Page 1 of Self Studies

Chapter 1

Gasping for air, my stomach cramped, and I shot to a seated position. The rough linens around my legs wrinkled in my grip. I squinted, blinking as the too-bright lights of the unfamiliar room burned my dry eyes.

“Deep breaths, sweetie.” A woman’s mellow voice contrasted the high-pitched beeping around me. I clung to her words, my chest expanding with each breath. One finger at a time, I released my death grip on the blankets.

Something bad happened. The simple thought almost made me laugh before a sob ripped out of my throat. I closed my eyes, and memories punched through my confusion.

The echo of bullets rang in my ears while flames consumed the cream velvet walls of my apartment. Smoke stung my eyes and burned my lungs, making my breaths shallow. The Magical Authorities’ distinct blue and red uniforms were visible through the haze as they destroyed the only home I’d ever known.

In the middle of it all, my master, my world, had collapsed over his heavy bronze work table. Glass beakers lay broken around him, and his laptop sparked where blood ran between the keys and flowed into the remains of a bright pink potion. A small cloud of sickly reddish-pink magic rolled up from the two liquids that never should have combined. The bright gem red rims around my master’s irises glowed with a fraction of his normal magic. His head hardly moved as his gaze met mine.

I bolted toward him.

“Stop!” A voice rang above everything.

I didn’t stop; my master was my everything. I had to be by his side.

Two steps later, pain bit into my thigh. I screamed as my leg crumpled. A second projectile hit my shoulder, which sent me flying sideways. My stomach hit the plush carpet, and I moaned in pain as darkness edged my vision.

I fought past the agony to focus on the only thing that mattered. One of my master’s bloody hands limply reached out for me, but all I could do was watch. The light left his eyes. My mouth twisted in silent horror as his arm and head thumped onto the table and went deathly still.

A hand touched my back, jolting me back to the present. I swallowed a shriek and pulled the sheet to my chest.

“You’re with us now. Deep breaths,” the woman said.

I focused on her voice, clinging to her command to breathe.

My master couldn’t be dead. It was impossible. I refused to believe it.

Emptiness squeezed my heart. Despite my attempts to calm myself, my next breath came out as a choked sob.

‘Control.’ My master’s rich voice echoed in my memory. I wrapped it around myself like armor. ‘There’s nothing more important. Never lose control.’

“Good, keep breathing,” the woman murmured, rubbing my back.

Someone loosely tucked me into a bed which came up to the woman’s hip. Kind brown irises, rimmed in bright orange magic, watched me. Although I knew orange rims existed, I’d never seen anything other than my master’s gem-red in person.

Her hand rubbing my back suddenly felt wrong. I pulled away and looked down so I couldn’t see her too kind eyes. The glint of a silver cat pinned to her breast caught my attention. I’d watched stray cats from my window my entire life. Their antics always made me smile.

The random thought calmed me before a swell of grief took over my existence. All of that was gone. Salty tears dripped down my face as memories tried to assault me, but I didn’t let them this time.

‘Control.’

I remembered to breathe, and my tears slowed, as did the incessant beeping from the machine behind me.

Absently, I pressed against my two injuries. I couldn’t even feel them now—the paper-thin gown covering me crinkled as I inspected my body. I’d always been underweight, too thin for my frame, but now, I bordered on emaciated.

The metal of the titanium and copper socket, just bigger than a USB drive, slightly protruding from my boney hip, felt cool compared to the rest of my skin. I paused, brushing my fingers across the top of it again. I didn’t feel the little balls on either side of my industrial piercing. My heart beat faster. If that was missing, what if…no, I couldn’t even think of it.

“Careful of your IV,” the woman said, drawing my attention. “I know, it’s mundane, but our magic and funds are limited. Technology can do just as much with fewer resources.”

I looked at her and blinked, not understanding her defensive tone. Never having been outside of my apartment before, I didn’t know what was mundane and what wasn’t. When I cut my finger, my master put a bandage on it. My master always took care of me.

“I’m Norah.” She patted her chest. “You’re at the Charbon Institute. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

She gestured to my hip and shoulder. “We’ve magically fixed the gunshot wounds and the damage done to your lungs from the smoke. It shouldn’t have taken three days.” She gestured around her. “But, like I said, we’re underfunded and underpowered. Obviously, healing takes a lot of magic, so it was the best we could do.”

I knew that. Or at least I knew it took a lot out of my master to charge a healing potion. I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman’s face. Her thick lips looked nothing like my master’s thin, turned-down mouth. She was the first person I’d talked to in person besides him.

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