How to Beat a Chosen One

By W Young

Reluctant students at the mysterious Deerwood Academy, teenage cousins Clover and Emma decide to keep their heads down after their roommate Laura disappears during a magical ritual gone wrong. To their chagrin Clover and Emma are assigned a new roommate almost straight away. They soon discover Amber is harboring power and hiding secrets in equal measure. Which one will kill them first?

• Language: English
• Publisher: W Young
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005072452

W Young

W Young was born in Auckland, New Zealand and currently resides there with their family.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Was it weird to have stage fright when you weren’t the one going on stage? Clover pulled back gold fringe on the musty smelling, black curtain and stared out into the ancient school auditorium. Hampstead Hall dated back to the 18th century and, like much of Deerwood Academy, its best days appeared long behind it.

Clover noted only a few vacant red seats scattered among the audience. Most of the school had gathered for the ceremony. Clover wasn’t surprised, nothing like a train wreck to attract a crowd, and this had the potential to be one hell of a show. Normally she’d have stayed in the dorms with the squeamish, but this month she didn’t really have a choice.

Behind her a trembling voice asked, How many are there?

Adjusting her glasses, Clover turned to her roommate Laura. There’s a...few.

They were backstage, the faint theatre lights casting eerie shadows on the many props and stage equipment stored around them.

Laura adjusted her black woolen school blazer. How does my tie look?

Better. Clover straightened the red tie for her. One should look good for their funeral.

Laura wanted to look her best for the ceremony and had brought out her best uniform for the evening. A red checkered skirt, white blouse, red tie, and black blazer.

For as long as Clover had known her, Laura had been engaged in a constant battle to improve her social status. A common byproduct of those from minor families. And the best way to improve that status was to become a more powerful magician.

While it was easy to know which students were book smart, the Academy never revealed which students were the most powerful magically. Partly because power was constantly waxing and waning, partly to prevent rivalries forming, but also because they were anxious to prevent students from tanking their results to avoid the Chosen One ceremony.

Many students craved the power that would come with being the Chosen, but just as many, Clover included, were happy to avoid the ceremony altogether if they could find a way. But hard to avoid being tested if you never truly knew how powerful you were.

She glanced at Laura pacing about, hands shaking. Laura had always been in the top academically, but Clover had no idea she’d been this powerful magically until now, or at least someone wanted them to think she was.

She checked her watch. Time to make their move. You don’t have to do this, Laura. What can they do really?

She’s right, Laws. Don’t let them pressure you.

They both turned to their other roommate, Emma, leaning against an ancient wooden desk examining her perfectly manicured fingernails. With her almost platinum blonde hair, porcelain skin and blue eyes, Emma had earned the nickname ice queen, which Clover still liked better than hers – Red. How bloody original was that for a redhead?

Clover’s cousin was a professional at looking nonchalant in any circumstance. But by the way Emma kept checking her nails Clover knew she shared her agitation.

I don’t have a choice, Laura said. I don’t do this I’ll be banished, and we know how that ends.

Better banished then dead, Clover replied, stepping in front of her. At least banishment gives you a shot.

Laura shook her head. No I’ve been studying. She stood a little straighter. I can do this. I can be the new Chosen One.

Clover peeked at Emma, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

There hasn’t been a Chosen One in 200 years, Clover replied. I can’t see you beating those odds.

Laura looked at Emma. You agree?

You know the history better than we do, Emma said, walking over. You’ve read about the students who’ve gone before. Families like the Becks or the Siglers. If they couldn’t do it what makes you think you can? Something about this feels off.

Laura reddened. You two never believed in me. If we weren’t roommates, we wouldn’t even be friends.

This isn’t about belief, Clover replied, ignoring the jibe. It’s about ability.

I have the ability, Laura snapped. She patted her chest. "They chose me."

Laura shook her head. You’re just sorry I’m not going to be stuck in looserville with you two.

Clover resisted rising to the bait. She drew a backpack out from behind a crate. You need to run. We’ve put together a bag of supplies it should last a while.

Go now, said Emma. We’ll distract them for you.

