Hi, I'm Ashley Willow from the Kastrine Kingdom — a place where people are either honored... or outcasts.
Take me, for example. And since this is my story, buckle up.
Like every other cursed morning, I got dressed for school, grabbed a quick breakfast, and met my mom in the living room.
"Good morning, Mom," I said, kissing her cheek. "I'm off to school!"
I was halfway out the door when her voice, sharp and annoyed, cut through the air.
"Ashley, where the hell are you going dressed like that?"
Ugh. Here we go.
I looked down at myself: black baggy trousers, an oversized hoodie, and sneakers to match. I did a mental scan of the calendar to see if today was one of those randomly assigned "fashion police" days in my mom's head — it wasn't. Still, I added it to the list anyway.
"School," I replied quickly and bolted out before she could stop me or send someone after me.
Kastrine High — my personal hellhole. Not because I got bullied or shoved into lockers or anything dramatic like that. No, it was worse. I was invisible. An outcast. And not just any outcast — the only one in the entire school.
Who'd want to hang out with someone like me?
Sometimes, when I was in a particularly dramatic mood, I'd curse my mom for that. But there wasn't much I could do about it. She's part of the kingdom's mystical elite — a leader of our clan. And I? I was just... waiting to become something.
The only person who talked to me in that concrete box of a school was Prince Damian. Yes, the Prince Damian — currently undercover, disguised as a "normal" student. (Not that he does a good job at blending in.)
"Hey, Ash," he called out the moment I stepped into the hallway.
"You're early," I said, a bit shocked. "You're never early."
He smirked. "Yeah, because someone asked me to be."
"Wow, that person must be pretty special." I gave him a playful shove.
"You cast a spell on me, right?" he asked suddenly, half-serious.
"I wish I did." I raised a brow. "Or maybe it was that woman from your dreams."
"Do you think there's another outcast in this school?" He always had a way of asking the most ridiculous things.
I waved my hand in front of his face. "Hello? You're talking to her."
He smiled. "Yeah, you."
Before I could respond, the bell rang. Time for class. I had history with Mr. George — a man who treated tardiness like a personal insult.
I walked off quickly, but when I turned around, Damian was just standing there, frozen.
"Hey, idiot, we have class together," I called back.
"Oh, right." He jogged after me. "Also… will your mom be home after school?"
Weird question.
"Yes… why?"
"I thought we could stop by the costume shop today," he shrugged. "You know, before the whole ritual thing."
Ah yes. The ritual.
Outcasts didn't live by the rules of the kingdom, even though we lived in it. We had our own leaders, followers, and guardians. Leaders commanded both groups, but the followers were seen as the weakest — always needing someone to guide them.
My mom? A powerful leader. Me? A week away from turning thirteen — the age of transformation. The ritual that would determine whether I'd be a leader, a guardian, or… a follower.
"Hey, baby girl, what's wrong?" Damian's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"I'm turning thirteen next week," I murmured.
"I know. And usually, leaders give birth to leaders, especially the firstborn. Don't think too much about it."
Easy for him to say. He'd never be thrown into a ritual that might tell him he's not good enough. That he's a burden. That he's a follower.
I didn't respond. He couldn't understand — not really. Not when he wasn't me.
And then there's my father. I don't know who he is. Mom never talks about him. Never even hints. I stopped asking a long time ago. She never made me feel like I needed him anyway.
When I got home that day, I saw Mom in the living room, surrounded by the guardians of our clan. Her mood had completely flipped — she looked radiant, excited even. That wasn't a good sign.
"Ash, come here," she said the second she saw me.
"Mommy." I kissed her cheek like I always did.
"Greet the guardians."
I bowed slightly. "Good evening."
It was odd they were here this early. Today was a power-sharing day — the kind of day rituals happened — but I wasn't scheduled for mine yet.
"They're here for good news," Mom said, like she was reading my mind.
I dropped my schoolbag beside the chair and sat beside her.
"Since your birthday falls on a power-sharing day… they've moved your transformation ritual to an earlier date." She was glowing with excitement.
I braced myself.
"It's tomorrow!"
Boom.
I blinked. "Tomorrow?"
My chest tightened. My throat dried up. I wasn't ready — not today, not next week, not ever.
Mom smiled like it was the best news in the world.
She didn't get it. She didn't see how terrified I was.
Behind her calm, perfect face, she didn't see that I was falling apart.