Eight adults crammed around Rhian in the Head Mistress’ office.

“Tell us again how you got outside.” Mr. Jones, the crafting instructor, squinted his rabbit-like eyes.

Rhian sighed. She’d been questioned so long her pyjamas had begun to dry. “There was a paper stuck to the door, it had a word on it.”

“What did it say?” Mr. Jones continued.

“I don’t know, like I’ve explained, it was in Welsh.”

Ms. Rhys, the Welsh language teacher, clicked her tongue. “But you knew enough Welsh to identify the creature as a golem?”

“I told Rhian what to say.” Mrs Mackerel moved from her standing spot by the door and rested her hand on the back of Rhian’s chair. “Now I think we’ve gone through this enough. Let the poor girl wash up and get some rest.”

Whispers passed between several members of staff.

The headmistress waited for silence to return before passing her verdict. “Very well, Apprentice. We’ll send for you if there is more to discuss.”

Rhian was followed by Mrs Mackerel out of the stuffy room. The stone floor was cool under one foot and crunchy under another.

“About tomorrow’s… well today’s exam.” Mrs Mackerel covered a yawn. “There’s no need to attend. I’m awarding you a score of eighty.”

“An eighty, Mrs?”

“You’re welcome to take the exam if you think you can do better on no sleep.”

“No, no eighty is fine. More than fine. Thank you.” The pair walked in step up the staircase.

“You know having an innate ability is more reason to study hard, not less. Don’t waste your talent.”

Rhian dug her hands into her coat. “Yes, you’re right. sorry, Mrs Mackerel.”

They finished up the rest of the steps in quiet until they reached the door to the student dorms.

“Mrs Mackerel, about the students we found… are they okay.” Rhian squeezed her hands into fists. She’d not had an opportunity to check Gretchen over before being whisked away to the office. Mrs Mackerel however, had joined the interrogation late.

Her composition teacher shook her head. “I’m sorry, Rhian. Gretchen Wells should recover soon enough, but Afia Phillips remains in critical condition and the third, we were unable to identify.”

“I see,” said Rhian because she felt she should say something. The spider hadn’t been real, so it wasn’t eating them, golems don’t eat. “What was it doing to them?”

Mrs Mackerel looked side to side. Her hesitation to answer made Rhian fear something unimaginable.

“Do not repeat this.” Mrs Mackerel leaned over beside Rhian’s ear. “The golem was siphoning their awen, stealing away their abilities. Be careful Miss Peregrine and get some rest.”

Rhian nodded and entered the dorms in a daze. Dawn’s light brightened the hall. She entered her room and threw her coat on the floor. Perhaps Katie Phan had the right of it. No education is worth all this, even a magical one.

She pulled out a towel from her dresser. A hot shower and some sleep, then she’d go check on her friends in the infirmary. She couldn’t help but feel a spot of pride. It was touch and go, and incredibly foolish, but she’d saved them.

Rhian spotted a piece of folded parchment laid on her pillow. No one should have been in here. She picked it up and read.

“This is only the beginning. Now… cysgu.”

Rhian’s eyes rolled back into her head. She felt herself fall. She was out before she landed.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

[https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/1000/1*1BdMHI3wOc12swer2xolwg.jpeg]

“Take this.” Gretchen shoved a wicker doll into Rhian’s hand. “It’s a protective talisman.”

“Thanks, Grez.” Rhian ran a finger over the smooth twigs twisted into straight limbs and a squarish head. The flow of students in the halls dried up to a small trickle.

Gretchen gave a weak smile, and then flinched, hugging herself as an inconsiderate year eleven brushed by her. It’d been three days since Gretchen was released from infirmary, but she still looked pale, her eyes less vibrant. She couldn’t remember how she came to be in the cocoon, but the event had left her changed. Rhian figured it was a good thing she hadn’t told her about the letter she’d found. Gretchen already seemed stressed enough.

