The forest was silent, but she was not alone.
It was a dream-forest, the kind painted in shades of impossible silver by a moon that hung too large and too close in the ink-black sky. Every leaf on every branch was etched in sharp, crystalline detail. The silence itself felt heavy, a held breath waiting to be broken. That's how she knew she was being watched. It wasn't a sound that gave it away, but the lack of one—no rustle of night creatures, no whisper of wind. Just a singular, focused attention fixed on the back of her neck like a physical weight.
A branch snapped. The sound was like a crack in the world.
Zephyra whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribs. Instinct took over. She didn't scream; she prepared to strike, drawing the very air into her command, feeling it hum and gather around her fists. She was fast, preternaturally so, and yet the figure that stood just beyond the reach of the moonlight was faster. He was a pillar of shadow, tall and broad, wrapped in a cloak that seemed to drink the light. His face was a void, a pocket of absolute darkness where features should be.
"Zephyra," a voice whispered, deep and masculine, seeming to come from the shadows themselves. It was a voice she'd heard before, in countless dreams just like this one. But he had never been this close.
"Zephyra, wake up!"
The voice shifted, sharpening, blending with the familiar, worried tone of a woman. A hand gripped her shoulder, shaking gently. "Zephyra, honey, you need to wake up."
Her eyes flew open, the silver dream-forest shattering into the soft, familiar gold of her bedroom lamp. Arianne stood over her, her brow furrowed, her kind face etched with concern.
"Finally," Arianne breathed, her relief palpable. She squeezed Zephyra's hand. "I was starting to worry. You were tossing something fierce."
Zephyra sat up, the phantom chill of the dream clinging to her skin. She remembered what day it was and a genuine, physical groan tore from her throat. "Don't make me go, Ari. Just tell them I've contracted a sudden, debilitating case of being-in-my-bed-itis."
Arianne's laugh lines crinkled as she smiled, a warm, comforting sound. "I don't think William would buy that. I'm already counting down the days until your first break, and you haven't even left yet." Her gaze softened. "Now hurry. Your new uniform is laid out. William's waiting in the foyer, trying to pretend he isn't nervous."
"Are you coming to see me off?" Zephyra asked, her voice smaller than she intended. She swung her legs out of bed, the floorboards cool beneath her feet. "Don't tell Will, but I'm going to miss you more."
Arianne's doe-brown eyes lit up. "Of course, honey. I wouldn't miss it for the world." She gave Zephyra's shoulder one last squeeze before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Alone, Zephyra stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, souvenirs from the faceless man who plagued her sleep. For weeks, she'd had the same recurring dream, but tonight was the first time she'd been able to turn and face him. Progress, she supposed, though it didn't feel like it.
Her gaze fell on the uniform. Black skirt, white blouse, a blazer with an unfamiliar crest embroidered over the heart: a stylized silver tree. The Lakeland Academy for Specials. A cage, no matter how gilded. At least Sabrina would be there. The thought of her best friend was the one bright spot in the suffocating dread of the day. Years of pretending. Years of hiding, of holding back the vast, unruly power that coiled inside her, all while training to be a Protector. The irony was so thick it was hard to breathe.
A soft knock came at her door. "Zephyra? Everything okay in there?" It was William.
She sighed, forcing a brightness into her voice she didn't feel. "Coming!"
The drive was long and quiet, punctuated only by the amicable bickering of William and Arianne in the front seat. Zephyra leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar world blur into an endless stream of green and gray. She was grateful for their presence, the comforting bubble of home she had to carry with her to the very gates of her new life. Her adoptive parents, the Wicker's, were likely closing a multi-billion-dollar deal in another hemisphere—and even though Will and Ari were technically servants, they were her family in every way that mattered. Her family, along with her best friend Sabrina and her two private tutors, were the only ones who knew the truth. Not just that she was an Elemental, but that she was… more. Something unheard of. A secret she was sure would get her dissected if the Academy ever found out.
"We're here," William announced, his voice pulling her from her thoughts.
The car slowed, turning onto a private road flanked by ancient, towering oaks. And then the school came into view. Even on her second visit, the sight of it stole her breath. The Lakeland Academy was less a school and more a gothic masterpiece of granite and glass, a castle that rose from the earth as if it had been grown rather than built. Towers scraped the sky, and massive windows glittered in the afternoon sun. It was beautiful, she couldn't deny it. Grand, intimidating, and utterly captivating.
She took a deep breath, schooling her features into a mask of cool confidence before William opened her door. Time to perform.
The courtyard buzzed with a nervous energy. Students and their families stood in clusters, a strange mix of beings that would look jarring anywhere else. A boy was showing off for his parents, causing small, perfectly smooth stones to levitate in a circle around his head. Fairies and Elementals.
