Sarabeth Dimova had never been what others would consider normal, but only a fool takes no pleasure in understanding. She was always angry, so, so angry. This was proven time and time again with the most prominent example being, coincidentally her first memory. The nuns always loved to put their hands on her, it didn't matter whether she had deserved it, or if it was for simply existing in her cursed life. But one time it was simply too much for her, too much for her young mind to handle, and too much for her to process emotionally. As soon as she had felt the sharp sting run across her face for what seemed like the hundredth time it became too much too quickly. It surged through her, boiling her from the inside out and she had wondered if this was another punishment. But it would seem that Sarabeth wasn't the one to be punished that day, at least not in the way that mattered. She always lied and said she had no idea of what caused the 'tragedy' that happened next. It was a gruesome scene, the nun's brain matter spilled out on the floor and wall, painting the majority of the wall a scarlet red that eventually seeped all around her body combined with chunks of brain. Sarabeth remembered staring at the scene for entirely too long, honestly, she thinks it might have been the first time that she ever disassociated as well as the first time she ever took a life. But it would most certainly not be the last for either. Even with all the lies she told, Sarabeth knew the truth, and she didn't feel the slightest bit bad about it. It was a symptom of how she had been raised, in a dog-eat-dog world that threatened to rip you to pieces for the slightest bit of weakness or show of mercy. Maybe her mind was actually diseased and she should have been taken to the nearest insane asylum, but she figured, if they never knew the truth….that she had actually felt the sparsest bits of joy call out from her core, the feeling of glee that threatened to take over her body at the sight of one of her tormentors gone for good, then there was no harm. You can be sure that no one dared to raise a hand to her after that, even though it didn't stop the hatred that festered inside of her, rotting from the inside out. With every fearful, scornful, and curious look that was thrown in her direction as if she were some exhibit at a zoo, one of the animals put behind the strongest bars and the thickest glass. She could feel it grow inside of her, but she never let it out. Almost. Sarabeth knew she had powers of some sort; it had become apparent as soon as the first incident occurred. As a strong emotion that threatened to overtake her emerged, so did her so-called powers. This was especially bad considering she was prone to panic attacks, which certainly wasn't helped by the atmosphere of her current living situation or her crippling loneliness and isolation. And a few times every month something in her room would undoubtedly catch fire, shatter, or combust supernaturally when those feelings got let out. It had been 10 years since then and she was a newly 15-year-old girl, she was tall, around the same height as most boys her age standing at around five-nine, her features all narrow, with high cheekbones and a combination of cold steel grey eyes and pale blonde hair, she didn't have much in the way of curves, either due to her being just naturally skinny or the fact she didn't get much to eat at the orphanage. She thought she was attractive, at least somewhat, and if not, only because of the malnutrition. Though no one, boy or girl was looking at her in that way, rumors about her were always spread wherever she went. It was like they could sense something off about her, something inhuman, something predatory. Most of her days were spent alone, only with the company of herself and the books she was able to scavenge. The children in the orphanage act as if she had the plague. It's not as if she let it get to her, for the most part. She thought of all of the people surrounding her as parasites, prey, and nonentities. She was aware her view of others was most likely some sort of defense mechanism her brain came up with to allow her to handle her life, or maybe some part of her was actually just that messed up. It didn't matter to her, her truth would never change, and even if she knew she wasn't the best person, when had she ever wanted to be. Today was different though, it was something she could feel as soon as she woke up, there was tangible energy inside of her that seemed to gather in the pit of her stomach, gaining momentum as the day started. The blinds were ripped open instantly enveloping a peacefully sleeping figure in warm light. "Up girl, get to work!" a shrill clipped voice yelled, it was the first thing she heard that morning and not something that she particularly enjoyed being woken up to. "Ughh," Sarabeth slowly cracked open her eyes allowing them to get used to the sudden blinding light, through blurry eyes she could make out the head nuns face hovering over her, wrinkled, sagging, and angry as usual. She suppressed the urge to gag at the sight, as she knew the head nun was not someone she wanted to anger. For some reason the head nun had never been scared of her, perhaps it was because of her strong belief in God, that the man would protect her from whatever demon they said laid inside Sarabeth. That was supposedly waiting to pounce and decimate all of their lives. Or maybe she just never believed what the rumors said about her and treated everyone horribly because she hated children in general. Honestly, if it was the last option, Sarabeth would be forced to agree, children sucked. Maybe it was weird, but Sarabeth had some strange form of respect for the old nun, she had never treated Sarabeth any different from the other children, even if that didn't mean