Novels by Yaa-Asantewa Gordon

I stared at the woman across the desk, the one who just dropped a bombshell that vibrated through my bones. Tilly St’Clair. The woman I’d heard so much about, the one who raised my mother, the very same woman my mom said would be devastated when she disappeared. My mind whirled. How did she find me? How did she even know to look? A complex knot of doubt and fascination twisted in my gut. Her deep green irises, the exact shade of emeralds, were shining, glistening with unshed tears. Her lips quivered slightly, a subtle tremor as she fought to keep her emotions locked down. I tore my gaze from her, turning back to Headmaster Winthrop, a thousand questions screaming in my head. Questions I doubted he, in his tweed jacket and prim demeanor, had the answers to. “How—,” I started, my voice cracking, a dry rasp in my throat. I cleared it, forcing the words out again, clearer this time. “How did you find me?” It was the easiest question, the most immediate, the one that felt safest to ask r

“So, are you excited as I am for our first day of practical magics?” The question, delivered with enough effervescence to power a small city, snapped me out of my half-eaten oatmeal. Farrah didn't just sit; she plopped down in the seat opposite me, practically vibrating with suppressed energy. Her strawberry blonde hair, usually a wild halo, seemed to literally bounce around her face, framing those wide, baby blue eyes that were practically shining with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. I just shrugged, nudging a stray oat flake with my spoon. “Meh.” Her bouncing stopped abruptly, as if I’d hit a secret off-switch. Her eyes rounded, going full anime-disbelief. "Meh? Meh?! How could you be so cavalier about doing something so monumental? I mean, today we get to practice magic, Genesis! Not just read about it in dusty old textbooks or memorize endless lists of spells and potions. This is the real deal!" She had a point, I guess. We were finally about to start practic

Life at Solus Institute? It could've been a good one, sure. That is, if you were born there, if the sterile, regulated halls were all you’d ever known. But for me? Yeah, that’s where it got a little iffy. My life before Solus was a real one, a good one. Heck, a great one. I had a mom, a whole crew of friends, and yeah, even love. The kind of messy, complicated, wonderful love that doesn’t always fit into neat little boxes. Solus Institute was just a fancy way of saying "orphanage for supernatural kids." A home for children who lost all family, who were just alone in the world. It’s got that official, clinical vibe, you know? Every morning, the same routine. A disembodied voice crackles through the intercom at 6 AM sharp, dragging us from whatever fragile dreams we managed to cling to. Make our beds, shower, get dressed. Precision is key. By 6:45 AM, we’re lined up for inspection, uniforms crisp, hair neatly combed. A watchful eye scans for any deviation, any rumple in the fabric of c