Somehow, I awoke in my bed the next morning, my borrowed blankets tucked neatly over me. When I wriggled free of them, I was still in yesterday's clothes. A glimpse in the vanity mirror revealed a puffy, red face leftover from my crying. Not to mention my hair, which stuck out in odd angles around my head from tangles.

I managed to tame myself and restore some semblance of life by brushing my hair, washing my face, and dressing in clean clothes, all before a knock sounded at my door. I was just pulling my hair up into a ponytail when Yvonne entered. Today she was dressed in soft pinks, practically indistinguishable from the prim and proper rose bushes outside. Compared to her, I was bland and gray, save for the blue flower attached to the sash at my waist.

She smiled, though there was an awkward and almost painful hitch to it. "I was just coming to wake you."

"No need," I said, and my bells clinked melodiously as I rose from my vanity and faced her.

That smile of hers dropped as she took in my drab appearance. "My, Celestine, you'll disappear if you step outside like that. You're just as gray as the clouds are. Are there no colors that suit you in the closet? I thought I'd collected plenty of options. I can—"

"I've got to pick a track today," I reminded her, carefully sidestepping between her and the closet. I didn't want her to see that I'd given up putting everything away neatly. So many of her carefully curated collection was still on the floor—actually, I couldn't hide it. The closet wasn't the only disaster. I cleared my throat. "Aren't the academy's tracks each associated with a different color?"

Her mouth opened in a small oh just as she stopped. "Ah. Yes. Yes, you're right. Elias said he'll take you to pick up your uniform today as well."

I grimaced. It wasn't the anticipation of choosing a track and receiving a brightly colored uniform to match that had me in dull clothes today. I just couldn't bear anything else. I had woken with the skull-masked boy on my mind, all cloaked in black. The blue stone flower was the only splash of color in all of the emptiness of the void, and he looked so small beside it. When I dressed the same, I felt some of that hollowness he carried.

Find my grave.

"... least try this!" Yvonne bustled up behind me, a ribbon spread across her hands, and tied it into a neat little bow at the base of my ponytail. Its cornflower blue silk did drape nicely over my hair, and I did enjoy the way it brought out the soft blues of my eyes. It coordinated well enough with the stone flower to make it look like I had dressed with enough attention to be proper.

I hesitated, taking in my reflection. I was still somewhat travel-worn and dead-looking, and I wondered if I would be easily pinned as the bastard girl who had been executed for petty theft. I cringed a little and drew myself up. When I did, I looked brighter, more lively. The kind of pretty girl that was a little dangerous.

"I think that's better," I said.

Yvonne beamed. "Very good. Elias is waiting in the parlor for you. Oh—your boots are by the door there!"

I snatched up my boots and shoved them on, lacing them up halfheartedly before I was out the door. In the parlor, Elias was seated in an armchair, snacking on toast and tea. Despite the relaxed scenario, his posture was rod-straight, his shoulders back. A sword was propped against the chair at his feet. He was without his armor, but there was a firmness to him that almost said he didn't need it. Even in his own home, he was still a soldier.

He didn't stand until he finished the last of his toast, dusting the crumbs from his fingers off on the napkin beside his plate. There was a smudge of jam at the corner of his mouth, but he dabbed that away too. He had this way of being immaculate at all times.

"Ready?" he asked, shepherding me to the door. I couldn't get a word in before we were out, hurrying across the garden, and climbing into the carriage. We sat across from each other, stiff and awkward as we had been that long ride to the capital city after my arrest. The driver called to the horse, then our carriage rattled away.

After a while, he cleared his throat. No doubt it was sticky with honeyed tea. "Do you have any questions for me, Celestine?"

I was sure he meant about the academy, my target, or perhaps anything useful about my future, but those things were foggy, truth be told. After last night, I was still clinging to my weepiness with regards to my mother, only now I had a certain clarity. It was the kind that puzzled me because the picture I saw was a bit odd in its incompleteness. "How did you get the celestine in my bag?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The crystal. That day in the shop, you pulled a celestine from my errand bag, but I really, truly hadn't stolen anything. How did you plant it there?" It still irked me what a cruel irony it was—a celestine. It was purposeful, no doubt. If it wasn't, I hated that all the more. Then it would seem fate was laughing at me, and what a pitiful thing that was.

His eyebrows shot up as the memory dawned on him. He looked away then, his eyes shifting straight to the wall. "One of my men that day was an illusionist."

Magic. My gut twisted. I hadn't seen a soldier so young among the group, but maybe they had intentionally kept me from him. But then I thought about it longer, harder, and my face twisted. "No, that can't be. Mother is never fooled by illusions, certainly not of rocks. She knows them better than she knows herself."

Once, when I was a lanky and useless pre-teen, my mother and I had been to the markets of Aeil together in search of new gemstones. A man and his daughter had tried to swindle her into buying over-priced pebbles with skilled illusions. I couldn't tell—not from touch nor sight nor weight nor anything else—but Mother always knew.

Sometimes she would tell me we could make so much more money if I had magic, if I learned illusions, if I cast spells on our customers. We laughed about it. It was a stupid idea. In hindsight, I couldn't laugh now. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach and an emptiness where I had once been alive, a hole I supposed would be filled by magic. Only I hadn't felt it yet. I was just... hollow.

Elias was studying me, no doubt taking in every shift of my expression. His own had softened, and I wondered if he was remembering my words from the night before. "Celestine," he said, and for once I wanted to listen to him, "don't get in over your head."