"Right then," William said, pulling her largest suitcase from the boot. "Let's get you settled."
They made their way to the girls' dormitories on the left side of the grand main hall. Zephyra's dorm was one of several smaller "houses," this one a charming stone building covered in ivy. Inside, the common room was airy and bright, with large windows overlooking a manicured garden. It was surprisingly inviting.
"Zephyra, is that you?"
A flash of silver hair and a bright, familiar grin appeared from the kitchen doorway. "You're finally here!"
"Sabrina!" Zephyra dropped her bag and ran, launching herself into her best friend's arms. Sabrina lifted her off the ground in a rib-crushing hug.
"Okay, okay, you're crushing my mortal form!" Zephyra wheezed, laughing.
Sabrina set her down, her electric-blue eyes sparkling. She'd been best friends with Zephyra since they were children, a whirlwind of boundless energy and fierce loyalty. As a lightning elemental, her personality was a perfect match for her powers.
The tension in Zephyra's shoulders eased as she watched Sabrina charm William and Arianne. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad.
After they'd unpacked Zephyra's room, they found the other housemates gathered in the kitchen, drawn by the scent of the pizza William had gone to fetch from the nearby town. Zephyra recognized them from her brief tour a few weeks ago.
There was Cara, a Healer fairy with flawless dark skin and hair the color of cotton candy, whose calm and gentle presence already seemed to draw others to her. And Kira, an Energy fairy, who was Cara's aesthetic opposite—pale skin, ink-black hair, and an intense, watchful gaze. Zephyra saw Sabrina blush when her arm brushed against Kira's as they both reached for a slice of pizza.
But it was their Head Girl, Willow, who caught Zephyra's attention. When she'd met her on the tour, Willow had been a vibrant Garden fairy, with fiery red hair and a disposition as sunny as a summer meadow. The girl who walked into the kitchen now was a pale imitation. Her hair seemed duller, her green eyes clouded over. She was put together, but the light inside her had gone out. She didn't reach for any food until Arianne gently placed a plate in her hands.
Zephyra watched her, a prickle of unease running down her spine. What could have happened in just a few short weeks to change someone so drastically?
The goodbyes were the hardest part. Arianne hugged her tightly, whispering, "You'll take care of her, won't you?" to Sabrina over Zephyra's shoulder. William just clasped her shoulder, his eyes saying everything he couldn't.
As their car pulled away down the long drive, the feeling of dread returned, cold and heavy in her chest. She was alone now, in a beautiful castle full of secrets. And she was the biggest secret of them all.
That feeling, she suspected, was a premonition. This year was going to be a troubling one.
Sleep did not come easily.
Zephyra lay in her new bed, the sheets too stiff, the silence of the room too loud. The comforting, familiar weight of her home was gone, replaced by the cavernous feeling of being a small, fragile thing in a very large, very old place. She could hear the faint, muffled sounds of her housemates settling in—a drawer sliding shut, the soft thud of a book hitting a nightstand, Sabrina's music pulsing faintly through the wall.
Her thoughts kept drifting back to Willow. She replayed the scene in the kitchen, the vacant look in the Garden fairy's eyes. It wasn't just sadness; it was a hollowing out, as if a vital piece of her had been scooped away. An ache of empathy resonated in Zephyra's chest. She knew what it felt like to have a part of yourself missing—or in her case, a part she had to pretend didn't exist.
Giving up on sleep, she rose and padded to the window. The moon, the same one from her dream, cast long, skeletal shadows across the courtyard. The Academy was quiet now, a sleeping giant. But for how long? A school full of teenagers with extraordinary powers didn't seem like a recipe for peace and quiet. She thought of her own power, the storm she kept locked away inside her. Here, she would only allow a single, controlled breeze to escape. The thought was exhausting.
Just get through tomorrow, she told herself, resting her forehead against the cool glass. One day at a time.
The next morning, the Academy was alive with a nervous, electric hum. Zephyra found Sabrina in the kitchen, already halfway through a bowl of oatmeal, her silver hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.
"Morning," Sabrina mumbled through a mouthful. She pushed a second bowl across the table towards Zephyra. "Eat up. I hear the first-day physical assessment is brutal."
"You say that with a disturbing amount of glee," Zephyra said, cracking a small smile as she sat down.
"What can I say? I'm excited to finally let loose," Sabrina replied, her blue eyes sparkling. "No more holding back for fear of shorting out the town's power grid. Here, they just call that 'class.'"
They walked together towards the training grounds, following a stream of other students. The path wound away from the main buildings, leading into a dense forest that bordered the school. The air grew cooler, smelling of damp earth and pine.
"So, the five houses," Sabrina said, lowering her voice. "One for each primary element. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and a combined one for the rarer types like Lightning. You and I got lumped in with the rare types, even though you're presenting as Air."
