Evan
I felt a whirlwind of emotions as I took my first steps away from Aunt Isabella's house. Excitement, fear, confusion—they all swirled in my chest, making it hard to even think straight. Jesse walked beside me, his broad frame towering like a shield against the unknown. I couldn't decide whether that was comforting or intimidating. This was it—my chance for something new, for a fresh start at Yegiths Academy. But the weight of it all pressed down on me. Why me? Why now? The questions buzzed in my head, and I couldn't seem to grab hold of any answers.
We walked in silence for a while before Jesse finally broke it, his thick Scottish accent rumbling through the air. "It's a place for witches and wizards tae learn, aye? A special school, ye ken?" His voice was rough but warm, like an old wool blanket wrapped around me. Still, it didn't quite ease the unease twisting in my stomach. "Ye'll make friends, learn all sorts o' magic, and discover yer place in the world. Just... steer clear o' House Umbryss. They've a reputation for stirrin' trouble."
I nodded, trying to absorb what he was saying, but my thoughts kept drifting. Friends? Magic? None of this felt real, like it was meant for someone else. The words rolled off Jesse's tongue like he believed them, but to me, they still felt like a foreign language. I wasn't magic. I wasn't special. I was just Evan—ordinary, awkward, and terrified of what lay ahead. The thought of meeting new people tied my stomach in knots. What if they could tell I didn't belong? What if I was... a mistake?
Jesse stopped suddenly, and I followed his gaze. "Here we are, lad," he said, motioning toward something ahead. My jaw dropped. A sleek, shimmering plane stood before us, practically glowing under the sunlight. It didn't look like any plane I'd ever seen—more like something out of a dream. The sight sent a thrill through me, though it was quickly drowned out by a fresh wave of doubt. What if this world—the school, the magic, all of it—was too much for me? What if I wasn't enough?
We boarded the plane, and Jesse gave me a reassuring pat on the back before heading to the front with what looked like other teachers. I found a window seat and sank into it, staring out at the world I was leaving behind. My heart pounded, the excitement mixing with a strange emptiness. This was real. I was actually on my way to a magic school. The thought both thrilled and terrified me. I was still just... me. How could I possibly belong in a place like this?
Students began filling the plane not long after, their chatter filling the cabin. I couldn't help but look around, trying to get a feel for the kind of people who'd soon be my classmates. Most of them looked confident, at ease, like they already knew what to expect. I fidgeted with my hands, feeling smaller with every passing second. They're probably used to this, I thought. They probably grew up knowing about magic. Not like me.
Then I noticed a boy sitting by himself a few rows away. He had messy, light-brown hair and an easy smile that made him seem approachable. Maybe making a friend wouldn't be so hard after all. Gathering what little courage I had, I stood up and walked over to him.
"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm Evan."
The boy looked up, his grin widening. "Hey, Evan! I'm George. George Sweeney." Then his eyes lit up with recognition. "Wait—you're the Chosen Boy, right?"
I froze. The Chosen Boy. Jesse had mentioned it earlier, but I'd tried not to think about it. The title felt heavy, like a coat that didn't fit right. "Uh... yeah," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I guess that's me."
"That's so cool!" George said, leaning forward. "What are you expecting from Yegiths?"
I shrugged, unsure of how to answer. "I don't know... I'm nervous, I guess." Nervous didn't even begin to cover it. I felt like I was walking into a world I didn't belong to, carrying a title I didn't understand.
"Don't worry!" George said with a wave of his hand. "It's gonna be great. I can't wait to explore the school. You'll see—it'll be amazing."
Before I could respond, a girl with curly hair approached us, her eyes scanning the seats. She stopped when she saw George. "Oh! Is this seat taken?" she asked, her voice polite but firm.
I glanced at George, then back at the girl, feeling a spark of curiosity. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Jaime
As I sat next to Ophelia, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, all of them swirling around the one thing I couldn't say. I wanted to tell Evan the truth. I wanted to scream it, really—I'm your sister! But the spell Headmaster Lee had cast on me kept me silent. The words were always there, just behind my lips, aching to be spoken, but the magic wouldn't let me. It was like a vice, holding my tongue and locking my memories in a cage. I couldn't even bring myself to whisper the truth, not even to him. The weight of that secret, of the past that Evan would never understand, felt like it was crushing me. How could he ever know what I went through when he didn't even know I existed? He didn't know how much I wished I could tell him, how much I needed him to know. But I couldn't. And I never would.
