Caldera Academy The School For Good and Evil Monster's (Book 1)

PROLOGUE

The first time my magic tried to kill me, I was twelve.

It started as a fever. By midnight, my skin was so hot the ice water my mother poured over me turned instantly to steam.

"Hide it," she whispered, her hands shaking as she held me. "If they see it, Kira, they'll take you."

But you can't hide a fire when you're the fuel.

For four years, we managed. We spent every single coin from her sewing jobs on black-market dampening herbs. But by my sixteenth birthday, they stopped working. My fingers sparked whenever I got angry, leaving black scorches on the table.

We both knew the rule. Unbonded magic doesn't just go away. It builds up until it eats you from the inside out.

The letter from Caldera Academy wasn't an invitation. It was a lease on life. I had one year to bond with a beast, or I would burn to ash.

…

The ferry ride took three hours.

I sat near the back, clutching my duffel bag. Inside my pocket, my fingers brushed against a small, dented silver thimble. It was my mother’s. I remembered her working through the night, her fingers raw and bleeding, just to buy the herbs that kept me safe.

Just live, Kira, she had told me when she pushed me onto the bus to the coast. Do whatever it takes to live.

I squeezed the thimble tight. I was going to live. I had to.

The other kids on the ferry didn't look like they were running for their lives. They had expensive coats, clean shoes, and easy laughs. They looked like they were going to a resort, while I was just trying to survive.

A thick fog blocked the mainland behind us. We were heading deep into the Pacific Northwest, to a place my phone map didn't even show.

"You're smoking," a voice said.

I jumped. A girl stood in the aisle, looking down at me. She wore a dark jacket covered in silver zippers and held a small, green lizard by its tail.

"What?" I asked.

"Your fingers." She sat on the bench opposite me without asking. "If you burn the seat, they'll make us stand outside."

I looked down. Gray wisps were rising from my knuckles. I shoved my hands into my pockets, my face hot. "Sorry. I'm nervous."

"Clearly." She let the lizard crawl onto her shoulder. "I'm Cleo. Flora track. At least, I hope so. My family will lock me in the greenhouse if I end up in the Gloom."

"Kira," I said. "I don't know my track."

Cleo raised an eyebrow, scanning my faded canvas jacket and scuffed sneakers. "A wildcard? Bold. The legacy kids have been preparing for this since they were ten. Look at them." She nodded toward a group of boys wearing silver crest rings. "They think they own the place. Especially him."

I followed her gaze. A tall, pale boy stood by the door. He wore a dark coat with silver trim and a red armband that read Warden. He wasn't talking to anyone. He just stared out the window, his expression completely flat.

"Julian Sterling," Cleo whispered. "His family built the school. He's a vampire elite, Bloom track. His griffin is supposed to be massive."

"He looks bored," I said.

"He's dangerous," Cleo corrected. "He's the head Student Warden. Break a rule, and he locks you up. My sister told me he hasn't smiled since his older sister Lyra went missing last year."

"Missing from a school?" My chest tightened.

"The teachers say people drop out," Cleo said, her voice dropping. "But Lyra was top of her class. She wouldn't just leave."

Before I could ask more, the engine groaned. The fog broke, revealing a wall of black rock rising from the water.

Caldera Island didn't look like a school. It looked like a fortress built inside a giant, dead volcano. Stone towers rose into the sky, connected by thin bridges. At the center, a heavy column of dark smoke rose from a massive peak.

The ferry bumped against the dock. The doors opened, and the cold air hit us.

We filed out in a quiet line. I kept my head down, holding my bag tight.

"Lined up! Keep moving!" a voice barked.

At the end of the dock, older students were checking names. Julian Sterling stood behind them, his arms crossed. Up close, his gray eyes were striking, watching the crowd without blinking.

A boy in front of me, carrying a massive leather trunk, tripped. The trunk slid across the wet wood and slammed hard into my shins.

"Ow!" I stumbled, losing my footing on the slick planks, and fell onto my hands.

"Watch where you're going, charity case," the boy muttered. He didn't even look back as he grabbed his trunk and kept walking.

My palms stung. They were bleeding, the red mixing with the black ash on the dock. Anger flared in my chest.

I remembered my sixteenth birthday. The day the dampening herbs completely failed. I had gotten angry over a broken sewing needle, and the wooden kitchen table had caught fire. My mother hadn't screamed at me. She had just cried, terrified because she couldn't protect me anymore.

I couldn't let my anger control me here. Keep it down, I told myself. You have to survive.

But a spark jumped from my bleeding finger anyway, landing on a dry piece of wood. It caught instantly, a tiny flame rising from the dock.

A shadow fell over me.

Julian Sterling was standing right there. With one quick movement of his boot, he crushed the flame into powder.

"Magic is forbidden until after the Covenant Ritual," he said. His voice was quiet and cold. "State your name."

I scrambled to my feet, wiping my bloody palms on my jeans. I forced myself to meet his eyes. I was terrified, but I wouldn't let him see it. "Kira Locke. And his bag hit me first."

Julian didn't look at the other boy. He kept his eyes on me, staring at the faint smoke still rising from my pocket. For a second, his expression shifted—just a flicker of curiosity—before going blank again.

"Follow the path to the main hall, Locke," he said, stepping aside. "Keep the fire in your pockets. If I see another spark, you'll spend your first week in the dark."

I held his gaze for a second, refusing to look scared. "I can handle the dark," I said.

I grabbed my bag and walked past him, my skin still tingling from the pressure of his presence.

"Well," Cleo whispered, catching up to me as we started up the steep stone stairs. "You certainly know how to make an impression."

I looked up at the massive gates of the academy. The fire under my skin was still thrumming, urging me to let it free.

"I just want to get through the night," I said.