Page 2 of Secrets and Shadows

“I don’t want to be a Prey,” I finally admit out loud.

The thought of being a Prey fills me with dread. In our world, Preys are seen as vulnerable healers who depend on Predators for protection. I can’t shake the sense that I could easily become a target.

In Keepers’ residences and law enforcement facilities, an in-house Prey is usually present. During raids, they’re the first to be targeted, their healing magic making them prime targets. Losing a Prey weakens the Predators’ ability to heal, and that makes my anxiety worse.

Predators, though, serve as the protectors of the Keepers—who maintain the Balance—and enforcers of the law. They’re skilled in powerful protection spells and known for their physical strength. But they still rely on Preys, their healing abilities essential.

Nat’s gaze is sympathetic as she stares at me. She’s a non-practitioner, meaning magic skipped her generation, but she’s not bothered by her lack of magical ability. If anything, I think it’s made her stronger—shaped who she is. Even though they’re often looked down upon, the life of a non-practitioner seems much simpler now.

A part of me selfishly wishes we could continue our lives together without being forced to go our separate ways. But non-practitioners aren’t allowed at Obsidian Academy.

“Lilith, it doesn’t matterwhereyou’re sorted; you’ll never be weak or powerless. You could have the cutest little bunny form ever, but I know you. You’ll never fully depend on someone else to keep you safe. Remember when that boy took a swing at you during our first year of Basic Practice? You fought right back. He didn’t even know what hit him.” We both chuckle at the memory. “My Lilith doesn’t depend on anyone. That won’t change simply because you’re leaving for some fancy pants academy, okay?”

My chest tightens at her words, but I nod regardless. The sheer conviction that lingers in every word she says only adds to the pressure I already feel because I know she means it.

But she’s right. If anyone can find a way around any obstacle, it’s Nat. She’s never let her lack of magical abilities hold her back from living life to the fullest and always maintains that power comes in many different forms.

And I, for once, find myself desperately clinging to that idea alongside her.

“You better not forget me,” she playfully chides, wagging a finger at me. Her big round eyes are brimming with mock severity but I can see a hint of real fear lurking behind them. The same fear that I’ve been nursing in the pit of my stomach since my acceptance letter into the academy arrived.

My smile falters as I see that fear and I reach out to grip her hand. Her skin is warm, familiar. “Never in a million years, Nat,” I assure her fervently. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

That seems to soothe her somewhat. Seems we’re both scared of what’s to come, of the inevitable change that’s looming over us like a dark cloud.

“You know, why don’t I help you pick what clothes you’re going to bring with you?” Nat grins wide at me, wiggling her eyebrows. “I mean, you’re going to want to look cute around all those college boys, yeah?” She stands, putting an arm over her forehead and swaying. “Ugh, I can picture it now. All the sweat and muscles and…”

I roll my eyes and I stand to follow her to my closet, tuning out her gushing. Right now, men are thelastthing on my mind.

A week slipsby in a blur, each day merging into the next as I mentally prepare for my departure to Obsidian Academy. When the day finally arrives, I find myself standing at the dock, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and dread.

My parents envelop me in tight hugs, their arms warm and familiar. Tears glisten in their eyes as they tell me how proud they are of me, their voices thick with emotion. Their unwavering belief in my abilities ignites a fire within me, fueling my determination to be the best student.

As I step back, I glance at their faces one last time, memorizing the way their smiles clash with the tears.

Before I know it, I’m standing at the edge of the dock as I prepare to board the rickety boat alongside a group of chattering students. I can’t shake the feeling that this is all surreal, like a dream I might wake from at any moment.

The boat drifts away from the shore slowly, around a bend, and there it is—my first glimpse of Obsidian Academy. Emerging through the thick, swirling fog that clings to Black Lake, the academy appears like a specter, isolated on its own remote island, separate from the rest of the realm.

The dark waters of the lake, even in the fading light of evening, live up to their name as they spread a sense of unease to all who dare to sail across their depths. Even the waters ripple silently as if hiding secrets beneath their surface.

The imposing walls of the academy loom high into the sky, their dark stone seeming almost alive as it shifts in the mist. What truly captures my attention, however, are the intricate stained glass designs that adorn the windows—beautiful, but haunting.

Taking a deep breath, I take in the rest of what I can see of the grounds. Behind the academy lies nothing but a dense, shadowy forest, shrouded in darkness.

Wow. This is it—the place I’ll call my home for the next four years.

Suddenly, a chill sweeps across the lake and ruffles my hair. Shivering, I pull my cloak tighter around me. It’s clear that this place was not meant for the faint of heart as the wind begins to howl and the waves rock the boat.

The silence is shattered by a loud dry heave from the guy next to me. I turn away from the scenery in time to see him double over and vomit, breaking the stillness that has settled over the twenty-five of us on our journey across Black Lake. In an instant, hungry piranhas swarm to the surface, mistaking his half-digested lunch for an easy meal.

“Sorry,” he manages to say between gasps, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand. His tousled brown hair falls messily around his face, matching his dazed eyes behind thick, round glasses. His complexion is almost gray, save for a slight flush in his cheeks from embarrassment. “I haven’t been feeling well since we left the dock. Of course I’d be the one to get seasick…” he mutters the last part under his breath, as if it was only meant for him.

“I’m sure we’re all feeling a little nervous today, so don’t even worry about it,” I reassure him with a sympathetic smile, then I lean in conspiratorially. “Honestly, I feel like throwing up too, but somehow I’m managing to hold it together.”

Relief floods his face. “Holy hell, thank goodness. I thought I was the only one nervous about today.”

His hand flies in my direction, ready for a handshake, but I hesitate since it’s the hand he used to wipe his mouth. The realization hits him half a second later, and he quickly extends his other hand, smiling sheepishly at me. “Sorry. Again. I’m Tony. Tony Ross.”

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