The Chronicles Of Willow High

CHAPTER FOUR

***ELYSE***

The air in the great hall buzzed with power, thick enough to make my skin prickle. Magic, wolf energy, vampire aura—they all pulsed together in a storm of pride and rivalry. My dorm, Orca, sat clustered in the back row, a sea of witches and seers who already looked resigned to finishing last.

I refused to shrink. Not today.

“Remember, Thorn,” Lana whispered beside me, “no pressure—just every single dorm in Willow High watching.” Her grin was sharp, her voice far too amused.

I shot her a soft glare. “I’m not here to make you laugh, Lana.”

“Of course not. You’re here to trip over your own skirt and embarrass us all.” She winked.

I swallowed hard. She was joking—half-joking—but her words pressed against the weak spot in my chest. I sat straighter anyway. I had wanted this for years. I wasn’t about to let one sarcastic witch or a hall full of wolves and vampires crush me before I even tried.

The priestess raised her hands for silence. “Today marks the beginning of your life at Willow High. Each of you will demonstrate your gift before your peers. Skill. Power. Control. Show us who you are.”

A chorus of cheers erupted as Adler, the werewolf dorm, took the floor. Their leader(Adriel Cappuccino) who saved me yesterday shifted halfway—bones cracking, fur bristling—before settling into a form so sleek it stole my breath. Others followed, baring claws and teeth, showing their precision, their unity. The crowd roared.

Lang came next. Vampires glided across the floor with elegance that felt like knives. One boy disappeared in a blur, reappearing on the far side of the hall, lips stained with something that looks reddish he’d swiped mid-run. Another conjured illusions—flames that weren’t flames, shadows that whispered. They moved with arrogance, their every bow a reminder that they thought themselves gods.

Then it was Orca’s turn. My dorm. My turn.

The applause dulled, a polite smattering compared to the thunder for wolves and vampires. Whispers rose instead, low and mocking. *Witches. Seers. Trinket magic.*

My name was called. My stomach flipped.

“Elyse Thorn.”

I rose, legs stiff, and walked to the center of the hall. My palms were damp, papers trembling in my grip. Eyes followed me—too many, too sharp.

*Breathe, Elyse. You’ve practiced this.*

I closed my eyes and reached inward, searching for the pulse of my gift. Flashes danced—symbols, a flicker of fire, a shadow curling at the edge of sight. But the harder I grasped, the slipperier they became.

“Get on with it!” someone jeered from Adler’s section.

My throat tightened. I tried again, summoning the vision, shaping it. For a heartbeat, light flickered across my palms—soft, fragile, beautiful.

And then it sputtered out.

Laughter rolled through the hall. Loud. Cruel.

“She can’t even keep a candle lit!”

“Pathetic!”

“Send her home!”

Heat surged into my face, tears pricking. I clenched my fists, willing the light back, begging my gift to obey—but all that came was silence.

I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

The laughter pierced like claws. My chest caved. I spun and bolted from the hall, skirts tangling around my legs, their jeers chasing me like hounds.

I didn’t stop until I burst into the courtyard, lungs burning. I bent over, pressing my hands to my knees, swallowing the sob rising in my throat.

*You wanted to prove yourself, Elyse. And all you proved was that you don’t belong here.*

“Hey.”

The voice was low, steady. I froze.

Adriel Cappuccino stood a few paces away, arms folded across his chest, eyes calm but sharp. The sunlight caught in his dark hair, and for one wild second, I forgot how to breathe.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was Adler. He was legacy. He was everything this school admired.

And he had followed me.

I straightened too quickly, nearly stumbling. “You—you didn’t have to—”

“I did,” he said simply. He studied me, expression unreadable. “They were out of line.”

I shook my head, voice cracking. “No. They were right. I failed. I should have—”

“Stop.” The word was firm, commanding. “Don’t let them write your story.”

My throat tightened. His certainty felt like a rope thrown into water, something solid to cling to. But I couldn’t take it. Not without cracking apart completely.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Then explain it to me.”

His eyes locked on mine, steady, unflinching. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. My chest ached, heavy with everything I couldn’t say—how much this place meant to me, how much I wanted to prove myself, how terrified I was that I never would.

Instead, the words that tumbled out were small, broken. “I just wanted to belong.”

His gaze softened, the faintest curve touching his lips. “You already do. You just haven’t shown them yet.”

Something inside me cracked. The ache in my chest burst into something else—relief, longing, a dizzy storm I couldn’t name. Before I could stop myself, before I could think, I rose onto my toes and pressed my lips to his.

It was quick. Desperate. A mistake.

His breath hitched against mine. For one endless second, the world stilled—no laughter, no jeers, no failure. Just heat. Just him.

Then I broke away, horror flooding me. “I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, stepping back. “I didn’t mean—”

I turned and fled before he could answer, heart slamming against my ribs, shame burning hotter than any laughter ever had.

---

I didn’t stop until I was back in my dorm room, door shut, chest heaving. My lips still tingled, a ghost of the kiss I had stolen.

“What have I done?” I whispered into the quiet.

Diacam’s side of the room was empty, his bed untouched, his magic absent. Good. I couldn’t bear eyes on me right now.

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to erase the memory—but it clung, vivid, dangerous. The steadiness of his gaze. The heat of his mouth. The way my heart had leapt as if it had been waiting all along.

“No,” I told myself fiercely. “You’re here to prove yourself. Not to chase after an Alpha’s son.”

But even as I said it, I knew the truth: I would never forget the way he had looked at me. Like I wasn’t a failure. Like I mattered.

The memory cut and healed in the same breath.

I curled into my bed, the vow burning hotter than my shame. Tomorrow, they will not laugh. Tomorrow, I will rise. If it takes everything I have, I will prove I belong here.