Chapter 1:

The corridor was built out of an icy-looking white marble, yet it was strangely warm. Red velvet curtains shrouded intricately carved windows while fiery torches hissed and sizzled in their holders, throwing dancing shadows on the marble. Tight-lipped portraits of men and women hung from the walls, their glazed eyes glaring into space. Isn't this a cheerful place to be.

I was escorted down this very formal place by a young woman who was more cheerful than she looked. Her name was Julia and she had a short black bob and oversized earrings hanging from her earlobes. She worked in Admin and was gossiping with me with great gusto-though why she chose to get her gossip from a fourteen year old girl was beyond me.

"This is the place," Julia said brightly, stopping in front of a solid mahogany door with a daunting look about it. It almost looked like a dungeon door. Julia saw my nervous look and said brightly, "Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine. There's nothing scary about interviews." Says the one who could probably watch Chucky murder people and laugh.

"Oh, right," I said. "Nothing to be scared of." I raised my head up high and squared my shoulders.

"Good luck," Julia smiled, opening the door.

The room inside was spacious. Elaborate glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the carpet was soft, almost cloud-like. At least, it seemed cloud-like and soft. I was wearing thick boots. Anyway, the thick velvet curtains were pulled away from the windows with gold cords, revealing a white blizzard outside. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, there were tables laden with food, and there seemed to be about a million chairs set out in rows. There were quite a few people sitting, from a buff guy with an afro to a redheaded girl with perfectly straight hair that I was insanely jealous of. Opposite me, there was a giant red banner with a logo that read: "The Richmond Academy for the Magically Talented" in elaborate gold calligraphy.

The Richmond Academy is one of the best magic academies in the whole country. And the government pays your fees if you have an extreme magical talent. The government is paying half my fees so I must have some talent, right? Anyway, I stay with the Academy for five years, so I'll be nineteen when I graduate and I get a mage license saying I'm trained to practice magic. Then I'll go to uni and make a name for myself. As you can see, I have big plans for the future.

Right now, however, the Academy is testing future students' magical abilities, as a sort of final test. The people who don't cut it, well, they don't get to go to Richmonds, while the rest of us are graded by our abilities. I've heard that some people train and study for this months in advance, but I was going to trust in my abilities...and wing it.

Everyone was crowded around the fireplace, so I sat near a window close enough to get its heat, but faraway enough not to be smothered. I saw a couple of people in suits and felt underdressed in my green coat and black jeans. I was carrying a bag with me-not exactly a bag, more like an oversized handbag- and I pulled out my I-phone, stuck the earphones in my ears and picked a song, turning up the volume until I couldn't hear the animated, nervous chatter around me. It wouldn't last long, though. I noticed a guy walking towards me. He looked my age and seemed taller than me, which isn't saying much because I'm kinda short, more like midgety, and he had nice dark hair and eyes that were black, they were so dark. He had an arrogant swagger and plonked himself in the seat next to me before saying something I couldn't hear because Paramore was blasting through my ears.

I yanked out my earphones. "I'm sorry, what?"

He looked amused, and I must admit, he was pretty hot. "I said, are your parents terrorists? Because you're the bomb."

I laughed so hard; I nearly choked and fell out of my chair.

When I finally regained my composure, I looked at him and said, "If I had a giant, raw, scaly fish with me, I would slap you with it."

"Oh," he said, looking crestfallen. "But it was a good one, right?"

"No. No it was not."

"Oh."

There was now a very awkward silence between us. I was contemplating listening to my music again, but then he spoke up. "My name is Kyle. Like Kyle from South Park, except I'm neither a Jew nor 8. And my last name is Blackmoor."

"Umm, hi," I said. "Well, my name is Levi Morrianni. Levi like the jean line Levi. And no, I'm not wearing Levis. I don't own any, before you ask."

"Levi," Kyle grinned. "What an original name."

"Yes," I replied. "Very."

Kyle looked at me, like he was trying to figure something out. "Are you part Angel or something?"

