Page 27 of Shadowed Fate

I fell into the trap of trusting a moment of kindness and an easy smile. So fucking stupid. I really should know better.

With leaden limbs, I trudge across the floor, each step a battle against the false memories of him—so close, so unnervingly intimate.

I’d actuallyfelthis warm breath between my legs, his tongue circling my clit, his strong fingers inside me.

All of it just a fucked-up mirage.

I still feel slightly disoriented and the edge of the bed catches me as I fall more than sit.

In this place, my phone becomes an anomaly on the nightstand, a slice of my old life glaringly out of place in this strange new world. It's almost jarring how ordinary and familiar it looks here. I snatch it up, and my fingers are trembling as they swipe across the screen.

Fiona's name sits there, a lifeline of normalcy in a sea of madness.

I imagine her voice, her jokes, and her laugh. I hesitate, my thumb hovering with indecision—the urge to confide in her wrestling with the knowledge that words could never bridge the gap between our worlds now.

"Fuck it," I murmur to myself, pressing the call button hard enough to hurt.

The dial tone buzzes in my ear, and I’m surprised that it even works. What would I even say?Hey, Fi, just enrolled in Warlock U, oh and by the way, I have superpowers?

But I don’t get the chance. Fiona’s voicemail greeting plays. A part of me is relieved, grateful for the reprieve from explanations that would sound like insanity even to my own ears. I drop my phone onto the bed.

Callen’s scent lingers, crisp and heavenly. His presence, though absent, is invasive. There's no escaping the truth. This isn't just a school; it’s a battlefield, and I am woefully unprepared.

A rustle at the door scratches through the silence.

I approach, slow and deliberate, my breath caught between caution and curiosity, and I notice a paper lying innocently on the floor.

Picking it up, my fingers brush the rough texture and I unfold it.

The script is hand-written—curved, elegant letters spelling out courses that sound like spells themselves.

"Elemental Conjuring... Glyph Weaving..." I read aloud. My world thus far has been practicality and survival.

This?

This is beyond my wildest dreams, a glaring reminder that I amout of my depth.

"Advanced Illusionary Tactics"

"Druidic Lore"

"Temporal Distortions"

I drop the schedule onto the bed, feeling the like crawling under the covers and never coming back out.

My eyes dart over the unfamiliar words again, each one a reminder of how utterly out of place I am.

The memory of seeing the magic being practiced on the training grounds last night floods my mind. Their effortless grace, the casual way they wielded power. I close my eyes.

They belong here. And I'm just...what?

My chest tightens, a familiar ache of not fitting in. I've always been the outsider, but this?

This is a whole new level of not belonging.

What if I can't control whatever it is inside me?

I glance at my hands, remembering the darkness that had emerged earlier.

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