Dawn awoke with a pounding headache, the kind that pulsated like a drumbeat in her temples. The bright light flooding the room forced her to squint, each ray piercing through the fog of her confusion. As she lay on the large, soft bed with its crisp white sheets, she took in her surroundings—a space with plain white walls that felt strangely both foreign and familiar. The soft mattress cradled her, yet an unsettling sense of disorientation lingered, leaving her uncertain about her whereabouts.
As she attempted to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashed over her, causing her to collapse back against the plush pillows. A gentle hand pressed down on her shoulders, anchoring her to the bed. "Hey, don't get up just yet," the familiar voice soothed.
Dawn blinked, focusing on the figure beside her. It was Kitty, the enigmatic witch with a penchant for mischief. "What happened?" Dawn managed to ask, her voice hoarse and shaky.
Kitty's expression turned serious as she explained that Ava, one of the other witches, had used magic to render Dawn unconscious when she was "not being cooperative" and "a little threatening." As those words settled in, Dawn's heart raced, and fragmented memories began to return—frantic images of a missing Iravan, whispers of his ambush by three witches, and the ominous claims that he had attacked Ashley, the temporary principal's daughter.
The ringing in her head intensified as she tried to push herself upright again, only to be gently but firmly pushed back down by Kitty, who wore a mischievous grin. "Hey, don't move now. It's only the first week you've been here, and you're already causing trouble," she chided playfully.
Resigned to her fate of rest, Dawn turned her focus to Iravan. "What about him?" she asked anxiously. Kitty revealed she had come to check on Dawn, surprised that Crown wasn't there "babysitting" her. With a flick of her wrist, she produced a mysterious drink, insisting it would make Dawn feel better, though she refused to disclose its contents.
After a moment of hesitation, Dawn took the bitter concoction, and to her astonishment, the throbbing in her head and the heavy sensation in her limbs began to dissipate almost instantly. When she inquired about the drink's ingredients, Kitty merely smiled and said it was "an old family recipe."
Dawn eyed Kitty with suspicion, her curiosity piqued. Why would the witch help her? Kitty shrugged off her inquiry, asserting that while they may not know each other well, she found Dawn likable. "Thanks," Dawn replied, her gratitude genuine.
Curiosity sparked in Kitty's eyes as she probed into Dawn's relationship with Iravan. "So, is he your boyfriend?" Dawn quickly clarified that he was just a friend and pressed for his whereabouts. Kitty hesitated, her expression darkening as she warned that Iravan had hurt Ashley, which had enraged Mr. Lewis, the temporary principal.
Though anxiety gnawed at her, Dawn felt compelled to confront the new temporary principal. Kitty advised caution, but Dawn's determination surged; she felt rested enough to attempt the conversation, despite lingering aches in her body.
As Kitty departed, silence enveloped the room, leaving Dawn to ponder the recent whirlwind of events. A familiar yet unsettling rage began to bubble within her, fueled by feelings of helplessness. How had she allowed the witches to deceive her? How could she have failed to protect Iravan?
With newfound resolve, she pushed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of the fur-lined house shoes beneath her feet. She shuffled to the table against the wall, quickly changing into her remaining clothes. As she rummaged through her belongings, she stumbled upon a folded sheet of paper with her name scrawled at the top, detailing her personal information—phone number, background, address, and her parents.
She folded the paper in half and tucked it into her jacket pocket before stepping through the door. The hallway beyond was a cacophony of noise, filled with the bustling students navigating their paths. She recognized the familiar hall leading to the library. Her heart raced at the thought that perhaps the werewolf transition cell held the key to Iravan's fate.
Navigating through the throng of students, Dawn kept her steps steady, carefully avoiding the jostling bodies around her. Arriving at the library, she paused beneath the sign before stepping inside, where a flicker of movement caught her eye. At the far end, a sign read "Myth About Sirens." Intrigued but cautious, she continued past it, drawn to a newly painted black door at the back of the library.
As she approached, her heart sank as she noticed a heavy chain linking the door's handle, a clear barrier to any supernatural creature. A sense of foreboding washed over her as she grasped the lock, a smile creeping across her face at the thought of using her powers to break it open. But the smile quickly faded, replaced by a gasp as a burning sensation crawled through her fingers. The realization struck her like lightning—this chain was laced with vervain, a potent herb known to incapacitate vampires.
Dread filled her as she recognized the chain as something specifically designed to keep beings like her at bay. Turning away from the door, she sank into a cushioned chair, exhaling a sigh of relief as the pain in her hand subsided. Thoughts raced through her mind as she contemplated her next move.
A glint of inspiration sparked in her eyes as she recalled the small keyhole embedded in the chain. If she could find a key to unlock it, maybe she could access whatever lay beyond that door. The thought of asking Kitty for help crossed her mind, as witches often had their own ways of obtaining such things. Hope bloomed in her chest at the prospect of rescuing Iravan.
Resolutely, she turned back towards the sign about the "Myth of Sirens," drawn to the dusty shelves lined with worn and ragged books that seemed to whisper secrets of the past. One title, "History of Sirens," caught her attention; she grasped the old book and retreated back to the chair, its wooden legs creaking under her weight.
As she opened the book, her heart sank when she realized the text was in a foreign language, one she couldn't decipher. Frustration welled within her; she ran a hand through her hair, feeling the weight of her predicament. She needed assistance to unlock its secrets.
Just then, the rhythmic sound of heavy boots echoed from a distance, each step resonating like a warning bell. As the footsteps drew nearer, Dawn's heart raced, and she braced herself for whatever might come next, the atmosphere thick with tension and uncertainty.