Rhian walked her to the exam room and stopped outside the door.

Gretchen pushed a stray strand behind her ear. “Are you going to the memorial?”

“Yeah, of course. When your exam ends, I’ll meet you out here, we’ll go together.”

Gretchen shook her head dislodging the hair she’d just pushed back. “I’ve another make up after this. And there are some things I need to do first.”

Library probably. Rhian’s roommate had taken to spending every spare minute there, and after lights out Gretchen stayed up all night reading by torch. If she got anymore bookish, Rhian was going to have to start calling her Braith.

“I’ll go with you, I’m done for the day.”

“No.” Gretchen looked into the exam room and back. “You should be there at the Memorial, for Afia. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” Gretchen stepped into the classroom and stopped. “Just… be sure to take the talisman with you, wherever you go.”

“I’ll even bring it in the loo, no worries Grez. Good luck on your test.” Rhian watched her roomy join the rest of the exam takers inside before resuming an aimless wander around the halls.

She really had nothing to do, except maybe study but there was only so much of that a normal person could bear. No mobile phones, no internet, no TV. It was beginning to dawn on Rhian that prestigious might be code for boring — it certainly wasn’t for safe.

“Miss Peregrine.” The prim Ms.Landeg pointed her chin at her. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Rhian shrugged. “Not really.” She looked around to see that she’d wandered her way over toward the teachers’offices — a bureaucratic row of identical doors.

Ms. Landeg studied her for a moment. “Would you mind doing a task for me then? It’s about Afia Phillips.”

Rhian’s heart sunk. “Yes, of course.”

“Miss Phillips parents have expressed wishes to not return to Crymych, which leaves the matter of the girl’s room. I’d have asked her roommate — ”

“But Katie Phan’s left.” Rhian muttered.

“Precisely. Running into you here, I thought perhaps…”

“Yes, yeah, I’ll do it.” Rhian stared down at her black shoes whilst the Ms. Landeg instructed her on where to get boxes and where to put them when she’d finished. Rhian nodded along until the teacher was satisfied she understood her task and moved on. Rhian headed dazedly to carry it out.

It was eerie being in Afia’s room.

The air still smelt like her, all peppermint gum and sweet perfume. Her bedspread ruffled up as though she’d just climbed out and would be returning to resume her sleep.

Opposite, Katie Phan’s bed lay stripped of linen, Katie’s entire half of the room removed of all personal effects — not that Afia’d had many of her own. The school didn’t allow much of that.

Rhian started at Afia’s desk, placing several notebooks in a box to be sent to her home. There was a pile of tomes in the corner — library books mainly. Rhian placed them in another box to be returned to Ms. Landeg. Afterwards, feeling like an invader, she set upon the chestnut dresser. Each deep drawer shallowly lined with Afia’s clothes.

Rhian picked up the school issued pyjama’s first and hesitated on which box to place them. The idea of someone else wearing her friend’s clothes was disturbing — into the box to her parents it went, followed by Afia’s casual wear, spare uniform, socks, bras and knickers.

The task felt like a violation of privacy and Rhian had difficulty shaking the uncomfortable mix of guilt and anger swelling inside her, even more so when she spotted the notebook that had been hidden beneath the clothing.

Pink and blue stripped, Rhian ran her fingers down the smooth front. She shouldn’t… she wouldn’t. Let Afia have at least this be private… though if her parent’s read it and something troubling is in it, perhaps Afia would have wanted her to screen for content — Rhian shook her head and tossed it into the box. That sort of thing no longer mattered.

A folded piece of parchment slipped from the notebook pages and fluttered onto the floor.

Parchment like she’d seen on the unlocked door, like she’d seen on her pillow. Rhian snatched it up and unfolded it with warm fingers. Messy handwriting scrawled down the letter in uneven blocks. It was addressed to Afia, and the only parts of it written in English were swears, slurs and the word die.

The paper trembled in Rhian’s grip. It was signed, Gareth.