Rory Blackwood's Arc

Chapter 1 of 13

Rory Blackwood dragged her trunk up the last stone step of Darkmoon Academy and told herself she would not set anything on fire today. She was fifteen. Her magic was six weeks old. In her pocket, folded small, was a page torn from her grandmother's journal, the word convergence bleeding through the paper. Nobody in her family had explained it before they died or lied or shipped her here. She had come to this gothic pile of towers to find out what she was. That was the whole plan. Luna Brightwell hit her at the door. Pink sweater, brown bangs, the smile Rory had missed for two years while her best friend was already learning to cast in these halls. "Roomies," Luna said. "I fought for it. Third floor, west side." "You didn't have to." "I did. You'd have picked a broom closet." Luna grabbed the handle of the trunk. "Come on. Orientation's in the long hall." The long hall smelled like cold stone and candle wax. Students clustered by school color. Rory kept her eyes down, drew a small sigil on her thumb with her nail, and felt the pressure in her chest step back one pace. That was when she noticed the boy. He stood across the hall, alone against a pillar. Uniform all black. Tie loose, sleeves rolled. Every shadow in the room leaned a little toward his feet like water tilting in a bowl. He was looking straight at her. Not glancing. Watching. "Who is that," Rory said. Luna followed her eyes. Her smile thinned. "Kael Evenmoor. Don't stare back. He doesn't do people." He was still watching. Rory felt heat gather under her collarbone. Her thumb-sigil went warm. A candle on the wall behind her hissed and doubled its flame. She crossed the hall before Luna could catch her sleeve. Kael did not move as she came. Up close he was taller than he'd looked, and his eyes were plain gray, not black. Not yet. "You've been staring at me since I walked in," Rory said. "Say it or stop." "You're loud." "Excuse me?" "Your magic. It's loud." He tipped his head half an inch toward the candle behind her, which was still guttering. "Everyone in this room can feel it. I'm the only one looking." Rory's jaw locked. "So you're what, warning me?" "Telling you." He paused. Chose the next words like coins. "Find me when you want to learn to be quiet." He pushed off the pillar and walked past her. The shadows unspooled from his feet and settled back into corners. Luna arrived at her elbow. "What did he say?" "He said I'm loud." Rory watched him go. Her hand was steady. The candle behind her had gone out. She had come here for one word in a dead woman's handwriting. She had just met the first person who'd heard her without being told.