<><><>

Transferring to Aetheria Academy in the middle of a semester was not totally unheard of. One never knew when their child was going to die and be granted a return, and therefore need to attend the snazziest school for undead rich kids. Or so they said. Or rather, I imagined fictional people with punchable faces who would say that as Elias and I walked down the long, long overly-polished halls to the school offices.

On our way, we passed students in pressed and clean uniforms in five colors: maroon, lilac, sky blue, gold, and sage green. Most of them didn't pay much attention to us, but there was always the stray who couldn't help but stare. Maybe they were sizing me up.

There was an air of competition about the school. I had heard that only the top ten, two from each track usually, were selected at graduation to be given a prestigious job in the court. Desperate students quickly became cutthroat.

Lucky for them, I didn't care about being in the top ten or earning a job in the court. In fact, I didn't even think I'd graduate. Not that it mattered. All I intended to do was find my mom and run away. I wasn't particularly interested in being a jeweler either, so maybe I'd be better off as a hermit. I could find a nice rock to hide under, I'd be set for life.

But then there would be the cold press of earth. Darkness all around. I'd choke on my own stale breath.

I shook the thought away quickly. Forget the rock. I'd do better in a cabin in the woods.

"Have you thought about what track you wish to choose?" Elias asked as the polished granite hallway, reddish and overly shiny, finally ended at a tall, ornate door.

"Somewhat." Not at all. Mostly I'd thought about Elias's cryptic statement and how the school made me want to punch someone. It was hard to give it thought when I wasn't drawn to anything because I had no interest, no magic (that I had yet felt), and no goal for my future.

For some reason, a smile quirked Elias's face. "Best start thinking about it."

He opened the door to a large office, equally grand as the hallway and bathed in warm candlelight, a rarity in the city. The curtains were across us, and they were shut to block out the dreary, rainy sky. Elias and I, soaked as we were, seemed like uncanny reminders of the terrible weather. Maybe the students had been staring disdainfully at our wet footprints, not us.

A middle-aged man sat in a squat chair behind a massive wooden desk—so huge it nearly swallowed him. As we entered the room, he lifted his wrinkled face and smiled, shoving his wire-frame glasses up his plump nose. "Captain Elias," he greeted, "I've been expecting you. This must be Celestine?"

Elias squeezed my shoulder and I tried not to cringe. "Yes, I apologize for taking up so much of your time. Believe me, I was surprised when my daughter returned with magic. My wife and I hardly knew what to do!"

The man laughed like he had heard this many times. I was too busy trying not to throw up in my mouth at being called his daughter. That was, after all, the ruse he had given me. "It is no trouble at all! At my academy, we are here to support you and your child during this difficult time. Our goal is to raise strong, wise, and talented students and to equip them with the work they deserve. We strive to help them make the most of their second chance." Finally, his pale eyes turned to me, and he patted the desk across from him. "Come sit, Miss Celestine."

I sat in the bulky chair across from him. It was sturdy and rough and far larger than I, making me feel quite small. The man introduced himself as Headmaster Alistair, then proceeded to yammer on about his mission and how much he loved and cared for all of his students, how it was a pity that they had all died but also a miracle that they had returned. The usual. I stopped listening somewhere near the beginning. It was a wonder I even registered his name.

Then I signed a bunch of forms, mostly agreeing to school rules and to only using my magic in authorized situations, such as under the supervision of professors and faculty. Finally, when my wrist was about ready to break off, Alistair smiled in a way of beady excitement.

"Now it is time to pick your track," he said, rolling open a drawer on his side of the desk and producing a thick sheet. He slid it in front of me. Printed across it in neat, swirling script were the five tracks along with their assigned colors. The red-maroon was the combat track; the lilac, charm and enchantments; the sky blue, beast taming; the gold, history and spellcraft; the sage green, potions and alchemy. "Each student will take a sampling of classes from each track, but you must choose one to be your specialty. What are you most drawn to?"

I stared at the sheet, at the text detailing the specifics of each class. The reds tended to graduate into soldiers while the greens tended to graduate into court healers, and so on. In truth, none of them appealed to me. I didn't want my magic, and it seemed it didn't want me either. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my mom. I wanted...

My fingers brushed the petals of the stone flower. I wanted to help Death, the frail and lonely child that he was. I had a vague feeling that, in doing so, I would be doing something right. And of course, if it was right, then everything would be as it should.

I pursed my lips and let my gaze rove over the paper again. This time, it was the lilac that caught my eye, the charm track. Nothing about it was particularly appealing, except that illusion magic was listed as one of its specialties. I thought of how my mother had been fooled and that I hadn't seen the one who had tricked her—and how something inside me stirred at the notion of this power.

It would be a small and unassuming track, too. It was not big and flashy, nor would it draw attention to me if I was smart about it. In some ways, it seemed like the track for lackluster kids like me. Its "impressive court job listings" were the sort of uninspired catch-all nonsense one might expect from a charm class, ambassador being the most noteworthy. Entertainer being the most vomit-inducing. The lowest was essentially a paid liar, the kind of illusionist who must have been working with Elias that day.

If I was going to be a petty and useless thorn, painful but unassuming, this seemed the most likely specialty.

"That one," I said, pointing to the lilac charm track. "Purple has always been my color."

The headmaster laughed. "Very well. Welcome to Aetheria Academy, Celestine."

Always make important decisions based on your favorite color. Life lessons with Celestine :D