By the time the lesson had finally ended, Osric’s hand was cramping and covered in ink blotches. They had spent what had seemed like hours analysing the properties of the foundational spells of each god. To top things off, Professor Edwards had assigned them a page-long essay on which spell they wanted to learn first which was due in three days. Osric only wished he could have as much fun writing about spellcasting as Professor Edwards seemed to have talking about it. Nevertheless, he knew it was a decision worth putting some thought into—especially since he would soon be duelling with it.
“So,” Nellie said, peering once more over his notes, “which spell are you considering?”
“Uh…I’m not sure. Maybe Control Air?” Osric replied, tucking his sprawling notes into his bag. Out of the two fundamental spells Nautanios offered, Control Air was supposedly slightly easier to tame.
“Interesting,” Nellie said, “I imagined you would be up for more of a challenge. Mind you, I wonder how soon they’ll let us learn a second spell? We’ll need every option we can get to defend ourselves against those Locurithian brutes.” Mary, who was standing a couple of desks down, took a few steps towards them.
“‘Brutes’?” she said, her eyebrows raised in mock offense.
“You know what I mean,” Nellie said. “Us elemental mages might be slinging spells at each other, but at least we aren’t running up to our adversaries and clobbering them on the head!” Admittedly, Professor Edwards had just explained that most of Locurith’s spells revolved around magically-enhanced physical combat.
Mary grinned. “Just for that comment, I’ll make sure to clobber you first.”
The rest of the morning ticked by slowly. Osric struggled to concentrate, his thoughts still resting with the prospect of failing Domatio Incantationis. Their next lesson, Introduction to Botany, was followed by Etiquette. His cramp worsened with the strain of writing down an endless stream of information. Eventually, he gave up. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he hoped that learning the correct way to wear a hat was as useless as he suspected.
Lunch was served as usual at noon. Upon entering the Great Hall, he inhaled deeply, savouring the smell of a rich beef broth. The three boys found Nellie and Mary, etiquette lessons having been taught separately for girls and boys, and took their seats. Osric had almost finished his meal without saying more than a few words. He turned to his left, where Mary was sitting.
“Did you end up having a look at the out of bounds area at all?” he said, devouring the last piece of bread which had accompanied his broth.
“Not really,” she replied, “Every possible entrance through the castle was locked. I tried peering in through a window from outside, but nothing seemed out of order. Other than it being completely devoid of people, of course.”
“Hm. No sleeping gods then?”
Mary scoffed. “Can’t rule it out just yet. They’ll be up in the towers, won’t they? Nothing but the best for the Empire’s guardians.”
Osric felt a little more alert as they left the Great Hall, the somewhat hollow feeling of eating Ravenhurst food becoming more tolerable with every meal. The first-years headed outside, again in gendered groups, for Athletics. Avery and Edgar wore their own exercise clothes. Osric, whose parents had insisted was not allowed to bring anything besides underclothes and a spare set of uniform, had to borrow some rags from a dusty lost property box.
“Let’s stick together, gentlemen,” Mr Wells, a well-groomed man of Tiernan’s age, called out from in front of the huddled students. “No veering off the path, and no racing off into the distance. You must stay within my sight at all times.”
They headed off at a steady pace. Osric hung off the back of the group, keen to avoid being observed. Avery stuck with him, perhaps out of pity, while Edgar joined Pendlebury and a scrawny, curly-haired boy in pushing ahead at the front. As they made their way down the avenue leading from Ravenhurst’s main entrance, Osric glanced longingly over at the forest’s edge.
Twenty minutes later they reached the turning point of their route: a quaint settlement barely larger than Brynwode. Osric was itching to explore it, its cobblestone paths and thatched roofs reminding him of home, but Mr Wells gave them barely a minute's rest before setting off again.
Osric was used to running, but his legs still ached from his aether sickness in Professor Edwards’ first lesson and by the time the group crossed Ravenhurst’s iron gates he felt as if he had scaled a mountain.
“Good effort today, gentlemen,” Mr Wells said, “Head back to your dorms to clean yourselves up.”
Osric dragged himself up the steps, regretting not for the first time that their dorm was so high up.
“Did you hear what Mr Wells said during the break?” Edgar asked as they reached their dormitory. He continued without waiting for a response. “Apparently, next time he’ll let us run on ahead if we wish. I reckon I could have left Pendlebury behind—he was gasping towards the end.”
Osric wasn’t paying attention. As he rummaged through his top drawer for a change of shirt, something had caught his eye. A crimson envelope, barely the size of his palm, lay nestled on top of his garments. He paused, his heartbeat quickening, and reached his hand out slowly to pick it up. It was addressed to him. The lettering was simple yet elegant and the flap was sealed with black wax imprinted with the image of a raven.
He opened it. A piece of card was inside, with a few words written in the same style as the envelope.
Seek knowledge, and wisdom will find you.
His brow furrowed. He read the words again, but was no more illuminated the second time. As he tilted the paper in his hand, he noticed that there was something on the other side. Scribbled in black ink, a crude map of Ravenhurst filled most of the space. It was far less detailed and far smaller than the one he already possessed; many of the rooms had been merged together or omitted, but Osric still recognised the academy’s labyrinthine network of corridors and towers. A little way north of the centre, a red ‘x’ sat on the edge of Clavis Quadrangle. Written below the drawing was a message:
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
To avoid the fate of Thomas Hearne, fear not the flame which does not burn.
He stared at the map for a moment, searching his mind for any meaning to the words.
“How odd!” Avery said. Osric turned to face him. In his hand, Avery clutched his own crimson envelope. The boys met each other's gaze.
