Chapter One: Chloe

A pale stretch of pondweed covered most of the water. Chloe, along with the other students, inched closer under the watchful eye of their professor.

“Steady now, students,” Professor Umber said. “Don’t disturb the plants too much. That’s it…” He held up his hand just as something churned in the murky green depths. “There, we have movement. Minimal talking, please.”

Chloe gulped and grabbed the arm of Harrow, who simply observed the whole thing with a detached air. “Does nothing scare you, Harrow?” Chloe hissed quietly, not wanting to draw the professor’s ire.

“Why should it? Clearly, the teacher is not going to do something that will get his students killed.” Harrow’s cool expression and demeanor didn’t transfer to the other students.

“I… appreciate the sentiment, Miss Harrow,” Professor Umber replied tartly. “Now, please be quiet. I won’t tell you again.”

Eight students hovered at the pond’s edge, part of a mandatory trip to become acquainted with Dreadmor Academy’s supernatural wildlife. Since the trip was required, Dreadmor couldn’t be held liable if any students were to foolishly get themselves killed by said wildlife. People might be a little upset otherwise.

Out of curiosity, Chloe checked her cellphone for “Dreadmor casualty rates” and found the number to be a lot lower than she’d expected. At least… in the last thirty years.

Harrow leaned over and looked at her phone, one eyebrow crooked. “Huh, I expected the number to be higher. My mom’s been saying that maybe I should have picked Lostwithiel or Tahun instead – very safe schools by comparison.”

Archon Academy only accepted those with werewolf lineage, whether the person could transform fully or happened to have some great-grandmother who had inherited the bloodline from her second cousin.

Professor Umber glared at her, his blue eyes now murderous, and Harrow trailed off into silence. The pond waters stirred, and what looked like a trailing, writhing mass broke the surface. The students let out a collective gasp. Several staggered back as the pondweed slid off a distorted, twisted humanoid form with pale green eyes, a sunken, emaciated face, long, curling fingers, and a naked body, but without any discerning parts to denote it as male or female. The creature’s oddly pale eyes darted from student to student, and the spidery fingers twitched.

“This,” Professor Umber said, “is a Jenny Greenteeth. Also known as a Wicked Jenny or Ginny Greenteeth. She’s a river hag. Folklore will tell you she’s a wicked, evil thing that’ll drown anyone you care about, such as a child playing nearby or an old woman or man minding their own business. Anyone can be ensnared by those wicked fingers and drowned.”

The more Professor Umber described the river hag, the more ill Chloe felt. Her own powers now started tingling – not the oracle part – that was never reliable – but the strange gut instinct sensation that gave her a personal premonition of danger. Sometimes. This… thing was dangerous indeed. As if sensing Chloe’s own trepidation, the river hag now slid those cold eyes toward her.

The professor continued. “Jenny Greenteeths are highly territorial. They don’t like noise. If you are quiet, and if you bring them an offering that they like, they will be content to leave you alone and not drown you. Remember this in case you ever find yourself in the waters.”

Professor Umber took out something from his pocket, something that glittered, a type of quartz that caught the light and reflected it into beautiful fractal patterns.

At this, Jenny Greenteeth grinned, showing jagged teeth, and extended one long arm and palm toward Professor Umber. He deposited the quartz in her palm, and her fingers curled over it. “Thanks again for allowing this,” the professor said.

Jenny Greenteeth cackled. “As long as you bring me such pretties and teach them respect, you are always welcome.”

Chloe gasped at the rasping words. She hadn’t expected the hag to speak.

“You,” Greenteeth said, pointing at Chloe. “Interesting magic you have. If you ever find yourself deep in the swamp, you should visit the dryad.” A tongue flicked out as if tasting the air. “Yes… she will be most happy for your company.”

She said nothing else about the dryad, though Professor Umber glanced at Chloe, a mild knot of concern on his face.

Jenny Greenteeth allowed the students to study her a bit longer and even answered some of their questions before she appeared to lose patience and bubble back into the waters.

“Easy now, back away,” Professor Umber said, gesturing for the students to retreat back to the path. “This river hag is one we use to help educate students. She’s willing enough, but the moment her patience runs out, it is best for us to… skedaddle. She has quite the collection of rocks now – and I would hate for us to give that collection to any of the other hags.”

“She didn’t seem that dangerous,” one of the students said. “Kind of dumb if all it takes is some rock to be safe.”

“She’s dangerous,” Chloe said, shivering. “I could feel it.”

“About that,” Harrow said, “she totally called you out, saying you have ‘interesting’ magic. Like, hello, your magic’s practically the same as mine. Why not call me out? It’s not like I saved the world or anything.”

Chloe grinned. Harrow was referring to their stint at the summer camp – something neither of them was supposed to talk about. Professor Umber knew this as well, and he stepped forward to rest a hand on Harrow’s shoulder.

“You’re quite talkative about things today, aren’t you? Perhaps you’d care to talk more during detention in my classroom after school.”

Harrow groaned. “Come on, I wasn’t being obvious…”

“You were risking people by talking when I specifically asked you to be quiet. You are lucky that nothing untoward happened.”

Once the professor stepped away, Chloe said, “Fourth detention for you. Are you aiming for some sort of school record?”

Harrow scowled. “Yeah, you get a trophy for them. At least the professor is hot.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend…?”

“I can’t notice other people are hot?”

Chloe nudged Harrow hard since Professor Umber’s chest puffed, and he looked on the verge of breathing fire at them. She didn’t know if dragon shifters could breathe fire, but it was probably best not to test the professor’s limits.

Out of a sense of duty to her friend, Chloe accompanied Harrow all the way to Umber’s office, stopping outside. Harrow knocked after muttering something about dictator teachers, but the person who opened the door wasn’t Professor Umber.

A man stepped out with a face like a thundercloud. His amber eyes seemed oddly distant, staring into the distance before shoving past them without a backward glance.

“Come in,” Professor Umber said, “and don’t mind the boy there. He… he’s had some tough news.”

The “boy” in question slouched away, shoulders slumped.

What was going on? Chloe’s intuition tickled. She waved Harrow goodbye and followed the male student at a careful distance. Her magic tingled within, a sign that whatever she was doing – was good. The student walked ahead, eyes cast down, never looking back. When he turned a corner, she followed, letting her intuition tug her forward.

He went up a grand, curling set of stairs. She quietly climbed the stairs after him, and they went two floors up. He paced ahead fast, his footfalls echoing loudly in the corridor as he headed toward the balcony.

Chloe’s intuition tingled more urgently, and a jolt of adrenaline and dread hit her. She didn’t understand why she was feeling what she was feeling – but from her limited experience with her magic, she knew never to ignore the signals.

Still following silently, she picked up her pace as the male student broke into a jog. He skidded to a halt on the balcony and leaned over the marbled barrier.

Is he…?

Dread flooded her stomach, causing a wave of nausea. But for a fraction of a second, she felt something else: wind, despair, and the impetus of a rash decision.

No longer bothering to be quiet, she broke into a sprint.