Page 24 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Gwyn asked, her voice warm. She let go of my hand and ran onto an old wooden bridge that spanned the water. The bridge creaked under her feet, but she seemed oblivious to it, carefree in a way that made her seem untouchable by any worries. She danced on the bridge, giggling softly as the wind caught her hair.

“It’s mesmerising,” I replied, bending down to touch the water with my fingertips. The cold water felt purer than warm water, and as I examined it closely, it appeared quite clean. The whole scene looked like something from a fairy tale.

“Most students believe the water’s cursed,” Gwyn explained as she sat down on the bridge, dangling her feet over the edge.“There’s a story about a girl who fell in and drowned, and supposedly, her spirit is still tied to the lake.”

I stood up again, walking over to join her. The bridge creaked ominously under my weight.

“Tell me more about this urban legend,” I asked, swinging my feet beside hers. Gwyneth stared out at the lake for a moment, then began to speak again, her voice distant and thoughtful.

“Once upon a time, two friends loved to run away from their responsibilities. On days where the normal life got a little too normal, they put on their prettiest dresses and started playing lost princesses while they ran around the woods to their final destination–the lake of enchanted folklores. That’s what the two friends called the water, since they used to write down their own folklore about what had happened on these waters before. One day, the two girls–despite them being already young ladies–came here again in the night before Christmas. The youngest of the girls didn’t realise the frozen lake might not be thick enough to dance on it. In her rush of just wanting to escape reality, she didn’t notice the lake cracking under her feet. The next moment, her friend was screaming for her to get off the frozen water, but fate had already written her destiny and the girl disappeared in the frozen waters. Her heart stopped from the cold before she had a chance to fight,”

Gwyn’s smile faded as she finished the story, and a wave of sadness washed over me.

“Poor girl,” I murmured, brushing my hair behind my ears as the air grew colder, and the wind picked up. “What were their names?”

Gwyn shrugged. “I do not know, there is a part of me that believes that the tale carries its truth, but the only titles the girls received were the Fox and the Doe.”

I almost thought about asking Maisie later if she had somewhat ever heard about the tale of the Fox and the Doe of Aquila Hall, but the fact that there were secrets she intensively hid made me think twice about asking her. But after all, I only knew her for almost a month so I wouldn’t judge. Her friendship meant too much to me to judge her too soon.

“Gwyn?”

She turned to face me, a small spark of happiness returning to her expression. “Yes?”

“Do you know what Maisie does when she leaves our room in the middle of the night?”

“No, I don’t,” came her immediate reply.

“Then what was the secret you told me to uncover?”

Gwyneth folded her hands in her lap, her expression becoming serious. “Secrets aren’t meant to be told. They’re meant to be found.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ARCHER

Midnight wasthe time when the darkness was closest to your soul. Its claws scratched at the surface of your mind, guiding you through the fog of shadows to its pitch-black heart. But the darkness had never scared me when I awoke in the dead of night to the bawling of spirits who hadn’t yet made their way into the light–light being a vague term for what awaited them after death had struck. No one knew where we’d go, because there wasn’t a single soul that had outlived death yet.

Midnight had become a time I looked forward to, a time when I could be the version of myself my family had suppressed over the years in Kingstone Manor, where the doors had always needed to stay closed.

I walked down the icy stone steps leading from the boys’ dorms to the corridors that connected each of the rooms in Aquila Hall. There wasn’t a single room you needed to walk through to find your destination in another. No rooms were connected by doors. If you wanted to get anywhere, you were forced to cross the corridors, which wasn’t something the youngest were looking forward to when they first arrived. This whole place was built like a bloody labyrinth. It wouldn’tsurprise me if the actual maze on the backside of the school had been inspired by the layout of Aquila.

Fall made itself known by the howling of the wind against the old, grimy windows as I passed them, heading towards the library to meet up with my friends, who would no doubt scowl at me again for being almost fifteen minutes late. It wasn’t my fault, though–it was Elsie’s, who had called me about an hour ago, asking if I was joining them for Christmas this year. She was more begging than asking, because she missed me and wanted me to talk to Father, who’d been furious with Elsie when she’d asked to transfer from her current boarding school to mine.

It had taken me almost an hour to convince my little sister that Aquila Hall wasn’t made for her. Sure, I appreciated the thought of her wanting to spend more time with her older brother, but there was no chance in hell I was going to be the reason she’d transfer here. In the end, it was my argument that Aquila wasn’t built for children with talented hands on instruments, and we didn’t have the teachers who could truly nurture the kind of talent Elsie had. She’d always loved music, and in her words, the piano had called to her one morning, telling her it was her fate to learn and play it. She was seven and told Mum a fairy had shared it with her. Mum had laughed in delight at her daughter’s fantasy and almost immediately got her a teacher.

With the torch of my phone, I made it to the library and slipped into our hideaway, hidden from the eyes of those who weren’t meant to see beneath the grounds of the school.

I casually walked down the stairs, feeling the chill from the stone walls through my sweatpants and the thin layer of my long-sleeved shirt. I wasn’t in a hurry. They could either wait for me, or they’d catch me up on what they’d discussed while I’d been absent.

I finally made it through the long archway, and my friends let out a collective sigh.

“I almost won,” Jesse mumbled, disappointment lacing his voice as he turned his head to look at Naomi. His feet were stretched out lazily on the table, which was probably worth four figures. He wore green socks with tiny golden dragons on them, like a five-year-old.

Naomi shot him a triumphant smile. “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” she replied, brushing her long black hair behind her ears. Her attention was now on me as I pulled out the chair next to my first friend I’d made at this school almost five years ago, Nathaniel McConnell. He was the only one who looked genuinely annoyed by my late arrival, as usual. His girlfriend, who had her legs splayed out across his lap, greeted me with an amiable smile.

Mai was the most compassionate incarnation of sunshine I’d ever met. Since we were raised together like family, I often called her my cousin instead of the simple termfriend. Something about her grandmother owing my grandfather had made their children become close friends, who then proceeded to often forcing us to play together as children as well.

“Why are you so late?” She asked with a yawn. It was almost one in the morning, and our education the following day would certainly suffer from the lack of sleep, but this was the only time we had to meet up and ensure no unwanted ears were listening.

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