Shadows: Academy of Magical Beings, #1

By Emery Cole

Alyssa's a student at one of the most prestigious academies for magical beings. Not that she's much of a magical being. She's one of three sisters, descended from a mother who is an expert in magickry, and yet she can't control her magic. Not a lick. Wait. There's more.

 

It's no surprise that Alyssa's life's on a roller coaster. She's being followed by Shadows, spirits called forth from the afterlife to do the bidding of a dark magic wielder. She's met a cute guy who is possibly more socially awkward than she is. She's got a new birthmark that her mother seems to know something of and yet won't tell Alyssa a thing about it.

 

What else could possibly go wrong?

• Language: English
• Publisher: EmCo
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201240189

Book preview

1

All of us have darkness inside us.

That’s what they tell one when one is born a witch. If one is fortunate enough to be born into a whole family of witches, one will grow up with cool and casual comprehension of the darkness within you. The less fortunate ones who are born as anomalies, representing the singular ounce of magic in their entire family tree, don’t learn about the darkness—or get a chance to grapple with it—until later in life.

I guess I should be grateful that I’m part of the former crowd. My parents were born with magic running through their veins, as were their parents before them, and so on and so forth. Both of my sisters are witches, too. Darkness is not a foreign concept to us.

However, just because it is familiar doesn’t mean it’s welcome in one’s daily lives.

All witches and warlocks are born with the ability to wield both light and dark magic, my mother said to my sisters and me when we were young. What matters is not the proportion of lightness to darkness, but rather the path that you choose to walk down. But always remember, girls, that we receive our magic from nature itself, and nature constantly seeks balance. If you act against nature, there will always be consequences.

I never really understood my mother’s words. At least, not all the way. I was the youngest of my sisters, so when she lectured us about our powers, I was always the comparative novice nodding obediently in the background.

When it came down to it, I wasn’t sure how one acted against nature if nature was so mysterious and unpredictable in the first place. I liked to think that the earth was good and generous, so, therefore, it would always endeavor to thrive in lightness. And yet… if there was a thirst for balance, surely there was plenty of natural darkness all around us?

The autumn equinox was barely a week ago, but it was cold enough that morning to turn my soft exhales into little clouds of condensation before me. I loved this time of year. Although the leaves were falling, the river was freezing, and the metaphor of death abounded, it always felt fresher than spring when October arrived. There was an inexplicable sense of peace in the knowledge that our side of the world was becoming more consumed by shadows each day, creeping ever closer to the darkest day of the year.

Not that I would ever admit that out loud. People would stop calling me shy and simply refer to me as spooky from that point onward.

That’s why I loved the mountains so much. They never judged me for feeling at home within them. Triplet peaks rose above the town of Deadwater, Maine, rounded and forested densely with evergreens, providing the gateway to grander mountains in the distance with freshwater springs that fed the Deadwater River that curved through the valley and lent my hometown its namesake. I’d been hiking on the three mountains for years, ever since my mother gave up trying to stop me from wandering onto them.

I was the only local that dared to walk among their shadows.

The mountains were called the Three Sisters and, in some ways, they were famous. Stories were told of the ghosts and monsters that dwelled in their trees, luring unwitting tourists into them. Each year, Deadwater received a number of visitors who possessed absolutely no magical ability nor mere appreciation for the mysticism of Mother Earth whatsoever. These visitors were drawn to town because they heard the stories of people who set foot on the Three Sisters and returned with wide-eyed horror written on their faces, their souls forever marred by whatever they witnessed amongst the trees. Some visitors never made it off the mountains alive.

Each crop of tourists thought they were brave enough to laugh in the face of the cursed Three Sisters. Every single one of them was proven wrong.

Personally, I thought it was a mob mentality thing. Like, a bunch of people were spooked by some rickety old pines groaning in the wind and a few mischievous chipmunks in the bushes, and because they weren’t accustomed to the rugged, raw nature of the Maine wilderness, their minds translated the entire experience into a nightmare.

