Whispers and giggles around me reminded me that even though I attended the most prestigious school for witches in the known universe, we were still like any other girls our age; a bunch of caddy young women, prone to gossip and spreading rumors.

  I looked up from the leather-bound journal in front of me. My gaze met a group of what I assumed were first-year students as they pointed and sneered in my direction. When they noticed me looking at them, one of them gasped and they all turned around and walked away briskly as they leaned into one another giggling.

  I may have been the daughter of the High Witch of Litreateine, in line to rule over every witch coven in our realm, but at school I was just another nerd that everyone made fun of.

  They just didn’t understand, that was all. They didn’t understand the pressure to be the best of my class. To outshine every other witch of my generation. I could never be the High Witch if there was someone who could challenge my claim. I’d have to be the best. The most powerful. And because of that, a wedge had been engrained between me and every other witch my age from a very young age.

  Rolling my eyes, I tried to ignore them. There was only a couple of more days before the official start of Summer, and school would be out soon. It couldn’t come fast enough, I was looking forward to leaving campus for a couple of moons. Though returning in the Fall would bring a host of new worries.

  I returned my focus to the book in front of me and my mother’s scribbled handwriting. I’d been studying this journal since my twenty-first birthday, when she first gave it to me. It was precious to me, having been her journal when she was my age and attending the same academy I was at now. Less than a year later and I’d flipped through the delicate pages every day since, desperate to understand what she knew, and how she felt as she proved herself as the Heir Apparent.

  Litreateine, the Kingdom of the Witches, followed the same royal practice as the other seven kingdoms of Trinyaddae did. The children of the King or Queen, or in the case of the witches, the High Witch, typically succeeded their parents’ throne when they passed.

  However, because power and ability didn’t follow the witches genetically like it did with other magical species like the Fae and Elves, the title of Heir had to be earned through determination and dedication for witches. The witches wouldn’t let just any one lead them—they would only bow to the strongest of their kind. Thus, a magical test—The Tournament of the Heir—had been created to test every potential Heir to the throne. Only in passing the test could a young witch earn the title Heir Apparent.

  One key part of the test included a competition of the strongest witches in a generation known as the Challenging. A would-be heir could pass every other part of their test, and yet, still not be crowned if they didn’t win the Challenging. The Challenging had no rules—though it wasn’t officially a fight to the death, the competitors had to be eliminated beyond a doubt; this often resulted in several losses each generation.

  There had only been a handful of times in the four thousand years of the Witch Kingdom that a would-be heir hadn’t passed the test and was not named Heir-apparent. I refused to let it happen to me, though my own thoughts often betrayed me in convincing myself it would.

  My mother had proven herself before she took part in the tournament, so by the time it came around, she passed it with flying colors. No other witch in her generation could come close to the power and skill she wielded.

  It was hard not to be jealous of her. Not only had she officially been the youngest heir to the win the title, but she was also known as a hero from her time at the academy after bravely, and single-handedly, putting a stop to a coven of witches dabbling in the forbidden practice of dark magic. I was nowhere near as special, and all I could hope was that I would be a fraction of the witch she was.

  I was lucky to get the chance to read her thoughts from this time from her own point of view; it provided such an opportunity to not only know my mother better, but to understand exactly what it took to be the Heir Apparent.

  The legend of her heroics began when she returned to campus for spring semester of her junior year, and I was reading the entry that detailed the start of it all. Whenever I was feeling particularly nervous about my own upcoming destiny, I would re-read her journey of becoming Heir apparent starting from this entry. I’d read this part of her journal at least a hundred times over.

  Day 63 of the Year 6070 A.C.

  Something feels different this year as I come back to campus for the Spring Semester. This was always my favorite time of the year on campus; when the cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom, and color begins seeping back into the world after the dreary winter. It’s a magical time of the year. This year, though, it just feels off. Nothing appears different on the surface, but something just feels darker. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I couldn’t shake the feeling all day, and eventually, I asked mother about it. She was adamant that I was just imagining things and told me not to worry about it. She’s probably right—It must be the back-to-school jitters or something. I have a lot to study this semester if I am going to be ready for my test next year. Maybe the stress is getting to me. Whatever it is, it’s beginning to feel like something is watching me, and I don’t like it.

  C.G.

  I’ll never be as good as her…I thought grimly. It was already the end of my own junior year, and I had no accomplishments that stood up to hers in the slightest. How was I ever going to pass the test? Distraught, I let my finger trace down the yellowing page of the entry as my eyes memorized the words on the page for the millionth time.