she treated her well. So, Sarabeth was unable to hate that nun, because of her pathetic weakness, that made her appreciate not being treated as a monster, which rationally Sarabeth knew was the bare minimum. Sarabeth slowly got out of bed stumbling a bit as her bare feet hit the cold wood and padded lightly over to the dresser to get ready for the day. It was something she honestly loved doing, one of the only times in the day that she was at peace, even in her thoughts. Her mind not being awake enough to start her usual threat of emotional catastrophe, but functional enough to start the day. First, she put on one of the few dresses she had, a plain navy-blue rag that reached down to her mid-calf, it wasn't meant to be that high-she lived with nuns-but her being taller than the other girls also meant things didn't fit as they were meant to. She next put on a pair of white knee-high socks before struggling to put on an almost too small pair of black dress shoes that all girls were required to wear, Sarabeth didn't mind them, but she did wish they fit better and weren't so obviously worn. She loved clothes, well, really, she loved anything that could potentially be a symbol of wealth, because she had none. There was always something inside of her that urged for more, more than poverty, loneliness, anger. While she had been getting dressed the nun had left the room, obviously believing that she wasn't going to try and sneak back to sleep like some of the younger children did. She was right about that, now that Sarabeth was awake, and she was able to feel the strange anxiety pooling in her stomach, getting stronger and stronger, there would be no going back to sleep for her. She briefly wondered if her powers were trying to tell her something, it had happened before, just an ever-looming sense that something bad was going to happen, and it was always accurate. There was something different this time though, something that made her not as wary as she probably should have been. She couldn't place an exact name on what the feeling was, but she knew there was something else besides fear, something that wasn't nearly as stomach-wrenching. She had now adorned her rags and was about to go fulfill her daily duty when she remembered. Sarabeth walked over towards her tiny twin bed, yellowed with age, reeking of mildew, and reached out to something on the bed. She had fallen asleep reading again, for what seemed like the thousandth time, she loved how the sun didn't set until late due to the summer and took full advantage of it. Reading was one of the small luxuries that she allowed herself, something that she never saw as a weakness because to her, knowledge was strength. And even if most of what she read wasn't factual and studious, but instead fictitious and imaginary, it still allowed her an escape that was desperately needed. It was one of the only things keeping her mildly sane, allowing her the power to- most of the time- safely manage her emotions. You might be asking yourself; how did Sarabeth manage to find books to read? The answer would be that Sarabeth was a little bit of a scavenger. While it mostly pertained to books, and on the rare occasion food, she somehow along the road had gained skill in thievery. She never saw what she did as wrong, maybe it was her lack of morals, but to her, it wasn't as if anyone was going to really notice the occasional missing book, either from the library or a local bookstore. Her perspective might have also been skewed by the fact that stealing was the most fun she got to have in this life, the adrenaline coursing through her veins sharpening her senses, the small thought of being caught that made what she was doing have a purpose, and the skill it took to stay out of sight even when entering in clear view of the cashier. All those things made something inside of her preen, and it was where she performed best. Not wasting any more time, she picked up the book and stuffed it under her bed out of sight, there was little risk of people coming in her room, but she didn't want to risk it. She turned from her bed and almost skipped over towards the worn door. She opened the door quickly ignoring the piercing sound it always let out and moved quickly out into the hall, closing the door behind her. She sometimes loved her room and sometimes hated it, on one hand, it was the only place she could escape to and be alone, while also it was a reminder of her living situation. It made her blood boil just thinking about it, her mind was like a broken record, always focused on her life, which then brought up her feelings of hate. Causing a downward spiral, her thoughts almost entirely consisting of not wanting to end up like most of the other female orphans around her, either in prostitution, dead, or married to pathetic men. As she walked through the halls, filled with religious paintings, sculptures, and scripture she tried and managed to calm herself down. It was just so hard for her to do it, when she wanted nothing more than to just be calm and normal, to not feel as if she was a bomb ready to explode at a moment's notice. It was not a pleasant feeling, and in the end, the only one she ended up hurting was herself, but she had no idea what to do, as long as she was in her current situation she would hate her life, and as long as she had hate inside of her she would be at risk for losing control. Maybe that in itself made her innately weak, that she was unable to control her emotions or her mind, but Sarabeth knew that she was fighting a losing battle, and she could only keep trying for so long. But she did it, after painfully pushing her emotions down and locking them up as tight as possible, she did it. She let out a shaky sigh that stood out harshly from the silence around her, before continuing on her way. She