The towering spires of the castle walls emerged from the heavy fog. Tall, dark and pointed. Like claws reaching from the depths of hell.
The wrought iron gates opened before the bus reached them, glowing with the essence of centuries old magic. The vehicle only had one passenger, nestled in the very last seat. Shade watched the dark auburn trees pass, turning into tall walls of stone and brick. Ivy grew over the crenellations, twirling down in a blanket of green and brown.
Roriara Academy stood majestic in the late evening sun. The castle’s bailey was deserted, the old buildings scattered around the courtyard were dark and desolate. Shade had expected students to be bustling about, free in the spare hours after classes. But not a single soul was in sight. The bus circled the roundabout before halting in front of a building against the wall. An old wooden sign hung from rusty chains above the doorway, a flickering lantern illuminating the scrawled words: ADMINS OFFICE.
Mud squelched under Shade’s heavy leather boots, a light layer of condensation matting her hair as she stepped off the bus, trunk in tow. No sooner had all her bags hit the ground did the bus pull away in haste, speeding back down the long gravel road to the nearest town. She was left standing alone in the dreary cold courtyard, and for the first time since she’d boarded her flight in New Orleans, she felt at peace.
She’d read that Roriara was known for its bay-salt breeze and lush green pine forests. All she could smell was the crisp, slightly sweet scent of autumn and petrichor from the thick fog. Add a little bayou grace to the mix and it would almost smell like home. Shade’s chest ached at the thought, knowing by this time her grandmother would be enjoying her evening tea on their old porch, while watching the last fireflies over the swamp.
With a heavy heart, she pushed forward, knocking loudly with a single gloved hand. The door shook and rattled but held strong. Through the little window, she could see the flicker of a light inside, deep in the heart of the building. She tried wiggling the handle; it was locked. Shade knocked again, and no one answered. The flickering light cast a shadow through the doorway, exposing a second door around the back. She followed the little stone path, her leather jacket squelching in the rain. The back of the admins office came to a fenced area, dozens of tombstones scattered, respectfully undisturbed.
Kneeling in the weeds was a boy.
He sat unmoving, short golden locks combed behind pointed ears. The grave he was facing seemed fairly new, glossy and pristine, the earth before it still setting.
“Excuse me?” Shade called, stepping into the graveyard. It was a bizarre thing to have on school grounds, but she supposed it made sense. Given the castle was over five thousand years old. The boy’s head snapped up, piercing green eyes meeting hers. “I was wondering if you could help me find the-”
He disappeared in a puff of dust.
Completely vanished.
The wind whistled in his absence, leaving her alone once again. So much for first impressions. Shade sighed and knocked heavily against the admins office back door. The window was covered in a little pink curtain. She waited a minute before knocking again, teeth grit in annoyance. The door swung open, a short, wart-faced woman answered.
The old woman smacked her gums, orbs hazed over with gray. “Yes?”
Shade cleared her throat. “I’m Nightshade Jones, I was supposed to meet the-”
“Ophelia?” The woman cooed. “Sammy’s little girl?”
A bitter taste flooded her mouth. She fought the rage burning beneath her skin, gloved hands clenched tight to suppress it. “My name is Shade. I don’t answer to Ophelia.”
The woman studied Shade’s figure, and the defensive lilt in her voice. “Oh well i do apologize-”
“Ophelia Nightshade Jones, what has it been? Three…four years?” A second voice carried through the darkness. The headmistress stepped out of the shadows, embracing Shade with a fond smile. Her aunt was a tall woman, descended from a giant in fact. She stood a little over seven feet tall, with long ebony hair, much like Shade’s.
“It’s actually just “Shade” now, Aunt Mabel,” She forced out, wiggling free from the vice-like grip.
Mabel stood straight, smoothing her monochromatic polka dot dress. “Yes, that’s right, I do believe your Grandmother mentioned the name change in her letter. of course, you’ll always be Ophelia in my mind, but to each their own. When did you arrive? Has anyone introduced themselves to you yet?”
Shade’s gaze wandered back to the fresh grave, to the flattened patch of weeds where the boy had knelt. She kept her tone quiet, as if one word could wake the newly dead, which it probably could. “Not yet.”
“Well, we should get you settled in and meet your new dorm mate, yeah?” Mabel smiled sweetly, offering her a sickly pink umbrella. Shade studied it with a scornful glare. The fabric caught fire and fell from Mabel’s hand, mud quenching the flames.
Mabel kept a respectful distance from her after that, walking in silence as they entered the once familiar grand halls of Roriara Academy.
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