Chapter 3 Why Should I Be Afraid of You?

Cecilia Blackwood's POV

The dorm was far better than I'd expected.

I pushed open the door carved with my name, eyes lighting up.

A large bed with a mountain of pillows piled at the foot. A desk by the window with a brass lamp shaped like a curled-up cat. An empty bookshelf built into the wall. And a private bathroom.

I peeked inside. There was even a bathtub.

The most absurd part was the window.

I was clearly in a tower, but when I looked down, I saw the academy's main courtyard.

Someone was feeding pigeons by the fountain. Two people sat on a bench playing chess. A massive black cat the size of a small pony strolled leisurely across the cobblestones.

"Magic," I said to the empty air.

A knock came at the door.

I opened it to find Rowan already changed into the academy's deep blue robes, hair dripping wet from a recent shower.

"Dining hall opens at seven. Forty minutes left. Want to explore first?"

I threw on my robes and followed her out of the tower.

Star Ring Academy at night was more beautiful than during the day. And more dangerous.

Blue flames burned in torches along the corridor walls. Tapestries depicted ancient wars I didn't recognize.

Giants battling dragons. Wizards dueling knights. And one scene where a crowd surrounded a woman tied to a stake, firewood piled at her feet.

"That's the Witch Hunt," Rowan noticed my gaze. "The darkest chapter in academy history. Back when the Church hadn't officially broken with the Wizarding World, some students were reported by their own families and dragged away..."

My lips went pale. Because those women tied to stakes were like me—witches.

Guilt drove me to quicken my pace.

We passed a long corridor lined with classrooms. Door plaques read Introduction to Runology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Introduction to Healing Magic.

Rowan played tour guide. "This one's water magic, this one's fire magic, this one's..."

She suddenly fell silent.

We'd reached the corridor's end.

The last classroom door was tightly shut, its plaque carved with words:

Dark Magic: Theory and Practice

"This class has been closed for years," Rowan whispered. "Because no one can teach it. The last professor was... consumed by magical backlash during class."

"What's backlash?"

Rowan bit her lip. "Dark magic has its own will. If you can't control it, it controls you. That professor wasn't from the Ashworth family, but he insisted on studying dark magic anyway. Lost control during class and injured a dozen students."

I stared at that closed door.

"Let's go." Rowan tugged at me. "We're not supposed to linger here."

We hurried away from that corridor.

The dining hall occupied the castle's main floor, far larger than I'd imagined.

Four long tables ran parallel, corresponding to the Gold, Silver, Copper, and Iron Rings.

Rowan and I were both Gold Ring, seated closest to the serving station.

Dinner was surprisingly normal. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetable salad, and a pitcher of unlimited hot chocolate.

As I sat down with my tray, I saw Kane again, alone at the farthest table with empty seats all around him.

His plate held only a piece of bread and a glass of water.

"Stop staring." Rowan tapped my plate with her fork. "You really can't talk to him."

"Why not?"

"Didn't I just explain..."

"Everything you said," I interrupted, "came from other people. Have you ever talked to him?"

Rowan was struck silent.

"So," I set down my fork, "you hate him because your mom says he's dangerous. Your mom says he's dangerous because someone told her dark magic corrupts the mind. And that someone probably only heard it from someone else."

"Do you have to be so literal about this?" Rowan sighed.

"I just don't like condemning someone I don't know."

Rowan was quiet for a moment. "So what are you planning? Walk over and say hello?"

I looked at her.

"Don't." She said immediately. "I was joking, Cecilia, don't..."

But I'd already stood up.

Tray in hand, under the gaze of over a hundred eyes, I walked toward that table with three empty rows around it.

I could hear whispers behind me.

Who? What's she doing? Isn't that the Gold Ring first-year? Is she insane?

My heart was pounding, but my feet didn't stop.

Kane looked up.

Those gray-blue eyes stared straight at me—no surprise, no threat. Cold as ice.

I reached the seat across from him and pulled out the chair.

The chair legs scraped across the stone floor. The entire dining hall went silent.

I sat down.

"Hello."

Kane stared at me for a long time, long enough for me to wonder if I'd just done the stupidest thing imaginable.

Then he spoke.

"You shouldn't sit here."

"Why not?"

"Because no one sits here."

"Exactly. So I came."

Kane's gaze locked onto me, a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes.

"You're not afraid of me?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because everyone is."

"Well, I'm not everyone."

Kane's focus sharpened.

"What's your name?"

"Cecilia Blackwood."

He paused. "Blackwood."

"What, have you heard of it?"

"No." He picked up his water glass and took a sip. "But you should change your name."

"Why?"

"Because once you sit here, no one will remember what you're called anyway."

His gaze stayed fixed on my face, as if trying to scare me off, but I clearly saw the loneliness in his eyes.

I smiled.

"Perfect."

I shrugged and picked up my fork, starting on the mashed potatoes. "I hate introductions anyway."