I glanced at Evan, trying to force my thoughts away from the ache in my chest. He looked so carefree, laughing with George and Ophelia, his face lighting up with every word they exchanged. I felt a pang of envy twist inside me, sharp and bitter. I hated myself for it, for the way my heart clenched every time I saw him, so happy, so... untouched. He'd been spared from the pain I had endured, from the fear that had never let me sleep through the night. He didn't know what it was like to have your childhood stolen, to carry bruises that no one could see, to feel worthless and abandoned. He didn't know because he had never been through it.
And as I watched him laugh, the jealousy hit me again. It wasn't his fault, I knew that. But it didn't make it any easier to swallow. He was lucky. He didn't have to live the life I did. He didn't have to survive the cruelty that had marked every single day of my childhood.
I tried to focus on their conversation, on the sound of Ophelia's voice, the easy rhythm of George's laughter, but it was hard to keep my mind from drifting. The weight of my secrets, of everything I couldn't say, pressed down on me. It was all so heavy, but I was used to it. The spell made sure of that. I'd lived with silence for so long, it had become a part of me. But now, sitting here with them, it felt unbearable.
Ophelia nudged me gently, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Are you alright? You look a bit distracted," she asked, her voice soft with concern.
I forced a smile, trying to keep my mask in place. It was hard, though, with the weight of everything inside me. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Just… missing home, you know?"
Ophelia nodded sympathetically, her dark eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. New beginnings are always a little tough."
I smiled again, but the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Home. What did that even mean anymore? Home had never been a safe place for me. It was never a refuge. It was where the pain began. But I couldn't tell Ophelia that. I couldn't tell anyone. Missing home? I'd rather forget that place ever existed.
"So, Jaime, are you excited for the new year?" George asked, his voice bright and cheerful, always looking for the positive.
I hesitated, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest. What could I say? How could I answer when I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed into a world I didn't understand, holding a secret so heavy I could barely breathe under its weight? How could I say I wasn't excited, that I didn't know how to be excited when my own life felt like a lie?
I swallowed hard, trying to push the lump in my throat back down. "Um… I don't really know how to answer that," I said, forcing a nervous laugh. My eyes flickered to the floor, unable to meet George's gaze. If only you knew what my life was like, George. If only you knew what I carried with me.
George, blissfully unaware of the storm inside me, just shrugged, his grin never fading. "Don't worry. My brothers, Gabriel and Isaac, said it was awesome, and they're never wrong, you know?"
I nodded absentmindedly, my mind already drifting away again. Family. That word stung. I tried not to let it, but it was impossible not to feel the ache. Did George's brothers love him the way my parents should have loved me? The way Evan should've been able to love me, if only he knew who I was?
"But my other brothers, Noah and Daniel, say Gabe and Isaac are wrong, so I don't really know," George continued, his tone light, as if he wasn't even thinking about what he was saying.
I tried to smile, but it felt like the weight of my own past was pulling the corners of my mouth down. Why did everyone else get to have a real family? Why did I end up with parents who didn't care enough to protect me, who only caused pain? The thought bubbled up inside me, sharp and bitter, but I pushed it down. I didn't want to feel that way about George. It wasn't his fault.
Ophelia, noticing the silence between us, piped up with her usual excitement. "So, what are you most excited for? Me, personally, I can't wait for all the classes we'll be doing!"
I looked at her, really looked at her, and something in my chest softened. Ophelia was so kind, so full of life, and it touched me in a way I wasn't prepared for. For the first time in a long while, I felt something other than sadness or anger bubbling up inside me. Maybe this could be different. Maybe, just maybe, I could have real friends for once.
I smiled, a little easier this time, though it still hurt. I glanced down at the makeup I'd carefully applied to hide the bruises on my face. The smile felt like a mask, but it was a mask I was willing to wear if it meant this could feel real. "Well, I heard they have Broom Hoops, and I really want to sign up to become a player," I said, my voice lifting for the first time in what felt like forever.
Ophelia's face lit up. "That sounds amazing!"
I smiled back, the edges of it reaching my eyes this time. Even though the bruise on my cheek still burned underneath my makeup, even though the pain from my past was still there, I felt something stir within me—something that felt like hope. For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel so alone.
As the plane hummed around me and the others continued talking, I let myself laugh along with them. The sadness was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but it wasn't as suffocating as it used to be. I wasn't sure what the future held, or if I would ever tell Evan the truth, but for now, I wasn't completely alone. And that was something, at least.
Jason
I sat at the back of the plane, my head pressed against the cold glass of the window, my eyes closed as I tried to block out the noise of the engine. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the hum, I couldn't escape the chaos inside my mind. My father's words kept echoing relentlessly, like a broken record that I couldn't turn off. "You want this arrangement to go through? Then my plans for Evan Stevens will proceed as planned, or both Nova and Annabelle will be married to the worst kind of wizard. Do you want to break your mother's heart?" The venom in his voice still sent a shiver down my spine, a coldness that settled in my bones.