The anger disappeared from Laura’s face. You two don’t understand. This is my chance to join the major families. I have to take it.

Emma and Clover stared at each other. Finally Emma shook her head, blonde hair waving about. If she wants this let her have it.

Clover stepped back, unwilling to give into the stereotype of the short-tempered redhead. She’d done that too many times before. Taking a deep breath, she replied, You’re making a mistake.

It’s my mistake to make, Laura said, walking to the curtain. She paused and looked at the backpack. I appreciate the thought.

For what it’s worth, Laws, said Emma. Good luck.

I’ll see you from the top table, Laura replied, a brittle smile on her face.

Then she walked out onto the stage. Her black school shoes clicking against the wooden stage floor.

Emma folded her arms. She might do it.

Clover began twisting a strand of red hair between her fingers. We waited too long.

If she ran too soon before the ceremony, they might’ve found her and dragged her back. We had to wait.

Feels like we could’ve done more, Clover sighed, thinking over the last few weeks.

I told you to knock her out.

Clover frowned, then said, You still think someone manipulated the rankings to get Laura in?

Emma shrugged. Or keep someone out. Anyone from a minor family is expendable to them.

An incredibly cynical thought, but it made as much sense as anything.

Emma peered over at Clover. If I had to run would you come with me?

Clover forced a smile. Depends where are we going?

Emma turned her attention back to the stage. We’d find somewhere nice. Perhaps by a beach.

I like your optimism, Clover snorted.

The chattering among the gathered students suddenly ceased as Headmaster Lumiere and Academy Guardian Vincent Darkinn appeared on stage. For all their voyeurism, the crowd knew what was at stake. Clover had never seen Darkinn up close before. He was handsome in a cold, clinical, way, clad in an expensive looking business suit. He carried an engraved wooden box which he placed on the table on stage.

Lumiere’s heavy footsteps echoed after him. Officious gaze on his face, he looked as if he’d been born in his suit, but not in a good way.

Clover tapped her fingers nervously. It’s not too late, Laura, you can still turn back. But Laura remained resolutely on stage. Whatever happened no one could doubt her bravery or stupidity.

She won’t back off, Emma said, as if reading Clover’s mind.

The Scepter ceremony had been a monthly affair for the last two centuries. A regular search among the student body to find the new Chosen One who would lead the Council into a new era of peace and prosperity. That the Governing council never divulged the criteria on who the monthly candidate would be didn’t seem to affect the enthusiasm of many, of course it could also be the spectacular way the ceremony went wrong that attracted the large crowd.

Lumiere looked out into the crowd. Quiet please. Time to begin.

He turned to Laura. Miss Jones, is it?

Yes, no, I mean that’s right, Laura replied, the tiniest quiver in her voice.

He studied her for a moment. Do you accept the trial, or do you wish to accept banishment and all the risks entailed?

Laura nodded vigorously. I’m ready.

Darkinn stepped forward. Are you sure? he asked, his voice so rich and deep, it sent a slight shiver through Clover and she instantly hated herself for it.

After the briefest of hesitations, Laura nodded.

Say the words, said Darkinn, leaning in closer.

I am.

Darkinn signaled Lumiere with a nod.

So be it, Lumiere said, with a sigh.

Lumiere reached into the wooden box and pulled out a dull bronze scepter. The Scepter was an artefact dating back to the Academy’s founding 300 years ago. For all the fuss it generated it was surprisingly plain, but something that powerful didn’t need to advertise. Lumiere placed it in her shaking hands and stepped several meters back.

For a moment, nothing but silence, then a pale-yellow glow began enveloping her. Laura smiled, I can feel it. It feels...warm.

Maybe she does have it, Clover muttered, happy to be prover wrong.

Maybe, Emma replied, raising her hand to her mouth. Maybe.

There was scattered clapping around the auditorium as the glowing around Laura grew ever brighter. But Laura’s smile was wavering.

Emma took a step back. Something’s wrong.

You think? Clover blurted.

Laura bent over in pain. It...hurts.

Clover started forward; Emma grabbed her. Don’t.

