Page 5 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)

Florence Wing was beautiful and had its own theme, as did all the other halls. We stepped onto a thick red carpet with an

interwoven filigree pattern; the walls were papered in a similar swirling design of faded reds and golds. Between each of

the dorm rooms stood intricately carved cream-colored pillars, giving it a very French Provincial look.

“This is amazing,” I said as we strolled past doors. “I didn’t expect such opulence.”

Our house was simple and small, with a large yard that suited our need for nature. Mom hadn’t used magic since that day in

the woods, which meant she’d had to leave her job with their coven: Blessed Souls of Spokane. She’d been an accountant for

their various businesses, but once she halted her magic, she’d been unable to fulfil other tasks.

I’d never heard my parents discuss money, but I had the sense that when the twins graduated at the end of this year and headed

into covens to earn their own money, there would be a huge relief on their finances. Weatherstone College had quite reasonable

fees—all the magic colleges were heavily sponsored by the covens on the understanding that they were fostering the future

of the magical world.

But it wasn’t free. Not even for a tenured professor, though he did get a faculty discount that helped.

“Your mother was on Florence Wing,” Dad said, his expression calmer now. “I used to sneak in here all the time, because in our day, only witches were allowed on Florence and Aura.”

As much as I didn’t want to think about my dad sneaking into my mom’s room, I was curious. “So, all floors are co-ed now?

I know we don’t have roommates, but we do share bathrooms, right?”

“Yep, there’s two on each floor. One for witches and one for warlocks.”

I was well used to sharing a bathroom with four siblings, so this didn’t bother me hugely. It was college and we were all

adults here, so there would— hopefully —be very little incidence of magical sabotage.

It was strictly forbidden to use your affinities against other students, but it was college and not everyone enjoyed following

the rules. Hopefully most of us were beyond bullying and toxic behavior.

When we reached dorm room 267, Dad dropped my duffel bag and pointed out the shiny silver panel to the left of the frame.

“As long as you’re the first to press your hand against the magic scanner, then this room will be yours.”

The door was white with ornate detailing and picture framing timberwork. The silver scanner looked out of place, but I appreciated

the security nonetheless. Pressing my right hand against it, the icy metal bit into my palm, warming a few seconds later.

Metal and earth elementals used the strongest materials from the land itself to create such technologies. This scanner showed

no obvious signs of what it contained, but from my studies, I’d guess there was iron, rhodium, platinum, and gold—the best

conductors of magic.

“Your energy has been accepted,” Dad said.

Jerking my head up, I removed my hand, flexing my fin gers against the tingles still skittering across my palm. “It has? How do you know?”

Dad cracked a proper smile for the first time since Ms. White delivered her message. “Well, the door is open, Little Gem.”

Oh, right. That was a decent indication. Ready to see my home for the next ten months, I hurried inside to find a sparse,

simple, but very comfortable room. The main furniture included a white timber twin bed, small dresser, and desk for studying.

The carpet was as plush as the hallway, but a muted gray instead of red. Dad set my suitcase and duffel by the door and followed

me over to the window.

“That’s the western gate,” he said, “beside the apothecary forest.”

“Where we’ll find spell material,” I confirmed, taking note of the landscape.

“Exactly,” he continued, “and over there is the Weatherstone graveyard where you’ll take a few of your necromancy classes.”

Most of the graveyard wasn’t visible, tucked in beside the western gate forest. Only the arched stone entrance could be seen,

and as I observed it, a shiver traced down my spine. I had no necromancers in my family, and I’d never not feel uneasy around

those who communicated with the dead.

Dad turned from the window and perched on the edge of the desk to watch me check out the rest of my room. With its white duvet

and thick down pillows, the bed looked comfortable. There was the mild scent of lavender from its magical cleaning. The dresser

was empty, ready for me to unpack my bags, but in the small wardrobe to the side, ten or so uniforms hung neatly.

“I hope I can stay,” I said to Dad, sinking against the bed. “I just feel there’s so much for me to learn here, and a lot

of growth to be had as a witch.”

Goddess knew I needed it.

