Page 29 of Architecti
Arcadius continues.“They will be teaching every student defensive strategies along with Professor Malrec, who will teach the necromancy elements of defence.Welcome, and thank you both.”
They smile and make their way off the other side.
“That’s it for this afternoon.I’ll need you all to report any tears or cracks in the Veil.And of course, be on your highest guard.Dismissed.”
This year has already not started well.
I just hope it isn’t an omen.
11
Midnight
Morning light dribbles through the curtains as I stare at the dark paper in my hands.Thick ink is scrawled across the page in whorls of red—red that I am convinced is my own blood.
I don’t understand it and I can’t explain it, but I know it to be true.The little sleep I managed, the invitation crept into my dreams and gnawed at me as if it were alive.Sloping and crawling through my nightmares.
Taunting me.
Threatening me.
Whispers of hope.Of possible futures.New beginnings.
The promise of a chance to save myself.
I flip the card over, but it’s blank save for the cracked red wax bearing Finis Academy’s crest.I run my finger over the crumbling seal, the tower of twisted magic that rises as high in the sky as it sinks beneath the earth.So many secrets, so much magic.
My eyes skim the words again, scarcely believing they’re real:
Mercedes Midnight,
You are cordially invited to attend the Severance Rite.Should you successfully complete the entrance trial, you will be given a place at Finis Academy.
Please make your way to the entrance gates at 8 a.m.sharp tomorrow.
The last words are so faint against the dark paper.It looks like whoever sent it attempted to sign their name but the ink—my blood—ran out.
I take a deep breath.Finally.
Nine years.Nine attempts.Nine failures.
This morning everything changes.
I spent half the night packing and repacking.Pulling clothes and books out and putting them back in.Nothing seemed right.Nothing felt like enough.
At 7a.m.I’m pacing and unable to sit still.Nine years I’ve waited for a chance to win the coveted Demonic Favour.A chance to shove Ignatius’s deal back in his smarmy face.
I arrive at the long drive of Finis Academy campus by 7:30.It’s too early, and yet the driveway is crammed with carriages and people carrying bags and trunks.
But it’s also swarming with people holding placards, and a perilous number of balled fists.
Jeers litter the air like the cries of newborn kittens.Screams preach of new worlds, and baritones promise of darkness and unification.
The city’s politics weren’t always so turgid.I remember my parents: my mother was pro resurrection, my father anti.They seemed to live together in peace just fine.Good-natured debates filled the house, and I’d sit on the floor between them smiling and chattering a concoction of big words like I knew what they meant.
This Ora City is not the same.
Something changed during the years of open opinions, almost as if they seeped into the waterways and infected our bellies.Jagged lines now carve faces, making angry eyes and angrier fists.