Light blasted out of Laura’s eyes, screaming she burst in a bright blue flame, so bright Clover had to shield her eyes. When she looked back only the Scepter remained, wispy smoke rising from its surface. Darkinn and Lumiere deep in conversation. Lumiere bent down to pick it up and dropped it just as quickly. Ow, dammit.

While Lumiere flapped his hands about like he was trying to take off, Darkinn put on a pair of gloves and picked up the Scepter. Looking flustered, Lumiere turned to the crowd. Assembly over.

A numb feeling in her stomach, Clover asked, Where do you think she went?

I don’t know, said Emma patting Clover’s shoulder. But if someone did manipulate the criteria, I hope they’re happy.

Chapter 2

Clover was reading and pondering in equal measure beneath the shade of her favorite tree in the Academy grounds, a majestic, old oak. Lessons had finished for the day, and with the afternoon devoted to personal time, students could freely roam the grounds.

It had only been a couple weeks since Laura’s vanishing, but things had slowly returned to normal; or as normal as things got there. Traumatic as the Scepter Ceremony was, people were used to it, and as the Council never revealed the next candidate until a couple of days before it occurred, there was no point worrying. If she worried about everything that could kill her here, she’d spend her days huddled in a corner.

There had been a small memorial service for Laura, attended by her parents. Clover had never been good with emotional scenes, so it had been an awkward meeting. They’d been understandably subdued. Everyone knew the potential cost of coming here, but you always hoped to pass by unnoticed, or if you did rise to the top, that you’d somehow defy the odds and become the Chosen One. Someone had to be.

Thought I’d find you here, said Emma, sliding onto the bench beside her.

Clover looked up from her book. Good job, Sherlock. What’s up?

Emma hadn’t spoken much about Laura’s disappearance, but then, neither had Clover. They’d always been more comfortable avoiding difficult subjects. Laura, for all her faults, had been a safety valve to distract them from more difficult subjects, like how Laura came to be on stage in the first place. Because the more Clover investigated it, the more she worried.

Despite their fears, the only obvious sign of distress on Emma’s part had been a shorter grooming routine, where she’d barely brushed her hair, but now her long blonde hair looked as straight and perfect as ever. Not that Clover ever felt jealous of her, as a proud redhead, she felt sorry Emma’s hair was so pale.

Got a note from Sarah, Emma replied.

Sarah Becks was head girl for their year, and as befitted a head girl, an annoying combination of perfect and popular. It might have been unfair, but Clover couldn’t help hating her on principle, she was part of the system to keep them inline. What does Miss Congeniality want? If it’s about serving on the yearbook committee again, I swear -

Emma held up her hand. Worse, we have a new roommate. We have to meet her.

Clover sighed, putting her book away. A new student mid-year? She must have pulled some strings. I was hoping we’d have the room to ourselves. I’ve had enough drama.

Have we ever been that lucky? Emma laughed.

Clover got to her feet and straightened out her skirt. No, but then Ms Smyth says I have persecution issues.

Emma blew a raspberry then replied, She said I had narcissistic tendencies. Like I’m going to take life advice from a school counsellor.

She’s not wrong, smiled Clover, as they wandered down the tree-lined cobble-stone path to Wexley Hall, the Administration building.

I won’t apologize for taking pride in my appearance, Emma sniffed, flicking her hair back.

Clover would have rolled her eyes at anyone else saying that. Ever since the accident in Year 7 potions class where she’d lost all her hair, Emma had become a lot more concerned about her appearance. It had grown back, but it was still a touchy subject.

She stared off at the hills in the distance. Deerwood was spread out several hectares of land, surrounded by forested hills running for miles in all directions. There was a single road leading to the Academy, which was itself on Academy land. There were never going to be unexpected visitors here.

Ancient lampposts that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Victorian London marked the intersection of Deerwood’s different areas. Besides the Classes, there were the dorms, the facilities like the library, gym or museum, and the faculty buildings. All fitted out in appropriately Gothic style. Clover couldn’t image anything modern being built here, it would be like a spaceship crashing on the grounds.

So, any scoop on the new girl?