"Lucky us," Zephyra deadpanned. "Did you see Willow last night?"
Sabrina's cheerful expression faltered. "Yeah. Weird, right? She was so… bubbly on the tour. Now she looks like she's seen a ghost." She nudged Zephyra's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll have it figured out by lunchtime. You've always had a soft spot for broken things."
Zephyra didn't have a chance to reply. The path opened into a vast clearing, larger than several sports fields combined, with a serene lake bordering one edge. Instructors in element-coded shirts stood in designated areas, their arms crossed as they surveyed the arriving students.
"That's us," Sabrina said, pointing to a man in a stark white shirt. "Good luck with your Air-benders." She grinned. "Try not to look too bored."
With a final wave, Sabrina peeled off, and Zephyra reluctantly made her way to a smaller group gathered around an instructor in a light blue shirt. He was a stern-looking man with a weathered face and sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He watched the students assemble with an unnerving stillness.
"Welcome to Protector training," the man said, his voice carrying easily over the morning air. "My name is Paul Leevens. You will call me Leevens. In this field, your last name doesn't matter. The money your parents have doesn't matter." His eyes swept the group and landed, pointedly, on Zephyra for a fraction of a second. "The only thing that matters here is your control. Your commitment. Your ability to stand between the innocent and the things that wish them harm. Today, we see where you stand."
He began pairing them up for assessment spars. Zephyra found herself matched with a tall, sandy-haired boy with an arrogant smirk.
"Kyle," the boy said, offering a lazy hand. "Looks like it's you and me."
"Step forward, you two," Leevens called out.
As they moved to the center of the circle formed by the other students, Kyle glanced back at the instructor. "Ready when you are, Dad," he said, the smirk never leaving his face.
Zephyra's eyebrows shot up. You've got to be kidding me. This wasn't just a spar; it was a performance for his father. The pressure on him to win would be immense. And the temptation for her to humiliate him was even greater.
"Standard assessment rules. First to be knocked down or forced to yield, loses," Leevens announced, his face an unreadable mask. "Begin!"
Kyle immediately adopted a dramatic, low-slung sparring pose. Zephyra simply stood still, her hands loose at her sides. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling the air around her—the cool morning breeze, the warmth radiating from the sun, the subtle currents created by the breathing of the students around her. She could feel Kyle gathering his power, pulling at the air with a brute force that felt crude and clumsy to her senses.
He thrust his hand forward, sending a powerful, compressed gust of wind directly at her. It was a battering ram of a move, designed to knock an opponent off their feet through sheer power.
Zephyra didn't try to block it. She didn't brace herself. At the last possible moment, just as the wall of wind was about to hit her, she moved. In a single, fluid motion, she spun, not away from the blast, but with it. She didn't fight its momentum; she captured it, her own energy a subtle hook that seized control of his attack. She became the center of a miniature vortex, Kyle's own power now hers to command. She completed the turn and, with a sharp, almost dismissive flick of her wrist, sent the gust flying back at him.
It hit him with more than twice the force he had intended. His eyes went wide with shock as the air slammed into his chest, lifting him clean off his feet and sending him crashing to the ground several feet away. He landed hard, the wind knocked out of him in a pained whoosh.
A collective gasp went through the other students.
Kyle scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of fury and humiliation. "You bitch," he snarled, all pretense of a smirk gone.
"My name is Zephyra," she replied, her voice calm and level, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. She finally raised her hands, settling into a relaxed fighting stance. "Would you like to try again?"
He charged, abandoning any pretense of an elemental fight. He threw a wild punch aimed at her face. Zephyra intercepted it with ease, catching his wrist. She used his forward momentum against him, twisting her body and leveraging his weight to throw him over her shoulder. He landed on his back for a second time, harder than the first. The ground shuddered.
He was on his feet again in an instant, snarling, but Leevens' sharp whistle cut through the air.
"Enough," the instructor said, his voice sharp as broken glass. He looked from the enraged Kyle to the perfectly composed Zephyra, his expression a mixture of surprise and something else… curiosity. "Kyle. Go sit down. Over there." He pointed to the far side of the field.
After a moment of tense silence, Kyle stormed off, not even glancing at his father.
Zephyra walked back to the circle, her heart beating a steady, satisfied rhythm. The awe on the other students' faces was a small victory. They weren't looking at the rich Wicker girl anymore. They were looking at a powerhouse.
As the training session concluded, Leevens dismissed the group but motioned for her to stay behind.
He waited until they were alone, his sharp eyes scrutinizing her. "That wasn't just technique," he said, his voice low. "Your control, the way you hijacked his attack… it's intuitive. Instinctive. I've never seen anything like it." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Who trained you?"
Leevens' question hung in the air, sharp and heavy as a guillotine's blade. *Who trained you?*