How To Burn A Witch |DISCONTINUED|

Chapter 8

Fear shook Alev's bones as she ran through the hallway, telling everyone she came across that Nehir had fainted in her room before going to her dorm room and packing her bags. She was leaving L'Académie tonight if she could and nobody was going to stop her.

Alev knew she had blown her cover the moment she had left Nehir's room. She was going to tell everyone Namita Kumar wasn't who she said she was.

Her bags packed, she opened the window to leave, letting out a string of curses as she realized the school had gone under lockdown.

Damn those hunters and their ability to pick up even the slightest whiff of magic. She wasn't going to die here, she refused to, would fight her way out if she had to.

Like an idiot, she had used up almost all of her magic reserves to torment Nehir. She wouldn't be able to void-step away. She was trapped here, in an academy specifically built to kill people like her, with no magic to defend herself. Alev left her bag at the foot of her bed and walked out of the dorm, summoning a calm expression onto her face despite the panic gnawing at her.

A woman with dark skin and curly hair ran past her and Alev recognized her as the woman who had forced her and Nehir to spar together. Dame Marion her name was. Nehir's mentor and the woman who had raised her since she had joined the Academy.

It seemed as though Dame Marion recognized her as well since she ran back towards Alev, face contorted into a look of panic. The fire witch felt bad for her, she really would've liked the woman if things were different.

"Have you seen Nehir?"

"She's in her room. I went in there to ask her about homework and she just fainted." she forced tears into her eyes and let them fall. "Please help her," she begged even though it was the last thing she wanted.

"Call the nurse and tell her to go into her room immediately."

The witch nodded and ran towards the school medic's office. A place she had to ask directions for to about five different people before finally finding the woman's office.

"What are you here for?" asked the woman, a permanent frown stuck on her face. Alev decided she was terrified of her already.

"Nehir Yeniçeri passed out in her room. Ma'am." she added in the end, scared of offending her. The woman reached into one of her drawers and pulled out an ice pack.

Alev scoffed, "Ma'am, she passed out. I don't think an ice pack will do much."

"I didn't know you went to medical school," said the woman with a terrifying smile. "I'm not wasting my medicine on a witch sympathising mongrel. Get out of my office this instant and leave the ice pack while you're at it. Ungrateful brat."

Alev felt her blood boil at the word. Being only part Nakshan, it had been yelled at her as well. She remembered the hurtful words people had written on her desk and into her notebooks, the way people made fun of the way she talked or the food she ate.

The Amavran kids she went to school with would scrunch their noses up at her food, would pull at her saree wherever she went and would make fun of the Nakshan nicknames her mother gave her, repeating them back at her like a bunch of parrots whenever the adults weren't within earshot.

Meanwhile, the Nakshan kids would glare at her whenever she walked past them or so much as spoke a word to them. You may look like us but you'll never be one of us. They would say.

They wouldn't want to play with her, would say that since she was from Amavros, she must be a witch sympathiser or worse, a witch, and thus branded Alev as the "Dirty Little Amavran" of her street.