Glancing at Clover from beneath her bangs, Emma replied, She’s a novice.

Clover stopped in her tracks. Novices had no magical training at all. They had to be watched extra carefully as they were as much a danger to themselves as others. Are you screwing with me?

Swear to God, Emma replied, placing her hand on her chest.

Clover grimaced. Bugger. If she’s a novice, she’ll have no idea what’s going on here. What if she talks in her sleep? She might set the room on fire! Have the blankets strangle us in our beds!

Emma grabbed her shoulders and locked eyes with her. Settle, Clo. You’re going worst case scenario as usual.

Everything here is worst case scenario, Clover replied, taking deep breaths and forcing herself to calm down. She sighed. I don’t have the energy to play babysitter. Any suggestions?

Don’t get attached to this one, Emma replied, her smile disappearing.

Suddenly conscious of where they were on the narrow path between the Academy Hall and Wexley with the brick walls looming over them, Clover peered around to make sure no one was listening, but apart from a couple of Year Elevens at the far end engaged in an argument over football teams, they were alone. I still think we should have told Laura’s parents about our theory someone manipulated her results to get her in the ceremony. The rankings might be hidden, but we know what Laura was truly capable of. No one gets that good that fast. They could demand an inquiry. Turn up something new.

Emma rubbed her forehead We discussed this, Clo. What good would that do? Unless we have an idea of who did it and why? Searching her stuff didn’t turn up anything we can use except some embarrassing poetry about Zane, so unless you have some brilliant idea about where we can find out more, it’ll remain a theory. A theory that should remain between us.

Clover didn’t want to let this go. We have that scroll with the weird symbol.

They’d found the tied-up scroll while packing up Laura’s belongings. It had been hidden in the back of one of Laura’s draws. While it bore a strange symbol of interconnected runes, they’d probably have ignored it if it hadn’t been for one thing.

A scroll we can’t open, said Emma spinning around and blocking her path. We can’t hand it over until we know Laura didn’t write anything incriminating on us. So without further proof, the only thing an inquiry will stir up is trouble, Clo. They’ll look for someone to pin it on, and who’s the easiest target?

It took a moment for Emma’s words to sink in. Us. Bugger.

Emma looked around. And if someone’s manipulating results, they could manipulate us right into the grave beside Laura.

Clover knew Emma was right, but that didn’t make her feel much better. Okay, we’ll keep quiet and see if anything turns up. Maybe I’m being paranoid.

You? Never! Emma replied, with a smile.

It’s just, we don’t know she’s dead. Not for sure.

No one’s ever come back, Emma pointed out. Not even as a ghost and it’s not like those are rare here.

As they reached the fortress like entrance of Wexley Hall, Emma zipped her lip. Now no more conspiracy talk.

Really? Clover replied, eyes widening. Because I thought it might be a good icebreaker.

Emma laid a hand her shoulder. I find your sarcasm endearing, but maybe give it a rest for the first five minutes.

Clover rolled her eyes. Yes, mother.

Stepping inside the foyer of Wexley, Clover felt the portraits of former Headmasters that lined the ways staring down upon her. In Deerwood, the weight of such history could be quite unnerving at times.

Inside the marble, brass and wood confines of the interior, Sarah stood waiting for them. With her curly, blonde hair and svelte physique she looked annoyingly perfect. She tapped her watch. About time, girls. Then she broke into a bright, white, smile. I’m just joking, there’s plenty of time.

Clover resisted the urge to roll her eyes. We always rush when you call, Sarah.

Look, Sarah, Emma replied. Is there any chance you can put her with someone else. We’re still... she looked to the ceiling as if racking her brain. Mourning.

Sarah tilted her head in sympathy. I know it’s tough, girls, but space is at a premium and the best way to move on is to have someone new in our life. Laura would want it that way.

Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what she’d want, Clover said, still picturing Laura doubled over in agony. That and not being zapped to another dimension or killed.

Sarah’s face softened, and she raised her arms. Do you need a hug?

Clover stepped back, afraid of what she’d started. No! That’s okay.

