The Guardians Chronicles

Alison stared out the tiny plane window at the bustle of Heathrow, chin resting on her hand. The businessman beside her had attempted conversation twice, then surrendered with a huffy rustle of his newspaper. She barely noticed. Today marked the beginning of her long-awaited holiday, her first glorious escape after years of uniforms, rules, and exams.

By all rights she should have been ecstatic.

Instead, all she could see was Keira’s face from that morning—tired, drawn, and pale beneath carefully applied makeup. Keira thought she was subtle, but Alison knew her too well. Something was wrong. Something her friend wasn’t telling her.

The air hostess launched into the safety demonstration, but the words slid past Alison like static. Her mind drifted back to the first time she ever met Keira.

She’d been thirteen, new to St. Catherine’s Academy for Girls, the prestigious finishing school for daughters of diplomats, CEO’s, and the impeccably wealthy. Alison had stood at the front of the classroom, waiting for the teacher to introduce her, drowning in a school jumper two sizes too big and battling the frizz of her red hair. Her black framed glasses kept sliding down her nose, and she’d prayed the ground would open and swallow her whole.

The other girls scented weakness instantly.

Giggles. Elbows jabbing friends. Stage-whispered carrot top and four-eyes floating through the air. Her cheeks burned an even deeper shade of crimson. She all but collapsed into the chair the teacher indicated.

And thank God, thank fate, thank someone, Keira had been sitting beside her.

When Alison risked a glance, she found warm green eyes and a calm, heart-shaped face framed by glossy black hair.

“Hi. I’m Keira,” she’d said gently. “Don’t mind that lot. They’re like sharks sensing blood with new girls. Just ignore them.”

Alison had smiled for the first time that day. That tiny moment became the spark of a friendship that had carried her through every storm that followed.

Sammy joined them six months later; small, fierce, and ready to punch anyone who looked at her sideways. She nearly got expelled on her first day after decking a girl who made a comment about her beautiful dark skin. Alison and Keira had sworn loyalty to her on the spot.

Even now, Alison’s stomach tightened when she thought of the humiliations she had endured over the years, especially those involving Isobel Montgomery. Isobel had perfected cruelty the way others mastered piano scales.

Yet, once, just once, Isobel had underestimated them.

Alison remembered it vividly.

The three girls had been sitting under the old oak tree in front of St. Catherine’s Tudor-style main building. Alison had been reading a letter from her parents in Canada, her father insisted on writing long, handwritten letters, never trusting email.

Isobel and her pack sauntered past. In a flash, Isobel snatched the letter and tore it to confetti.

“What the hell was that for?” Sammy shouted, fists already clenched.

“I was doing the bookworm here a favour,” Isobel sneered. “With glasses that thick, she probably couldn’t read it anyway. Who was it from, nerd? A secret boyfriend?”

Alison felt the heat rise from her chest to the tips of her ears. Tears dripped onto her polished school shoes. She stared down, wishing she could vanish.

Then a sudden wave of warmth swept past her skin. Gooseflesh rippled along her arms.

She looked up.

Keira had stepped forward. “Leave us alone, Isobel,” she said, voice unnervingly calm.

Sammy and Alison exchanged a look. Keira never confronted anyone. She preferred peace. Retreat over conflict.

“Well, well, Miss Congeniality speaks,” Isobel hissed.

Keira didn’t blink. “Back off. We’ve had enough of your shit.”

Isobel lunged, hands outstretched and clawed like she meant to rake skin.

Before Sammy could even jump in, Keira’s hands shot out and closed around Isobel’s wrists.

And Isobel froze. Her face drained of colour. Her lips parted in a strangled moan. Terror twisted her features.

Keira released her slowly.

The two girls stared at each other—one trembling, one absolutely still.

“You… you’re a freak!” Isobel panted, stumbling backward. She spun and bolted, her entourage scrambling after her.

Sammy gaped. “Girlfriend, what did you do?”

Keira’s jaw was tight, eyes blazing. “Showed her what happens when she pushes too far. I’m done playing nice.”

“Teach me!” Sammy demanded, but Keira only laughed and changed the subject.

They never spoke about the incident again. Neither did Isobel, and she stayed away after that.

Still, Alison had always wondered.

The plane jerked forward and accelerated, pulling her back to the present. Engines roared and the runway blurred as the aircraft lifted into the grey London sky.

Alison pressed her forehead to the cool window.

Keira had always been strong, quiet strong, the kind that didn’t need to be loud. So why did she feel, so suddenly, that her friend needed her now more than ever?