Page 102 of The Bleak Beginning

The campus is eerily quiet as I make my way to the fountain. The only sounds are the soft rustle of leaves. The eagle statuesperched on their rail posts, silently judge me on my short walk over. As I approach the meeting spot, I scan the area, searching for any sign of movement. The fountain gurgles softly in the moonlight, its water shimmering like liquid silver. I’m alone.

I wait, and then I wait some more. Whoever left the note is late. Or maybe they’re watching me from the shadows, gauging my reaction. My breath catches in my throat as I wonder if this was all some cruel joke.

I’m about to call it quits and return to my dorm when I notice another folded piece of paper along the edge of the fountain, stuck to the side. It has the same handwriting as before.

The note has directions for me to follow. I’m supposed to go left and pass by the Ashbourne dorm, then keep walking for approximately half a mile until I reach the edge of the path.

Did I really want to go anywhere near Bishop’s building if I didn’t absolutely have to?

I hesitate, my feet rooted to the spot. The thought of going anywhere near my shadow’s dorm makes my skin crawl. But the mystery pulls at me, urging me forward.

The campus is bathed in shadows as I make my way toward his building. Every rustle of leaves makes me jump, and I find myself peering into dark corners, half-expecting to see Bishop’s scowling face. But the path remains deserted.

As I approach Ashbourne Dormitory, I slow my pace, my throat closing. The windows are mostly dark, but I can’t help tilting my head up, seeing a faint light flicker from the top floor. I hurry past, tucking my chin down.

Who cares where he is?

The half-mile stretch feels endless. The farther I get from the main campus, the more isolated I feel. Thick trees loom overhead, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers in the moonlight.

Finally, I reach the edge of the path. The darkness seems to deepen here, as if the trees are closing in around me. I fumble for my phone out of habit, wanting to use its flashlight to illuminate the area, only to remember the no phone rule.

My adrenaline surges as I approach a circular, glass-domed building. This has to be the spot. But what am I supposed to do now?

As if in answer, a faint light starts reflecting off the glass inside.

I take a step back, my mind spinning. This can’t be real. Yet here it is, right in front of me.

I hesitate for a moment, every instinct screaming at me to turn back. But curiosity wins out. With trembling hands, I push open the glass door and step inside.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing in the space. No response.

The plants inside brush against fingertips, some with soft petals, others with rough stems and thorns as I make my way toward the faint light in the center. I’m met with what appears to be a sundial, its intricate pattern catching my eye. It resembles a compass, with lines stretching out in all directions, and a pool of crashing water is etched into the stone at its base. I run my fingers along the design, admiring its beauty and precision.

I lift my head, taking in this new space. Moonlight filters through the curved glass panels of the greenhouse, casting a pale glow on the plants within the circular structure. Shadows dance across the leaves and vines, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

I’m amazed. How had I not found out about this place before? Who left those notes for me to discover it? Was there a purpose behind bringing me here? I had no answers to any of my questions.

As I stand there, lost in thought, a sudden movement catches my eye just outside the glass walls. I whip around, pulsehammering, but see nothing. Just shadows and plants. I’m about to dismiss it as my imagination when I hear it—a soft rustling, too deliberate to be the wind.

“Who’s there?” I call out, my voice trembling slightly. Silence answers me.

I take a step back, bumping into the sundial. My fingers glide over the dial’s pointer. A sharp pain shoots through my thumb as I notice a small drop of blood forming from a deep cut on my skin.

I curse at my stupidity as it drips along the surface of the dial, coating it’s delicate pattern with my blood. The sound of grinding stone fills the air as the sundial begins to rotate. I leap back, watching in awe as the pool at its base splits open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.

My body buzzes. A secret passage? Here? Part of me wants to run, the other part wants to see where this leads.

I stand frozen, staring at the gaping entrance that has suddenly appeared before me. The staircase spirals down into an inky blackness that seems to swallow all light. A cool draft wafts up from below, carrying with it a musty scent of earth and age.

My heart pounds in my chest as I weigh my options. Every rational thought screams at me to leave, to run back to the safety of my dorm and forget this ever happened. But a smaller, more insistent voice urges me forward. I’ve come this far, haven’t I?

Taking a deep breath, I place my foot on the first step.

A loud thunk startles me, causing me to pause mid-action. It almost feels like my heart is about to jump out of my chest. Did someone throw something at the glass walls, or am I being paranoid?

I turn back to look at the stairs, convinced this is some elaborate prank, and I see a glimmer of light below.

The noise outside sounds again, louder this time. I freeze, my foot still hovering above the first step. The glimmer of lightbelow flickers, then grows stronger. It’s moving, I realize with a jolt. Moving upward.

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