We rodethe bus to Havenbrook, a little town nestled in the forests. As we stepped off the bus onto the cobblestone streets, the morning light painted the scene in a golden hue. It felt like we had stumbled into a forgotten corner of the world, where time moved at a slower, gentler pace. The market square bustled with activity—a vibrant mix of sights, sounds, and smells. A magnificent fountain, carved with figures of mythical creatures, held court at its center. The water cascading down its tiers with a soothing melody. All around it, a maze of narrow alleyways and winding lanes branched off into town.
We wandered past timber-framed buildings with gabled roofs, their walls decorated with colorful murals showing scenes of local legends and folklore. Window boxes overflowed with flowers in every shade imaginable, spilling onto the streets below. Market stalls, draped with brightly striped awnings, lined the square, offering a tempting selection of goods. Merchants, their faces weathered by the sun and wind, displayed their wares with pride—handcrafted jewelry, intricately woven tapestries, baskets overflowing with ripe fruits and vegetables. The air, crisp and clean, carried the enticing scents of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and sweet pastries, mingling with the fragrant perfume of blooming flowers. Laughter and lively chatter echoed through the square, punctuated by the cheerful calls of vendors pushing their goods.
In the distance, a grand stone tower, its silhouette stark against the azure sky, stood watch over the town. A flock of birds circled its peak, their cries echoing through the crisp morning air. This was Havenbrook, a place where magic seemed to linger in every stone and whisper on every breeze. A world away from the pretentious walls and hushed corridors of the academy, it offered a sense of freedom and escape that I hadn't realized how desperately I craved.
We ducked into a winding alley, its path worn smooth by time, and emerged into a hidden courtyard bathed in dappled sunlight. Tucked away in the corner, we found a little café, the front draped with cascading ivy and vibrant geraniums. The rustic sign, swaying gently in the breeze, read "The Nook."
As we stepped inside, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped us. Soft jazz music played in the background, creating a soothing ambiance. We chose a table under a striped umbrella, nestled in a cozy corner of the courtyard. El's face lit up with a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she took in the peaceful surroundings.
"You know, this place reminds me a bit of my home village," El began, her gaze drifting to the bustling street as a group of children raced by, their joyous shrieks echoing through the square. "It was just like this—full of life and laughter. The houses were painted in all sorts of bright colors, just like those ones over there," she said, gesturing towards a row of buildings with facades in shades of sapphire, emerald, and ruby. "And the people were always so friendly. Everyone knew each other, and there was always something going on—festivals, markets, music in the streets..."
A small smile played on her lips. "I can almost smell the baking bread from Mrs. Willowbrook's bakery," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment as if savoring the memory. "And hear the blacksmith's hammer ringing out..."
But the smile faded, a shadow passing over her face. "It's funny," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "how even the happiest places can hold painful memories." She opened her eyes, a flicker of pain in their depths. "When I was younger, I went through something... incredibly humiliating. Right there in the heart of my village. It was during the annual Summer Solstice festival, with the whole clan gathered in the square. I was just a young girl then, barely old enough to control my magic..."
She paused, her gaze distant, as if reliving the scene. "There was this competition for young witches," she continued, her voice catching slightly. "Everyone expected me to fail. They thought I didn't have the fire in me—literally and figuratively."
She chuckled, but the sound held a sharp edge. "So, I spent weeks holed up, much like you, doubting myself because of what everyone else believed." Her eyes hardened, her voice taking on a steely quality. "Until one day, I just snapped. I was done hiding, done with feeling sorry for myself."
El straightened her back, her chin lifting with newfound confidence. The air around her seemed to crackle with energy, the remnants of that fiery determination. "I walked right into the middle of the village during the next gathering," she declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "Called out the strongest witch—my own cousin—and challenged her to a duel." A slow smile spread across her face. "Everyone thought I had lost my mind."
"And?" I urged, leaning forward, completely captivated by her tale.
El held my stare for a beat, the silence hanging heavy with anticipation. Then, a proud grin broke across her face. "And I won," she said, her voice filled with quiet satisfaction. "It wasn't because I was stronger—far from it. It was because I was angrier, more desperate to prove, not just to them, but to myself, that I wasn't what they labeled me to be."
The waitress arrived with our coffee, and El took a sip, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sometimes," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial, "you need to step into the fire—feel the flames lick at your skin, see the embers glow—to see how you'll come out on the other side.”
El set down her cup, her playful demeanor fading again as she leaned back in her chair. Her brow furrowed slightly as she recalled the next chapter of her story. “After that duel," she began, her voice taking on a newfound gravity, "I knew I had to train harder than ever. I was determined to prove I wasn’t just a fluke, that I could hold my own against anyone."
"It wasn't easy," she admitted. "There were days when I wanted to give up, when the exhaustion and the self-doubt crept in. But then I would remember that feeling—that surge of power when I faced my cousin—and I would push myself harder."
"I threw myself into my training like a firestorm," she continued, her eyes gleaming with the memory, "practicing my spells until my body ached, honing my control until I could summon a spark with a mere flick of my wrist. I sought out the elders, pestering them with questions, absorbing their wisdom like a sponge."
“Eventually, all that effort paid off," El said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "I became the strongest witch in my clan. People started seeking my advice, even the elders. Young witches looked up to me, eager to learn my techniques. My name...well, it commanded a certain respect."
She paused, a soft smile gracing her lips. "And that's when the invitation to Nexara Academy came," she continued, her eyes sparkling with the memory. "They'd heard of my abilities, of how I'd defied expectations and risen to the top. It was an honor. A validation of all my hard work I’d poured into becoming more. They wanted me to join the most prestigious school for gifted individuals."
"You might not feel it yet, Thalia," she continued, "but there's a fire in you waiting to be unleashed. Remember those weeksIspent hiding, doubting myself? You're there now. But you won't stay there. I know it. You're going to rise from the ashes, stronger and more powerful than ever before. Just like I did."
Her words ignited a flicker of hope within me, but the fear still lingered. "But what if I'm notGifted?" I asked, my gaze falling to my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
El leaned forward, her expression fierce. “Strength isn’t just about power, Thalia; it’s about resilience and the willingness to face your fears. You’ve already taken the first step by being here today. You faced your humiliation, and now you’re ready to step back into the light. Just remember, I’ll be right by your side, cheering you on.”
A small smile touched my lips. "Thanks, El," I said, her unwavering support easing some of the tension knotting my stomach.
"I guess it was nice not having the psycho brothers around for a bit," I replied, chuckling as I recalled the moment I had flipped them off. Their stunned expressions—a mix of shock and disbelief—had been priceless. "But I guess I can't hide away forever."
El's laughter rang out, a melodic sound that filled the cozy café. "Honestly," she said, her voice softening as her laughter subsided, "I think they're more afraid of you than you realize."
A puzzled frown creased my forehead. "Scared ofme?" I echoed, "El, that's a good one!"
"Thalia, I'm serious!" she insisted, though a playful smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, they're intimidating and dangerous, but they've never focused on someone as much as they have with you." She paused, her expression turning thoughtful. "There's something about you, Thalia—something that rattles them."
“What do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
El leaned forward, the aroma of her hazelnut coffee wafting across the table. "They don't usually care about anyone," she explained, her voice low and serious. "People steer clear of them, and they like it that way. But with you..." She paused, turning her head slightly, as if trying to solve a puzzle. "It's different. They're watching you, paying attention in a way I've never seen before."
“Well, those assholes can shove it," I retorted, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "I'm so sick of their glares. And what the hell was up with Nox? One minute he looks at me like I'm a bug he wants to squash, and the next, he wants to be my partner? What kind of game is he playing?"
