Page 103 of The Bleak Beginning

My instincts scream at me to run, but curiosity roots me to the spot. The light grows brighter, illuminating the rough stone walls of the staircase. I can hear footsteps now, echoing off the walls, growing louder with each passing second.

My breath quickens as I debate what to do. Should I flee? Hide? Confront whoever—or whatever—is coming up those stairs?

I spin around, ready to bolt, but my foot catches on a plant’s coiled stem. I stumble, arms flailing, and crash to the ground. Pain shoots through my elbow as I land hard on the stone floor.

The footsteps below pause, then quicken. Panic floods through me as I scramble to my feet, ignoring the throbbing in my arm. I lunge for the glass door, yanking it open and bursting out into the darkness.

I don’t stop to look back, just run. My feet pound against the path as I sprint back toward campus, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Branches whip at my face, but I barely notice. All I can think about is putting as much distance as possible between myself and whatever was coming up those stairs.

As I near Ashbourne Dormitory, a figure steps out from the shadows. I skid to a halt, my heart leaping into my throat. But as the figure moves into the light cast by a nearby lamppost, I recognize Sutton.

“Whoa, easy there,” she says, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “What’s got you running like the hounds of hell are after you?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. How can I possibly explain what just happened? Would she even believe me?

Sutton’s brow furrows with concern as she takes in my disheveled appearance. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I manage to croak out, my voice hoarse from running. “Just…went for a late-night walk.” I shouldn’t even be talking to her right now after how she betrayed me. Lied to me.

Sutton’s pupils tighten, clearly not buying my flimsy excuse. “A late-night walk that has you looking like you’re scared of your own shadow?”

I hesitate, torn between my desire to confide in someone, and my fear of sounding crazy. But then I remember how she deceived me and decide against it. She’s not my friend, she’s a Legacy. That’s where her loyalty lies.

“It’s nothing,” I insist, trying to steady my breathing. “I just got spooked by some shadows. You know how creepy Altair can be at night.”

I try to step around her, but Sutton blocks my path. “Wait,” she says, her tone dipping in volume. “I know things have been…tense between us lately. But—”

“Why are you out here lurking in the shadows, Prescott?” Bishop asks. His voice coming up from behind me.

I spin around, my stomach fluttering in response to his voice despite my inner objections. He emerges from the darkness, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim light. His eyes, cold and calculating, flick between Sutton and me.

“I’m not lurking, I have every right to be out here, same as you.” I snap, trying to keep my voice steady. “I was just—”

“Just what?” Bishop interrupts, impatient. “Sneaking around campus in the middle of the night? Up to no good, as usual?”

I clench my jaw, anger momentarily overriding my fear. “You’re one to talk about being up to no good. What are you doing out here?” I accuse back.

“That’s my business.”

Out of all the Legacies, why did he have to be the one to show up? He hates me more than anyone else. I can handle Sutton’s presence, but his is the most infuriating of them all. My mindcatches up now that more of the shock has worn off, and I realize he’d come from the same direction I had. Was he the one lurking below the stairs, or was he responsible for the noise outside? Maybe it was none of the above.

“Well, whatever yourbusinessis, I’m sure it’s nothing good,” I retort, trying to keep my voice steady, despite the tremor of fear still running through me.

Bishop glares. “Watch your tone. You’re in no position to be making accusations.”

The weight of the moment presses down, both of us holding our ground. Sutton shifts uncomfortably beside me, her gaze darting between us.

“Look,” she begins, her voice placating, “it’s late. We should all just head back to our dorms and get some rest…”

“Not so fast,” Bishop interrupts. “I think Prescott here, owes us an explanation. What were you really doing, hmmm?”

The memory of the secret passage, the mysterious light, all feels like a fever dream now. But I know what I saw, what I experienced. And yet, how can I possibly explain it without sounding completely insane?

“I already told Sutton,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I went for a walk.”

Bishop’s gaze turns steely, his disbelief palpable. “A walk,” he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose that’s why you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backward?”

I glance down at myself, suddenly aware of my disheveled appearance. My clothes are smeared with dirt, and leaves and twigs are tangled in my hair. The scrape on my elbow throbs, a reminder of my fall.

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