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CHAPTER 13
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It was said that nostudents could teleport out of the warded Academy, but I defied their textbooks once again.
No walls could confine me.
It turned out that I had magic that was possibly more powerful than any descendant of the Olympian gods possessed, except for the demigods.
Why hadn’t it come out before Jack had beaten me to within an inch of my life? It had come through in the end, so maybe I shouldn’t complain much.
Maybe my power needed a trigger to manifest?
That Pigston was right about one thing, I wasn’t disciplined. I didn’t know how to master my magic, so it appeared as unruly as I was.
It was volatile. It connected to my emotions, especially my rage, but I couldn’t always depend on my anger to bring out my power.
I needed training to effectively wield my magic, but I would never return to the Academy.
What if I found myself a remote place, holed up in it, and learned about my magic on my own?
I surveyed my new surroundings before trotting down an abandoned street, a feeling of déjà vu washing over me.
I’d once passed by this street, but I couldn’t remember when and with whom. I still had missing years in my broken memory bank that I couldn’t decode.
Those years were locked, just as my magic had been caged until the Ritual of the Blood Runes had somehow broken the seal on the well of my power.
Images flashed before my eyelids like old, fading pictures, and instantly I knew this avenue used to be the block between Manhattan’s Chinatown and Little Italy. One street separated two completely different cultures.
As if time wound back, I could almost see a soap store, a flower shop, and a few antique and jewelry boutiques across from a café with a vibrant atmosphere.
Now they were but half-burned down, empty shells with blackened façades and shattered glass. Thanks to the devastating war between the demons and the demigods.
I’d lived with my pack in Crack, hidden from the realities of the war and consciously staying away from both dangerous species before Axel found me. I hadn’t seen the true devastation of the real world in the age of the Great Merge.
If parts of Manhattan looked like this, how bad must it be for the cities infested by demons?
I swallowed as I strolled down the gutted street. My magic had teleported me here, to a place no one wanted to linger.
Why?
Was this to be my new starting point? Should I rebuild this place for myself?
I stood before a half-broken shop window and stared at my reflection. My clothes were tattered, covered in fresh blood. The pain, though, had dulled. My internal bleeding had stopped, and my bones and tissues had mended.
Even so, new fear brewed in my dark green eyes. The girl staring back at me looked lost.
I wasn’t as tough as I’d thought.
I was more vulnerable than I’d like to admit.
I shook my head, banishing fear and uncertainty. First things first, I needed to find a clean outfit. Roaming about like a bloody derelict could attract bad attention.
