The aesthetic is plain but elegant, and looks perfect for late-night studying or long, whispered conversations.
At the far end of the living room, hung with translucent white curtains, stands a large bay window that overlooks a huge glittering lake.
Lake Caldrith.
Known for bone-chilling water, silver catfish, and a mythical monster that’s been said to haunt the lake floor and pull in unsuspecting students who don’t follow orders. At least that’s what Magnus told us, the last part jokingly when we walked by it earlier.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, dark strands of hair falling around my face from the hasty ponytail I tied it up in earlier, the gray-and-black uniform a stark contrast to the soft creams and blues of the room.
“I think Rozsen should bunk with you, Farris, and I’ll take Amelia,” says Elliot, clearly making herself the leader of this decision. She winks at me and says, “Better this way. I’ve known Rozsen since we were six and I’m more likely to kill her if I sleep next to her. Plus, she snores.” She playfully pokes Rozsen in the ribs as she ushers an unprotesting Amelia toward her.
Two doors off of the main living quarters lead into bedrooms—each one designed to hold two double beds, two dressers, and just enough space for books and clothes. I enter the room to the left and quickly choose the bed closest to the window. Soft white linens beckon as I sit down, surveying what will be my new home for the next few years. I spy a door to a private bath off the side of our room. I’m grateful all four of us don’t have to share one bathroom.
“Okay, Celeste, it’s you and me then,” says Rozsen as she enters the room and plops herself down on the other bed. Her long, merlot red–dyed hair sweeps over her dark complexion and bright, inquisitive brown eyes.
The four of us spend the next few hours settling in, putting our rooms in order and tentatively getting to know one another. Rozsen and Elliot come from adjacent towns in California, eighth-generation Magicks the both of them. Rozsen’s element is fire, and Elliot’s is air. Amelia’s element is earth.
“So you must be our water then,” says Amelia, looking at me thoughtfully. “They like to try and split the squads into different elements if they can.”
I nod carefully. “I’m untrained, though. First-generation Magick.” I frown slightly at the thought. “So I’ll have a lot to catch up on.”
My gaze drifts back over to the bay window, to that expanse of blue, as small waves ripple over the lake’s surface. In that moment, I can’t help but hope my father was right—that ifwater remembers, it will remember me.
Elliot flops back on the sofa. “First-gen? Gods, you’re brave. Don’t most first-gens usually flame out by the end of their second year?”
