Page 25 of Shattered Illusion

I blow a raspberry. “Then maybe they should put a sign up explaining what it is.”

Thaddeus chuckles. “There used to be one, but the students couldn’t handle what it was in writing, so they took the sign down, and now it’s just common knowledge to avoid it.”

“Common knowledge, my ass,” I mutter, following Thaddeus over to an empty table.

We both take a seat, and conversation between us dies as we both dig into our food. It’s absolutely delicious, not something that I’d think an academy would supply its students. But I have to remember that this is the supernatural world. They do things differently than when I was in school in the human sector.

Promptly at seven a.m.,my alarm shrilly echoes in the vast roundness of my bedroom from its perch on the desk. With a grumble and a few choice expletives, I stumble out of my bed blindly in the direction of the noise. It takes a few tries to locate the damn thing, but once I’ve got my hand around the box of plastic and glass, I stab my finger to the screen, shutting the damn thing up before tossing it unceremoniously back on my desk.

When I finally manage to open my eyes, my jaw pops as a yawn parts my lips. It’s too damn early in the morning for this girl to be awake. My groan echoes almost as loudly as my alarm did, and I stretch my arms above my head, relishing in the burn of my muscles. There’s something to be said for that first stretch in the morning right after waking up. It’s like the startup to get your interior motors running for the day.

The bathroom is calling my name—or that could be my bladder. After doing my business, I wash my hands, brush my teeth, and splash some water on my face. Looking up, I finallygive myself a chance to study my changes in the mirror. I’ve been avoiding them since Axel first told me my eyes were pink, but now, I think it’s time to see it fully. It’s not like I’ll wake up to the old me tomorrow, so it might be time to embrace what I am now.

Wide, bubblegum pink eyes stare back at me, the color so vastly different from the green I saw in the mirror for twenty-one years. Tangled white hair cascades over my shoulders, washing out my pale skin tone more than my original dark locks did. Everything else looks like me in the face except for those few key changes. It’s the rest of me, though…

My eyes dart over my sports bra and boyshort panty-clad body, warily eyeing the runes splayed across is. Even with the necklace snug against my throat and my glamour in full effect, the runes stand out against my light skin, looking like they’ve been ingrained into my very soul. And they have given that I’ve had them since I was born, just none-the-wiser due to whatever block my birth parents put on me.

The fire rune that lit me up yesterday rests on my left shoulder, almost like the fire tattoos that all the bad boys in the human sector loved to get. Banding around my neck are three squiggly lines that look suspiciously like sound waves, disappearing into my hair around the back of my head. From there, on my upper chest, flowing down between my breasts, are a series of vines, each one branching off to some sort of design I can’t make heads or tails of. The only one that looks remotely similar to anything I’ve seen before is the plus sign you’d see on a First Aid kit.

My eyes skip over the rest of the runes on my arms and stomach, zeroing in on the one that makes my belly swoop—the transmutation rune—the one we were supposed to attempt yesterday, but I just had to light myself on fire instead. I absently trace the lines surrounding the figure in the middle as I think about what I could possibly transform into.

A dragon would be freaking awesome. I could imagine launching myself into the air and breathing a trail of pink fire down on the unsuspecting ground, hoping that prick Hudson from yesterday would be the bullseye to my target. Or even changing into a bird, anything with wings, really, so I could feel the wind in my face.

Jasper could take you for another flight,my mind supplies. Unhelpfully, might I add. Jasper is the freaking headmaster. Yeah, he’s a giant rock bird; I won’t deny that he’s handsome in a he-is-a-giant-rock kind of way. But my first point is the most valid one. He’s the headmaster, and I shouldn’t be thinking about him in any capacity but an authoritative one.

Shaking myself out of those thoughts is harder than I expected, but another need rides my body, overpowering any Jasper or rune ideas I have.

Coffee. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Steamy.

Coffee is a must-have for my first day of class, so I pad out into the main living space of my dorm, right into the small kitchen, zeroing in on the stainless steel coffee machine. It’s no different from the one we used at home, so I’m able to make quick work of getting it started before I head back into my bedroom to get ready for the day.

My closet boasts a few options, and after shuffling through them, I finally settle on a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a red tank top with my Black high-top Converse and another one of my oversized zip-up hoodies also in black. I’d like to think it’s my signature color, but there’s no denying how much I love charcoal gray, too. Anything other than pink.

I scowl, thinking about the eyes I saw in my reflection earlier. Couldn’t they have been, I don’t know. Purple? I could have totally rocked purple.

Once fully dressed and I’ve run a brush through my hair, leaving it loose around my shoulders, I head back out to thesteaming to-go cup, just waiting for me to devour it. There’s no better time than the present to get this day started—or over with.

The walk to the dining hall this morning is fairly quiet. It doesn’t seem that many students get up in time for food unless they rush in at the last moment and grab something to go. I know I was dead set on eating in my room most of the time, but after the dinner Thaddeus and I had yesterday, I’m practically drooling to know what they serve for breakfast.

My coffee burns on its way down my throat as I pull open the door to the dining hall, relishing in the quiet calm that fills the room. Very few students are currently enjoying their own breakfasts, but there’s no chatter between them—just the scrape of utensils against plates.

Bacon, eggs, ham, sausage, toast, pancakes, and more are spread out before me as I reach the buffet table, eagerly grabbing a plate of my own after tucking my to-go cup in the crook of my elbow. I bypass the stuff I don’t know this time since I don’t have anyone here to caution me against them, and when my plate is practically overflowing, I all but skip to an empty table.

My stomach grumbles happily as I gobble down the food, washing it all back with my still-hot coffee. If it didn’t sound foolish to say, I would think the to-go cup is magical since my coffee is still at the just-brewed temperature. But magic is everywhere, so it wouldn’t surprise me if this cup was magically enhanced, too.

Time passes all too quickly as I’m consumed with my breakfast. The next thing I know, the dining hall starts to fill with more and more students, all grabbing something and leaving. A few hang around, whispering and staring in my direction, probably recognizing me from yesterday. The food I just inhaled feels like a boulder weighing me down as I hunch over, trying to make myself smaller so they don’t continue to zero in on me.

A screech fills my ears as a plate clatters onto the table in front of me, making my head snap up and glare at the offending person who thought I wanted company. Newsflash. I don’t. Any attention I get can’t be good. After all, bullies are nothing new, and I don’t expect supernaturals to be any different.

There were way too many years that I spent being bullied and ridiculed in the human sectors. And it was all because I didn’t share the same excited when we first learned about The Awakening. Every year since, whenever it was brought up, the bullying would escalate before dying down until the next year.

But the person in front of me isn’t anyone I suspected. A woman, much taller than my tiny stature, stands there with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her beautiful face. But it’s not aimed at me. No, she’s throwing that scowl at the other students who seemed engrossed by my presence.

“Ignore them,” she mutters, plopping down in the seat she pulled out. “Every single one of them are assholes and always looking for gossip.”

Chestnut hair flows in effortless waves over her shoulders, the layers cut within highlighting her heart-shaped face. A pert little nose rests between high cheekbones and above pink, plump lips. Her eyes have a golden hue, with a brown undertone. She looks slightly familiar, but I can’t seem to place where I’ve seen her before.

“I’m Marion. Wolf shifter.” I assumed that with her height. “Been here for years, and it’s the same shit with all the newbies that come from the human sectors.”

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