S O R E N

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     Very rarely there are days when I can see into a person's mind, and on my worst days I can even feel them. Today was a worst day. Across the chipped Formica table at the hole-in-the-wall joint, Aunt Marlene stabbed a sausage link with uncharacteristic ferocity. We hadn't spoken much since the whole "Bunsen Burner Bonfire" incident in Kentucky last week. "Incident" being a generous term for the minor pyrotechnics display I'd accidentally triggered during a chemistry experiment so mind-numbingly dull it felt like a crime scene.

     Marlene, bless her ever-practical soul, pretended to be engrossed in the greasy spoon menu, her brow furrowed in a way that spoke volumes. It was the "you're-in-big-trouble-and-we- both-know-it" look, a well-worn expression in our nomadic life.

     Truth be told, I couldn't blame her. Twelve schools in twelve states wasn't exactly a stellar track record. It wasn't something I could control, trust me if it had been, I wouldn't be living out of the ratty duffle bag I've had since I was ten. It was everything that simmered underneath me. It pulsed beneath my skin, a wild and unpredictable beast, more often than not leaving a trail of singed textbooks and bewildered teachers in its wake.

     The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an unflattering yellow glow on the bickering couple across the booth. Their voices, under normal circumstances, would be a dull murmur that blended into the background noise of the diner, but today it cut through with a sharp edge. Normally, I could shut out these emotional outbursts, years of practice building a mental shield against unwanted feelings. But today, the shield felt as flimsy as a paper napkin against a hurricane. Maybe because I had been in a car for the better half of the night, or maybe because the emotion ate away at me because it wasn't far from how I was feeling about myself. Either way, their argument, a bitter cocktail of accusations and hurt, washed over me, the despair and anger threatening to drown me.

     A wave of despair washed over me, an icy fist tightening around my heart. My vision blurred, the diner morphing into a kaleidoscope of flickering emotions. The woman's shame – a heavy, suffocating cloak – wrapped around me. The man's anger crackled like cheap electricity, sending shivers down my spine.

     Panic clawed at my throat. I tried to pull back, to sever the unwanted connection, but it was like being caught in a rip current, dragged further into the churning vortex of their pain.

     Just when I thought I might shatter under the emotional strain, a hand, cool and calming, clamped onto mine. The pressure receded, the raw emotions ebbing away like a tide.

     My vision refocused on Aunt Marlene, her face etched with concern. But behind the worry, there was a flicker of something else – a glint of steel in her eyes that spoke volumes.

     "Soren, honey, are you alright?" her voice, usually laced with warmth, had an edge to it.

     I managed a shaky nod, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Just a headache," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. Marlene had raised me since I was a baby, she'd been the only family I've ever known, which meant she was always the first person to see right through me. She never pressed more than she had to, especially when it came to my magic, she would recite how out of depth she was on the matter, but I knew better. Magic scared her. I scared her.

     Suddenly, the booth creaked as someone sat down beside me. A woman with neatly-coiffed silver hair and sharp green eyes, her tailored emerald suit an odd contrast to the joint's greasy interior, took my hand in hers. It was strangely cool, a stark contrast to the heat emanating from my own body, a heat that had nothing to do with the diner's griddle.

     "Soren Lancaster, I presume?" she stated, her voice a low, melodic hum that sent shivers down my spine. Despite the sternness in her tone, a flicker of warmth played in her eyes.

     My throat felt raw. My eyes darted to Aunt Marlene, who sat stiffly in her seat, her jaw clenched, a silent conversation passing between them. They knew each other, and Marlene wasn't the kind of person to hold onto friends for very long considering we were never in one place for too long.

     "Amelia," Aunt Marlene finally acknowledged, her voice tight.

     "Marlene," she began, her voice softening. "Lovely to see you again, though under different circumstances, I suppose." There was an unspoken intensity that whipped the air around us, one so thick it was nearly smothering and that was saying something considering we were sitting in a stuffy diner that smelled like burnt sausage.

     I was searching for any piece of explanation on who this woman was and how exactly she knew either me or Marlene, but it was a futile attempt. Both the women were daring the other to speak next and I sat in between the two like a silent game of tug-a-war was being played on me.

     Finally, I cleared my throat and directed my attention to the mystery woman holding onto me like I would vanish into the air if she let go of me. "I seem to be the only one out of the loop here," I stared pointedly at the lady. "So who exactly are you?" If she noticed the way I recoiled my hand from hers, she didn't bat an eye because she simply curtly smiled at me in return.

     There wasn't a hair out of place on her and it felt nearly impossible for someone to be so put together, she definitely stood out beside us. "Darling, I'm Headmistress Amelia Caldwell of Arcane Academy," The Headmistress spoke with a posh english accent, so that everything that came out of her mouth seemed as nothing less-than causal.

     The weight of those words settled on me like a lead blanket. Arcane Academy. A place I'd only ever heard whispered about in hushed tones, a place Marlene had seemingly wanted me to avoid. Anytime I had asked her about the school, she'd brushed me off and pretended not to hear me and I had a bad habit of letting her. But with my magic continuing to spiral out of control, was she out of options? Or perhaps she'd finally grown tired of moving from state-to-state all the time. All because of me.

     Marlene's hand trembled as she quickly reached into her purse, pulling out a worn leather pouch. From it, she retrieved a faded brochure, the edges softened with age. It's cover displayed a magnificent castle, it's spires seemingly scraping the sky, the whole scene bathed in an unholy glow.

     "Giselle... she wanted you to go, Soren," she finally admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "Before..." she trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

     My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Giselle, the woman who entrusted me with Marlene, a woman shrouded in a tragic past that Marlene refused to discuss. All I knew was that she'd made some unforgiving life choices and succumbed to an illness soon after leaving me with Marlene. The story, like everything else about my birth parents, felt incomplete, purposely vague. Now, with the mention of Arcane Academy, a new piece, a jagged shard of truth, was now threatening to pierce the narrative Marlene carefully constructed over the years.