  A renewed sense of frustration grew in the hollow of my stomach at my lacking achievements, and I slammed the journal closed. I rubbed my eyes and let my head fall into my hands with a huff. Maybe this was useless. I’d read and re-read these passages so many times, it was starting to feel impossible that I’d learn anything new from it.

  Besides, the situation my mother had faced when she was my age wasn’t going to help me now. There was no coven of dark witches for me to uncover and stop. As desperate as I was to prove myself, all I could to do was be triumphant at the tournament. What was the point of torturing myself by comparing myself to her?

  Giving up, I shoved the journal into my bag and looked up at the large windows that bordered the southern wall of the library. I frowned when I realized the sun had set, and an early dusting of stars began to appear on the horizon of the dimming sky. I’d lost track of time. Again. If there was one thing I was good at, it was that.

  I pushed the chair back from the table and stood, shoving the last of my things in my bag as quickly as I could. My mother was waiting for me, probably already irritated at my tardiness. I was expected to have dinner with her on the nights she was on campus, which wasn’t very often, but she was here now, and I was late. She was on campus to see the newest graduation class off as they entered into the world as full witches; a tradition that the High Witches had always followed. Next year, I’d be one of those witches. Whether or not I was also Heir Apparent would be another thing entirely.

  Amidst my distracted mind, I absentmindedly swung my bag over my shoulder, and it bumped against my hip as I pushed the chair back in. Suddenly, a cold shiver ran down my spine and settled over the room, snagging my attention. A slight tremble I couldn’t control ran through my body as I looked around.

  I panicked at the thought that someone was watching me, but a quick sweep turned up nothing, calming my nerves. The library is deserted, you’re the only one here, I thought to myself as I shook my head and made my way to the door. I’d only taken a couple of steps when I felt something reach out for me and gently brush against my arm. Startled, I whipped around with my hands outstretched ready to defend myself, but again, nothing was there.

  Okay, I’m losing it now, I thought as I attempted to keep myself from panicking.

  I took a brief moment to settle my nerve before quickly rushing toward the library doors. I kept my attention focused entirely on my surroundings, ready to reach for my wand if needed. With no logical explanation, the air was suddenly cold enough that I could see my breath as I exhaled. The lights were growing dimmer around me, some flickering in and out as I passed underneath them. That was definitely not happening just a couple of minutes ago, I thought to myself as fear began to prickle up my skin leaving goosebumps. What was happening?

  I quickened my pace again out of fear, though I was mostly worried I was imagining things. This was just my brain playing a cruel trick on me after working myself up, it had to be. There was no other explanation that made sense…right?

  Wait. There it was again.

  I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw a flicker in the shadows in front of me. I couldn’t tell what it was, but whatever it was, it was moving toward me. My breath caught in my throat at the same time as an intense pressure fell on me, and began pulling me toward the ominous, wavering shadows. I tried to reach for my wand, but it took all of my strength and willpower to resist the tug toward the darkness. The invisible strings kept pulling, but I was holding my ground. I squinted my eyes, trying to discern what was there waiting for me in the dark.

  Then, just like that, it ended. I was no longer being pulled toward the shadows. The lights were no longer flickering. I couldn’t see my breath in the air anymore. It was like it never happened at all, but I knew better than that. Whatever had just happened was not my imagination. It couldn’t be, right? Something was surely here; I was not alone like I’d thought. And whatever was here was not normal, either.

  Overhead, the lights, operated my ancient spells that had been in place for so long no-one really knew how they’d come to be, turned off completely. In response, I pulled out my wand, fumbling with a simple light spell as I investigated the shadows around the room. The light I was casting barely cut through the darkness, but it made me feel better to know I was in control of the situation. Or at least, more in control than I’d been just moments ago. Then, out of the corner of my eyes, a dark shape passed from one bookcase to another.

  I whispered a spell I’d known since I was a child. In answer, the light emanating off my wand grew brighter, just enough to wash away the shadows five feet in front of me. It was a little better, but the shadows were thick and unusual, and appeared to be affecting the power of my spell. I crept along the edges of the aisles, toward where I saw the shadow-thing disappear last. My hands started to involuntarily tremble when I grew closer, and my breath hitched in my throat. I came to a stop when I reached the opening of the aisle.

  I pressed myself against the bookcase and willed the light spell to dim. Once I had just enough light to see without giving away my location, I took a deep breath and counted down in a fleeting hope calm my nerves.

