Chapter 7: Lines in the Sand
The morning after the strange encounter with the woman, Joy woke with an uneasy feeling lingering in her chest. She reached for her bird-shaped necklace, gripping it as if its presence would anchor her. Yesterday's events replayed in her mind-the eerie woman, her unsettling words, and the tension it all stirred.
As she made her way to breakfast, her thoughts were consumed by the woman's cryptic warning. Barely scratched the surface of your potential. The words felt more like a challenge, though Joy had no idea what they meant.
"Joy."
Willard's voice broke into her thoughts, and she turned to see him approaching with a serious expression. They found a quiet corner in the bustling dining hall, far from the others, and sat down.
"Did you sleep?" Willard asked quietly, not really touching his food.
"Barely," Joy admitted. "That woman... she knew things about me. About us. How could she just disappear like that? And the way she looked at me-it was like she knew something I didn't."
Willard glanced around nervously before leaning closer. "I've been thinking about it all night. She called you a 'half-human witch,' like it meant something more. I don't think she's from the Council. But if she's not... who is she?"
"I don't know," Joy whispered, clutching her necklace. "Whatever she sensed, it scared me."
Willard's face tightened. "My mother always said that human-born witches couldn't control their magic like us. I never believed her, but after last night... maybe she's right. Maybe you're..."
"I'm what?" Joy's frustration flared. "I'm not some experiment, Willard! I didn't ask for any of this!"
"I know," he said quickly, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Joy. I didn't mean it like that. You're not..."
"Well, if that isn't a touching scene."
The voice came from behind them, dripping with sarcasm. Both Joy and Willard turned to see Wardell, his fiery red hair catching the light as he strolled toward them, a smirk playing on his lips. His sharp, angular features radiated superiority, and something darker simmered in his eyes.
He stopped at their table, crossing his arms as he looked down at Willard with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "You know, cousin, you spend an awful lot of time with her." His gaze flicked dismissively toward Joy. "What's the deal? Did you forget what she is?"
Willard's frown deepened. "She's a student like the rest of us, Wardell. What are you talking about?"
Wardell scoffed, crossing his arms. "Oh, come on. You know exactly what I'm talking about. She's a human-born witch, Willard. The Council is only keeping her around to see if her kind is worth anything. She's an experiment, that's all. To test if people like her are even worth being considered more than..." His smile turned cruel. "Trash."
The words hit Joy like a physical blow, her fists clenching under the table. The sting was undeniable, but more than that, it was the cold, calculated way Wardell delivered it-like it was fact, not some childish insult.
Willard stood abruptly, his face hardening. "Don't talk about her like that."
Wardell's smile widened, clearly enjoying the reaction. "Why do you care so much, cousin? You know what the Council thinks of her kind, don't you? My mother's told me enough. Why waste your time? You're the heir to our family. Focus on your future, not on her."
"Don't talk about her like she's nothing," Willard growled. "Joy's not some experiment, Wardell. She's-"
"Amazing? Powerful? Oh, please." Wardell rolled his eyes. "Even the Council doesn't believe that. I don't know why you do. You should remember your place, Willard, before you get too involved in something that's beneath you."
