Chasing Doom

Chapter 1

The autumn air in London carried a whisper of mystery and the city was cloaked in a blanket of grey and gloom. Leaves, painted in now-dull hues of orange and brown, lay scattered on the wet cobblestone streets, a stark contrast to the sky above. Everything seemed hushed, as if the fog had muffled the sounds of life itself.

I hurried through the streets, checking my watch and keeping my head low. I was particularly on edge after last night's dream. My mind whirled through the dream images again. A dark-haired man dressed in a black robe with a crow on his shoulder, his eyes glowing like molten silver.

I shuddered and repressed the thought, and I quickened my pace. A sharp, cold wind whistled through me, and it was almost like it was whispering to me. It was almost like it was saying my name.

I turned my head and looked around, and my eyes locked on a shadowy figure near the café opposite the street. There was a lot of fog and mist since it was early morning, and I couldn't make out much of the figure. But something about the way it stood there, unmoving and watching me, sent a chill down my spine. It felt as though its gaze pierced through the fog, reaching deep into my soul.

Fear raced through me as I recognized just the silhouette from my dream. The same man with the crow. I ducked my head and continued walking to the St. Jasper's Academy, hell-bent on getting away from whatever it was.

As I quickened my pace, my heart pounded in my chest, the sound reverberating in my ears. Every step I took felt like an eternity, with the weight of the figure's gaze lingering on me. I desperately tried to shake off the feeling of anxiety that had settled in the pit of my stomach, but it clung to me like a shadow. 

I heard the boys playing in the academy courtyard, and my fear was replaced by its familiar counterpart, dread. Surely the boys would bully me again and call me names. I kept my head low and tried to slip past the academy gate without attracting their attention, but a familiar voice called out, "Hey, there's the witch!" 

My heart sank as I recognized the voice. It was Liam, the ringleader of the boys, who took great joy in tormenting me. I braced myself for the onslaught of insults and laughter that was sure to follow.

I heard a whistle in the wind before I instinctively felt something come flying towards me. I knew, without knowing it, that it was the football they were playing with. And I instinctively caught it before it could hit me, feeling annoyance and a familiar sense of doom.

Before I could hold back, the sense of doom filled me like electricity running through my veins, and I could feel the power running through me right before I unleashed it with a force I had spent my entire life learning how to control. 

The football suddenly burst into flames, disintegrating into ashes within seconds. The group of boys stood frozen, their faces turning from expressions of mockery to sheer terror. Silence enveloped the air as they stared at me, wide-eyed and speechless. 

A mixture of fear and awe radiated from their trembling bodies, and for a brief moment, I felt a surge of satisfaction. As the sense of doom and power went away, I ducked my head again and hurried into the academy, sure that I'd get told off again.

Inside the academy, the hallways were bustling with students rushing to their next classes. I could feel the weight of their gazes on me as I made my way through the sea of curious faces. Whispers followed me, spreading like wildfire, and I could hear snippets of their hushed conversations. 

I had always been treated like an outcast at this boarding school, and I had been here for as long as I could remember. They had spun the news that it was for troubled kids, but I knew that I was the only one who had dangerous powers that I didn't fully understand. 

It was almost as if I were bad luck personified. Where I walked, seasons disappeared; where I breathed, countries fell into ruin; and when I smiled, a life was extinguished. This wasn't my fault; it was simply my curse to bear. 

And there was only one person in this wretched academy who didn't treat me like an outcast or call me names. Mr. Gadling, my History teacher. And it was his class that I was hurrying to. I hurried around the corner and into the History class. 

Mr. Gadling was by the board. Mr. Gadling was a tall, friendly man who looked to be in his early 30s with a ready smile and messy dark brown hair. But his eyes held a strange wisdom, almost as if he'd seen many things in his time. Probably why he was the only one who knew what I could do.

I was one of the few students who were in the class early. I walked over to the blackboard that Mr. Gadling was writing on and I said, "Sir?" He turned to me with a warm smile as he teased, "Kiara! You're early! Again. Are you sure you don't want a few more minutes with your friends?"

I shook my head and said, "No, Mr. Gadling. I guess I'm just weird. You know I don't have friends." Mr. Gadling chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with understanding. He said, his voice filled with affection, "Ah, Kiara. You've always been a bit of an enigma, haven't you?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. Mr. Gadling was the only person who saw me for who I was - someone who didn't quite fit in with the rest of the world. As the other students started to trickle into the classroom, I couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness, a reminder of my constant solitude.

Mr. Gadling teased, "Are you sure you'll spend your lunch break with me again? And not with your friends at the cafeteria?". I smiled, grateful for his light-heartedness and replied, "Of course, Mr. Gadling. Lunch with you is always the highlight of my day." He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. I grinned as I said, "The garden in the back courtyard, right?". Mr. Gadling chuckled as he replied, "Of course, I made sandwiches. Now, run along. It's time for class."