  Three…two…one. I let out my breath and peeked around the corner. All I could see was a long row of books stacked neatly in order and wreathed in shadow. Nothing was there.

  Squinting my eyes, I crept forward down the aisle. My heart was racing so fast I could hear its erratic beats pounding against my chest in a rapid staccato. Fear pumped through my veins as I moved slowly toward the end of the row. Don’t be afraid, Evie. Be brave, I whispered to myself as I came to a stop at the end of the aisle.

  I was terrified of what could be waiting for me, just out of site. I let out a quick exhale before briskly peeking around the shadowed corner of the bookshelf. I let out a sigh of relief at the fact nothing was there again.

  This is stupid. I’m definitely going crazy and imagining things. Did I really think there was something there?

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Scoffing, I turned around to walk back to the center of the library, toward the exit, so I could get out of here. Now mother was really going to be pissed at me. I was so late that I’d never hear the end of it.

  BOOM!

  The unexpected loud noise echoed through the library making me jump nearly out of my own skin. Without pause, my head snapped in the direction it came from, but there was nothing there now besides a large book resting on the floor.

  Okay, definitely not crazy after all.

  My body was trembling as I ducked underneath the nearest table. Clutching my wand to my chest, I whispered until the light grew brighter again around me. I knew I couldn’t stay here forever; the shadow-thing was coming for me. I had to think, think, think. What do I do? What would my mother do? Suddenly, I had an idea.

  I let my trembling fingers reach into my bag and wrap around the familiar leather of my mother’s journal. I ripped it out of my bag without another thought and fingered quickly through the pages until I got to the page I was looking for.

  It was a spell she’d learned when she was neck-deep in her investigation into dark magic. It wasn’t a spell we were taught here at the academy, and it was simply pure luck that I recalled it now. It was honestly a miracle I had understood the spell in the first place—it was a fairly complex spell in a language that most students my age shouldn’t even be able to read.

  This is where you prove yourself, Evie. I chanted in my head as I squared my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I whispered the foreign language of the spell. I really hoped this would work, it wasn’t like I’d tried it out before. I was hardly proficient in the ancient language the spell was in, but it was the only thing I could think of

  After a few strained moments, I completed the spell. At least, I thought I completed it. There was really only one way to find out. I held out my dark hands to examine them. At first, it didn’t look like I’d done anything, but then, a rippling transparent shimmer ran down my arm and out my hand. Crunching my eyebrows, I further investigated the rest of my body and was pleasantly surprised to find that the spell worked. I was invisible!

  With triumph, I shoved the journal back into my bag and started stealthily moving under the tables toward the large book on the ground. I tucked a stray red-brown lock of hair behind my ear and wiggled my way out from underneath the tables.

  I still had to come up with a plan to deal with whatever this was once I found it, but for now, I was safe enough to investigate.

  As I approached the book, I noticed it was old and nearly falling apart as it lay on the ground. Its grey, leather-bound spine was barely holding the pages together as they sat flipped open, their yellow and crisp edges looking brittle. If I touched them, I worried they would crumble away beneath my fingers.

  I spent a long minute looking around the area, not leaving a single shadow unnoticed. There was no sign of movement, though I knew the shadow-thing was still here. Confident that I wasn’t going to be ambushed, I took a moment to bend down over the book and examine the contents.

  Even though I hoped whatever was in here with me wasn’t immune to my spell and wouldn’t be able to see me, I was still on edge. Despite this, I was excited to see what clue it left behind. At least, I assume it was a clue. Would it really leave this kind of book at random? These kinds of books were locked away, not just found on one of the nearby shelves.

  The page was opened to a twisted childhood fairytale, though I could hardly make out the words on the page as they were worn with age. I could only tell it was a fairytale based on the wicked image on the left page, just visible enough that I was able to tell I’d seen it before.

  Growing up, I’d lived on fairytales. Amid the pressures of being the daughter of the High Witch, it was one of my only escapes. It began when my father started reading fairytales to me every night as a child. It was how we bonded when he couldn’t relate to me magically, which he rarely could because like all men, he’d been human. It quickly became my favorite part of everyday being able to escape the stress of my real life and disappear into a mythical one instead with my beloved father.

  Just before he died from an illness he’d been battling for years—I was 12—he told me that all my favorite childhood fairytales had been based on evil, twisted versions of the same stories. When I asked him why he told me the truth instead of keeping the fairytale alive, he looked at me with more sorrow and determination than I’d ever seen him possess. What he told me then still haunted me, nearly ten years later.

