A Wish Too Dark And Kind

Chapter Two: The Witch of Winchester (Part Two)

The moment Alex stepped onto the small stage at the helm of the class, a murmuring chatter spread across the students.

"Silence," Alex hissed and snapped her fingers. Everyone stopped talking and stared. "Not yet the time to show your true colors. The reason you are here," Alex said, stepping forward, "is we have selected you as the most gifted among your peers in the great families."

She was one or two years older than the teenagers in front of her, or at least so it must have seemed to them. Her body, crystalized in an unchanging youth by the secret magick of the School, might have made them doubt her authority, but she was sure she had enough attitude and presence to stop any of their rebellious thoughts. For sure, she had been already more effective than Professor Corbyn, who stood next to her; a greasy old man who had lectured for decades but had, nonetheless, failed any attempt to halt the kids' chatter.

"I came here to welcome you to your new school, your new life, and your new family. The School of Winchester is one of the few institutions of its kind, hailed as the most honored among this few.

"What characterizes us," Alex said, pacing from one side to the other, "what makes us special, is our continued pursuit of knowledge. Where others lingered on the teachings of the ancients, we have pushed the boundaries. Therefore, today should be the happiest day of your life. The day you start a new one."

Alex paused and breathed in. The house smelled like daisies, as it always did for her, but only for her. She glanced out of the window, and there it was, a beautiful garden nobody else could ever see. There, bushes and trees, masterfully shaped as animals, formed a labyrinth where only she could walk. Alex looked at the kids again. She had seen so many coming and going over the years, and the thought the house would never be such a caring mother to them as it had been to her clung to her stomach. But their puzzled faces made her realize she had been silent for far too long.

"Now, what are we going to teach you?" She cleared her throat and signaled to her assistant: Ricart, a man with fiery red hair, so tall and slim it looked as if someone had stretched him. He had a frowning expression persistently stuck on his face, of which Alex suspected herself to be the cause.

Ricart, who had stood waiting near the door, rushed out, followed by Corbyn.

"We are going to teach you how to change reality in your favor. The noble role all humans and us, the pinnacle of humanity, play every single day. This is what we learn, what we discover, and what we apply."

The men brought four candles, each on its own identical golden pedestal, and placed them on the desk between Alex and the class. The same four unextinguishable candles she had enchanted when she was still a pupil herself. They had seen as many kids come and go as she had.

"As some of you might already know, this reality is nothing but an agreement between the parts that compose it. Physics, chemistry, and mathematics result from this agreement. At first—" Alex stopped as a man rushed into the room.

Sweat ran down his forehead and his blond hair stuck to his skin. His desert boots, brown trousers, and wide green jacket over a striped T-shirt made him look like something between a hipster and a soldier.

The girls in the class giggled at one another.

The man panted, bent with his hand on his thighs. "Grand Inspector Dryden," he said, taking a deep breath. "We need your help at the containment quarters. A creature has escaped."

Alex opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, her assistant roared. "How dare you? It's Councilor Dryden, you fool! Don't you have someone else who can help you?"

The audience chuckled, but Alex glared at her assistant with such bitterness he froze in place. "Kids," she said without taking her eyes off Ricart, "I give you back to Professor Corbyn, who actually has something to teach you and has been eyeing me for stealing time from his lesson. I promise I'll stop by before the end." Then she glanced at the black-haired man next to her assistant. "Professor Corbyn, make sure you show them the basics with the candles."

The professor, still standing in front of the entrance door, waved both hands and mouthed something that read like "I would never .  .  ."

Alex ignored him. "You," she said, now talking to the man in desert boots, "lead the way."

The man nodded and rushed out of the room. Alex and her assistant followed.