Expelled from her old school for a crime she didn't commit, Ivy must gain the trust of the High Pack at Ridgeview Academy to stop her new home from going up in flames.
Season 2 of Witchfire
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───── Ivy ─────
As I looked through the rain-streaked window of my second-story motel room, I realised how displaced I was from the rest of the world. A film had settled over my eyes and heart, as surely as the panes of glass had fogged up, caught in a tug-of-war between the indoor heating system and the icy slew of the alpine storm raging outside.
A fire burned in my memory, and its light was so harsh that it obscured everything but the vaguest semblance of things. I knew what I was supposed to feel today: anxious, perhaps even a little frightened, but ultimately determined to forge a new path for myself.
And yet I couldn't bring myself to care about the fact that I was embarking on my senior year in a brand new finishing school. I didn't dwell on the fact that everything I'd worked towards over the last five years had been razed to bitter ashes, all in the space of one night. And I certainly didn't fixate on the desperate thought that I only had one more year to make something of myself; one last chance to climb the social ranks and build a life worth living. The thoughts splattered against me and rolled clean away, like the raindrops on the window pane.
The mountains through my window were as starkly different from the open plains of my childhood as night and day. Gone were the wide, golden fields of Swan Hill; the omnipresent sun that had promised even my pasty skin a hint of colour.
The Great Dividing range was frigid — punishingly so. The snow-gums lining the motel's gravel driveway were stunted from years of inclement weather, their trunks striped with peeling bark. I frowned, wondering if I could weather a year up here. Werewolf finishing schools were notoriously brutal, as students had to battle for a social rank that would determine their quality of life after graduation, but Ridgeview Academy had an even bloodier reputation than most. It was where the highest ranking officials in our shadow society sent their spoilt little brats to network, which basically meant leveraging their family's influence to accrue a new generation of reverent lackeys. Where the Draco Malfoy tactic fell short, insidious mind games and displays of great violence came into play. An untimely death wasn't out of the question for anyone who enrolled.
And yet I felt nothing but tired as I considered my predicament. I'd already been stunted by what I'd endured at Swan Hill; the flashes of blood and fire that assaulted me every time I closed my eyes certainly diminished the quality of my sleep, and the restless nights had in turn affected my ability to function during the day. I'd only managed a few hours of rest before a nightmare had pulled me from the sheets this morning. The sky had been so dark that I'd been hard-pressed to make out anything beyond my reflection in the window. How long had I stared into those blood-shot eyes, searching for a hint of the girl I used to be?
More time passed; the rain slowly diminished, and the charcoal sky lightened into a bleak grey. Eventually I heard stomping and clanging from somewhere downstairs, announcing my brother's return to consciousness. Whether it was from sleep or an alcohol-induced coma, I couldn't be sure, but I guessed the latter from his intermittent groans, mumbled curses and impolite bodily noises. Supernatural hearing was definitely more of a curse than a blessing.
