Page 9 of Faeheart
She regarded me over the rim of her spectacles, her piercing gaze making me feel as though she could see straight through tomy grandmother’s journal hidden in my bag. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably.
“I assume your parents have informed you about the nature of this independent study?”
“Yes, Professor. Wild magic. Pre-colonial practices.”
She nodded, making a small note in her book. “And what are your thoughts on exploring magical techniques outside the structured methodologies you’ve been raised with?”
It was a trap. It had to be. I chose my words carefully.
“I believe that understanding the foundations of our craft can only strengthen our modern applications,” I said, the rehearsed answer flowing easily.
Something like disappointment flickered across her face. “A diplomatic answer, Mr. Thorne. But I’m not interested in diplomacy for this project. I’m interested in truth.”
Before I could formulate a response, the door to the study burst open.
“Sorry I’m late, Professor. Got caught up in... well, something that’s definitely not against school rules.”
I turned to see a tall young man with wild ginger hair sauntering into the room. He wore ripped jeans, a faded t-shirt with some obscure band logo, and an expression of practiced nonchalance that immediately made my spine stiffen further. Everything about him screamed rebellion.
“Mr. Briar Hall,” Professor Blackwood said, her tone resigned rather than angry. “Your timing is, as always, impeccable.”
“I try,” he replied with a grin, dropping into the chair next to mine. He sprawled in it like he owned the place, all loose limbs and casual confidence. “Is this Thorne?”
His eyes, a startling shade of green with flecks of gold, swept over me with undisguised curiosity. I felt myself being assessed and somehow found wanting in the span of seconds.
“Elias Thorne,” I said, extending my hand formally as I’d been taught. “Pleased to meet you.”
He looked at my hand with amusement before taking it. His skin was warm, almost unnaturally so, and I felt a strange tingle where our palms connected. “Wild. Just Wild.”
I recognized him immediately as fae. The slightly pointed ears, the mischievous grin, and that unmistakable aura of chaotic energy that seemed to vibrate the air around him. This was Wilderain of the Briar Hall, son of a high-ranking Seelie Court family. I’d heard whispers about him, most of them scandalized.
I withdrew my hand quickly, feeling an unexpected heat coil in my stomach. He was surprisingly beautiful. “You’re fae,” I said, then immediately regretted stating the obvious.
“And you’re observant,” Wild replied with a smirk, leaning further back in his chair and propping one boot on his knee. “What gave it away? The ears? The irresistible charm? The fact that I make this stuffy room about ten times more interesting just by existing in it?”
Professor Blackwood cleared her throat. “If you two are quite finished with introductions, we’re still waiting on our third participant.”
As if summoned by her words, the door opened again, this time more hesitantly. A slender young man with light brown hair and startlingly blue eyes edged into the room, followed closely by a taller, broader student who radiated protective energy.
“Mr. Cromwell,” Professor Blackwood acknowledged with a nod. “And Mr. Faolan, who I don’t recall inviting to this session.”
“Sorry, Professor,” the blue-eyed student, who must’ve been Caden Cromwell, said softly. “Atlas was just walking me here. He’s leaving now.” He turned to the larger student and whispered something I couldn’t hear.
The one called Atlas squeezed Caden’s shoulder once before backing out of the room, his eyes never leaving Caden until the door closed between them.
“Caden!” Wild exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Look at you, showing up almost on time. I’m so proud.”
Caden gave Wild a small smile as he took the third seat. “I live to exceed your expectations.”
I watched this exchange with interest. They clearly knew each other well, which made me the outsider in this trio. The familiar feeling of being isolated despite being in a room with others settled over me like a second skin. It was just like being at home or at one of my parent’s lavish parties. Everyone knew who I was by name, but not me personally.
“Now that we’re all here,” Professor Blackwood said, rising from her seat, “we can begin.” She moved to a large cabinet behind her desk and withdrew a worn leather case. “This independent study will challenge everything you think you know about magic. It will require you to abandon structure, embrace chaos, and perhaps most importantly, work together.”
Wild snorted. “Chaos is my middle name. Actually, it’s technically ‘of the,’ but that’s beside the point.”
I remained silent, watching as Professor Blackwood opened the case to reveal three identical crystal pendants, each suspended on a silver chain.
“These are Resonance Stones,” she explained, lifting one carefully. “Ancient artifacts that respond to raw magical energy. Unlike modern focusing tools which channel and control magic, these amplify it in its purest form.”
