"How do you evengetthere?" I mumbled, tracing the box one more time. I know it's somewhere out west, past the Witches’ domain, but humans don't venture out of our lands often, let alone intothatterritory. Grabbing the paperwork again, I started reading for more details, desperate for some clue, some hint of an explanation. There had to be something in here about why I’d received an invitation—whymeof all people—and, more importantly,howto get there if I accepted. The ornate script offered no practical information, just flowery pronouncements about my "unique potential" and the "honor" of attending. It was maddeningly vague. I flipped through heavy paper over again, hoping for a map, a hidden inscription—anything.
Just as I was about to give up, a small, folded piece of parchment slipped from between the pages. It was almost the same color as the invitation, easily missed if you weren't looking for it. Unfolding it carefully, I scanned the brief message, my heart pounding in my chest.Instructions.
“To reach Nexara Academy, present yourself at the northwest docks at midnight tomorrow. A vessel bearing the academy’s crest will await you there.”
That was it. No explanation, no further details. Just a time and a place. The northwest docks—that was practically on the other side of Nyvorthia, a rough part of the city and dangerous at night. Who in their right mind would arrange a rendezvous in such a place? And whymidnight? It all felt so…illicit.
“This has to be some kind of mistake,” I muttered, pacing the small confines of my apartment. Me? At Nexara Academy? The thought was absurd. I was just Thalia, a nobody. I didn’t belong in a place like that—a place for the gifted, the powerful.
I glanced at the invitation again, the elegant script mocking me with its promises of “greater things.” Could this be real? Could I actually possess some hidden ability, some dormant power waiting to be awakened?
I thought back to the shadows, the whispers, the strange feelings that had plagued me for years. I'd always dismissed them, convinced they were nothing more than figments of my imagination. But what if…what if they weren’t? What if there was something more to me than I realized?
“It’s crazy,” I said aloud, my voice echoing in the quiet apartment. “Absolutely crazy.”
The northwest docks. Midnight tomorrow. It was a risky proposition, a step into the unknown. But something—some inexplicable force—was drawing me towards it, urging me to take the leap.
I glanced around my small apartment. The peeling paint on the walls and the mismatched furniture had been my sanctuary for the past few years, my first real home after fleeing the orphanage. It wasn't much, but it was mine. A haven built out of scraps and solitude, a testament to my resilience and independence. A world away from the sterile, suffocating atmosphere of the orphanage and the lonely streets I'd roamed before finding this place. It represented the life I’d painstakingly built for myself—a life of quiet anonymity, where I could finally let my guard down and justbe.
Was this my chance? My chance to finally belong somewhere, to be somethingmore? Tomorrow, I’d walk straight into whatever this was. Maybe it was a trap, maybe it was a joke, maybe it was the beginning of the rest of my life. I couldn’t afford to keep second-guessing myself.
I’d pack the few possessions I truly valued—the worn leather-bound journal filled with half-formed poems and sketches, the smooth river stone I’d found as a child—along with my meager collection of clothes, and I’d decide to embrace this opportunity. Maybe Nexara Academy held the key to discovering who I truly was, unlocking the secrets of my past. Maybe I’d finally find the answers to the questions that haunted me—the questions about my background, my parents, my very existence.
* * *
The taxi parkedat the entrance of the northwest docks. As I shut the door, the car immediately sped off, leaving me alone beneath the oppressive, stormy sky. I looked out at an endless stretch of wooden planks leading into the darkness, illuminated by sparse, flickering lampposts that cast long, dancing shadows.
The soft hum of distant waves crashing against the shore was drowned out by the eerie cries of seagulls circling overhead. Pools of sickly yellow light reflected on the choppy water below, but there were no signs of life—no dockworkers, no ships. Just the endless expanse of the docks and the dark, churning sea. It was as though the place had been forgotten by time itself, left to decay in the embrace of the restless sea. A shiver ran down my spine, a prickly sensation that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the unsettling atmosphere.
I started my way down the dock, the shadows in my peripheral vision shooting forward like grasping claws, as if directing me further into the abyss. Each step I took echoed in the stillness, the sound amplified by the emptiness surrounding me.