Truthfully, I didn’t think there was anything haunting the mountains. In all my time exploring the Three Sisters, I was never given a reason to believe there were monsters or ghosts stalking the forest.

It was only a few minutes after dawn when the soles of my faithful hiking boots tread a familiar path up the eastern sister of the three mountains. The eastern peak was the closest to my house, which sat at the end of an otherwise ordinary suburban lane at the base of the dark summits.

I breathed in the comforting scent of fresh pine needles and decaying maple leaves, relishing the brisk autumn air in my lungs. It was said that the cleanest air in the country could be found in this region. No wonder nature and her magic thrived here.

It didn’t take long for me to reach the top of the mountain. Not only because I could trek up and down either of the three with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back, but also because the Three Sisters were not particularly tall mountains. The summit of the eastern peak could be reached in about half an hour if you knew where you were going.

At the top of the mountain, the spindly pines gave way to rough, brown boulders and a small pond that was both fed and drained by a trickling stream.

I took a seat on my usual rock by the pond and watched a flock of Canadian geese soar overhead on their way south for the winter. The sky was the color of cotton candy, simultaneously pastel pink and muted blue as the sun took her time making her appearance.

Glancing over my shoulder at a rustling sound in the bushes nearby, I smiled as a trio of pheasants waddled across my path, caring little for my presence in their habitat. That was another legend about the mountains. They said that any living thing which dwelled atop the Three Sisters came in threes—no more and no less.

I suppose I hadn’t paid enough attention to quantifying the beauty around me to know if I could disprove that theory. I only ever wanted to admire it.

Placing my palms on the cold, grainy surface of the boulder beneath me, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could feel the hum of the earth, the pure magic that not everyone could sense was there. It must be miserable to not know how magically alive the world could be.

Even though I didn’t believe in the scary stories about the Three Sisters, I was keenly aware of the darkness within the mountains. It was hard to ignore, especially when I stopped to listen. To other witches and wizards, the sensation of darkness was a warning not to tread on this earth, but I never saw things that way.

Rather, the mountains always seemed to call out to me. It was as if I belonged on them. In many ways, I felt like the darkness within them matched the darkness within me.

It was confusing, though. I wasn’t skilled in elemental magic, least of all that which dealt in earth. Why would the mountains sing for me if I wasn’t the kind of witch who could harmonize with their powers?

I chalked it up to the fact that this land was my birthplace. Our powers were always stronger when we were home.

And just because I could feel the darkness inside me without trying didn’t mean that I was destined to become a dark witch. Just like my mother said, it is our choices that make us who we truly are.

Even if the legend of the Three Sisters and their origin was true, my affinity for them wasn’t doom. I wasn’t cursed like them.

I couldn’t be. I was just… me. I was hardly important enough to be plagued by a curse.

Deciding that I’d had enough of the mountains and their mysteries for one morning, I opened my eyes, stood up from the rock, and shoved my hands into the pockets of my corduroy jacket. Tucking away the stray curls of ebony hair that managed to escape from underneath my beanie during the hike, I marched back toward the forest and began my descent.

As usual, I was alone in the woods. The Deadwater locals who liked to dwell in the wilderness preferred to spend their leisure time in the less ominous woodland areas that surrounded the Three Sisters. They avoided the triplet mountains as if there was an invisible barrier around them, barring them from entry. Whenever tourists came into town loudly declaring they were planning to brave the Three Sisters, the locals tutted their tongues in disapproval. Even those who knew nothing about the witches and warlocks that flocked to Deadwater wouldn’t tolerate such foolishness.

Thus, in their eyes, I was the resident madwoman. I didn’t mind the reputation. I preferred to be alone, so being known as the freak who was bold enough to hike on the Three Sisters suited me fine.

I enjoyed the solitude and the peace it brought me as I walked down the gentle slope of the mountainside. Ever since I turned eighteen and started college, life had become busier and more complicated than I expected. There were so many expectations tossed my way, especially since my older sisters were so gifted and my mother was… well, simply put, one of the most respected witches of her generation.