really loved summer, the overbearing heat that coated everything and urged her to waste the day away. There was just something about the season that made her feel complete. Her other favorite season was winter, and she couldn't help but feel as if it was rather poetic and reflective of herself. The two most opposite seasons, the scorching sun, and the biting cold, much like herself, but maybe she was giving herself too much credit. Before she knew it, she had reached the kitchens and was instantly hit with the smell of stale bread and the sight of dirty dishes. This was Sarabeth's job, the kitchen was basically her whole entire jurisdiction, from washing the dishes and keeping them clean, to cooking the food, she was in charge of everything. It was a mystery to her how they trusted her enough to make their food, but she wasn't complaining as she really did enjoy the job. She walked further into the room and took in everything that would have to be done before breakfast in an hour's time. She rolled up her dress's sleeves up to her elbows and got ready for the hard work ahead of her. By the time she was done hours had passed, it had been quite early when she was woken up and now it was nearing midday, she had spent hours slaving over the stove cooking breakfast, and then she worked on cleaning the soaked dishes from last night's dinner. She got a little respite as she ate her food, way after the orphans in charge of setting up the food came and grabbed it. She took the time to collect her thoughts and think about what he wanted to do today, as she only had a half-hour left before she had to get to cooking lunch. It was nearing the end of summer vacation, and she has nothing to do but cook lunch and then dinner hours later. She thought about how the summer was almost over and her grueling schedule would resume again, just because she had to walk to school and be on time every day didn't mean that she was suddenly relieved of her cooking duties. So, she would find herself being absolutely on the verge of exhaustion every night. This was her only option though, she did well in her class and was on the advanced track, one of the few girls in her class, if she wanted to make anything of herself, she had to make sure she was good enough to get a scholarship, that was her only option, and she had no idea what she would do if she couldn't manage. After that brief bout of depressing thoughts, she had cooked lunch and left the kitchen, she didn't have to go back until a few hours, and she was going to take the time to relax. "Knock" the hollow sound knocks her out of her thoughts startling her, she turns her head sharply to see that the door has already been opened and that the old nun is standing in its frame. She had been laying on her bed with one of her favorite books out, the nun had a knowing judging look in her eyes as she saw what was in Sarabeth's hands, but she said nothing about it. It was frowned upon for women to read, at least in the orphanage it was, they were currently in the '20s and the nuns seemed to love staying in the 1800s. "Yes, Ms. Mary" she called out knowing she was waiting for Sarabeth to acknowledge her presence before speaking. She stayed in the doorway silently assessing Sarabeth before responding "there is a nice gentleman that has come to see you, put on your best and come down immediately" she then promptly turned in a painfully stiff manner and walked away leaving behind her a shocked Sarabeth. Why would someone be visiting her? And why did it intensify the feeling's stirring inside of her? Sarabeth knowing that she had no choice in this, no matter how much the news made her want to empty the contents of her stomach all over the floor, quickly got up and rushed over to her dresser. She pulled out her 'best' which happened to be a plain black dress that was of a similar cut to the blue one she had been wearing but was in much better condition. Next, she switched out her worn shoes for a similar pair of dress shoes that she was only supposed to wear to church or on special occasions, the anxiety only got worse as she got ready, and Sarabeth was sure that she was on the verge of having an episode. Everything she did was with shaky hands and an unfocused mind, her only thoughts being of the possibilities of what was to come. She quickly left her room knowing that if she took too long, she risked earning the ire of the ill-tempered nun, because while she would not hit her, Sarabeth had no desire to be sat down and yelled at for what felt like hours on end. Quickly moving down the hallways she wondered who could possibly be coming to see her, everyone she had ever met had seemingly known about the rumors surrounding her, and that led to minimal contact even from teachers and other adults. She didn't feel what she knew might be normal in the situation, there was no hope that she would be whisked away and suddenly placed in a rich family, or that her parents were not dead and had finally come to pick her up. Sarabeth had never allowed herself to think like that, not from the day when it had been unkindly explained to her that her mother had died in childbirth and her father wanted nothing to do with a murderer. She had never had potential parents come to look for her like the other kids at the orphanage, and when couples did come to the orphanage to look at all the children and take their pick she had always been excluded, shied away into another room far from sight. The nuns probably worrying about the reputation of the orphanage and what would happen if the devil child wreaked havoc on some nice family. She didn't take long to get to the main room where all visitors waited, especially since she made sure to walk as fast as possible without running, her anxiety simultaneously making her want to face the source headfirst and