Page 11 of Beastkin
I closed my eyes reluctantly, not sure what I was supposed to be sensing. The warmth from the desk was still there, but as I focused,other things began to filter in. The girl with blue skin radiated something cool and flowing, like a gentle stream. The fire elemental felt like standing too close to a campfire. And the witch students... they all had this crackling energy, like electricity waiting to discharge.
But there was something else. Something deeper and more primal that seemed to resonate from within my own chest. It felt wild and untamed, nothing like the controlled magical signatures around me.
Then there was another, a bright burning energy that nearly bowled me over. My fingers gripped the desk, claws scratching the surface. It felt like looking directly into the sun, feeling all its heat and power at the same time. It was coming from the other side of the room.
“Excellent,” Professor Blackwood said softly. “You can open your eyes now.”
I opened them to find her watching me intently. “Mr. Laurent, would you mind staying after class? I’d like to discuss your... observations.”
My stomach dropped. Being singled out by a professor on my first day back was the last thing I wanted. Especially this professor, reformed or not. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Quite the opposite,” she said with what looked like a genuine smile. “But we’ll discuss it after class.”
As soon as she headed back down to her podium, I scanned the class, trying to find the source of the heat. But I found nothing. Only a sea of witch faces looked back at me, their expressions somewhere between bewilderment and disgust. I turned my gaze back to the professor, sinking down in my chair a bit. The energy must’ve been a fluke. But staying after class… well that was real, and it could only mean one thing. The thing I hated more than anything else.
More homework.
Chapter 5
Karrick
Ididn’t know which was worse, the fact that I was stuck in a class I didn’t want to take, or that I was about to find out why Professor Blackwood wanted to see me alone at the end of class. Either way, my first day back at Widdershins was turning into a bit of a nightmare.
As the other students filed out, their whispers and sidelong glances making it clear I was the topic of conversation, I remained seated. My claws dug small crescents into the ancient desk as I waited, the wood’s magical warmth still pulsing beneath my fingertips.
“Mr. Laurent,” Professor Blackwood said once we were alone, “thank you for staying.” She gestured to a chair closer to her desk. “Would you mind coming down here? These acoustics aren’t ideal for conversation.”
I stood reluctantly, my knees grateful to be free from the too-small desk, and made my way down to the front of the room. Up close, I could see the fine lines around her eyes, the silver strands woven through her dark hair. She looked tired in a way I hadn’t noticed from a distance.
“I understand your reluctance to be in this class,” she began, surprising me with her directness. “Your file indicates you believe you have no magical aptitude beyond your Beastkin abilities.”
“Because I don’t,” I said, trying to keep the edge from my voice. “Look, Professor, I appreciate whatever... journey you’ve been on, but I’m here to play football and get my degree in sports medicine. Not to wave my hands around and pretend I can do witch magic.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t condescending like I’d expected. “What did you feel when you closed your eyes earlier, Mr. Laurent?”
The question caught me off guard. “I felt... warmth from the desk. And different energies from the other students.”
“And did that surprise you?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I guess. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
“That’s because you’ve never been asked to look for it.” She leaned forward, her expression serious. “Karrick… may I call you Karrick?”
I nodded, still wary.
“Karrick, what you experienced today is not common among Beastkin. In fact, it’s quite rare. The ability to sense magical signatures at that level usually indicates latent elemental potential.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Right. Next, you’ll tell me I’m secretly a witch.”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’re a Beastkin with unusual magical sensitivity. And I’d like to help you explore what that might mean.”
“Why?” The question burst from me with more force than I intended. “Why would you care what I can or can’t do?”
Something flashed across her face, pain, maybe, or regret. “Because I spent too many years dismissing students like you. Assuming that because you weren’t a witch, your magical potential was limited or nonexistent. I was wrong, and I’ve seen the damage that kind of thinking has caused.”
She stood and moved to a cabinet against the wall, pulling out asmall wooden box. When she returned, she placed it on the desk between us.
“There have been documented cases of Beastkin with elemental affinities,” she continued, opening the box to reveal a collection of small crystals, each a different color. “Not many, but enough to establish a pattern. Most often, they manifest as fire or earth connections, given your species’ natural affinity for the wilderness.”