Sarah patted her shoulder. Okay, but it’ll be right here if you need it.

Yeah, great, Clover mumbled.

Sarah spun around and gestured for them to follow. Come. She’s waiting in the gallery.

She’ll be asking us to roll over and play dead next, Clover whispered.

Emma stifled a laugh, and they followed Sarah into a meeting room. Inside, looking at the pictures along the wall - their novice, two suitcases beside her. She had a wholesome prettiness about her, with her pink cheeks, big smile, shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes. Fidgeting with her hands, she smiled upon seeing Sarah.

Sarah interlocked arms with Amber and escorted her over. Amber, this is Emma Drummond and Clover Huntingdon. She smiled. If you can get past the eye-rolling and general slacking, they’re pretty good roommates. I’ve never had to demerit them once.

Oh Sarah, you’ll make us blush, Emma said.

Amber smiled shyly at them and extended her hand. Hi, guys.

Hey, Clover replied, giving it a quick shake and noted its sweaty feel.

Emma shook next. Aren’t you just the cutest thing?

Amber blushed. Thanks.

I have a Student Council meeting to get to, Sarah said. We’re deciding on the theme for the next school dance, possibly something under the sea. She leaned in close. But keep it secret.

Magician’s honour, Clover replied, crossing her fingers.

I’ll let you girls get acquainted, Sarah said. If you have any questions, these two can help, and if they can’t, look me up.

Thanks, Sarah, I appreciate the help, Amber replied.

That’s what I’m here for, Sarah said, as she disappeared out the door.

Clover rolled her eyes.

Let’s get you to our room, Emma said, clapping her hands together. Clover will bring your bags.

Before Clover could tell Emma where to shove it, Amber said, Oh how sweet. Thank you.

That’s just how Clover is, Emma said, holding the door open for her. She winked at Clover. Just a big ole sweetheart.

Already plotting her revenge, Clover grabbed the two large suitcases and raced to catch up with them.

As they left Wexley Hall and started down the footpath, Amber asked, How far away is the dorm?

Only ten minutes, Emma replied, skipping along. So if we’re going to be roomies, you have to tell us about yourself. Where are you from?

Looking wide eyed at the surrounding buildings, it took Amber a moment to reply, Midsville. It’s a small town in Montana. Pretty much the middle of nowhere. She sighed. Next week would be the town founders festival. There’s rides, apple bobbing, square dancing.

Sounds fun, Emma replied, fake smile plastered on her face.

Yeah...fun, muttered Clover, lugging the bags behind them.

Amber glanced back, but Emma waved her away. Don’t mind, Clo. She enjoys being a grouch.

Clover poked out her tongue.

Sarah said you’re cousins? Amber asked.

Can’t you tell? Clover replied, straining to keep up. If Emma dyed her hair like I keep asking.

Red doesn’t suit my complexion, Emma said.

We have the same complexion, Clover pointed out.

Emma peered back and smiled. I know.

Ha, ha.

You two have such fun accents, said Amber. Where are you from?

I’m from Australia, Emma replied, with a wry smile. Clover’s from the country that wished it was Australia - New Zealand.

I thought they were the same place, said Amber.

Clover frowned. The sheer ignorance of some people astounded her. There are many differences. It began -

Don’t get her started, Emma replied, waving her hand. Like all New Zealanders, she has a massive inferiority complex.

Just like Aussies have a massive big-headed complex, Clover snapped.

Emma feigned yawning.

Ignoring her, Clover continued. If you want to see the differences, it was my last Geography assignment, which I’d be happy to share with you.

Something to look forward to, Amber replied.

So Amz, did you leave a special someone behind? Emma asked.

Amber blushed.

Emma grinned. Ohhh, she did. Well, show us a pic.

That was enough prodding for Amber to start fishing about in her handbag. Clover was just happy to be able to rest for a couple minutes as she dumped the cases on the ground. Amber pulled out a photo showing her sitting with a typical farm boy type, blonde hair, blue eyes, glazed stare. Clover wondered if he could spell his name.

That’s Tom. We took that a week before I left.

