1 Within the Darkness

The consistent banging would have woken me up in the middle of the night, if it wasn't for the fact that I hadn't been able to sleep a blink for the past few days. Our hall was full of girls—and that meant a lot of screeching at day and high-pitched half-giggle, half-sobs at times—but the nighttime was sacred for everyone who was in fear of Lady Earhart, and I hadn't known anyone who did not know to fear the lady of the dorm enough to stay quiet at night in.

That meant we were under attack—or there was a new student. And the new students weren't supposed to arrive until next week.

Rising from the bed, I made my way to the door and inched it open, expecting a spectacle of some sort in the hallway. But there was nothing. There was no one out there, and no one had come out to check out the noise like I just did. All the other doors were closed. Considering that I was living in a dorm hall full of people highly trained to use their senses acutely in response to any possible incidents, it meant that I had imagined the banging sound. Sleep deprivation did that, I'd read.

I closed my door with a sigh and went back to lie on my bed, eyes wide open at the dark ceiling. We didn't have windows in the dorm and all our walls were painted black. I still remembered the momentary claustrophobia I experienced in my first few weeks here. Of course, back then I still had a roommate, so the darkness grew bearable with time.

The banging sound appeared again. I closed my eyes and told myself to fall asleep. I had to, eventually. It had been too long.

Breakfast was served independently. That meant the dishes of our choice were delivered to our rooms. We only had simultaneous meals for lunches. Some of us were much less a morning person that the others and the academy had a priority to keep us from attacking each other out of the training zone.

I had my apple. I showered and changed into the uniform—a simple dark maroon sweater and black skirt. The academy emblem was embroidered on the sleeve, and the space above the pockets of our skirts are for the pins we gain as we achieved certain goals they set for us. It was ironic, how they designed our clothes to blend with blood but expected us to have shiny medals pinned to them. Not wearing the pins would give us penalties. Losing even one of them meant severe punishment.

The morning class didn't have many participants. There were only six of us out of the twenty capacity. This could mean a very intimate learning environment or a cozy place for the students to strike up a loud conversation in front of our forgotten trainer. It was the latter, obviously. To his defense, Old Martin didn't care about our performance or attitude in his class. His teaching was strictly one way, in every sense.

"I can't believe they're inviting those people. Talk about spoiling the secret."

"You know it's inevitable. We need newbies. Our numbers have decreased after—" The guy stopped midsentence, his gaze landing on me for the merest second before he jerked his eyes away. No one wanted to look at me for any longer than that these days. Between the fresh scar on my face and the disappearance of Clare, I wasn't a good sight to dwell on.

"Yeah, yeah, but I can't believe they're actually doing it now. In the middle of a term. Straight to our level. Why hadn't they just get in along with the rest of the first-years? Where's the holy initiation? Where's the dangerous orientation? Where is all the fun?"

"Fun? What is that?"

An eye roll. "You know what I mean. They're coming in the instant way. Nothing instant is good."

The other guy perched on the twisted chair leaned forward. "Oh, I don't know about that. Newbies are good. New pretty faces to look at. Maybe you can get yourself a boyfriend, Annie."

She shot him a dirty look. "Don't call me that."

Eric shrugged and crossed him arms. "I see repressed chick symptoms. You need to get laid soon. It's not an easy place to find desirable help for that in this place, I know, but I am willing to offer a solution."

Annie told him off and the conversation died there. This was how their conversation always ended every Tuesday morning. It would have been amusing to watch, if I weren't heavily aware of the fact that none of them were talking to me. Not anymore.

The noon classes were the better part of the day. The purpose of those trainings were to give us an outlet for our excess energy, and I had plenty to spare. The more I gave, the lighter I felt. But at each end of the session, I felt the restlessness overcoming me just as strongly as it did prior to the activity. At the last class of the day, my control broke and another girl was injured because of me. The trainer told me that it was alright, and that felt worse than if he had told me to cool it off. In fact, I wished he had told me to cool it off. And then maybe they would find what was wrong with me, and they would do what they hadn't been able to do this summer.

I skipped dinner and went back to my dorm, lying on my bed to wait for another day.

