“What will you do now?” Jack asked as he wiped the grass stains from his clammy palms onto his cord trousers. “Go to class,” I responded shrugging, before pushing myself to my feet from the steep bank that overlooked the valley. Rolling green hills were framed by snow-capped mountains, and maple trees blushed ruby under a golden sun. I adjusted the strap of my backpack on my shoulder. I’d been using the same bag for school for as long as I could remember, and I’d had to repair the strap a dozen times. “I meant about your parents,” he said quietly as he followed, and we began meandering through the shrubbery from our secret viewing spot of the mountains and back to the grey stone courtyard. I folded their death certificate, pushing it into the back pocket of my torn jeans. “They’re dead Jack, there’s not much I can do.” I swallowed, pushing down the tightness in my chest that built every time I thought about them. But strangely, it wasn’t their deaths that made my heart race, and made my lungs feel like they were being compressed by the cage of my ribs. I’d never been close to my parents. They’d slung me into a boarding school before I’d even learnt how to tie my own shoes. That’s the thing with having world-famous film stars for parents - they loved each other, and they believed they wanted a family. But they’d never love anyone else as much as they loved themselves. We rounded the stone fountain, the Goddess of War carved intricately from stone, her long sword pointing to the clouds like she could wield the very lightning itself. Mist from the cascading fountain brushed my flushed cheeks, and my long orange lashes fluttered from the chill. It was cold in the mountains, much colder than I was used to even after my stint at boarding school in the Scottish Highlands. I moved to the Highlands School for Troubled Girls after I’d set the dormitory on fire after the school bully put pig entrails under my pillow. It was an accident, of course. I hadn’t known that the blood of the Fire God coarsed through my veins. It wasn’t hereditary after all, only those worthy were chosen to wield the magic of the gods. Great choice, I cursed to the Fire God. Of all the people in the world, he picked a curly haired ginger sixteen year old, with no friends and parents that hated her. At least, that wasn’t the case anymore. I had Jack and Gabi, and I was pretty sure my parents couldn’t hate me from their grave. We joined the crowd that piled through the mahogany gilded doors into the classroom, and I scanned the tops of heads as everyone found their seats. A pale hand popped up at the back of the room, and I stood on my tiptoes, clocking Gabi who waved frantically. I gestured to Jack, who pushed through the pre-class chaos to take the two seats either side of our friend. I had only spent a few weeks at the academy. It had all happened so fast. I’d returned home for summer, and as usual my parents spent their nights at lavish parties, drinking expensive champagne with the world’s elite, and their days recovering between silk sheets with bloody Marys. It was a normal Saturday night. I was wearing my pyjama bottoms with aliens on them and a black tee, curled up in the loft window reading my latest purchase from the rare comics store I’d visited earlier that day. The loft window was my escape whenever I visited home. It was perfectly circular, and it hugged my frame as I curled up in a bed of pillows, looking out at the sleepy town as I flicked through the colourful pages, losing myself in the story. Mom and Dad left without saying goodbye as usual, and I watched the Bentley pull from the drive way. I was just about to get up and grab a snack, when their car returned, and they both hurried back into the house. I’d paused. I guess Mom forgot her purse or something. But there had been a loud smash like broken glass, and a shriek like a cicada that made me still. I froze, my heart no longer beating and in my throat as I listened. Our house was enormous, and yet I could hear the bangs and crashes from four floors up. I nearly leapt from my skin when the door to the loft swung open, and a face I did not recognise burst in, their face stricken with panic. “Leonie, we need to get you out of here!” they’d whispered, ushering me from the window. “Who are you?” I was trembling as I spoke, but the crashing downstairs only grew louder. Whoever was attacking my parents was still in the thralls of their rage. “It doesn’t matter right now, I just need to get you to safety,” the stranger said, ushering me towards them with their hand. They had an androgynous look about them, with long black hair and buttery skin, their nose and cheeks freckled like spots of paint. Their blue eyes flared as the sounds grew louder, almost pleading with me. “I don’t know who you are.” I was surprised at the flatness of my voice as I stood, my feet bare against the wooden floorboards. “Sunrise Saviour, right?” I looked down to the comic in my hand, and back to the stranger. I nodded. “Look, I know you don’t know who I am. But you need to trust me,” they continued. “These people want you, and if I don’t get you out of here then you’ll suffer the same fate as your parents - or worse.” “And what fate is that?” my voice was raised only for a moment before silence ensued below us. I could have sworn my blood ran cold in that moment. What followed is still a blur. I remember nodding, stepping forward and wincing as the floorboards creaked beneath my cold feet. The stranger had reached out their hand, and I’d taken it. A flash of bright white light transformed the loft around me to a place I did not recognise, and my head had flared with hot pain before I lost consciousness completely. What I do know now, is that it was The League of Osris that saved my life that night. The organisation dedicated to protecting wielders of the gods magic from Venatores, the organisation who sought to destroy them. The stranger who I now knew as Romy had teleported me from my home to a safe house. I hadn’t even attended my parents funeral and in a matter of days, I learnt about my power, about the secret existence of mortals blessed with the power of the old gods, and the unspoken war that had been raging for decades. They’d told me about the school for others like me, and I’d been all too happy to return to a place of normality after everything that happened. The school could not be reached by mortals, and was heavily protected by wards that kept Venatores followers out. I still had that comic, it was the only piece other than my backpack that I’d kept of my old life. “I found this in the library.” I snapped from my gaze as Gabi slid a worn tome across the table discreetly before pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. Gabi wielded Lotanna’s power; she could become completely invisible to the naked eye, which was perfect for swiping restricted scriptures from the library. Jack’s magic allowed him to create illusions, falsifying the world around his subject and making them believe or see whatever he wanted. I took the tome, opening its pages with an ancient creak as the spine cracked. Professor Hemney drawled on about the origin of the gods as I scanned the immortal words. Venatores and their magic. “How did you find this?” I whispered, and Gabi only curled the corner of her mouth into a wolfish grin. We had spent days searching old texts for information on the organisation. Professors hated answering questions about them, and I wanted to know everything there was to know about why they hunted us. Why they were so desperate to hunt a sixteen year old fire wielder that they murdered two of the most famous people in the world to get to her. I pleated my brow, my pulse quickening, before I slid the book from the table and into my satchel. “Let’s meet tonight, read it together.” “Okay.” They both nodded in unison as I drew my attention to the front of the class.