Cute, Emma said. Her expression tightened. You plan on keeping touch?

Of course, he even gave me a ring, Amber replied, showing a cheap gold band on her finger.

Wow, then it must be true love, Clover said, unable to avoid being snarky. She got that way in the face of willful ignorance.

I should call Tom to let him know I arrived safely. Amber said.

You're allowed one 5-minute call a week from the Common Room, Clover replied.

Once a week! Amber exclaimed. We’ve never gone that long without talking.

Clover doubted it would be a problem much longer. Does he know?

About what? Amber replied.

Clover looked up in exasperation. "About your stand on feminism. What do you think? Does he know what this place really is? What you are?"

I don’t know what I am, Amber said, sighing. She shook her head. Hard enough to explain leaving without bringing magic up as well. Some space will give me time to think of the best way to bring it up.

Look, they’re not common, but mixed relationships can work, Emma said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Of course you need to decide whether it’s worth telling him, because the longer you leave it, the harder it’ll be. Especially if he can’t handle it and they have to wipe his mind, so he can’t remember.

Amber looked aghast. Wipe his mind?

Look I doubt it’ll be an issue, Clover said. Let’s face it, he’s a teenage boy, and out of sight, out of mind.

Emma frowned. You’ll have to excuse Clover. She can be a little...blunt.

Speaking from experience? Amber replied, with a tight smile.

No, Clover replied snorting. Common sense.

Love isn’t about common sense, Amber replied wistfully. What about you two? A couple of gorgeous girls like yourselves must be batting them away.

You’ll make me blush, Emma said. Yet sadly, I’m single.

Why’s that? Amber asked, tucking backing a loose strand of hair. Is it the mole on your neck?

Emma’s expression hardened. "What mole?"

Just joking, Amber replied, raising her hand. It’s more of a...freckle.

Emma relaxed and placed a hand on her chest. I have incredibly high standards.

Yeah, she’s in love with herself, Clover smirked.

Amber laughed, but Clover wasn’t really joking.

What about you, Clover? Why no special someone?

Clover only falls in love with fictional characters, said Emma. Easier to deal with.

True, but Clover didn’t need Emma bringing it up with someone they just met. Don’t make me come over there.

Was Sarah lying about you two being friends? a touch of concern in Amber’s voice.

Emma mussed up Clover’s hair. We just like to tease.

It’s when we’re not saying anything, replied Clover, straightening it again. That you should get worried.

You two are such fun, Amber said. I always wished I had a sister.

Yeah, families are great. Clover glanced at Emma. Speaking of families, it’s very hard to get in midterm. Do your parents know someone in the Governing Council?

My parents never married. Mom died when I was a baby. I’ve lived with my Aunt Helena. Her and Dad don’t really get along. She didn’t even want to me come, but Dad insisted it was time. Not a good time, said Amber. I enrolled under mom’s name, Smith. My father’s Vincent Darkinn.

Emma whitened. Vincent Darkinn is your Dad?

Amber smiled. Oh, you’ve heard of him? He mentioned he was a bit of a bigshot here. I thought he was bragging.

Yeah, we’ve heard of him. Clover licked her lips nervously. He’s the Academy Guardian and a member of the Governing Council.

And that’s a big thing? Amber asked, finally taking notice of their concern.

Emma pulled her aside. You don’t know about the Council?

I didn’t know about any of this till a few weeks ago, Amber replied, suddenly looking very brittle. One day, I’m just hanging out at school.

She started pacing. Then the father I hardly see tells me he’s a wizard and says for my own safety I have to come here, ripped away from everything and everyone I know, and I’m expected to go along with it!

She sat down on a wooden fence railing by the path and started breathing heavily.

Emma and Clover peered at each other. Finally, Clover reached out tentatively, Are you okay? You’re not having a panic attack, are you?

Amber raised a hand and the red slowly faded from her face. Sorry, it’s been a little...overwhelming. This whole novice, magic thing is like something out of a movie.

Yeah, a bad movie, Clover replied, glad she had calmed down. If there was one thing worse than having a new roommate, it was having a novice roommate just starting out in magic, with a direct connection to the Council.