Everyone was talking about the new students. They were early because they had run into trouble on the way here. Their plane crashed, and only four were left alive. Our infirmary was the nearest medical facility they had access to, so they were heading straight here instead of taking a detour to the city first for administration purposes. Suspicion and conspiracy theories were thick among the academy residents. New recruits died before arriving to the academy now and then, but never in such a huge number. Skipping the city was also something that had never happened before. No administration meant no safety protocols. Nothing to keep them from losing control.

Later that day, people claimed that they had seen the four of them. Two were barely scathed. One was limping on crutches. The other was in comatose. Despite this, their enrolment was proceeded as planned. I hung on every piece of news about them, trying to catch information about their gender. If there was a girl, there was a great chance I would be getting a new roommate. But no one was talking about it. Their gender didn't matter nearly as much as their lack of competence and experience did.

Frustrated, I gave up standing conspicuously in the hallways and headed for the next lesson. I was late, but having been my personal mentor for a while now, Lysandra was accustomed to my tardiness. I had suspected for a long time that she was secretly glad when I didn't show up. As one of the senior trainers, she was constantly called to important meetings, leaving little time for anything trivial. Mentoring me wasn't her choice. She was chained to me like I was to her. If she could have anything to do with it, I was sure she would rather have spent her precious time somewhere else.

She was writing something in her study when I came in. A letter. Electronic communication gadgets were permissible in the academy, but there was no point in using them because no satellite covered our region. Internet and other network services wouldn't work. Even old mobile phones and landlines wouldn't. I sat in the armchair while I waited for her to finish.

"How are you doing with our last lesson?" she asked absently, still writing.

"I did the homework." I took out the file and waved it at her. She took it, barely glancing as she stored it in her drawer. She did that with all my written homework. I wondered if she really kept all of them there unopened or if she just threw it in the trash can the moment I left.

Finally she folded the paper carefully and inserted it inside an envelope. She stored the envelope in another drawer, and then stood. "Well?" she prompted. "Demonstrate what you have learned, Miss Denver."

She saw my hesitation and made a disapproving noise. Exhaling slowly, I raised my hand as steadily as I could and lower my defenses. It was as hard as trying to open a tap just enough for a drop to leak through. Extreme care for precision was needed. As the water dropped, it became even harder not to give into the rushing current and let everything flow free. I couldn't do that. I couldn't let that happen.

I didn't realized I had closed my eyes until Lysandra made another humming noise, this time tinged with the barest hint of approval. My eyes flew open then, and I saw what she had seen just a second before everything retracted back to normal—sharp claws protruding from the tips of my fingers, like sharpened bones that grew from my nails.

Lysandra arched her brow. "You still need practice on holding that."

I ducked my head and didn't say anything. The urge to give in to the current was still there. I slowed my breathing and it passed. I looked up then, but my mentor was no longer paying attention to me. She was scribbling something in a piece of paper. My homework. I scanned it over as she passed it to me. "History?" I asked. "We've all learned this in first year."

"It's never wrong to refresh a memory." She waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, we have new recruits now. Only four of them, but still new. They don't have enough time to attend regular lessons with the first-years because they're scheduled to train in the more advanced levels. Someone needs to give them, ah, express lessons. On the basics." A grimace. "I don't have time for that. You do."

Processing that, I chose my words carefully. "You mean you want me to teach the new recruits?"

"On the basic theories. Only in your free time, of which you own a lot."

Again, I worded my sentence carefully. "I don't think I'm equipped to teach yet."

"Why not? You're my student. It's only basics—"

"That's not what I mean." I couldn't hold it back anymore. "You know I can't be around…people." Not yet. Other than regular lessons—which I had only begun to attend again last week—they have kept me as apart from the other students as best as they could. It was either that or complete solitary confinement.

New people were different. They were untrained. They might not be able to handle it if I lost control.

From Lysandra's unchanging expression, I knew that she had already considered this. Her misunderstanding had been deliberate. "I don't have time to waste on this argument, Miss Denver. Consider this assignment a crucial part of your training."

One of the things about sleep deprivation was thoughts. So many thoughts, running on such a wild speed. I could barely follow my own mind, but I knew one thing for sure: if there was a girl among the new recruits, I have to stop her at all costs from becoming my roommate and ending up like Clare.