Page 3 of Missing

"Right," I scoffed, feeling an inexplicable pull towards the door. It wasn't curiosity driving me; it was a primal need for answers, for truth, or maybe just for something different than the suffocating life I had been living.

"Good luck, Harper," he said with a flicker of something in his gaze that I couldn't quite decipher. Was it respect? Or pity? And then he disappeared from view with my belongings in tow.

Chapter 3

Harper Hillstrom

Itook a deep breath, but my racing heart refused to slow down. With shaking hands, I turned on my heel to face the imposing structure that loomed before me. The building, a massive hulk of stone and spires, looked like something out of the darkest fairy tales—a place where happy endings were devoured by shadows.

You can do this, Harper. It's just a school, I muttered under my breath, trying to convince myself with the lie. Each step closer was like fighting against a strong current, my boots crunching on gravel as I pushed forward into the silence that hung heavily in the air.

The closer I got, the more the atmosphere thickened around me, suffocating and oppressive. It felt like an invisible wall was pushing against me, making my skin crawl with unease. "Shit," I hissed, trying to swallow down the lump of fear that had lodged itself in my throat. But still, I persisted, forcing myself through the barrier with a sharp burst of energy. It gave way with a sensation like breaking through a dense cobweb laced with static electricity and whispers of long-forgotten incantations.

The eerie feeling clamped down on my chest as I stood before the imposing sight of my new freak show home. Five separate gothic stone buildings, each with its own tower, loomed over me like dark sentinels. They were close enough to be part of the same twisted fantasy, yet spaced just far enough apart to avoid touching. Each tower soared toward the sky, their spindly fingers of weathered stone and stained glass clawing at the clouds. Their intricate design spoke of a time and craft long since passed into legend, and yet here they stood, oppressively real and filled with secrets.

I scoffed under my breath, trying to shake off the unease creeping through my body. But I couldn't deny the pull of fascination as I took in the grandeur of the buildings. Harper Hillstrom doesn't back down, I reminded myself, repeating the mantra that had gotten me through twenty-one years of chaos and neglect. A faint memory of my mother's slurred voice echoed through my mind, but I pushed it away with practised ease.

With a bitter toast to the woman who'd never cared enough to see past her own addiction, I walked towards the school's gaping maw. The ground trembled beneath my feet as I stepped through the entrance, ready to face whatever lay beyond those ancient walls.

The entryway enveloped me in its dark embrace, a vast cavern of shadows and whispers that seemed to devour the light from the outside world. The air was thick with magic, crackling against my skin like electric sparks.

"Over there," the attendant's voice was barely audible, a mere whisper in the echoing space. She blended into the grand hall, her stillness and pallor making her seem like another piece of the ornate architecture.

I joined seven others, a diverse group united only by our shared apprehension. We stood in a row like soldiers awaiting orders, each handed a clipboard that felt more like a shield than a simple administrative form.

"What is this madness?" The guy in front of me muttered, his jaw twitching nervously. My own hands trembled as I flipped through the obscure questions on the form.

The questions probed deep into my psyche, uncovering corners I had long buried and forgotten.

As "Describe a moment when you felt most alive" sat next to "Have you ever seen something that wasn't there?" in the queue, their significance weighed heavily on me, like two sides of a twisted coin in some sort of fucked-up sorting hat.

Finally reaching the end of the line, I was greeted by a lady at the desk whose crooned words rang hollow in my ears. Her too-wide smile revealed gleaming teeth, sharp as daggers in the dim light. "Happy 21st birthday," she said, as if those words were meant to bring joy instead of dread. "Please, step through the archway."

I mustered a half-hearted thank you before approaching what she classified as an archway, to me it was a machine.

The machine that stood before me resembled a metal detector, but its sleek lines and blinking lights clashed against the gothic grandeur of the hall. Its presence felt intrusive, almost invasive.

With a hum of electricity in the air, I cautiously approached it. Its sterile glow illuminated my surroundings, making them seem even more daunting in comparison. I couldn't shake off the feeling that this was some sort of sacrificial offering to the unknown forces at play.

The lady behind the desk flashed a practised smile as she explained the process to me. "Once you walk through," she said, gesturing towards a contraption that resembled some kind of futuristic scanner, "the archway reads your energy signature. It'll sort you into your magical house and reveal any supernatural abilities you might have."

I tried to keep my voice steady, but my pulse was racing. "Right," I replied with heavy sarcasm, "because that's completely normal." My nerves were barely held in check by the thin veil of snark.

"It's quite normal for us," the lady responded nonchalantly as if discussing the weather.

"Fuck a duck," I muttered under my breath, taking a deep breath before stepping into the machine. As soon as I did, it hummed to life, emitting a low sound that seemed to crawl beneath my skin and make every hair on my body stand on end.

"Please stand to the left," a different lady instructed from the other side of the machine. She handed me a printout without even looking up from her clipboard.

"Thanks," I mumbled, snatching the paper and quickly scanning its contents. "Firepower, Transporting, Healing and Feelings...." I read aloud, trying to make sense of what those abilities could possibly mean in this world of magic.

"Now, if you could return to the desk, we can discuss your placement." The lady's voice cut through the tense silence of the hall.

I strode over to the desk, my printout crackling in my hands like parchment caught in a storm. The lady reached out and delicately took it from me, her eyes scanning down the list printed on it.

"Miss Hillstrom," she began, her tone formal yet tinged with surprise. "It is most unusual — indeed, exceptional — to possess four powers. Most individuals are only gifted with two; you are joining the highest echelon here, alongside those with three."

"Exceptional?" I repeated, my mouth twitching into a half-smile. Inside, my heart was pounding against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom. Four powers — what did that make me in this world of magic and mystery?

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