The Council runs the Academy, said Emma. Pretty much all the major families have a spot. Your father is basically in charge of...security here.

We need protecting? Amber asked, looking around nervously, as if expecting something to jump out from behind the bushes lining the path.

From ourselves more than anything, Clover replied.

What does that mean? asked Amber, frowning.

It means accidents happen, said Emma.

Amber tucked some loose hair behind her ear. What did happen to your last roommate? Sarah was a little hazy.

They glanced at each other. I don’t know what your father’s told you, but not all magic is good, said Clover. Laura learned the hard way.

So, she’s...

Gone, Clover replied, not quite able to say dead. Laura could still be out there somewhere.

You want our advice, Amz, said Emma. Don’t get too involved in the magic. It only leads to trouble. Do the bare minimum to skate by, treat this like any other school, and you’ll be fine. But you get too good, and this place will test you.

Amber frowned. But Dad said -

It’s not your father who’ll get hurt, it’ll be you, Clover snapped. Realizing she might be coming on a little strong, Clover forced a smile. Look you’ll...like it here...probably, just don’t get sucked into the drama, or next thing you know, you’ll be fighting off the ghost of a 17th-century witch someone summoned because you flipped them off.

Amber hugged herself. That’s a thing?

Oh, it’s a thing, Emma replied. She sighed. Clo, let’s show her the wall.

Do we have to do it now? asked Clover, she’d already been lugging Amber’s suitcases around for 15 minutes and this diversion would add even more time.

Yes, Emma replied. Amber should see this.

If it’s important, I want to know, Amber said.

Clover didn’t know if now was the time, but maybe it was like a band-aid, best to rip it off in one go. Alright.

After ten minutes of negotiating their way through the labyrinth of school buildings, Emma led them to a large, weathered stone wall over 3 metres tall and as long as football field. Besides its sheer size and ancient appearance, the wall was notable for having half its surface covered in engraved arcane symbols.

Welcome to the Wall, Emma said.

It’s quite beautiful, said Amber. What do the symbols mean?

Emma looked to Clover who nodded. Amber needed to know what she’d signed up for.

Each symbol represents a student who’s died here, said Emma.

Amber paled. But...there are so many.

Emma ran a finger along one of the symbols. It averages to about 20 a year.

Clover pointed to one in the middle, brighter than the others because it was newer. It bore the sigil of a yellow flower. That’s Laura, our old roommate. She died thinking she could beat the odds, but here the house always wins. I doubt your father mentioned it, but now you’re here, you can’t leave, you can only escape. So if you want to avoid joining Laura, you’ll stay under the radar. It might just keep you alive.

And, thought Clover, more importantly, it would keep her and Emma alive. Roommates who were too ambitious or too incompetent had an equal chance of getting you killed. Hopefully, Amber proved neither.

There was a long silence, as Amber took another long look at the wall.

Enough doom and gloom, said Emma, pulling Amber away from the wall. She pointed to their dorm, its familiar spires looming large. Now come on, once we get you unpacked, we can head to the mess hall. When you see the food, you’ll really be homesick.

Chapter 3

Stepping outside the dorm, Clover sighed. Even after all her years here, she still felt a chill as the sun set, and the ominous gothic architecture of daytime, took on an even more sinister feel. Sure there was plenty of lighting, but it was the shadows you had to worry about. Because in their world there really were things hiding in the dark.

Deerwood had protections in place against unauthorized entry, but no spell was foolproof. If someone looked long enough and hard enough, they could find a way in and not all monsters were obvious. Clover suspected the school considered it another challenge for students to face. Lucy Wahl, a Year 10 had disappeared walking from the Science Lab to the dorm a year ago and the school still hadn’t produced an explanation.

Ugh! Amber fidgeted with her shirt collar as Emma came out to join them. Are the uniforms always this itchy?

Clover smiled wryly as the group flitted between the long shadows cast by the spires topping many of Deerwood’s buildings. Her reply was soft, almost inaudible as she started down the ancient cobblestone footpath. Eventually your skin will lose feeling.