I didn’t feel like an adult, but I suddenly had to have big ambitions and noticeable potential. If I was being honest, though, I didn’t know what I wanted out of life. I just wanted things to be simple and peaceful, like the mountains. On top of that, I also wanted to stop feeling like I had to worry about the tendrils of darkness that curled around the edges of my psyche. It was like smoke, but not the kind that chokes and consumes. Rather, I wanted to reach out to it and offer it fuel.

The problem was that I knew I wasn’t supposed to want that.

When I was about a quarter of a mile away from the base of the mountain, I suddenly realized that I was no longer alone. As the realization struck me, I stopped dead in my tracks and squinted through the branches to catch a glimpse of the traveler who decided to brave the Three Sisters that morning.

Except, when I saw the boy who walked alone through the dense thicket of trees, I realized that he wasn’t a traveler at all. He wasn’t a local either, though. It was Cody Waterman.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, too busy fighting his way through the untamed forest to glance up and realize that he was not alone. Like me, Cody was a freshman at the local university, but he wasn’t from Deadwater. He was from somewhere on the west coast, which I only knew because I overheard some girls sitting behind me in one of our orientation lectures a few weeks ago giggling about how handsome he was.

I supposed he was handsome. Cody was tall and thin—sort of lanky, but he carried himself in a way that made it seem more charming than awkward. He had longish black hair, wavy and gleaming as it skimmed the tops of his shoulders, which contrasted sharply with his pale skin.

As it turned out, however, Cody’s good looks didn’t get him very far in our school’s higher social circles. After just a few days of flirtation attempts from curious girls, it became immediately evident that Cody was a certified recluse. He hardly said a word in class—not that I had any right to make judgments on that front—and usually stuck to the fringes of crowds, lurking on the sidelines and keeping to himself. From what I observed, he turned away all their party invitations and eager interrogations. He didn’t want to be popular.

In that sense, Cody Waterman and I had a lot in common.

Not that I cared. Obviously.

I sighed and stepped out from behind my hiding place provided by the trunk of a maple tree. Cody clearly had no idea where he was going and, even if he didn’t get eaten alive by the alleged beasts that lurked on the Three Sisters, he was going to get himself lost in the woods within the next ten minutes if I didn’t provide assistance.

When I cleared my throat, Cody halted and looked up in surprise. He stared at me with wide eyes for a second, then collected himself and straightened, facing me from a couple yards away.

Canada is that way, I said, pointing northward to his right. Deadwater is behind you to the east.

Cody smiled timidly, brushing a strand of hair back from his face. He had boyishly handsome features, a beauty that was not traditionally masculine considering his narrower jawline and full lips, but it really worked for him. He was unique. No wonder the girls all fell for him… or whatever.

I know you, he said, ignoring my directions. You’re Alyssa, right? We have History of Witchcraft together.

Yes, us and two hundred other freshmen, I quipped, unsure why I was being so standoffish. His presence caught me off guard, as did his crooked smile.

Right. He chuckled, unbothered by my attitude.

You shouldn’t be up here on the mountains, I told him. It’s… dangerous. Especially if you’re alone and you have no idea where you’re going, which you obviously don’t.

Well, if it’s so dangerous, what are you doing up here? he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Perhaps the whispers about me hadn’t found their way to him yet. Classes only started a month ago. Being from the other side of the country, he wouldn’t know about my odd habit. Still, it was strange that the general gossip about the cursed mountains hadn’t reached him; usually, newcomers to Deadwater knew not to get within spitting distance of the Three Sisters by their second day in town.

Don’t worry about me, I told him. Anyway, I’m on my way down. I have an eight o’clock class, so…

Instead of finishing my sentence, I trailed off and started walking again, stepping past him.

An eight o’clock class? That’s rough, he replied conversationally.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. I’d never seen him say more than two words to another person, so why was he being so chatty with me?

Yeah, was all I offered in response before continuing on my way.

Cody didn’t say anything else.