"I knew this was a fucking joke," I muttered, reaching the splintered end of the dock. The wood groaned beneath my boots, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the churning sea below. A jagged fork of lightning split the inky sky, the sudden flash illuminating the rolling storm clouds gathering on the horizon. For a moment, I felt a small sense of peace in the face of the brewing chaos—a perverse comfort in the untamed power of the elements. It mirrored the turmoil within my own soul.
"Thalia Cross?" a deep voice boomed, startling me so violently I stumbled, my arms flailing wildly as I fought to regain my balance. My heart hammered against my ribs. Whipping my head to the right, I saw the dark silhouette of a large boat emerge from the gloom, its form momentarily illuminated by another flash of lightning. A large, bearded man leaned against the railing, his features obscured by the shadows. My eyes scanned the vessel, finally landing on a large crest emblazoned on the side, the words "Nexara Academy" etched in elegant script of navy blue and silver.
"What are you standing there for? We need to go," the man said gruffly, extending a calloused hand towards me. Hesitantly, I approached, the scent of salt and brine clinging to him, and handed him my suitcase and backpack before climbing onto the deck.
"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to steady myself as the boat rocked gently beneath me. I clutched the railing, my knuckles white, as I tried to ignore the dizzying sway.
The man grunted in response, his eyes, dark and piercing, scanning the horizon. "Go sit over there," he instructed, jerking his thumb towards a cluster of benches near the stern. "I'm assuming you haven't been on a Gifted vessel, eh? Well, brace yourself. It's not like your little human ones." He let out a rough chuckle that held no humor. "You can call me Captain," he added, turning back to the helm. "Just yell if you need me. Stay in your seat, and we'll get there soon." His words held a finality that said the conversation was over. I made my way to the indicated benches, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me, and sat down heavily, clutching my backpack in my lap.
The boat lurched forward, heading straight into the heart of the approaching storm. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach as the rocking intensified. I gripped the railing, the rough wood digging into my palms. The vessel sliced through the waves, sending water misting over the deck, the salty droplets stinging my face. Our speed increased dramatically, the world outside becoming a blur of gray and black. I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach churning, fighting the rising nausea. The roar of the wind and the crashing of waves filled my ears—a deafening symphony of chaos. I focused on my breathing, trying desperately to keep my dinner down. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, everything went still.
I cautiously opened my eyes, expecting to see the raging storm, the churning sea. Instead, I was met with an otherworldly spectacle. Streaks of vibrant color, like ribbons of light, danced around the boat, swirling and pulsing in the air. It was as though we were moving at impossible speeds—so fast that reality itself seemed to distort and bend around us. But despite the visual chaos, there was no movement, no wind, no sound of crashing waves—just an unnerving stillness.
"Told ya, eh?" the Captain chuckled, his voice raspy with amusement at my reaction. I glared at him, trying desperately to swallow the bile that was still rising in my throat.
"What in the hell is happening?" I asked, my gaze fixed on the mesmerizing spectacle of colors swirling around us. They pulsed and shifted like a living aurora, painting the air with impossible hues.
"Sailing," he said simply, laughing again. Well, not going to get much out of this guy. I could practically see the amusement dancing in his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners as he watched my bewildered expression. He was clearly enjoying this bizarre show a little too much, while I was still trying to figure out if I was dreaming or hallucinating. Maybe both.
My eyelids started to feel heavy, like the colors were putting me in a trance. A pleasant, warm drowsiness spread through my limbs, making me want to just lean back and let the swirling hues consume me. I fought to keep my eyes open, my mind screaming at me to stay alert, but the tiredness won. My lashes fluttered, then closed completely, and the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of vibrant nothingness.
"Time to get up!" the Captain yelled over the roar of crashing waves and the shriek of wind whipping through the sails. My eyes shot open, instantly alert. Land loomed ahead—stark and imposing. Jagged, sky-high mountains clawed at the horizon, their peaks shrouded in mist. We were approaching a shore unlike any I'd ever seen, a place that felt both ancient and forbidding.
After we docked, the Captain approached, his weathered face etched with a mixture of concern and something akin to pity. He offered a calloused hand to help me deboard, his grip surprisingly gentle as I navigated the swaying gangplank.
"Just follow the path," he said, his voice rough but not unkind, gesturing towards a narrow, overgrown track that snaked inland. "The entrance isn't far from here. Good luck to ya, lass." He gave my shoulder a reassuring pat before turning back, leaving me standing alone on the strange, unsettling shore.