Don’t worry, Amz. You’ll get used to it, Emma called out with a shrug. It’s not like you’re allowed to wear anything else.

What, like ever? Amber asked, her fingers fidgeting with her woollen vest.

Sorry, Emma replied, twirling about to show off her uniform. It’s about promoting conformity.

Amber frowned. They actually say that?

Emma gestured to the dozens of similarly dressed students around them. It’s implied.

I find it relaxing, Clover confessed. Takes all the stress out of finding something to wear.

Emma snorted. Clo, you’d be happy in a potato sack.

Clover gave Emma gentle nudge with her shoulder. As long as everyone else is wearing them.

While Emma was the more fashion conscious out of the two of them, Clover didn’t mind dressing up on occasion, but truthfully most of the time she was just too lazy to give much thought. It was one of the few things about the Academy she didn’t mind.

Hold up, guys. Amber leaned against a worn gargoyle attached to the side of the Art Building. She rubbed the spot where her black leather school shoes met her ankle. I didn’t know they still made shoes this uncomfortable.

Amber took a long look around, then gestured to the ancient, weathered buildings around them. So, guys how old is this place? It’s like something out of the dark ages. She tapped the gargoyle. Or a horror movie. Gotta be a coupla ghosts roaming about.

Clover had been here so long, sometimes it was easy to forget how old this place was. Still the history of Deerwood was one of the few things about it she could appreciate.

Not quite dark ages old, Clover replied, always happy to discuss history. She pointed to a statue of a bearded man holding a book and gesturing to the sky. That’s John Dee, advisor to Queen Elizabeth the First and one of the founders of the Academy 400 years ago. Since then we’ve grown from a handful of students to just under 800 ranging from ages 13 to 18.

And how’s that work? Amber asked. What exactly am I doing here?

Clover shook her head, red hair threatening to come loose from the pins tying it down. Amber, did your father tell you nothing before you came here?

Amber frowned. Dad’s a real believer in the sink or swim method. A real whatever doesn’t kill me will make me stronger.

Obviously, considering most of us have been here since we were five and still have trouble, muttered Clover. She forced a smile. But I’m sure you’ll do fine.

I’ll have to, said Amber, a glint of determination in her eye. Dad hasn’t given me much choice. Apparently, I can’t survive out there without training.

Clover wasn’t sure Amber could survive in here with training. She wondered just how much work they’d have to put in to bring Amber up to speed. More importantly, did she really want to? After all she had her own survival - academic and literal to worry about. But while Amber’s father might be happy to trust to fate to keep Amber safe, Clover didn’t want to take that risk. Most people have no idea the supernatural actually exists. They might suspect, glancing things from the corner of their eyes, or hearing stories that don’t make sense. But they rationalize everything, and if they can’t, people don’t believe them anyway.

Okay, I’m following, said Amber, nodding slowly. People believe what they want to believe. Makes sense.

But there are a few, Clover continued. Call them druids, wizards, witches, shamans, or the unlucky like us, who’ve experienced the supernatural and learned to use it, and if necessary, fight it.

We have to fight? Paling, Amber peered around. What’s out there?

Clover smiled tightly, wistful of the days she could be that innocent.

Oh, Amz, Emma said, shaking her head. There’s demons, ghosts, nutjob wizards. It’s long list.

Clover expected Amber to be chastened, frightened like one would be after getting a hit from reality. She didn't expect the girl to plaster a grin, exclaiming and calling out the unexpected. Guys! That's so exciting!

The girl was almost gushing, flowing out waves of happiness. What on Earth was exciting about danger, Clover didn't know. She was definitely caught off-guard with this one.

Clover’s expression tightened. I don’t think you get the gravity of your situation.

A big grin on her face, Amber raised her hands. Oh come on guys. Learning magic, fighting evil, sounds pretty cool to me.

Clover rubbed her forehead – novices. Amber you got to know Magic, no matter how minor, comes with a price.

Like what? She looked them up and down. You two seem okay.

Depends what you’re prepared to pay, Clover said. "Might be as small as a strand of hair, a prick of pain, a second of