run away never to be seen again. The main room was the nicest room in the orphanage, it was kept in pristine condition as it was the only place that visitors ever saw. It was white the same as the rest of the orphanage, the doorway that separated the rooms was a Gothic style mahogany door that was plain on one side and had intricate carvings on the other, Sarabeth had no idea the history behind it but found it was a perfect distinction between life at the orphanage. The floor was made out of dark wood that was only carpeted on a pathway leading up to a white marble pedestal with a large bible on top of it, in each corner of the room was a statue of some religious figure made similarly of marble. On either side of the carpet, there were lines of wooden pews. Sarabeth's favorite part of the room had to be the mural painted across the arched ceiling, it was the one thing that Sarabeth actually knew the history behind. Paint in varying shades of blue, red, and yellow detailing the story of the fallen angel Lucifer. It was the only story that she had bothered to pay attention to in bible class and she thought there was something beautiful about it. The thought of someone so perfect falling from grace only to gain some type of convoluted power as punishment. She was never a religious person, but something about that particular story spoke to her. In the back of the room there were two large wooden tables on either side of the carpet. Sitting at the table on the left she could see a man and the nun. She only focused on the man, she couldn't see his face or clothing that well, but she could tell he was loaded, with the way his pepper hair was slicked back, not a hair out of place, and the flash of gold she could see from under his collar. Or he was a drug dealer or something of the same genre. As she walked closer and got a better view her suspicions were confirmed, the man seemed to be in his late thirties, he did not have very many wrinkles on his face but the ones that were there could be seen on the corners of his eyes and around his mouth indicating that the man was very happy. Only rich people had the luxury to be happy in this day and age. This instantly made Sarabeth warier. Some people would call him attractive; she wasn't really one of those people. His features fit well together with all sharp lines, and his blue eyes were made only more intense by his dark hair, and he would definitely draw looks with how obviously wealthy he was. The orphanage wasn't exactly located in the best part of town, despite it being housed in an ex-church- or maybe that was the reason why. Her world was as isolated as possible, even when she acted like she knew everything, she truly knew nothing at all. As Sarabeth got closer walking slowly now, getting scared in the face of what she perceived to be the source of her fear and anxiety, the old nun who she had just now noticed was sitting on the couch, and the rich man's attention had now turned to her, the nun was smiling an obviously fake smile, and anyone who actually spent more than a day around her would be able to see right through it, and said in a sickly sweet voice, that Sarabeth wished she could cringe at "Oh, there you are dear, this nice young man is here to talk to you about a very, very special opportunity". This statement only served to put Sarabeth on high alert and her mind instantly went to the darkest possibilities. The old nun then got out of her seat on the couch and gestured for her to take the spot- basically feeding her to the wolves, or wolf in this case. Sarabeth quickly moved over to the couch and slipped into the spot making sure to keep a calm expression on her face, it would do her no good to act nervous around the man, not when the look on his face instantly put her on even more high alert, making some part of her want to run away and cower before him. It was like he had this aura that made her core start to burn just being near the man, it was rather painful like she had a rather nasty sunburn. The man looked at her, scanning her figure as if searching for weakness, picking her apart. His face spread into a calculated smile before he said "Hello Ms. Dimova, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance" he reached his hand out across the table towards in search of a handshake, she obliged. She made sure to keep her grip strong when shaking the man's hand as she had learned in one of her books that it was a sign of weakness to not have a strong grip- and she could not afford to be weak. "And it's a pleasure to meet you Mr.…." making sure her voice held the same tone, she trailed off not having got his name yet. "You can call me Mr. Thorne, that's what all of my students call me" he answered. She silently thought over that for a second, if she was correct, he was some way insinuating that she was one of his students, but that didn't make any sense at all. School teachers don't make the type of money that can afford nice suits and gold jewelry, for one, and secondly, she had never met this man in her life. Sarabeth wasn't sure what part was more concerning. "What did you need to visit me for, Mr. Thorne?" she wondered for a second if that was too rude and direct, but she wasn't actually good at this kind of thing. She was just going based on the books she read, which wasn't the best practice. "Well Ms. Dimova, I have come here to give you a very exclusive offer, you see, the school I teach at is a boarding school, only accessible to those who have certain... qualifications, and after careful consideration, we have decided to offer you a place at our school" he seemed to struggle saying the words, his face contracting at each word, and Sarabeth was entirely unsure of the reason. Mr. Thorne then went silent after he was done explaining but Sarabeth was too lost in thought