'Just breathe. You can do this. You've prepared for this day all your life. It's time.'
I whispered the mantra under my breath for what must've been the tenth time, my reflection staring back at me from the mirror—wide-eyed, pale, trying to look brave. The black skirt and dark blue shirt of Aurelia Academy fitted me perfectly, and the silver embroidery caught the faint morning light.
ELARA MOONVEIL.
My name gleamed on the left side of the uniform. My hair, straight and dark like midnight ink, was pulled into a neat ponytail that brushed the back of my neck.
I took a slow, steadying breath.
'You've got this, Elara. You were born for this.'
Still, my stomach twisted. The closer I got to this day, the less ready I felt.
"Elara!" My mother's voice carried up the stairs—sharp, commanding. "It's time!"
"Coming!" I yelled back, forcing a bright tone I didn't really feel.
I looked back at myself in the mirror one last time, trying to find the confidence my mother always said I should have.
'You can do this. Of course, you can.' I smiled, but the corners of my lips trembled just slightly.
Today wasn't just any day. It was THE day—the beginning of my life at Aurelia Academy, the most powerful witching school in the realm. The same school my mother ruled over as Headmistress.
I'd dreamed of this moment since I was ten. Six years of training, practicing spells until my fingers burned, reciting enchantments until my throat went dry—all to prove that I deserved to stand where my mother once stood. Where she still stood.
Still, part of me couldn't help wondering… would I ever be more than her daughter?
I pushed the thought away and turned from the mirror. There wasn't time for doubt.
When I got downstairs, the smell of roasted bread and spiced tea filled the small dining room. My mother was setting down plates with her usual precision—not a single crumb out of place. Her dark hair, tied into a perfect bun, didn't have a strand astray. She wore her pressed white shirt and tailored black pants like armor. When she saw me, her gaze sharpened.
"What took you so long?"
"I'm a girl, Mum. We take time." I shrugged, slipping into a chair.
She gave me that look—the one that could silence storms. I ducked my head, pretending to focus on the food.
We ate mostly in silence, the clinking of forks the only sound between us. This was how mornings usually went—quiet, tense, like neither of us wanted to disturb the balance we'd built over the years.
"So," she said after a while, her tone soft but probing. "Are you ready?"
My fork paused halfway to my mouth. Am I?
"Yes," I said, though my voice came out smaller than I wanted.
She nodded slowly, watching me. "Good. We've been preparing for this day for years. You can't afford to mess it up."
Her words settled like a weight in my chest. I nodded. "I won't."
"Remember what I told you. Power is—"
I finished for her automatically, "Power is a gift. Power is a curse. To claim one, you must bleed for the other."
Her lips curved, not a smile exactly, more like approval. "Good girl."
I forced a smile back, but it didn't reach my eyes.
Sometimes I wondered if she ever felt fear. If she ever doubted herself the way I did. But looking at her now, tall and composed, she seemed untouchable, like the very air around her bent to her will.
We finished breakfast in silence. When I stood to wash my plate, she spoke again, her voice clipped and sure.
"Let's go."
My bags were already packed in the car from last night. I followed her out, the early morning sun spilling gold over the front steps. My heart thudded in my chest as the car door shut behind me.
As the engine started, I glanced out the window, at the home I'd always known, the safety I was leaving behind.
'This is it, Elara,' I thought, feeling the thrill of both excitement and dread.