ELSA’S PACK

Scholarship

“Mom, I’m so tired.” I replied getting up. I wasn’t ready for her scolding. I thought about everything that happened after that day I met Alex. It seems he never really did try to look for me.

Maybe he thought I was going rogue or something. ‘Did he really think I was mad?’ I muttered, addressing no one in particular. I had made up my mind to ensure what I passed through, no one else would have to go through that. That was why I became the Night Angel. A supposed vigilante of the night.

My advantage, like I would call it, made me stronger than most werewolves within my age grade. Word had already spread in the capital of Bulgaria about an unknown female werewolf, a proclaimed fighter of justice.

But the truth was I didn’t just decide to become the Night Angel out of my loving kindness to help others. I had a selfish agenda. The words of that shadow or maybe god always troubled my soul. Loads of questions filled my head, I had to find the answers to these questions. I needed my strength to grow well enough to protect my loved ones, that's what really mattered.

I had already taken my bath and headed straight to my moms shop. We didn’t normally have many customers due to the geographical location of her shop, it was not in the main market where most traders sold. For some reason my mom relocated here two months ago. Each time I complained and asked why she did that, she would say;

“Darling, Bulgaria is really dangerous, I need to be closer to my family. Family matters most.” The answer always sounded suspicious and strange. She made good profit at her former place, but now we were struggling to sell.

“Good day, what can we help you with.” I asked, giving the stranger a warm smile. He was quite tall and well built. He looked a little old with folds all around his cleanly shaven head. It seemed the box in his hand was a treasure, because he held it like it was too important. With his demeanor and dressing, he wasn’t really fitting into this environment .

He donned a thick and rich formal coat. Its weight matches the authority in his gaze.

“I don’t think you’re from around here.”

“Well, I understand Elsa, not everyday you meet someone looking so serious, especially on a Saturday.” He said breaking his collectedness with a deep laughter. This man just mentioned my name, how could he expect me to be laughing with him?. I grew weary in that instant.

“What did you just call me?” I said, glaring at him.

“Elsa Oppenheimer. Isn’t that your name?” I could feel a sweat escape my hair as he mentioned my full name. The atmosphere had suddenly gotten so dense as we stared at each other quietly.

“You know this past year I've gone through a whole lot to be even freaking out about this.” I muttered in a low tone.

“Elsa Oppenheimer, I believe you’ve so many puzzling questions to ask, but I can’t answer them all. Forgive my manners, I am Ser Brownwell Samson. I'm from Estonia.” He said almost proudly.

Ser Brownwell was a huge person and it goes without saying that Estonia and Andovia produced the largest and smartest werewolves. They were pretty much better in all ramifications.

“Sure, forget all that, how about you tell me how and why you know my name and exactly what you’re doing in Bulgaria.” Brownwell seemed to be scrutinizing me with his eyes.

“You should be proud of yourself child, you have achieved a milestone which no werewolf from Bulgaria has ever done.”

“You speak in parables Brownwell, why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me why you’re really here.”

“Ahh quite impatient I see.” He replied with a smile.

“Elsa, you’ve been awarded a scholarship to school at the legendary Sheffield Academy.”

He said, his tone sounding almost rehearsed.

Sheffield Academy, it was like telling me I could now fly. No one in the history of Bulgaria has ever attended Sheffield. There were only six existing academies in the world; Sheffield academy, Bloodstone academy, Gomorrah Academy, Brenton Academy, Spirit Hound Academy, and Luna’s Crest Academy.

Werewolves only attend the academy from twenty upwards. We are then taught science and art for two years in which we decide our path. so we are usually groomed and trained at home by our parents till twenty.

These institutions are respectfully owned by the five nations, except Sheffield Academy. It is believed that only the truly powerful and gifted can get admission into the school. One had to have great potential and talent.

The Academy’s acceptance rate is brutally selective, only three percent of applicants make it through.

I knew all this because my dad once told me how his grandfather had a friend in Miletus who schooled there. To my dad, it remained nothing more than a myth, for the academy belonged to no nation, stood on no map and wasn’t really public.

“Is that even a real place?” I asked with a raised brow.

“Ofcourse. It exists, the institution prioritizes confidentiality but trust me, it’s well known out side Bulgaria.” He seemed to be honest. ‘What does this mean, why would they accept me? I wondered.’

“The world is full of many mysteries girl, and we are opportuned to either explore or exploit it.”

“I can’t go with you and you won’t force me to.” I responded with iron resolve.

“Im not here to abduct you night angel, I know better than to do that. You have just two days Elsa, to tell your parents about it and prepare to leave.”

“What makes you so sure that I would accept this scholarship.” I questioned staring him dead in the eye. He said a lot of things to me, like he knew me personally, he even called me the night angel. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t doubting him any longer.

But neither did I trust him. He had stopped touching the artifact on the counter and faced me again. He walked closer and closer each step causing the strand of hairs on my body to shudder.

“You will accept it because you’re not just a survivor Elsa you’re an apex predator. You want to be powerful enough to protect the ones you love and that passion fuels and gives you this zeal that knowone can fully understand. You belong here Elsa but you can’t grow here.” He answered while leaning to my ears. The words felt so soothing and true.

He opened the white breifcase which he brought with him revealing a blue letter. It had Sheffield Academy inscribed on it. It looked so regal with auburn patterns around it.

“This is for you Elsa.” He said handing me the admission letter.

“We’ll meet at this exact time, two days from now, and set off. Well, that would be if you accept the admission.” He replied chuckling.

“Farewell child.” He said touching his hat which I was just noticing for the first time. With swift calculated steps he exited the shop, living me to the eerie stillness, a silence filled with torture and disarray.

In my palms laid the letter, I looked at it once more. Without thinking much of it, I walked to the dumpster, dropping it in.