to notice. She was partially in shock while also being in disbelief. This was not the direction that she had foreseen the conversation going in, but she couldn't let her guard down now. This probably wasn't real anyway. "Why would you consider… me, for your school, not to question your judgment Mr. Thorne ...but there's nothing special about me, and there's no chance I could afford to go to some fancy boarding school," she told him, not that she thought that this was a real opportunity quite yet, but she needed an excuse to leave without getting into trouble. He took a second to look at her his eyes seeming to dissect her soul and said "There would be no cost Ms. Dimova, there is a …. scholarship of sorts available to students who are unable to afford the cost of tuition, and there is undoubtedly something special about you, we wouldn't have given you an offer like this if there wasn't" he said it as if he was insulted at the insinuation that the person, he worked under could be wrong. Even with her strong disbelief, she felt compelled for some reason to take the offer seriously. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to ponder the idea a little, as if there was an actual possibility of it being real, Sarabeth took a moment to think about it. If there was no cost that she needed to pay and they wanted her to go to their school why shouldn't she, it's not like she was going to get a better education staying here, and she already had no ties here, no friends to miss, no familial figures to worry about her, in fact she could almost be certain that going to this school would be better than any options she had staying at the orphanage- if only it were real. The man looked as if he could tell that she was going thinking about accepting his offer, his face smug as he looked at her waiting for an answer. "What would I be learning at this school?" Sarabeth asked playing along or maybe she wasn't. Sarabeth found herself being more and more open to the idea, why would he lie after all? Her core was currently telling her that this was a good thing, the previous fear and anxiety gone, but she wasn't going to fully trust it. At this point, Sarabeth couldn't keep track of all the emotions she was feeling, confusion, hope, fear, it all became a jumbled mess inside of her as she sat and stared at the man across from her, trying to discern the truth. Even if they both knew that she wanted to accept his offer no matter what he said at this point, she didn't want to come off as overenthusiastic, still not fully believing but wanting so desperately for it to be real. She only hoped that it didn't show on her face. The man seemed to falter at the question. His smug expression cracking and Sarabeth was taken aback at the suddenness of it, he took a second to adjust himself, physically moving in his seat before answering, as if this was the hardest question she could've asked, before answering, "Well I guess you could say….. In some terms... that what we teach at our school would be considered.... magic" he finished. Sarabeth wished that she was able to just dismiss what the man was saying as a lie. That there really was no possible way that there could be a school out there that taught magic. But what exactly would you call the powers she had if not some type of magic? There was proof sitting in front of her face every damn day that magic existed. So, she couldn't just laugh and brush off what the man was saying as if he was some crazy person, but she also couldn't fully begin to let herself believe in the idea. When he had faltered in his explanation, so did the trust that she had started to build with him and what he was saying. She couldn't help but run the conversation a thousand times over in her head while they sat there in silence, him watching her every move and her paying no attention to anything. "Show me" is what she decides on, it was the only way that she would gain trust in the man. Mr. Thorne took in her statement, and it was as if she could see the tension leave his body. Before she could react to that the world around her started warping. Wood became darkness, statues became darkness, carpet became darkness, everything she could fathom became darkness until she was sitting in an empty void. Instantly she felt terror run through her. It didn't matter that her core wasn't telling her anything or reacting to the situation, it didn't matter that the man was sitting right there across from her similarly surrounded by the void looking calm as day. All she could comprehend was the sudden need to escape that took over, the fear that clouded her common sense, and that's when she finally felt it. The familiar tug and pull at her core only this time much faster and stronger. In an instant it built up soaking her body in energy before immediately sending it outwards, all she could do was sit there and watch, no longer having any control at the moment. A visible wave of energy came out of her violet in color spreading in every direction chasing away the darkness as it went and making it seem as if it had just been some sort of bad dream. All she could hear in the silence was her deep breaths, and she was unsure if it was from the feeling of exhaustion that suddenly took over her, or the fear causing a panic attack, but she was slowly recuperating from it. "I trust that you believe me now?" ...….
This is the first chapter in the book I just published Blackwell Academy, in the Age of Blood series. It can be found on kindle and Amazon for ebook, either free with Kindle Unlimited or for 3.99. Paperback coming soon.
https://www.amazon.com/Blackwell-Academy-Cam-Griffin-ebook/dp/B09VZVP2G3/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?crid=TVWZA12JEHA6&keywords=Blackwell+Academy&qid=1647792242&sprefix=blackwell+academy%2Caps%2C103&sr=8-1