Magic School

Beauty?

Blake’s stomach churned as she made her way to her first class of the day. The hallway leading to the classroom was lined with portraits of past students, their serene expressions and graceful postures only serving to heighten Blake’s anxiety. The class was Beauty, one of the core subjects in the Good House, and from what Blake had heard, it was a favorite among the students. Beauty wasn’t just about physical appearance—it was about harmony, grace, and inner light, qualities that the Good House prided itself on nurturing.

As Blake entered the classroom, she saw that it was already filled with students, most of whom were chatting excitedly or examining the tools and ingredients laid out on the long tables. The room was bright and airy, with sunlight streaming through the tall windows and casting soft, warm light across the polished wood floors.

Miss Walker stood at the front of the room, her calm demeanor somehow amplifying the tension Blake felt. The Dean of the Good House looked up as Blake entered, her eyes briefly meeting Blake’s before she turned her attention back to the class. Blake quickly found a seat at the back of the room, hoping to avoid notice.

As Miss Walker began the lesson, Blake’s unease grew. The class was focused on using magic to enhance beauty, both in oneself and in the world around them. It was a practice that required delicacy, precision, and a deep understanding of the magic of light and nature. The students were tasked with creating a small, magical charm that could bring out the inner beauty of the person who wore it. The idea was to infuse the charm with positive energy, light, and intention, allowing the wearer to radiate with an aura of goodness and grace.

Blake watched as the other girls eagerly dove into the task, their faces lit up with concentration and excitement. Alexis, who was seated near the front, was already working with confident, practiced movements. She seemed completely at ease, her hands moving gracefully as she selected the materials she needed and began to weave her spell. It was clear that Alexis had done this before—her charm began to glow softly almost immediately, a warm, golden light emanating from it.

Blake, on the other hand, felt out of place. The task required a lightness of touch, an ease with the kind of magic that Blake had never been good at. Blood magic, her curse, was anything but light or graceful. It was powerful, raw, and often uncontrollable. The idea of infusing anything with beauty seemed almost laughable to her.

Instead of participating, Blake sat back, her hands folded in her lap as she observed the others. She could feel the distance between herself and her classmates growing with every passing minute. The laughter and chatter that filled the room only emphasized how isolated she felt. No one made any effort to include her, and Blake couldn’t bring herself to ask for help. The memory of the auditorium and Alexis’s departure from their dorm were still too fresh.

As she watched, Blake noticed Miss Walker’s gaze drifting toward her. The Dean’s eyes were kind, but there was a subtle concern in them, as if she could sense Blake’s discomfort. Blake quickly averted her eyes, pretending to focus on the materials in front of her. She didn’t want to be pitied, especially not by Miss Walker.

Blake shifted the items on her desk aimlessly, moving a piece of silver thread from one side to the other, arranging and rearranging them without any real intent. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Alexis watching her, a small, satisfied smirk on her lips. Blake’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. It was clear that Alexis was relishing in her struggle, enjoying the fact that Blake was so obviously out of her depth.

Feeling the weight of the stares and whispers around her, Blake turned her attention to the window. The sunlight outside seemed far more inviting than the task at hand, and she found herself longing for the quiet solitude of her dorm room. She stared out at the courtyard below, where the boy from the Evil House had sat the previous night. She wondered what he was doing now—if he, too, was struggling to find his place in this strange world.

The bell rang, pulling Blake out of her thoughts. The other students began to gather their things, chatting excitedly about their work as they prepared to leave. Blake stayed seated, waiting for the room to empty before she made any move to pack up her materials. As the last of the students filtered out of the room, Miss Walker’s voice broke the silence.

"Blake, could you stay for a moment?"

Blake froze, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected to be called out, but the gentle tone in Miss Walker’s voice made it clear that this wasn’t a reprimand. She slowly stood and approached the front of the room, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

Miss Walker was waiting by her desk, her expression soft and understanding. "I noticed you didn’t participate much in today’s lesson," she said quietly.

Blake nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Is there something on your mind, Blake?" Miss Walker asked, her voice full of concern.

Blake hesitated, struggling to find the words. She felt so vulnerable, standing there in front of Miss Walker, with all her insecurities laid bare. "I just… I don’t think I’m good at this kind of magic," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Miss Walker tilted her head, considering Blake’s words. "Everyone has their strengths, Blake. Beauty magic is not about perfection, but about understanding and intention. It’s about finding the light within yourself and bringing it forward, even if it’s just a small spark."

Blake looked down at her feet, her chest tightening. "But what if I don’t have that light?" she whispered. "What if… what if there’s only darkness?"

Miss Walker reached out, gently placing a hand on Blake’s shoulder. "Blake, everyone has light within them, even if it’s hidden beneath layers of doubt or fear. It’s there, I promise you. And it’s something that can grow with time and care."

Blake felt a lump forming in her throat. The kindness in Miss Walker’s words was almost too much to bear. She had spent so long trying to hide her darkness, to keep it from consuming her, that she had forgotten what it felt like to believe in her own goodness.

Miss Walker seemed to sense Blake’s turmoil. She pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her close for a moment. "You don’t have to be perfect, Blake," she murmured. "You just have to try. And I’m here to help you, whenever you need it."

Blake closed her eyes, allowing herself to lean into the comfort of Miss Walker’s embrace. For a brief moment, the weight of her secret, her fear, and her loneliness lifted, replaced by the simple warmth of human connection. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she didn’t pull away.

When Miss Walker finally released her, she smiled down at Blake. "Now, run along. You’ve got a whole day ahead of you, and I don’t want you to miss out on any of it."

Blake nodded, wiping her eyes quickly before anyone could see. She turned and left the classroom, her heart still heavy but with a small spark of something new—a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as lost as she had thought.