“What’s that?” Edgar asked, his eyes darting between his two of them.
“A map of sorts,” Avery replied. “It was in my chest of drawers. If Osric also has one, then perhaps you do too.” Edgar clambered over his bed to check his drawers, searching for a minute before declaring it fruitless.
“Here,” Avery said, “See if you can make any sense of it.” Edgar took the contents of the envelope from him, flipping it over a few times as he read and reread each side.
“Who is Thomas Hearne?” he asked.
“Haven’t the faintest idea,” Avery said.
Osric joined the two boys near Edgar’s bed. He beckoned for Edgar to hand over the other envelope, then held them up side by side to compare. While the maps were clearly drawn with an imprecise hand, he saw no discernable differences between the two cards.
“They could have at least signed their name,” Avery said. “Who do they think they are, sneaking into our room to leave us these cryptic riddles?”
Osric’s stomach dropped. Avery was right. Someone had been in their room, rifling through his possessions. His breath caught in his throat.
The idol.
He scrambled over to his chest of drawers, yanking the third drawer open and thrusting his hand to the back corner. He scrabbled around, his fingers scratching against the back before finding purchase on the familiar rough grooves of Elowen’s figure.
His shoulders slumped with relief as he pushed the drawer shut again. They hadn’t taken it, though whether or not they had discovered it he couldn’t be sure. He let out a deep breath.
“Everything alright there?” Avery asked, his tone concerned and curious.
“Yes, yes, quite alright,” Osric said, putting on what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
Edgar and Avery studied him quizzically as he straightened up and wandered back over to them, picking up his discarded red envelope on the way.
“So,” Osric said with renewed vigour, “what do you say we see what this red ‘x’ is about?”
Avery chuckled. “I thought you might say that. I don’t see why not. Perhaps we should ask around and see if anyone else received similar letters?”
“Asking around didn’t exactly go to plan last time, did it?” Osric said. “It’s not like we have to do anything against the rules—just go to the ‘x’ and see what's there.”
“Let’s do it,” Edgar said, “We should tell the girls at dinner. Nellie’ll probably figure the riddles out in no time at all!”
Osric and Avery agreed. The three of them finished changing, their next lesson due to start in ten minutes. Osric fumbled with his tie. His usual struggles were amplified by the residual adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
I can’t leave the idol here. Someone will find it. I have to find a better place to hide it.
He waited until Avery and Edgar were distracted, then reached into the third drawer and retrieved the idol, wrapping it in rags before placing it at the bottom of his bag. They headed out for their next lesson.
Osric’s focus during the afternoon’s lessons was even worse than it was during the morning. Worry supplanted fatigue, his mind racing with the possibilities of where he could stash his idol of Elowen. He debated hiding it in one of the seemingly disused storerooms that Avery and he had discovered the day prior, but he decided that it still seemed too risky.
I’ll have to hide it somewhere outside of Ravenhurst. It’s the only way I can be sure no one will find it.
Once his final lesson was over, he slipped out of the classroom before the others could reach him and scurried down the corridor to the nearest exit. He would have questions to answer later, but for now he couldn’t risk telling them what he had planned. His heart thumped in his chest as he approached the exit, imagining with every step that Mrs Hawthorne would spring out from the shadows to apprehend him. He crossed the threshold uninterrupted and strode as fast as his tired legs would allow him towards the forest’s edge.
His bag weighed him down as he passed under the vast glass eyes of the towers above. Pushing past the treeline, he slowed his pace slightly, allowing himself to breathe more deeply now that he had escaped the academy’s line of sight. The cool air of the forest embraced him. Faint rustles of leaves mingled with the sound of twigs crunching underfoot. He felt at home in the forest, despite the stress of the task at hand.
He pressed on, heading due south of Ravenhurst. If he could keep a handle on his direction, it would help him retrieve the idol later if he deemed it safe. Perhaps he would do so on the last day of term, just before he travelled back home to Brynwode. His path aligned with that of a trickling stream for a few hundred metres before it veered off east.
Now sufficiently far from the academy, he began to scan his surroundings for landmarks—anything that would help him locate his hiding spot later. He needed somewhere sheltered from the elements or else the unvarnished wood of the idol would deteriorate before he could rescue it. His gaze fell upon every rock, tree or clearing that bore the slightest oddity, but none felt unique enough to entrust with his most prized possession.
Just as panic started to creep in, he found it.
An immense boulder jutted out from the forest floor, half immersed in moss as it surged upwards towards the sky. Its surface bore the marks of decades of wear, yet its sheer size left enough room underneath sheltered from the worst of the elements. The forest seemed somehow more alive here than anywhere, the sounds of birds piercing through the canopy as Osric took off his bag.
He pulled the idol from within, removing it from the rags. He sat down onto the damp forest floor beside the boulder, turning the idol over in his hand. Was he truly to abandon it here? Out in the cold, cast asunder like his dreams of ever meeting Elowen herself. He felt a deep twist in his stomach.
How can I do this to her? What would she think of me now?
His voice cracked as he spoke aloud. “I’m sorry, Elowen. I didn’t realise… I just wanted to keep you with me.”
He wiped a tear from his left cheek.
“Please forgive me. I’m just trying to keep you safe. I will find you again, I promise. I’ll find a way to get around the oath spell. No matter what it takes, I will learn your magic one day.” He sighed deeply, then stood up. He felt stronger than before, more purposeful.
He wasn’t abandoning her—just biding his time.
He wrapped the idol back up, savouring its image one last time before tucking it away in the deepest recess of the boulder’s protection. He drew in a deep breath.
Crunch. He spun around.
An inhuman voice called out to him.
“What have we here?”