ANATOMY OF A GIRL

december 24th, 1808

"I can take care of myself," he hissed, pulling his arm from her grip. Before his twin could get another word in, he hurried toward the tree line.

Caius moved further into the trees as the sun began its descent, letting the sounds of the forest wash over Calantha's words. She just wanted to protect him, believed his actions brash. And perhaps they were – he was logical enough to understand that. But he knew that he couldn't continue living this life in the Witch's City without taking a stand of his own.

Of course, he'd let his fury drive the planning, but it hadn't made him careless. He couldn't afford to be careless when it came to Belreistkov.

As Caius reached the city's boundary once more, the sounds of life tapered off. The sounds of witches and their preaching. The twittering of birds, the clamor of wildlife, became a hollow silence as he approached the Portal. It looked just as it had almost two moons ago. In the darkness, its silver surface was dull.

Caius pulled the bag over his shoulder higher and inhaled deeply. His fury had brought him here, but it would do no good beyond this point. Exhaling, he stepped through the surface of the Portal, letting the blackness between worlds consume him once again.

From the edges of his vision, the blackness cleared, revealing the towering walls of the Half-Witch school. A chill ran over Caius as he approached the gates, raising the hairs on his arms.

A singular flaw in the wards would allow him entrance – knowledge that had cost him his life savings (and a fair amount of his parents' too, but he'd deal with that later). Caius pulled the stone from his bag, placing it on the ground beneath the warded gates. The stone that cost him everything. Its surface shone a deep purple in the moonlight – enchanted by a powerful Witch that cared little about life and more about fortune.

Before his eyes, the purple deepened, radiating toward the gate above it and spreading up the struts like an infection. As the glow extended toward the hinges, Caius felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him.

The reinforced gate creaked, quickly forced open by the power of the enchantment. Caius took a single step through the newly opened air. He took another, his heart surging in his chest. Before the wards could realise their error, Caius rushed into Belreistkov.

*

Caius couldn't be sure if these Half-Witch creatures were just naïve, or truly thoughtless. The woman at the reception was quite happy to reveal which wing and even in which room Demarko stayed in. He was surprising a friend, Caius had claimed. She had not questioned him.

Perhaps he'd just mastered the dull expression of a Half-Witch, or perhaps the staff were too prideful to even consider the notion of an imposter being on their secure, perfect little campus. Regardless, he was grateful for their ineptitude.

Wandering the halls in search of room 109, he could almost pretend he was meant to be here. Pretend that he was a flawless Half-Witch in this perfect world of magic. A place where he could be accepted – where he could belong. But this was not his world, and he was only what his father had made him.

From the space beside Demarko's door, Caius could hear only the silence of sleeping bodies. Breaths, snores and the occasional grumble. Caius pushed the door open, careful of his every step. Unlocked doors – that Half-Witch stupidity once more, he thought, eyeing the room.

Demarko and his roommate slept blissfully as he crept closer to their beds. He had anticipated the presence of a roommate, but had hoped it wouldn't be so. Caius felt like a ghoul in the shadows, pulling the sharpened blade from his bag.

Inhaling deeply, he moved beside Demarko's bed. There was no room for error or even a second of hesitation. He had one chance to get this right.

His stomach churned as he leant down, watching the boy so deep in sleep, his eyelids fluttering gently. He looked like a boy in that moment. A child without sin.