  “Because you’ll soon realize what being able to use magic really means, Evie. What having power means. There are always two sides to the world you and your mother live in—two sides to every person. One is greatness, light, and beauty. The other is evil and darkness. Only you can decide which path you are going to take—which you to feed. You must know both sides if you are to choose”.

  Tears threatened to break the surface my eyes as I remembered his words. I let my finger trail down the image in the book. After father died, I’d been obsessed with finding and reading the twisted versions of the fairytales he had read to me. They were comforting at the time, having felt lost with grief. For moons, they felt like the only way to keep ahold of the connection we’d shared; like I’d tethered myself to his soul for just a little while longer.

  I tried hard now to remember what story I’d seen this picture in—I know I’d seen it before, I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what it had been.

  The image, a fading shape wreathed in darkness, almost reminded me of the monster that was prowling in the library with me now. Leaning in on that clue, I thought hard. Memories displayed in my mind of the stories I’d read; brief flashes coming and going so fast I could barely catch the details.

  I paused. That couldn’t be it, could it? It was so obvious it was like a slap in the face. There was no way, right?

  There was one tale that stood out to me. It was less a fairytale and more of a legend—a frightening story told to children to scare them into being good little boys and girls. There was a monster of the night that preyed upon the dream essence of anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. They were known to make their victims feel uncontrollable dread, fear, or uneasiness right before they attacked. Sometimes even, they could cause extreme hallucinations. What was it called, again?

  Oh yes, an Umbrath.

  If what I was thinking was true, that would mean this story wasn’t a legend after all. Though, if there was one thing I’d learned since growing up, it was that what I’d always thought were gruesome fairytales were actually the things lurking in the dark.

  The shadows. The indiscernible black figure moving around. The eerie feeling of being watched, being pulled toward the darkness. There was really no other option, no other creature that fit the description. Despite the obvious connection, my brain was still having a hard time processing. The real question was—why had it left this for me to find?

  Thankful now that I’d used the invisibility spell to conceal myself, I looked around for the demon. My brain was analyzing the situation in a different way, retracing all the steps I’d taken already. I’d been lucky it hadn’t gotten me yet; it had come so close so many times already. A shiver ran down my spine as a new question arose.

  If this was an Umbrath, then who had summoned it?

  I searched my brain, trying to remember anything else from the tale. Any weaknesses, any clues on how to defeat it. No matter how talented I was with spells, it wouldn’t matter in the end if I didn’t know exactly what spell to use. Demons were notoriously hard to kill, even for skilled witches.

  Now that I was invisible, I couldn’t use magic to provide light in the dark library or it would give me away. Instead, I did my best to use the light from the windows to find my way around.

  There! Movement flashed in the corner of my eyes near the bookcase to my left. I whipped around, trying to see the monster as a ripple of shadows moved in the darkness. I scrunched up my eyebrows in concentration as I silently chased the shadow demon through the library while it was unaware of my presence. It was a game of cat and mouse.

  I was almost certain I’d lost it, so I took a moment and stopped at the edge of a row of bookshelves to catch my breath. I wished I could cast more light, but I knew it would just get in the way instead of helping at this point. I shook out the nerves in my muscles before starting to search for the demon again.

  I was just starting to turn around the corner again when I felt a sudden jerk in my stomach, as if somebody had a rope tied around my waist and was pulling me toward them. I fought to break free, but the invisible grip on me was too strong. Panic iced its way through my body.

  How could it see me? How was it possible with my invisibility spell? It shouldn’t have been able to find me!

  In the heat of a moment, I made the decision to use a light spell and drop the invisibility spell. It had clearly found me anyway, and light would be more useful as I fought against it. I looked around, waving my wand in an arc of bright light. Next to me, a dark figure that I could now more clearly make out as a black-shimmering silhouette screeched as I turned toward it. It burned when the light hit it, causing the shape to wither and move backward with force, desperately trying to get out of the path of light. I felt a crooked smile grow on my lips. So that’s what did it then. Light!

  With a smirk, I breathed the only spell I could think of that would work—it was a spell that most witches could never do, and one that I was very glad I could.

  With the last words of the incantation, the wand in my hand began to glow, expanding in a bright arc until it formed a shimmering blade. The hilt was the same material my wand had been—a hard-white iron-like material called Luminite. The blade, however, was made of pure bright flame. It flashed out of the hilt in a column of blue light called Soul-fire. I watched it in awe as the blue flames licked together at the end.