I clenched my fists, the weight of his threat making my stomach turn. I can't let that happen. I can't lose Nova. She was everything to me—she always had been. The thought of losing her... It made my chest ache in a way I couldn't put into words. I couldn't breathe when I thought of it too long. My obsession with her had grown deeper and more consuming over the years, and sometimes it scared me just how much of my mind she occupied. I couldn't imagine a world without her, and I couldn't let her slip away into whatever twisted fate my father had planned for her.
Her smile. The sound of her laugh.Every note I could slip into her room while I was close. But now... Now, I had to send her letters through Aiden, her brother. Aiden was the only person I could trust to get my words to her. I couldn't let Aiden know how deep this obsession had gone. No one could know.
I felt the tension in my body, the knot in my stomach. I couldn't relax. Not when I thought about what could happen. Not when Nova's future—and mine—was hanging by a thread.
"Dude, focus," Matthew's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts. "What are you thinking about, Jason? Is it about the conversation you had with Father?"
I didn't open my eyes. I could feel Matthew beside me, his indifference masking the underlying concern that I knew was there. He might not show it often, but we were twins. We were connected, and I could feel the tension radiating from me, the way my emotions were making him uncomfortable. He'd always been the impulsive one, the one who acted first and thought later, but he still understood when something was off. He could feel it now.
"Don't ask questions, Matt," I snapped, my voice cold, trying to shut him out. "You know I can't answer that."
I turned my gaze away from him, focusing on the front of the plane where our bags were stowed. Anything to distract myself from the conversation I didn't want to have.
"Where are your phones?" I asked abruptly, needing a diversion, needing something to break the tension.
Matthew sighed, his usual calm demeanor returning. "In our bags. Come on, Jase, relax. We're not on edge like you are."
I didn't respond. Instead, I stared out the window again, the blur of passing clouds doing nothing to calm the storm inside me. But then Matthew's voice cut through once more, and this time, it was different. There was something in his tone, a question I wasn't ready to answer.
"Did you see the girl sitting with the Chosen Boy?" he asked. "I know there are two girls, but—wait." He paused, and I could hear the smile in Matt's voice as he spoke up, "The one with the concealer on her eye. It looks kind of swollen."
My stomach twisted. I felt a cold rush of fear wash over me as my gaze immediately snapped to where Matthew was looking. Jaime Stevens. My eyes locked onto her—laughing softly, the red-haired girl beside her chatting away. But Jaime's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and I could see the tension in her expression, the way she tried to hide it with the makeup. Bruises. She was hiding something, and I knew it. What happened to her?
I gritted my teeth, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Don't even think about it," I muttered, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "That's Jaime Stevens. The Chosen Boy's sister." I couldn't keep the disdain from my voice. "Father would kill her in front of you if you tried anything. He wouldn't hesitate, not even if Mother begged him."
Matthew's expression faltered. His gaze lingered on Jaime, and I saw the flicker of something—defiance, curiosity, maybe even a little bit of protectiveness. That's when I knew. My twin's impulsive streak was surfacing, that dangerous, reckless side of him that I hated. It was what made him so unpredictable, and it was the last thing I needed right now. Not when everything was riding on my ability to keep control.
"Matt," I said quietly, my voice carrying an edge I didn't mean for it to have. "Please. Don't do anything stupid. I can't have you going out of control right now. If Father's plan falls apart, if Nova and Annabelle end up in those... those arranged marriages, it'll be because we didn't stick to the plan. Because you couldn't keep your impulses in check." My voice cracked slightly at the mention of Nova, but I quickly masked it with a cold mask.
Matthew went quiet, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. His rebellious streak was always so strong, but right now, he was hesitating. He wasn't sure if he should listen to me or follow his instincts.
"Matt," I said softly, more gently this time, my voice betraying the vulnerability I hated to show. "I can't lose Nova. I won't let Father's plan destroy everything. You understand that, right?"
The silence between us stretched on. I could feel Matthew's internal battle playing out, the tug-of-war between doing what was right and doing what he felt was just. But he wasn't stupid. He knew what our father was capable of. And I could see it in his eyes—the moment he understood. His rebellion was fading, replaced by a quiet understanding.
For a brief moment, I let the mask slip. I let him see the turmoil inside me—the fear, the desperation. The way my heart pounded every time I thought about Nova, about losing her, and how this obsession of mine was becoming something more dangerous by the day. But I couldn't stop it.
I have to do this. For her.
With a heavy sigh, I leaned back in my seat, the cold mask slipping back into place. I couldn't afford to show weakness. Not now. Not when everything was riding on me keeping control—of myself, of Matthew, and of the fragile future that hung in the balance.