     I knew better to dwell on the past of my parents. I had been down that road before with Marlene and it was always a losing battle with her. Right now, I was more hurt than anything.

     "It doesn't matter now. All that matters is how to best handle you from now on," Marlene sounded like she was pulling teeth and it felt like she was pulling mine.

     The faded brochure felt heavy in my hand, the weight of it a tangible reminder of the secrets Marlene clutched so tightly. My mind spun. Arcane Academy. A place Giselle, the woman who was supposed to be my mother, thought I belonged. But why the secrecy? Why keep this hidden from me for so long?

     "Why didn't you tell me?" The question tumbled out, laced with a bitterness I couldn't quite control. I wasn't used to feeling this way towards Marlene, it almost felt unnatural in a way considering how close we'd always been.

      Marlene raised me and for all intents and purposes, she was my Mother, so I tried to tell myself that these feelings were just remnants of the couple at the bar. It was getting hard to tell where their feelings started and mine ended and that was a dangerous condition to be in.

     Marlene's face crumpled, the years etched on her skin seeming to deepen. "It wasn't easy, honey. Giselle was my half-sister from my Dad's side. I was five years older than her and I barely knew her before she left you on my doorstep." I felt sick. I never knew they were half-siblings and while I reeled from that information, I tried not to flinch at her words skidding over me like a steamroller.

     "Mind you, I've never regretted my decision to keep you, but my sister... Well, things weren't always as simple for her. She worried if you went to Arcane before it was right that you'd follow in her footsteps," Marlene continued on, reluctantly.

     My brow furrowed. Why would that be such a bad thing? All I knew was the chaos that followed me wherever I went, the way my emotions bled into the physical world, leaving little to be desired in my wake. I don't think it got much worse than that.

     I had to deal with one lie at a time and there was something eating away at me from the moment Giselle entered into the equation. "You said she died from an illness," I pressed the truth about Giselle nagging at the edges of my mind.

     Marlene flinched, her gaze darting away. "She was sick, yes," she mumbled, her voice strained. "But there was more to it than that. Arcane can be... unforgiving, Soren. Especially to those who don't quite fit the mold."

     Her words fueled a fire of suspicion within me. Unforgiving? What exactly was she hiding? "What are you so scared to tell me Aunt Marlene?" My voice gave out as more like a plea, something I had desperately tried to stop from happening.

     She hesitated, her jaw clenched tight. Finally, with a defeated sigh, she met my gaze. "Your magic, Soren... It's strong. Powerful. But it's also... untamed. Unpredictable. Giselle wasn't exactly known for her subtlety in the Magic Realm, there are things that I don't even know about her hun."

     A cold dread settled in my stomach. If her own sister, who she trusted to raise her daughter, didn't even know her, then who did? Who exactly was Gisele Lancaster and why was she slowly seeping into all my problems?

     Caldwell cleared her throat, her voice a gentle intrusion. "Arcane Academy isn't just about structured magic, Soren. It's about a community, a place where you can learn to control your powers and understand yourself better. It's a chance to stop running."

     Her words resonated with a truth that stung. Running. That's all I'd ever known. But was Arcane the answer? Or was it just another cage, another place where I'd be ostracized for something I couldn't control? I stole a glance at Marlene, her face a mask of conflicting emotions, but I could feel them underneath it all.

     No matter how she felt, the decision, I realized with a sudden shiver of adrenaline, was mine.

     After I told Marlene that I wanted to attend Arcane Academy, everything started to move at warp speed and before I knew it, I was in the back parking lot of the run-down diner staring at a pleased Headmistress.

     I had never traveled through a portal before but I had a sinking suspicion that this wouldn't be the last of magical firsts tonight. I hadn't seen anyone else cast magic before, or really ever, since I had never encountered another witch before now. Mostly when my powers manifested, it was normally unwarranted.

     With a simple nod, Caldwell, in her prim and proper state, held a hand out and let a bright light of yellow cast around us, I quickly shielded my eyes.

     "It's safe to look now," Caldwell had let out a light laugh. I slowly peeled my eyes open, and took in the nipping wind around us as the portal shone golden yellow, like a piece of the sky had split open. I couldn't help but be a little agape, but as I turned to look at Marlene's reaction, I couldn't help but let the smile slip my face rather quickly.

     Marlene looked like someone had sucker punched her right in the chest, not bringing herself to look away from the circling portal only a mere few feet away. "Are you sure this is what you want?" She grabbed my dangling hand and brought it into hers, like she was ready to grab ahold of me and run. "I know I gave you this choice, but maybe I was wrong,"

     I slipped my hand away from hers and placed a firm grip on her shoulder, forcing her to look at me. "Marlene, this is what I want," I gave her shoulder a squeeze once I saw her deepening frown. "No..this is what I need," I strained, finally letting myself suck in a breath.

     For a moment, I had forgotten the Headmistress had been standing there, watching in silence and taking in the conflict from Marlene and I, but then she spoke. "Soren is almost eighteen, it's only going to get worse if she doesn't learn to control her magic now rather than later," Caldwell explained calmly.

     Marlene nearly ripped my arm off as she dragged us closer to Caldwell with a stern glint in her eyes and once we were close enough to hear the portal whirl, she pointed a finger. "Take care of her Amelia," Marlene remarked, leaving no hints of lightness in her tone. I thought that would be the end of it, as Caldwell took hold of me, like the two of them were exchanging change.

     Except once Marlene let go, she whispered something so low, that I almost missed it.

     "Don't let them ruin her."

     Then, before I could question her, I was whipped back into an abyss of darkness.