In an instant, we were no longer in the dirty carriage but standing in a grand, dimly lit hall. The air was thick with an unfamiliar energy that sent shivers down my spine. Ancient tapestries adorned the stone walls, and a faint glow seemed to emanate from the very stones beneath our feet.
As we gathered our bearings, a tall figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the hall. She was striking, with long silver hair that shimmered in the low light. Her robes flowed around her like mist, and her presence commanded instant respect.
"Welcome, young witches," she said, her voice a harmonious blend of warmth and authority. "I am Headmistress Lyra, and this is the Academy of the Arcane." Her emerald eyes surveyed us, their weight pressing heavily on my heart. "Here, you will learn to embrace the gifts that have been awakened within you."
A murmur rippled through the group, a mix of hope and apprehension. This was our new life, but what would it truly entail?
Before I could process the headmistress's words, a small voice broke through the tension. A girl with neatly braided hair and an air of superiority stepped forward. "There is no way I would stand with these… witches," she declared, disdain dripping from her tone. "I belong among the noble families, not in this… this place!"
Headmistress Lyra's expression hardened, yet she remained composed. "This is your new reality, child. Your noble status means nothing here. You are witches now, and you must learn to accept it."
With a wave of her hand, a shimmering portal appeared beside her, radiating with magical energy. "Well, if you don't intend to listen, perhaps I should show you."
The portal engulfed us, and in an instant, I found myself standing in front of my family home. The familiar sight should have brought comfort, but dread filled my heart as I stepped through the threshold, my breath hitching in my throat.
"Mother! Father!" I called, my voice trembling with hope. But the suffocating silence that greeted me twisted my stomach into knots. I found my parents in the living room, their expressions morphing from confusion to horror as they recognized me.
"What have you done?" my mother cried, her voice choked with disgust. "We raised you better than this, Helena! You're a witch now?"
"Please, I—" I began, but the words caught in my throat as they backed away, their faces twisted with fear.
"No daughter of ours is a witch!" my father shouted, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Get out! We want nothing to do with you!"
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stumbled back, crushed by their rejection. "I'm still your daughter! I haven't changed!"
But their eyes told a different story. They turned their backs to me, leaving me in the doorway, feeling more alone than ever.
In a flash of magic, the portal opened again, and I was yanked back to the academy, landing in a heap on the cold stone floor. The atmosphere had shifted dramatically. The other girls, who had once displayed glimmers of hope, now wore expressions of despair.
"What happened?" I gasped, looking around. "Did everyone else get rejected?"
But one girl stood apart from the others, her brow furrowed with worry rather than sadness. I recognized her as a fellow witch from the carriage, though her name eluded me.
"Where's the noble girl?" I asked, recalling the girl who had scorned us so readily. "The one who spoke out?"
"That little brat? I thought if she loved her family that much, then I would let her have them," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Over there," the headmistress pointed to me, her gaze piercing.
"What?" I replied, taken aback.
With a serious expression, Headmistress Lyra asked, "What do you think happens to little girls like you who are captured by the empire?"
"I suppose they are experimented on," I replied hesitantly.
The headmistress laughed, a cold, unsettling sound. "Experiment? Oh, how pure. That would be more merciful."
"What do you mean by that?" I pressed, dread curling in my stomach.
"For the witches that are captured, the church proposes one punishment, which is… execution."
A chill ran down my spine. Execution? It couldn't be.
Headmistress Lyra's voice echoed through the hall, drawing our attention. "You will now witness the fate of those who oppose the truths of our world," she declared, her tone grave.
With another wave of her hand, a shimmering projection flickered to life before us. I gasped, my heart racing as the scene unfolded. The noble girl stood bound to a stake, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.
"No! Please!" she screamed, her voice cracking with terror. "I'm not a witch! I don't belong here!"
The flames ignited beneath her, licking at her feet as her cries grew louder, more desperate.
"Etch this into your minds," Headmistress Lyra's voice resonated, cold and clear. "This is the fate that awaits those who turn against their nature. Embrace what you are, or face the consequences."
As the projection faded, the weight of despair settled over us like a heavy shroud. The realization of our new reality crashed down upon me. We were witches, marked by fate, and whether we wanted to or not, we would have to learn to navigate this treacherous path together.
The headmistress turned and walked away, leaving us in stunned silence.