Page 16 of Heir of Shadows

There. Now it’s mine.

The bedroom was beautiful. A queen-sized bed, draped in green and black covers that, beneath the dust, promised softness I’d never known. Fluffy pillows piled high enough to drown in. And the glass doors—actual glass doors—that led to a balcony overlooking the school grounds and the mountains beyond.

I pushed them open despite the cold, letting the wind whip my hair back. The view stole my breath—mountains reaching into clouds, the campus’ gothic architecture making every building look like it was from a fairytale. I’d never been this high up, never seen this far. The world seemed endless from here, full of possibilities I’d never dared imagine.

Except I was living them. A witch in a brand new world of magic.

As I stood there, my emotions must have leaked into my power. Small shapes stirred in the garden far below—birds that had died on windowsills, mice that had lived and died in the grounds. My hand flew to Mom’s ring—I still couldn’t think of it as my father’s—as I tried to rein it in.Too much, too much. I hadn’t meant to reach that far.

I stepped back inside, closing my eyes and tried to focus until the magic retreated once more. Going through the wards had caused something to awaken in me, and now I was brimming with power I neither understood or could control.

Shaking myself, I moved on to the bathroom. It nearly made me cry. Not just a bathroom—a truly private bathroom, with a separate shower and tub. The tub was deep enough to actually submerge in, with elegant copper faucets gone green with age. Big fluffy towels sat stacked on the counter, and a beautiful silver-framed mirror hung above a marble vanity. After years of sharing cramped apartment bathrooms, this felt impossibly luxurious.

I spun slowly in the middle of the bathroom, elated and terrified and overwhelmed all at once. All this space—all of it mine.

No one can enter without my permission. No one can take it away.

The skeletal mouse from earlier had followed me, his tiny bone feet clicking softly against the marble floor. He watched me with hollow sockets that somehow still held intent, tilting his head in that curious way as I ran my fingers along the cool countertop.

When I opened a cabinet, he gave a sharp little chitter—encouraging? Judging? Honestly, hard to say—and scurried after me as I moved back into the main suite.

I texted Mom that I was here and safe. Then I went searching for cleaning supplies. Maybe there were spells for this—probably there were spells for this—but I didn’t know them or even where to look for them.

And after the insanity of the day, I needed the familiar comfort of actual work. Something I knew how to do without the magic that kept threatening to spill over every time I moved.

Somehow I found a bottle of lemon soap and some cleaning cloths under the sink in the bathroom. I didn’t know how or why my dad would have had to clean by hand, but I was grateful. Pulling out my phone from my suitcase, I set it on the counter and hit play on my indie playlist.

I filled the massive tub with hot water and soap, then stripped the bed and dragged all the linens in. The towels followed, then the velvet cushion covers. Steam rose around me as I scrubbed, turning the water gray.

I sang along as “Complicated” played. The dead things in the walls picked up the rhythm, their quiet clicking like odd percussion.

The familiar motions helped settle me, helped me find a rhythm with the magic pulsing through the tower. It was like learning to breathe with too much air—not fighting it exactly, but finding a way to handle the excess. The silver ring felt warm against my chest, almost like it was helping maintain that delicate balance.

I dragged everything out to the balcony afterward, hanging sheets and towels over the railing. The wind whipped them like flags announcing my presence. Let the other students stare if they could see this high. Let them whisper about the half-breed heir doing manual labor.

At least the dead birds up here kept their distance, only watching curiously instead of all trying to crowd close like before. A crow cawed in the distance, and this time, it sounded like a live one.

These rooms were mine. This space was mine. And I refused to sleep on dusty sheets on my first night home.

Home.The word echoed in my mind as I watched my laundry dance in the wind.

The power in the walls thrummed in response, like the whole tower was acknowledging my claim. For now, I just stood on my balcony, letting the wind and the sunset and the carefully controlled presence of dead things remind me that I belonged here, whatever anyone else might say.

Morning light paintedweird shapes on walls I didn’t recognize.

For a second, panic spiked—had we been evicted again? Was this another shelter? Then a skeletal mouse clattered across my nightstand, its tiny bone feet tapping like impatient nails, and it all came rushing back.

Wickem. Heir. Necromancer. Right.

I grabbed the orientation packet, accidentally jostling the mouse. He gave me an offended chitter and skittered to the edge. The elegant script made my stomach clench:

Welcome to Wickem Academy

Today’s Schedule: Wednesday, September 1st

9:00 AM - New Student Orientation (Main Hall)

2:00 PM - Campus Tours

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