  Soul-fire was a rare, powerful substance of light and fire from the soul. Most witches were never powerful, or skilled enough to forge it—but it wasn’t always about power and skill, either. I’d been taught to believe that only the witches with a special, rare connection to their magic and how it interacted with their soul could forge it. My mentor at the academy believed it was only the witches with the purest souls; the ones with the best intentions that could develop such a connection with themselves that it allowed for the crafting of the rare substance.

  I held the sword up now, and instantly saw the Umbrath leap out of the way, melting back into the shadows. I followed it, desperately chasing it around the library. Every time I swiped at it with the soul-fire sword, it danced just out of reach. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think it was mocking me as we entered in this back-and-forth dance.

  Eventually, I cornered it against the windows on the south wall of the library. Moonlight was streaming in now; the sun had vanished long ago. It had nowhere else to go, and I held the sword up to it with a bitter laugh. Though it didn’t have discernable eyes or features, it felt as though it was staring at me with a mischievous smile. A shiver ran down my spine as I stared back at it.

  The Umbrath, a black, human-like figure made of shadows, was a lot creepier looking now that I could see it closely. It was exactly what I’d imagined, only worse; the creature of nightmares that preyed on your dreams. I felt my breath stutter for only a moment, before I pushed myself beyond the fear growing in my body.

  “Who is your master” I asked fiercely, stepping closer and letting the soul-fire edged blade creep nearer to the Umbrath. The demon hissed as the flames of the soul-fire licked at it, but it made no other attempt to answer. I wanted to know who had summoned this creature here to our school.

  “I said, who is your master?” My voice boomed louder, tinged with the anger I felt. Whoever had summoned this demon had done so with the intention of stealing the dream essence of the young witches at this school. My dream essence. Was this a targeted attack, or just random? What if I had been a lower classman who wasn’t trained yet to defend herself? What if it had been someone who couldn’t forge soul-fire? The Umbrath could have killed someone!

  The demon continued what I assumed was staring at me. It even cocked its head, as if analyzing my words and actions. Then, impossible without a mouth I would’ve thought, it laughed. The laugh was a screech that sent a chill down my spine; high-pitched and scratchy. It was akin to nails on a chalkboard. It took everything in me not to reflexively cover my ears as a shiver went down my spine, but there was no way I was going to turn my weapon from the demon now. It continued laughing, making me grit my teeth in anger.

  I held the sword out closer to the Umbrath, and the creature finally stopped laughing. It was clear it was not going to give up its master, so I debated briefly if I should just kill it and be done with it. As I made up my mind and focused on the Umbrath, it began to laugh again with that horrible laugh. This time, though, the shadowy figure was fading, growing more and more translucent right before my eyes.

  Startled, I held up the sword, ready to strike it down before it could disappear, but I was too late when I came down on the swing. The sword met nothing but air as the last of the Umbrath disappeared.

  Alone in the library, breathing heavily, I looked out the window and into the dark sky.

  Where did it go?

  ***

  I was paying only half attention, lost in thought, as I raced through the halls of the school. Mother would be absolutely pissed at my tardiness for dinner, but I hoped she’d understand. Though, she’d probably be pissed again when she found out the Umbrath got away. How could I let it get away? I was reckless. Stupid. I chastised myself.

  I nearly ran into the wall as my mind replayed the memory of trapping the Umbrath; how it got away. Why had it even been there in the first place? Umbrath’s were only useful to harness the dream essence of living things, which wasn’t used for anything good. Not to mention, it’s not like they naturally existed in the living world.

  No, the only reason an Umbrath would be here was because of dark magic.

  What would mother say? Would she blame me for letting it get away? I panicked as I slowed to a stop in front of her door. I could see a sliver of warm light from under her door and her soft mutters echoed into the hallway, only a whisper. It didn’t matter what I felt though, she needed to know. She was the High Witch and would need to deal with the witch behind this.

  I took a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Mother?” I called softly, putting my ear to the old dark wood. I heard her grunt a “come-in”.

  I paused, before taking a deep breath. Dark magic. This was crazy. Would she even believe me? No one had used dark magic since she’d put a stop to it over two hundred years ago. I shook my head. She’d have to believe me; there was no other explanation. I reached a shaky hand toward the doorknob.

  Without knowing it, I was walking in on the moment that everything would change.