“My college years were some of the best of my life,” he admitted, with reluctance. “But there are dangers here now.” The lines

carved around his eyes painted a picture of worry. “You’ve only just turned twenty-two. You could stay home for a few more

years, give us more time.”

My heart hurt, but even as he implored me to take this offer, I couldn’t. “I love you, Dad, and I will miss you and Mom, but

this is the right time for me to leave. Magic blooms when you’re ready to step forth, and I won’t ignore the call.”

We both knew it. Our schooling system was already set up differently to humans, in that we were home with our parents until

the age of ten, when we started primary. This was to give us a chance to learn how to exist in a family unit first, which

was akin to a coven. It was also designed so that we’d finish primary and secondary school near our twenty-second birthday.

No one really knew why our magic bloomed in that year, but it had been reasoned that children weren’t mentally prepared to

handle magic, so to keep our species safe, the ancestors had spelled our kind. Or maybe it was the goddesses themselves.

It had been this way for as long as our records of history existed.

Dad’s worried expression did not ease. “It’s going to be okay,” I reassured him. Now that I was here, surrounded by the tingling

energy of Weatherstone, I couldn’t be torn away from it. As an unexceptional witch, if I missed my chance at Weatherstone,

I’d remain unexceptional forever.

“It suits you,” he admitted with reluctance. “I’ll go now and speak with your mother, before you settle in too deeply.”

“Give me a chance,” I all but whispered. “That’s all I ask.”

He nodded. “I love you, Little Gem. I’ll cast some protective energy around your room as I leave.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, before adding with a flash in his eyes, “and don’t wander around on your own.” He made a show of closing the door tightly.

“Give Mom all the facts,” I shouted through the closed door, but there was no reply from the other side, and I wondered if

he’d even heard me.

Settling against the bed, I tried not to let stress get the better of me. There was nothing I could do to influence this decision

yet, and even though I didn’t need their permission as an adult, I also couldn’t afford the tuition on my own.

I had to hope Mom would be on my side.

Exhausted but also strangely energized, I bounced to my feet and made my way to the simple white desk. There were two small

drawers on either side, with sets of larger drawers underneath each, and a black leather chair. Taking a seat, I opened one

drawer to find a collection of pens, while the other was empty. The larger drawers held notepads, textbooks, and a small apothecary

kit.

I’d grown up seeing our battered kit in the kitchen, used almost daily between healing, cooking, and small spells. Ours was

an all-purpose kit, coded white across the tag, but I knew Dad was desperate for one of the black combat kits.

This was the first time I had a kit of my own, and even as simple as it was, I felt more grown-up and ready for college just

staring at it. Almost all witches and warlocks incorporated herbs into their daily lives, and smelling the chamomile tea and

lavender ointment was enough to bring me back to my childhood home.

The school kit in its light brown leather satchel held mostly familiar herbs, but there were a few I hadn’t ever used before.

I assumed they’d be for attack and defense spells. Dried rosemary and angelica were contained in small jars, along with half

a dozen others tucked into pockets around the bag.

I hadn’t checked out my schedule yet, but considering the kit, there had to be at least one apothecary class. Placing the satchel on the table, I retrieved my welcome booklet, reading through more of the information I’d skimmed before.

First was the map, which I tore free along the perforated line. I spent a few seconds tracing the paths around the huge school,

finding Ancot, and noticing that the five hallways of the dorms formed a pentacle shape. Dad had said they all intersected

at points, and I noted that my dorm was close to both Nightrealm and Aura.

Setting the map aside, I was about to pull out my class schedule, when there was a knock on my door. The sound didn’t come

physically though, but in the form of someone placing their hand on my entrance plate. I felt the corresponding intrusion

in my energy.

Panic hit me first, before I shook it off. Only Dad knew my dorm room, and he must have returned to impart one last very important piece of advice. As I focused on the presence outside, I got wafts of family.

Not just family, but a familiar earthy energy.

It wasn’t Dad after all.

As I yanked the door open, Jenna was already in the room—Alice, Trevor, and Jensen right behind her.

“Little sis!” they shouted, and in that moment my worries and nerves vanished.

My family was here, and I knew they’d never leave me to deal with this alone.

That was not the Hallistar way.