Page 14 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)

Introduction to Talent

A ray of sunlight pierces the room in shades of orange and pink, slicing the night’s shadows as daylight peaks.

I quietly climb down from the bunk and rush to the tufted seat by the window.

My breathing hitches at the sight.

Snow-capped mountains loom in the distance, cloaked in different shades of green and white until their tops disappear into the mist. An expansive lake glimmers through the pine trees, so clear and vibrant.

More hills, forests, and grassy fields surround the castle.

Even the boulders and wildflowers are shining in the morning dew.

The door makes a small clicking noise, and I turn.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I brought a few options.

” Ramona carries a small silver tray of steaming cups toward the bench.

“Don’t get used to this type of service, but I know I couldn’t survive any morning without my tea.

Especially for our first day at the Academy.

I’ll never admit this publicly, but I am nervous…

A lot of family expectations to live up to and everything. ”

“You are a savior!” I hug Ramona. Her arms are awkwardly pinned under me, and I get the feeling that she isn’t really the hugging type.

I reach for the darkest cup. “I’m a bean brew person myself,” I add before quickly gulping down the steaming black liquid until my soul is properly reacquainted with its long lost love. It tastes of rich mahogany with a hint of cherry.

Good to know that I can count on a good cup of bean brew at this place.

“No cream or sugar; no nonsense. I like it! We are meant to be friends!” Ramona plops down next to me.

We sit there for a few minutes sipping our drinks in comfortable silence until Ramona divulges all of her favorite types of teas, even going as far as naming the territory of origin they come from.

I share my favorite bean brews and Eastlander meads.

By the end of our conversation, I can’t stop talking either. We jump from topic to topic as easily as a monkey swinging from one branch to another and another and another.

Eventually, Leaf stops by and interrupts our chat. He helps himself to a cup of brew and leans against my wooden desk. His smug grin is barely contained and oozing “I am taking credit for this friendship” like some sort of match maker.

Once we’re all fully caffeinated, Leaf and Romona take me to a room on the first floor of the castle, where I’m fitted for a uniform.

They explain how the Academy works. Open study time in the morning, classes alternating from an introductory general course all first-years take—Old World History, Elementation, or Nature Studies—every other day.

I’m assured that Battlefield is almost every day, sometimes twice a day, depending on the weather.

I shudder at the thought of training out in the mountains during winter and try to convince myself for the eleventh time this morning that enrolling in the Watch was a good idea.

I’m poked, prodded, and measured, until I have a set of fitted battle leathers and multiple sets of blue sweaters with matching trousers, two additional pairs of lace-up boots, and a gray cloak.

Not a “Watcher Blue” cloak just yet. That color is earned at the end of the year at the Stone Ceremony.

Hopefully, I will make it that far , I think morbidly. In the meantime, I’ll wear a gray cloak like the rest of the first years I’ve seen walking the corridors.

Ramona and I change into our blues in our room before heading off to our first class before lunch.

I opt for a simple form fitting turtleneck and cargo pants, while Ramona chooses the sweater and skirt option.

Though I have the same set in my closet, Ramona looks effortless, like the uniform was made for her, nose ring and all.

Ramona leads us down to the mezzanine level through a long corridor full of classrooms. Introduction to Talent is our first class, and I feel like a fraud in Watcher blues compared to all the confident cadets tromping around like they know exactly where they are going and who they are.

Everything in this part of the castle seems rounded.

The tall ceilings, curved, dark wooden doors, even the Source lit sconces are cylindrically shaped.

Each one a different iron depiction of the moon phases or suns.

The orb light glimmering and flickering within gives the sconces an effect like they are alive.

Beautiful .

I wonder how easy it will be to channel magic like this. Will I catch on quickly? I like to think that the combination of my scrappy upbringing and ability to embellish with little to no details will serve me well at the Watch. I guess only time will tell.

We arrive at our classroom easily thanks to Ramona’s extensive knowledge of the castle.

Perks of befriending a Legacy, I suppose.

A first year cadet stands in front of our classroom door with a small pouch in her hands. She pulls out something from the pouch and places it in our palms, curling our fingers before we get a chance to see what she just placed in our hands.

Something cold, small, and round. What type of test is this?

