Page 3 of The Kingdom of Ruin

Vampires.

I peer to their right and find myself a little stunned to see the group standing so close to them. A different vibe emanates from them altogether. Everyone’s shoulders rub as they all stand closer than necessary, an air of familiarity and family pouring from them. They’re the second largest group here, but instead of designer clothes and the latest tech clinging to their every limb, they’re mostly in ripped jeans and open checkered shirts with tanks underneath. Males and females included. They laugh loudly, a bubble of excitement enveloping them.

Wolves.

Pressing my lips together, I move to the group standing in the center of the space, a quaint, almost solemn vibe coming from them. They’re all-knowing, studious, and proper. Draped in cloaks similar to my own, they talk in quiet, hushed tones, always carrying some kind of book with them. It’s almost cute and nerdy until they open their mouths to express how wrong you are and how right they are.

Mages.

My gaze travels to those in the far left area, their group smaller than the others, and although you get the sense they aren’t as close as some of the other groups, there’s still an air of serenity and adventure that bubbles around them. No one looks the same; no one acts the same. They’re all individual and unique, and they own it.

Shifters.

Similar to the wolves, but completely different all at once. They’re not packs, they’re not a family, and they don’t shift into wolves. They shift into whatever the fates decide they are.

Nerves bubble from the group near them, with a sense of wonder and panic twisting in the air. Ordinary. Mundane. Giftless.

Humans.

With gadgets tucked in their hands and a need to prove themselves drifting from them, they’re desperate to belong, to fit in—as they rightfully should. It’s just a shame that the actions they take don’t mirror it. They should be the most frowned upon group, but they’re not.

Which leaves the smallest group standing closest to the podium. The group that makes my heart sink. Everyone affords them a wide berth as the members shuffle nervously from foot to foot. It’s the uncertainty that comes from them that confirms what they are without you having to look for the most obvious point. Pun intended.

Fae.

Once the leaders of the kingdom, now the remnants of a nightmare. Simply an afterthought of atrocities that brought the kingdom down and left ruin in its place.

“Which group are you?”

I startle at the interruption, glancing up at a man dressed in a perfectly pressed navy suit. The black framed glasses on his nose somehow make him seem approachable, but the tightness of his jaw and squint to his eyes tell a different story.

“Why?”

He narrows his eyes, irritated with having to waste more time on me than necessary and completely unimpressed with my inability to be immediately pliant and at his will. “Because you’re standing alone, and the groups have been formed,” he states, and I cock a brow.

“I was under the impression we are here as individuals, that what or who we are doesn’t matter,” I counter, making his eyes narrow further.

“Be as you will, but you may seek strength from those around you. Alone…you won’t last long, I’m sure.” He smiles, the display not reaching his eyes as they darken. I can read between the lines and understand what he’s not saying.

He thinks I won’t last two minutes alone. Maybe he’s right, or maybe I am.

Time will tell.

Channeling my father’s words, I put a wide smile on my face and nod. “Thank you for the advice.”

I know I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I’ve already heard the rumors that everyone will be housed according to their origins when we step inside the academy. There’s no point delaying the inevitable, but what can I say? I’m stubborn and I’m not going to fall under someone else’s thumb so easily.

Especially not a vampire’s.

Turning away from the irritation spoiling my observations, I roll my shoulders back and cut through the crowd, slowing to a stop at the front of the podium. Along with my kind.

Fae.

The nerves and panic that drift around them threaten to seep into my bones, too, but I push it back, slowing my racing heart as I channel every ounce of strength, determination, and power I have. It doesn’t help when I can feel people looking at me. Or is that the anxiety attempting to get the better of me?

Dammit.

“Are you with the right group?” a girl asks, and I turn to look at her with a frown. It’s on the tip of my tongue to question whether she thinks anyone would actually choose to stand here if they didn’t have to, but I manage to keep my mouth shut and simply nod instead. That doesn’t seem to appease her, though. Her gaze shifts to my ears and back to my eyes. “It’s just you don’t…”

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