I stared at him, surprised. "Yeah." I showed him a tattoo of a small black wing on my right hand. The tattoo marks me as an Angel, and because it's only half a wing, it means that I'm half-Angel. "How did you know?"

"Well," he began. "You're really pretty and skinny, but you aren't supermodel pretty like full Angels are, so I figured you were half-Angel."

"Ouch," I said, turning away. "Well, when I first saw you, I thought you were pretty hot, for a mortal, but now, I don't think you're all that good looking. And you seem like a douchey, arrogant jerk."

Kyle paused. "Wow. That was incredibly harsh and unnecessary," he said.

"No. That was completely necessary."

"That statement hurt me. Not on the outside, of course, but inside, I'm sobbing."

I grinned. He grinned back.

Kyle looked up. "Hey! It's my twin sister! Come on, sis!"

"You have a twin?" I said. "How does she put up with you?"

Kyle's twin was an emo looking girl with the same eyes and hair colour as him. I loved her hair. She had a giant fringe and shoulder length hair covered in blue streaks. I wished my hair was like that. My hair is chocolate brown and reaches my waist. It has a slight wave in it, but I wish it was straight. My fringe is like Kyle's twins; it covers half my forehead and an eye, but I like it that way. I would put streaks in, but I have a thing for bows in my hair, and somehow, I don't see me working the emo look with a bow in my hair.

"This is my sis Carly," Kyle said. Carly walked past me with earphones in her ears. She sat down next to me, and I could just make out the song that was playing.

"Is that My Chemical Romance?" I asked.

Carly pulled out her earphones and looked at me curiously. "Yeah," she said. She seemed the shy type. "Do you like them?"

"I love them!" I exclaimed.

Carly stared at me. "You do?" she said incredulously.

"Why wouldn't I?" I said. "They rock!"

"Their music is so dark and deep,"

"I know. Whenever I feel depressed, I listen to My Chemical Romance."

"I do too!"

"Are you two done talking about random emo bands yet?" Kyle inquired.

"Ignore him," Carly said. "It's the attention he wants."

"I don't crave attention," Kyle snorted.

"Suurree you don't," Carly replied.

"He seems the attention-craving type," I said.

"Nobody asked for your opinion," Kyle grumbled.

"Well, that's too bad, because I'm giving my opinion, whether you like it or not."

"Whatever," Kyle scowled.

"Douche," I muttered.

"Yes," Carly said in agreement. "Yes he is. Oh, I don't know your name."

"I probably should have introduced myself," I said. "I'm Levi Morrianni. And you are Carly Blackmoor, twin sister of the douche."

"Did you know, that when a girl is mean to a guy, it means the girl likes him?" Kyle remarked innocently.

"Really? Well, when a guy is a jerk to a girl, it means that he likes the girl. So you must really like me, because in the past ten or fifteen minutes, you've been a jerk to me the whole time."

"Schooled." Carly giggled.

Kyle opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the dungeon-like door swinging open with a thunderous boom. The room fell silent in less than a nanosecond. A short, plump woman in four-inch stilettos strode in. Her gray hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore a dull gray suit. She surveyed the room with harsh electric-blue eyes before stopping in front of the Richmond's' banner.

"Welcome to the Richmond Academy for the Magically Talented," her voice wasn't booming or loud, but it was a voice that commanded respect. "My name is Mrs McCallum, and I am the Deputy Headmistress of the Academy. You are all here today because there is a potential in you to become great leaders." She launched into a clichéd speech about how each of us is a potential leader and such, and that Richmond is proud to have us.

"Today your magical abilities will be tested and you will be graded into your classes based on your results. You will be called individually, in alphabetical order, and you will enter the room opposite this one." She gestured outside. "Please do not leave after your interview, as we have important notices and documents we need to give you. You can leave your belongings by this door during the interview." She picked up a clipboard and scanned it intently. "Aardmore, Kevin. You will have your interview first."

"And so it begins," Kyle said mysteriously.

"I wonder what stuff they're going to give us later..." I said.

"Probably where we board," Carly replied.

