THE PHOENIX

As we drove toward the unfamiliar school, I couldn't help but notice the absence of any signs of life along the way.

The road wound through a dense forest, where even the birds seemed to fall silent. Though curiosity gnawed at me, I refrained from asking questions—partly out of fear, but mostly because I trusted Nanny Margaret.

Her presence had always been a soothing anchor. Nestling my head against her shoulder, I eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

I woke as the car came to a halt. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I sat up to behold the towering gates ahead. Ornate and shimmering with gold filigree, they bore one word at the pinnacle in radiant letters: PHOENIX.

A flutter of something—hope, fear, maybe wonder—stirred in my chest. The gates, majestic and ancient, seemed to hum with energy.

Turning to Nanny Margaret, I asked, "Why aren't we going in?"

"We must wait for clearance," she said gently. "Not just anyone may enter the Phoenix."

I nodded, oddly reassured by her words. A few moments later, a faint chime sounded from the gates. They creaked open slowly, revealing a world that took my breath away.

The air shimmered with faint golden mist. Trees stood taller than any I'd seen, their trunks embedded with glowing veins of light.

The buildings beyond were grand yet inviting, all crowned with elegant spires and carved symbols that pulsed with subtle power.

It felt like stepping into a celestial realm.

---

Once permitted access to the school premises, I was overwhelmed by the immaculate beauty that enveloped me.

It felt like stepping into a celestial realm, radiating a warmth and security reminiscent of my bond with Nanny Margaret.

But more than the gleaming towers or glowing gardens, it was the beings that roamed freely across the grounds that truly stole my breath.

To my left, a deep sapphire pool rippled with light—and within it, I glimpsed the sleek figures of mermaids, their silvery tails glinting beneath the water.

They sang in haunting voices, melodies that danced across the breeze and pulled at something ancient inside me.

Across the courtyard, a group of students laughed under the shade of a crystal-bloom tree—until I realized they weren't all human.

One stretched, revealing claws and sharp teeth before shifting seamlessly into a young werewolf, his eyes gleaming with feral mischief before fading back into the boyish grin of a teenager.

On a balcony above, a trio of witches in flowing midnight robes chanted softly over a bubbling cauldron.

Wisps of colored smoke spiraled into the sky, forming runes that shimmered before vanishing into the ether.

Tiny fairies zipped between flower beds, their wings humming like dragonflies. They scattered dust that made blossoms bloom faster, giggling as students chased after the glowing petals.

Their light, their sound—it tugged at something familiar in my chest.

"Echo," I whispered without thinking, a pang of yearning tightening my throat. How she would love this place.

Then I heard a sharp grunt nearby and turned to see a pair of gnomes arguing over a map, one of them stomping their foot while muttering about "bloody inaccurate ley lines."

The sight made me smile involuntarily. "Grumpy would have had a fit," I murmured, missing his grouchy wisdom more than I expected.

Suddenly, a ripple passed through the air—a distortion. I blinked as a gycole, one of the rarest magical species I'd ever read about, shimmered into view.

Half-flesh, half-spirit, the tall, translucent creature moved with eerie grace. It wore a cloak made of smoke and its eyes glowed faintly blue. It nodded politely as we passed, acknowledging our presence.

Across the courtyard, a group of students gathered beneath the shade of a towering duskwood tree, their laughter echoing through the air.

At first glance, they seemed ordinary—just teenagers enjoying a moment of rest between classes. But then, one of them yawned, and I caught the flash of elongated canines.

Another stretched, revealing claws that gleamed briefly in the sunlight before retracting. Their eyes glowed faintly gold for a heartbeat before returning to their natural shade.

Werewolves.

Even in human form, they moved with the fluid, alert grace of predators. One of them turned toward me as if sensing my gaze, his expression unreadable.

His aura felt... ancient, like something wild that refused to be tamed. I shivered—not in fear, but in recognition. It was the same primal magic I'd felt in the forest dreams I couldn't explain.

Nanny Margaret noticed my stillness. "Yes," she said quietly. "The wolves walk these halls too. Phoenix is sanctuary to many."

"Are they dangerous?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled faintly. "Only to those who forget to respect the wild. But you… you're marked by something deeper. You'll understand, in time."

I wasn't sure what she meant, but the gaze of the werewolf still lingered on me—curious, almost knowing—before he turned away and vanished with the others into the shadowy grove beyond the courtyard.

