It was July 19, and I had just turned five. I’d been at the Academy of the Stars for a year now.
Most of the Children with family had gone home for the summer, and the Children without homes were either all older than me or learning English.
I was lying on a big patchwork couch in the library. Every once in a while I would get up and float around, attempting to find a book I could reach that I hadn’t already read yet.
I set up a ladder near one of the bookcases and climbed up on it. What I didn’t know was that both the ladder and the bookcase were on wheels, causing me to fall off just as quickly as I had climbed on.
I remember grabbing the bookcase in order to stay up, but I only succeeded in pushing it as I fell to the hardwood floor.
:Stupid bookcase,: I muttered in my language as I stood up to see a small hole behind where the bookcase had been. I traced the inside of the circular hole with my index finger. :Dust,: I pushed against the wall and a door opened around the hole. :…What?:
It smelled.
Not necessarily bad, but not necessarily good either. It smelled like someone tried to Febreze a mustly attic with old lady perfume, and it hadn’t worked at all.
Faint black lights illuminated several glass cases, which all housed seemingly ancient-looking documents.
I peered at one, and found text divided into 13 sections. I could read the fourth section but none of the others.
:Twelve of the Children:
:One of each sign:
:Will try to destroy:
:This Magic of Mine:
At that point I had turned away from the room, careful to close the door and wheeol the bookcase back in place, vowing to never mention it again.
No.
It’s got to be a coincidence.
The only problem?
At Academy of the Stars, there’s no such thing.
