The immortal's queen

The dinner rush was hell on a good day. Tonight, it was pure chaos. I balanced three plates on my left arm while scribbling an order with my right. Sweat trickled down my back, soaking through my uniform. The restaurant buzzed with noise—clattering dishes, sizzling grills, customers laughing, kids crying. The usual circus. Just keep moving. One more hour. Then I can go home and pass out. I was a waitress at The Rusty Spoon, a family-owned diner in the middle of nowhere. The pay was terrible. The customers were worse. But it kept me busy while I waited for my college acceptance letter. My father hated that I worked there. He said I should be focusing on my studies. But I was nineteen, restless, and desperately needed something to do besides stare at my ceiling. My name is Celine. I'm nineteen years old. I live with my father in a small house on the edge of town. My mother died giving birth to me, so it's just been the two of us for as long as I can remember. My father is a good man—quiet, hardworking, a little overprotective. He tried his best to raise me alone, but let's be honest: I turned out chaotic anyway. I blame my mother. She must have been chaotic too. "Order up, Celine!" Chef Marco's voice snapped me back to reality. I grabbed the plates and headed toward Table 4, weaving through the crowded aisle. "She's cute. I wonder if she's single..." I ignored the thought. It wasn't the first time a customer had checked me out. I'm not going to pretend I'm invisible. I've got curves that don't quit, dark hair that does what it wants, and a face that's been called "striking" more times than I can count. Men stared. I'd learned to ignore it. Mostly. I set the plates down with a practiced smile. "Enjoy your meal." The customer—a man in his thirties—grinned at me. "Thanks, sweetheart." Sweetheart. Gross. I turned away before he could say anything else. My shift had been dragging for hours, and I was exhausted. The dinner rush had been nonstop since five, and my feet were screaming. I needed water. I needed air. I needed to go home and sleep for a week. Then it hit me. A wave of dizziness so strong I nearly face-planted into Table 4's pasta. My vision blurred. The sounds around me—the clattering dishes, the chatter, the sizzling grill—all faded into a strange, muffled hum.. *"I can't believe she messed up my order again—" * I froze. The voice was loud, crystal clear—but the woman who'd been complaining hadn't opened her mouth. She was chewing her steak, looking perfectly content. *"This food is amazing. I wish I could eat here every—" * *"My wife is going to kill me for spending this much—" * *"That waitress is so beautiful. I wonder if she's single—" * *"Why is this taking so long—" * *"I should have stayed home—" * *"She has a nice ass—" * Voices. Hundreds of them. All at once. Inside my head. Wait. What? *"I'm going to ask for a discount—" * *"Her hips are perfect—" * *"Why is she just standing there—" * *"Is she having a seizure—" * *SHUT UP! * The plates slipped from my hands. Crash. Glass shattered. Steak sauce splattered across the floor. Customers screamed. I grabbed my head and collapsed to my knees. "please stop--- stop." I whispered, tears streaming down my face. The voices didn't stop. They crashed over me like waves. Every single thought in the restaurant flooded my head at once. Complaints. Desires. Secrets. Fears. It was overwhelming. Suffocating. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. "Miss? Miss, are you okay?" A hand touched my shoulder. I flinched violently. "Don't touch her! Call an ambulance!" "What's wrong with her?" "Is she having a seizure?" The voices kept coming. Screaming. Louder. I wanted to rip my ears off. "Please..." I whimpered. "Please stop..." Then everything went blank. I woke up in my own bed. My room was familiar—pale blue walls, a desk covered in books, my grandmother's old quilt. Sunlight streamed through the curtains. Birds chirped outside. Was it all a dream? I sat up slowly. My head throbbed. My body ached. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. The door creaked open. My father, Marcus, stood there with a cup of tea in his hands. He was in his late forties, with graying hair and tired eyes. He looked worried. "You're awake," he said softly. "How do you feel?" "Like someone dropped a building on my head," I croaked. He sat down on the edge of my bed, handing me the tea. "You collapsed at work. Chef Marco called me. I brought you home." I took a sip of tea. It was warm and sweet—the way I liked it. "I don't remember much. Just... loud noises. Voices." My father's face paled. He set his jaw, staring at the floor for a long moment. "Dad," I said slowly. "What happened to me?" He was quiet. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Then he looked up at me, and there was something in his eyes I'd never seen before. Fear. Grief. And... relief? Like he'd been carrying a secret for so long and finally had to let it go. "Celine," he said softly. "What you heard... it wasn't a hallucination." I stared at him. "What?" "Those voices," he continued carefully. "They were real. They were people's thoughts. You were hearing what everyone in that restaurant was thinking." I blinked. Then I laughed. It was a hollow, disbelieving laugh. "Dad, that's insane. I'm not—" I stopped. His face was completely serious. "Wait. You're not joking, are you?" He shook his head. "Dad, I heard hundreds of voices. I heard people's deepest secrets. I heard—" My voice cracked. "I heard a man thinking about my body. I heard a woman complaining about her husband. I heard everything. All at once. That's not normal. That's—that's crazy." He reached out and took my hand. "It's not crazy, Celine. It's who you are. It's who your mother was." I yanked my hand back. "My mother died giving birth to me. She was a nurse. She was normal." "She was a nurse," he agreed. "But she was far from normal. Your mother had the same gift you do. She could read minds. She could see visions." Please take it back. Please say it’s stress. Or food poisoning. I’ll even accept a brain tumor at this point. I stared at him, my heart pounding. "What are you saying?" He took a deep breath. "I'm saying that you're special, Celine. You inherited her abilities. And now that they've awakened... there's a place you need to go." "A place?" He stood up and walked to the old wooden chest in the corner of my room—the one filled with my mother's things. I'd always been too afraid to open it. Too afraid to touch the ghost of a woman I never knew. He opened it slowly. Inside were old photographs, a tarnished silver locket, a few faded dresses. And at the very bottom, wrapped in velvet, he pulled out a small golden crest. He placed it in my palm. It was beautiful—a wolf's head surrounded by a crown. It glowed faintly in the morning light. "This belonged to your mother," he said quietly. "It's the emblem of Alpha Royals Academy." "Alpha Royals... what?" "A school," he explained. "A school for people with extraordinary abilities. People like you." My head was spinning. "Dad, that's—that's not real. Schools for people with powers? That's fantasy. That's—" "It's real," he said firmly. "Your mother studied there. She learned to control her gifts there. And she always knew that one day, you would need to go there too." "But how do you know all this?" I demanded. "You're just a normal guy. You're my dad. You're a mechanic. You—" "I know because your mother trusted me with her secret," he said softly. "Because I loved her. Because she was the most extraordinary woman I've ever known. And because I promised her that if you ever showed signs of her abilities, I would tell you the truth." I felt tears prick my eyes. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" "Because I wanted to protect you," he said. "I wanted you to have a normal life. I wanted you to be safe. But now... now the secret's out. And you need to learn how to handle this. Or it will destroy you." He placed a hand on my cheek. "Alpha Royals will teach you to control your powers. They'll show you how to use them. How to protect yourself." "And what if I don't want to go?" I whispered. He smiled sadly. "Then the voices will keep coming. Louder and louder. Until you can't function. Until you lose yourself." I swallowed hard. "That's a pretty grim alternative." "It is," he agreed. "But you're strong, Celine. You've always been strong. I have no doubt you'll succeed." I looked down at the golden crest in my hand. It felt warm against my skin. Alive. "What happens now?" I asked. "I'll take you to the academy tomorrow," he said. "It's not far. The entrance is hidden, but I know the way." I nodded slowly. "Okay." He kissed my forehead. "I'll be right here. You can always come home." I smiled through my tears. "I know, Dad." The next day The drive was quiet. My father didn't say much. Neither did I. The weight of everything hung between us—the secrets, the revelations, the goodbye that was coming. I stared out the window as the town faded behind us. Houses gave way to fields. Fields gave way to forests. The road grew narrower, more winding, until we finally stopped in front of an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of nowhere. It was dark, empty, and covered in graffiti. The windows were smashed. The sign was rusted. It looked like something out of a horror movie. "Here we are," my father said. I stared at the building. "Dad, this is a dump." He smiled sadly. "It's a portal. Only people with powers can see it for what it truly is." I squinted. At first, I saw nothing—just an old gas station. But then, slowly, the illusion faded. The building shimmered, revealing a massive archway made of ancient stone. Runes covered the surface, glowing faintly in the dim light. The air around it hummed with energy. "Whoa," I breathed. "Through that portal is Alpha Royals Academy," my father said. "You'll be safe there." I turned to him. He looked older suddenly. Tired. Like saying goodbye was draining the life out of him. "Dad..." He pulled me into a hug. His arms were warm and familiar. I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of motor oil and coffee—the smell of home. "I'll miss you," I whispered. "I'll miss you too, sweetheart." He kissed the top of my head. "Be brave. Be smart. And don't let anyone push you around." I laughed through my tears. "Wouldn't dream of it." He held me at arm's length, his eyes glistening. "You're going to do great things, Celine. I've always known it." "I love you, Dad." "I love you too, baby girl. Now go." He nodded toward the portal. "Your future is waiting." I took a deep breath. Then I turned and walked toward the archway. The runes glowed brighter as I approached. The air grew warmer. The hum grew louder. I stepped through. hours ago I was a waitress waiting for a college letter. Now I belong in a school for people with powers. interesting