The entire place was alive with magic—magic that walked, swam, flew, and shimmered through every corner. My heart swelled with awe, but it also ached.

"How can they not be here?" I whispered aloud, more to myself than to anyone else.

Nanny Margaret, always attuned to my silences, placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Magic has a way of bringing us back to those who matter most. When the time is right, you'll see them again."

I nodded, trying to believe her, even as the longing for Echo's tinkling laugh and Grumpy's sarcastic remarks settled into my chest like a soft bruise.

As we pulled up to the main entrance, I stepped out, the wind carrying the scent of moonflowers, old books, and something wild.

This place—Phoenix—was unlike anything I had known. And even though I felt the stirrings of destiny all around me, all I could think was:

I hope they find me soon.

As we pulled into the main courtyard, I stepped out, my bag in hand. Nanny Margaret smiled at me, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before excusing herself for administrative tasks.

I was handed over to a warm-looking woman with kind eyes and a commanding presence.

"I'm Sofia," she introduced herself. "Dormitory matron. Come, dear, let's get you settled."

She led me through winding corridors and up a spiraling staircase that seemed to rearrange itself as we climbed.

My room was unlike anything I had expected—large windows framed an ethereal garden, and shelves lined with glowing stones and tiny winged creatures buzzed with life. A small fireplace crackled in welcome.

As I turned to take in the space, I bumped into someone.

"Oh! I'm sorry," I exclaimed.

"No worries," said a cheerful voice. She extended her hand. "I'm Latoya."

We exchanged stories quickly. Like me, she had not yet discovered her powers, and we made a pact to uncover them together. Her energy was contagious, and by nightfall, we were deep in conversation, laughter echoing into the hall until sleep claimed us.

The next morning, Latoya woke me with determined enthusiasm. As I shuffled to the mirror, it blinked to life and spoke.

"You look like a stormcloud. Chin up, girl!"

I yelped in surprise before laughing. Everything here was... alive. Magical.

We parted ways for class, and I found myself seated alone, feeling the loneliness creep back in. That is, until a boy with tousled hair and a playful grin sat beside me.

"Hey. I'm Luke," he said, his voice smooth. "First day too?"

I nodded, grateful for the company.

After class, eager for fresh air, I wandered along the outer courtyard. That's when I sensed it—a presence, shadowing me. Spinning on instinct, I braced myself.

A tall, impossibly handsome young man stood before me, hair like ink and eyes gleaming with familiarity.

"Don't worry," he said with a grin. "It's just me."

"Do I know you?" I asked, wary.

"I'm Michael," he replied, his expression softening. "Your cousin."

Shock hit me like a tidal wave. Cousin?

But before I could question him further, a professor called us back to the building, and we parted ways.

In class, Luke helped me navigate the array of herbs and strange tools before us. He was patient, guiding my hand when I fumbled with the unfamiliar instruments. I felt something shift within me—a spark of belonging.

After the lesson, Michael found me again. I learned he was a knight—and not just any knight, but one with magical abilities. Our bond grew stronger with each shared story.

As the days passed, I found myself settling in. Friendships began to form. Whispers of my name floated through corridors.

But not everyone welcomed me. One girl in particular—Lindsey—seemed to see me as her personal nemesis.

Then, one evening, while walking through the Moonflower Grove behind the dorms, I heard the flutter of wings and a grumbling snort.

My heart leapt.

"Echo?" I whispered.

From behind a cluster of glowing bushes, a burst of silver and violet light shot out—and there she was. The tiny dragon-like creature who had once saved me, her gossamer wings shimmering under moonlight.

"Kiva!" Echo cried, zipping into my arms. Her feathers tickled my cheeks as I laughed.

A grunt followed, low and unmistakably annoyed.

I turned to see Grumpy, the fae-like creature with furrowed brows and twitching ears, standing with arms crossed.

"Took you long enough," he huffed. "This place is too clean."

Tears welled in my eyes. "You're both here... How?"

"We go where you go," Echo said, nuzzling into my neck. "You're marked, remember? And this place... it's tied to your kind."

Grumpy rolled his eyes. "She still doesn't get it, does she?"

I laughed, overwhelmed with joy. For the first time since arriving, I felt complete. My friends—my odd, magical companions—were here. I wasn't alone.

As the stars winked to life overhead, I sat with Echo and Grumpy in the grass, stories spilling from my lips. This place, Phoenix—it was more than a school. It was destiny calling.

And I was finally ready to answer.