Light poured into the room through the tall window, painting the dust in the air with a thin golden mist. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, while my body still vibrated with the realization that this was not a dream. This body, this house, these walls... everything was real.
I got up and walked around the room, then I went to the closet and took out my clothes, a black suit, and I was amazed at how beautiful it was in the past world, something that I could only dream of in this one.
"If you don't want to go crazy, do what I say."
I remembered the words from that damn notebook.
Thank you, бля. Great mood.
I left the room. At the turn, a servant was waiting for me—the same one who had carried the dishes the day before. He was as dry as parchment, pale, and his eyes were fixed on the floor.
"Breakfast is served in the small dining room, Mr. Kalen," he said in a flat voice, without looking up.
"Yeah... where is she, this little girl?"
He turned around in silence and started walking. I followed him.
"Listen," I told him, "if I suddenly start talking to the furniture or hiding under the table, don't tell anyone, okay?" The servant didn't respond, of course. He didn't even move. Either he had instructions not to say anything, or he was already accustomed to the fact that everyone in this house was a little crazy.
We turned down a corridor, past a couple of paintings of ancestors, and finally I found myself at a door from behind which came the smell of bread, fried meat and something sweet. My stomach rumbled treacherously.
The dining room was smaller than it had been the day before, but no less pretentious. And, of course, there were already people sitting at the table. Veren was chewing as if he were fighting for every bite. The sisters, Norea and Celia, were discussing and giggling as if nothing strange was happening.
Lair sat there, silent as always. His arms were crossed, and he was looking at me from under his brow. He had clearly realized for a long time that something was wrong with me. He wasn't a fool.
The mother looked carefully. Too carefully. She didn't blink.
As before, his father said a brief "Son" and continued drinking his tea.
I sat down in my seat. My back was straight. Inside, there was a quiet but confident fuck.
"Kalen," my mother said. "You look a little... better. Did the night do you any good?" I smiled slightly. "A little ghosting, a few ancestors in the mirror... it's quite therapeutic..."
The sisters giggled. The mother did not smile.
The father put his cup back on the saucer and looked up.
"You're going to the city today, and then to the academy." He said. "You're expected for the distribution ceremony. The teachers need to determine your magical class. You know how important this is."
I nodded.
"Yes, Father.
"Try not to let the family name down!"
- of course.
I know how to do that.
I finished my tea, and a mixture of excitement and incomprehensible fear settled in my throat. I left the house, and the cold morning air hit my face, as if the world around me had become foreign. The narrow streets of Greymont were noisy and smelled of burning and bread, as I walked towards the academy.
***
The gates of the academy seemed impenetrable: black metal with engraved runes and the city's crest. The guards looked at me intently, as if they could sense that I wasn't from their world. Perhaps they were right.
Inside, the stone walls and high vaults created an atmosphere of antiquity and power. Professors wandered around the hall, sizing me up like a chess piece about to be placed on the board.
"Kalen," said a tall man with gray hair and a stern face. "Today is July 7. Your birthday is July 13, and you will soon turn 15. Your admission to the academy is scheduled for September 4. But since you are here today, let us see what you are made of."
I nodded, trying to hide my excitement. Bitch, at least it's something normal, even though I have a shadow tattoo, I read that it's rare in the book, but who knows, maybe I'm being fucked with.
"Ready."
He pointed to a magic circle in the center of the room.
"Stand there and focus."
I stepped inside the circle, the stone cold against my feet, but something stirred within me. A tattoo pulsed on my wrist, the mark of the Shadow. It was black, like a shadow that had seeped into my skin, shimmering slightly as if it were alive.
One of the professors noticed this and frowned.
"What's that mark on your arm? I've never seen a rookie with that before."
Another professor came closer, carefully examining the tattoo.
"Shadow is one of the rarest elements in the academy. But yours is... very weak. Almost invisible."
YOU WHAT, SCUM, FUCKED UP, BITCH, BROUGHT ME INTO THIS WORLD AND HERE AND SAY SOMETHING, GO FUCK YOURSELF. Okay, let's calm down...
"Is this... normal?" I asked.
The gray-haired man shook his head.
"It's rare for someone with such a weak Shadow to make it to the academy. But if you're here, it means you have potential. The key is not to lose yourself."