Water poured down Fiona's body, washing away the soap's lather. A good bath had been truly what she needed. Alone in the bathroom stall, she was able to think, to analyze her situation. A chill pulsed through her, making her shiver. She fumbled with the temperature control; the water was not warm enough.
Fiona's mind strayed to her memories of two days ago, before her world had turned upside down.
It was morning, and she was standing at her room's mirror, accessing her appearance. She looked good, she decided. She was scheduled to meet the fashion designer at the airport, and join her team on the plane to Paris. If Fiona was going to attend the Paris Fashion Week as an upcoming designer, she might as well look the part.
Over a black and white striped jumpsuit, she was wearing a brown leather coat. She paired the outfit with a cream handbag, black boots, and simple crystal earrings. Her long hair was allowed to flow freely about her shoulders. Fiona took one last at herself; she really looked gorgeous. On arriving downstairs, her mother was waiting for her at the main doors.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" Ginachi asked anxiously. Her husband had planned to escort their daughter to the airport, but he'd gotten a call about an emergency that morning, at the small lumber company which he owned.
Fiona shook her head. "Mom. No. You have to take care of the twins, anyway."
"They can come along."
Did Fiona want her hyperactive brother and sister ruining arguably the most important morning of her life? No.
"Mom, I'll be fine. I'm going to board a taxi. And I'll call you the moment I join up with the designer. You don't have to worry, I can handle myself." She assured her mother.
Ginachi sighed. "I know, dear. But it doesn't matter how grown up you get, you will always be my baby."
Rolling her eyes, Fiona thought of how her mother could be relentlessly sappy at times. All that mushiness never sat well with her. She preferred to keep her relations with people polite, plain, and bearing only as much emotions as necessary. To her, half of the sweet and soppy things people said to each other were untrue. Why lie when you could just avoid the line of conversation?
"Fifi. Going. Out?" A sleepy three-year-old boy padded to the women.
Scooping up her little brother into her arms, Fiona kissed his cheeks. "That's right, Paul! Big sis is going to Paris!" She immediately regretted the action. Her brown lipstick had smudged on his skin.
"What's a Paris?" The other twin questioned.
"The city of love, beauty, and fashion."
"What's a fashion?"
"Go back to bed, Pauline." Fiona huffed. The female twin was, by far, the most tiring of the two.
"When are you coming back?" Paul tugged at his elder sister's coat, his adorable big eyes gazing at her.
Fiona lowered her eyebrows, her lips curving into a devious smile. "Never."
If only she'd known how accurate she'd been.
The problem began as Fiona paid the taxi driver. Her legs suddenly felt weak, to the extent she had difficulty standing. She brushed it off, attributing her weakness to nervousness. However, her condition only worsened. With every step she took into the airport, her head felt lighter. A wave of dizziness hit her, her vision blurring.
Then it came —intense pain. She felt it in every nerve, from the sole of her feet to the crown of her head. At first, she stood still, her body paralyzed by the several sensations it was going through, but her knees later gave way. It was like she was being crushed, burnt, and electrified all at once. Fiona pulled at her hair, screaming out her lungs, because there was nothing else she could do.
By now, she was no longer aware of her surroundings. All was black, except a face —a woman's face. Silky black hair, eyes as golden as the sun, and a smile so evil, it pierced your soul. The image seeped into her mind, occupying her thoughts, her consciousness, her...
Fiona jumped out of the way, as steam filled the stall. She'd unknowingly made the water too hot. Turning it off, she snatched her towel from the rack. She then tied the piece of cloth around her body and stepped out of the shower. Thankfully, the bathroom was still empty; she didn't want anyone to see her in her current state. Fiona was very shaken by her recollection of the woman she'd had a vision of. That's what it had to be —a vision. She didn't know why she'd had it, or who the lady was. And she didn't want to know, either.
By the time Fiona had regained herself, she was being held prisoner at the Sentry Alliance. Her father had later visited. He told her the sentries on site had reported that she'd released an extremely powerful energy blast. If it hadn't been contained, it would have wiped out the entire airport. Fiona found that insane. She was no airport-destroying sorceress. For heaven's sake, she found it hard to form an energy blast the size of a hen's egg.
Joan hadn't been joking; the cloths were oversized. In the bathroom's mirror, Fiona observed herself wearing the school uniform. A ridiculously big khaki jacket with green checks sloped on her shoulders. An even bigger matching skirt grazed her ankles. Then there was the white T-shirt, green tie, and plain khaki vest. In summary, she looked terrible.
A frustrated groan passed through Fiona's lips. She then snapped her fingers twice, concentrating on her reflection. Slowly, the cloths shrunk. She watched as the skirt shortened till it was above her knee, and as the rest of the outfit reduced till it fitted perfectly. This was the power of an enchantress, they could easily alter their appearance. Some experienced ones could even shapeshift, but Fiona could do nothing like that. Her limit was making minor changes to her look.
With another snap, her messy curls straightened and sleeked. She manually tied it into a high ponytail. One last snap and her face was made up. The makeup was light and natural, but it accentuated her features. Fiona pouted her lips; this was the version of herself she recognized.
As she left the bathroom, Fiona decided that the sentries must have made a mistake. There was a mix-up somewhere. That mana outburst hadn't come from her. She wasn't capable of anything like that. The Migdon Rehabilitation Center for Disturbed Young Supernaturals was not for her. She was not supposed to be here. She wasn't disturbed, not in any way.
Fiona had to talk to someone in authority and make them see reason in her argument. Her mind drifted to the sphinx from earlier. The principal! Who better to see than the head of the school? She would go to him, and by the end of the day, she would be making arrangements to leave this wretched place.