Why is everyone shooting daggers at her?

The blond guy, whose name appeared to be Alex, somehow managed to get the police to set up barriers at the entrance and exit of the port city and managed to issue a message to the news that asked the public to "report any orange bag your eyes fall on to the police." He even hired (or summoned?) A group of suspicious-looking people sitting at the 911 center to help answer the thousands of calls that suddenly flooded the center; most of them were just confused people who tried to fish out information, and some were school kids reporting about their classmate's horrible taste in backpack colors.

They waited until sunset just to be sure, but the bag with its unknown contents was nowhere to be found. In the end, the police had to withdraw the barrier.

In all of those hours, no one bothers to explain to Cecilia anything about what's going on. 

She learned from her life experience that it's better to never ask with your own initiative; this way, you can maintain the illusion that they would have explained it to you if you had asked.

When evening came, her stomach rumbled and her legs shook. She didn't understand how the youth around her could still walk after a day of searching in the burning sun without a shadow of a single building.

To her surprise, they never got up on a ship. Instead, they led her to a seemingly abandoned office near the port. That's when she first opened her mouth in hours.

"Sirius told me I should go on 'The Duchess of Malfi'; why are we here?" She won't find out this is the wrong group with the wrong lunatics after all these hours, right?

"The ship sailed hours ago," Alex said with mocking eyes, as if he had a personal grudge against her. "Don't tell me you thought that everyone was waiting for her highness to find her satchel."

The girl who attacked her with a knife intervened and started explaining, probably fearing that the situation would escalate. "Traditionally, there are ships from around the continent that go to the island. That's where "The Duchess of Malfi' will sail to the academia. This is a day-long ritual that these ships always leave exactly in the middle of the day and arrive exactly in the middle of the night. We missed our ship, so we will just go to the island directly, alright?" She looked around, trying to sense if other people would try to start trouble with the reason why they missed the traditional arrival for the first time in their young lives.

"How are we supposed to get there without a ship? Why are we in a building?"

Most of the teens had already ignored her and started drawing things in the corners of the room; only the girl had patience for her question, "We'll teleport."

"How?"

"You'll see."

No matter how oblivious to society Cecilia was, even she could tell she wasn't welcomed with open arms. In all the passing hours they have spent together only three people bothered to exchange a word with her, and two of them attacked her at some sort.

After a few minutes, all the people gathered in a circle, saying an ancient hymn. Cecilia tried to learn ahead and imitate their murmurs with partial success:

"Is vult ex uno loco ad alium."

"Is wolt uno loco asylum."

-

"Rogabit antiquos spiritus auxilium"

"Rough a bit of antique spirit asylum"

-

"Adiuvent eum ad ubi volebat."

"Audio vent to the Volvo"

-

"Meleprosi island!"

"My lap is an island!"

Not just one mocking and annoyed look was directed at her while she did this, but Cecilia always stood by her principles as it was about personal development. If she wants to get a good grade at the school she will attend for the first time in her life, she should start studying now.

Her enthusiasm for learning quickly faded as she saw to her horror that the other'study 'partners' had drawn daggers. Terrified that she might have pissed them off too much, she took a step back with the intention of running away, which was quickly blocked by the guy on her right.

"They won't kill you," she just found out. It was the guy with the black hair from before who grabbed her and said it with a smile, which was somehow different from the other mocking glares. "Look."

And indeed, instead of killing her (which was a tempting offer for some), they scratched their hands with the dagger. 

As before, this time too, the blood did not flow like normal but crawled on the floor in a sickening way, following the lines they drew only minutes ago.

"Don't worry," the black-haired guy said, looking at her with interest as she stared at the streams of blood. "You don't need to scratch yourself again."

Although this was not the most horrible part of the story of her life, Cecilia still breathed a sigh of relief. After all, she wasn't much of a masochist—one stab a day was enough for her.

The idea of the black hair head didn't quite match her expectations. "You just need to re-open the wound."

Before she could react, he pushed his fingers up her hand that was still held by his, causing more blood than before to ooze from her hand while he kept smiling in a now terrifying manner.

While Cecilia wasn't a masochist, she wondered about the guy being a sadist. Why raise false hopes and shatter them after a second? Is that twisted pleasure so worth it?

As her thoughts raced through her head, the last needed splash of blood hit the floor and quickly integrated with its kind.

A soft golden light flashed for a second before the flicker settled into a dark red one.

And just like that, they were gone.