“Don’t look at the stone you draw. Keep it closed in your hand until Professor Novak tells you to open it–oh!

” She finally looks up at us, brown eyes rounding.

“Hi Ramona.” Her posture straightens, and spots of pink blot her tawny cheeks.

Her curly black hair waterfalls past her shoulder, where a large satchel currently hangs, heavy with books.

“Selene,” Ramona draws out her name then swiftly passes into the room. Did Ramona just wink ?

Ramona insists that we sit further toward the back away from Selene, so I follow. Other cadets begin to file in the room. My stomach feels like that one time Rosie accidentally added sour milk to the bean brew.

A tall, brown haired man sweeps into the room, his slick hair not moving an inch despite his swishing strides.

The room hushes instantaneously.

“Welcome to Intro to Talent. My name is Pavo Novak, but you may call me Professor Novak.”

He stops in the center of the room and swirls his hands into a succession of patterns.

The room erupts with white mist, so thick that I can no longer see my hands on the desk in front of me. The rhythm of my heart skips a beat, and I reach for Ramona to find her doing the same.

Gasps and surprised sounds fill around me.

The wind howls in tritones.

The atmosphere begins to thicken and cool, stealing the precious dry particles from the air and replacing them with wet, freezing, minuscule droplets.

Phantom gusts of wind whip my hair in my eyes, stinging with each lash so roughly that I burrow into Ramona’s side, desperately trying to escape the cruel punishment.

Someone screams, and the room returns back to normal as quickly as it came on.

No more opaque white tendrils of fog.

My ears are instantly relieved as the dissonant wind dissipates.

Cadets are disheveled. Desks are flipped. Selene, sitting near the front, tries to hide her sniffling and quickly wipes the tears from her face.

“Great moons, that was brutal,” Ramona whispers.

Not a single hair is out of place on Professor Novak’s slicked head.

“That”—Novak pointedly scans his stare across the classroom—“is called Mysting. Now, who can tell me the primary types of Watchers and what faction might channel this particular type of magic?”

Murmur and whispers fill the room. A male cadet with short, curly dark hair in the front row raises his hand.

Professor Novak points to him. “And you are?”

“Artemis, sir. Artemis Black.” Artemis stands from his chair and recites, “There are three types of Watchers: Moon Watchers, Sun Watchers, and Starwatchers, though Moon’chers and Sun’chers are much more common.

” I can already tell that he is one of those people who enjoys hearing themselves talk.

“Mysting is an attack method used by Moon’chers. ”

“Very good.” Professor Novak paces to the other side of the room. “And tell me… why would Moon’chers be more apt at Mysting than other Watchers?”

Artemis’s hand shoots up in the air again, but Professor Novak’s eyes scan purposefully over him until they land on me. “You. What is your name?”

Sets of eyes crawl along my spine like ants. I shiver before remembering to answer the question.

“Akemi Nox,” I say, impressed with the steady tone of my voice despite being put on the spot in front of the whole class. I like performing and all, but only when I’m prepared.

“And what do you think? Why might Mysting be a technique Moon’chers might use?”

At first, the sting of impending humiliation runs up my spine, heating my face and neck. How am I to know any of this? I technically just joined the Watch yesterday and really haven’t had the proper time to prepare like I normally would.

Think. Think .

I scour my mind for Tellings of famous Moon’chers.

I have never been so thankful for the hours of transcribing that Marrow forced me to do last summer.

The Battle of Bones Bay was known to be one of the largest sea battles where Moon’chers successfully defeated the Southern Continent’s attempt at seizing our borders.

Then there was The River Heist that happened not too far from the Dead Twins, where Moon’chers were able to recover stolen gemstones along the Rushlung river bed.

The Myst felt wet, like fog and rain… Castor said he was a Moon’cher, and when he was battling the Underworld warriors in Goldenpine, his white, fog-looking substance was almost completely solid when he was carrying me.

He must have been using Myst. He was incredibly strong, but it was also night time and raining. It suddenly all clicks.

“The water! Moon’chers are more apt toward controlling water during channeling.”

“Impressive. Especially for someone enrolling in the Watch so last minute,” he says, the compliment coated in ice. I can feel my cheeks brighten as students turn to stare at me.