"That's right. I forgot this was a boarding school." I said.

"In the interview, they are going to test our magic, right?" Kyle asked.

"I think," Carly replied.

"Speaking of magic, what's yours?" I asked.

Kyle grinned. "This is really ironic, because I'm the happy, cheerful one, and I've got shadow magic, while Carly is the dark and shy one, and she's got light magic."

"Ironic much?" I muttered.

"Very ironic," Carly agreed. "What about you?"

"I have water magic," I explained. "So I can control anything with water. Ice, water, any liquid with water content-"

"People." Kyle interrupted.

"Yes. People." I agreed.

"What about the Angel part?" Carly inquired,

"How did you know? Twin telepathy? I'm joking," I added. "It was my mark, right? You saw it?" She nodded.

"Well," I said. "It gives me wings."

"Like Red Bull," Kyle interjected.

"Yes, Red Bull," I agreed. "But they disappear when I don't need them."

"That's handy," Carly remarked.

"Apparently, Angel blood has a lot of magical properties, so every time I hurt myself in public and bleed a little, random strangers come up to me and say, 'Can we borrow your blood?'"

"Because that is definitely not strange and awkward," Kyle said.

I shrugged, "You get used to it,"

During our conversation, another five or six people had gone through for their interviews.

"This is going by quite quickly," I remarked and Mrs McCallum read another name off her clipboard.

"Blackmoor, Carly."

Carly jumped. "Oh jeez, already?"

"Good luck!" Kyle and I chorused as she left.

"How do you think she'll do?" I asked.

"She'll do fine," Kyle replied. "She may not look it, but she's a very confident person and she keeps her head under pressure."

"Unlike you."

"Unlike me." Kyle looked at Mrs McCallum. "Our Deputy Headmistress lady is weird,"

"She seems fierce. Like a dragon." I remarked.

"Really? I was thinking along the lines of, ancient-old-talks funny- you get my drift."

"Yeah, let's hate on our Deputy Headmistress."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No." Obviously sarcastic.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Yes!" Now exasperated.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"You irk me."

"Why thank you."

"Urgh."

"Blackmoor, Kyle."

"Hey!" Kyle jumped up. "It's my turn!"

I gave him a weird look. "Dude, you are way too excited about this."

"What can I say?" He shrugged, walking away. "I'm a happy person."

"Douche," I muttered,

Carly walked back, looking her usual emo self.

"How was it?" I asked, as she sat down.

"It was alright, I guess," she shrugged.

"What happened?" I pressed. I needed to be prepared.

"Um, there was this really comfy armchair there, you sat on it, people asked you questions about your magic, they thank you, you leave."

"Is that it?"

"Yep, pretty much."

Another name was read out, and I groaned. "And I was just getting used to the non-doucheness."

Carly giggled. "I treasure every non-douchey moment I have. You should too."

Kyle sauntered towards us. "What up, people? Did you miss me?"

"Was I supposed to miss you?" I inquired.

"You suck," he scowled.

"And you are an ingrate," I replied.

"So...what was your interview like?" Carly asked.

Kyle shrugged. "Nothing much. Saved small children from a burning building. Got nominated for a Humanitarian Award. The usual."

"What are you trying to be, Miss Universe?" I retorted.

Kyle thrust out his chest. "Do I have the body for it?" he paused. "Let me check..."

"NO!" Carly and I shrieked. But he checked anyway.

"Wanna see?" he inquired innocently.

"You are a sick, sick person." Carly shuddered.

It seemed to take forever for my name to be called. I waited patiently as our Deputy Headmistress went through the Ds, Es, Fs, and beyond, while I somehow resisted the urge to throttle Kyle. Finally just as my self-control was starting to waiver, my name was called.

"Good luck!" Carly and Kyle grinned.

"Thanks," I smiled. Then I made my way to the dungeon-door.

Just as I walked into the corridor, the redhead girl with the really pretty straight hair walked past. And then, the door opened wide, and I nervously stepped into the darkness that awaited me.