“Who is he?” Osric asked, relieved that his cndestine excursion was no longer the subject of conversation.

  “He was a librarian, amongst other things,” Nellie said. “He died over one hundred years ago. We found mention of him in one of the encyclopaedias in Mercia Library.”

  “A dead librarian? What has that got to do with ‘the fme which does not burn’?”

  “We’re not quite sure yet, but there’s more: in 1716, he refused to swear an oath of allegiance to King George I and was stripped of his position.” Nellie paused, eyes wide with expectation. Osric’s brow furrowed.

  To avoid the fate of Thomas Hearne, fear not the fme which does not burn.

  “So, what does it mean? Is the fme Holloway’s oath spell? But we’ve already sworn the oath…”

  “Not to mention that that fme did indeed burn!” Avery said, brandishing his sore palm. Edgar scoffed.

  “You’re focusing on the wrong part,” Nellie said, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. “He was a librarian. When he was stripped of his position, they locked him out of the library.”

  Osric’s face lit up.

  “Oh! They’re referring to the thirteenth library!”

  “Precisely. We think that the red ‘x’ might be where the entrance is. We didn’t want to investigate it while you were gone so we thought perhaps after dinner?”

  Osric nodded.

  “Edgar was right—you figured that out in no time at all.”

  Nellie grinned.

  “He said I would, did he? I am gd someone is noticing my fir for puzzle-solving.” She turned to Edgar, his face reddening.

  “I just meant, since you spotted the only-twelve-libraries thing an’ all!” he said, shooting a gre in Osric’s direction as ptes den with food were pced in front of them.

  “Regardless, I appreciate it,” Nellie said pyfully. “Besides, that is only one part of it. We still don’t know what ‘the fme’ refers to, or what the first riddle means.”

  Bang! Bang!

  “Potentia per sacrificium!”

  Osric was expecting it this time. His chant rang out in sync with the others, and he smiled to himself as he picked up his fork. He ate quickly, his appetite strengthened by the soreness of his muscles and the adrenaline-induced fatigue of the st hour. The table grew quieter for a few minutes, the clinking of cutlery and sparse murmuring echoing around the vast hall. Osric spotted an older student gesturing with her hand further down the table. Water from a nearby jug arced gracefully through the air and settled in her gss.

  “For all the talk of puzzles,” Mary said, “there’s one that we seem to have forgotten. Wherever did you go just now?”

  Drat.

  Osric took in another mouthful of food, chewing performatively as the others awaited his answer.

  Should I tell them?

  I could do with all the help I can get with finding the crystals, and I don’t want to keep another secret from them after they found out about my twin feramancies.

  Mind you, I’m not sure they’d even believe me. I may not have travelled much, but I’m reasonably certain that ravens don’t usually talk—even in this pce.

  I’d have to tell them about Elowen too, or make up some other lie about why I agreed to Morak’s request.

  “Oh, uh, I went for a walk. I felt like stretching my legs a little,” he tried, a stab of guilt hitting him immediately.

  “Stretching your legs? I s’pose running to the vilge and back didn’t cut it?” Edgar asked.

  Osric fumbled for a response.

  “Uh, well… I suppose not,” he said, hiding behind his gss as he drank some water.

  “I am sure he had his reasons,” Avery said. “More importantly, who do you think sent the letters? Why did they send them to only Osric and me?”

  Osric exhaled, the relief flooding through his body doing little to flush out the guilt he felt from lying to his friends. He wasn’t sure whether he had convinced them or not but at least they seemed to be more concerned about the riddles than on his sudden disappearance.

  “I was wondering that too,” Osric said, “since they went to all that trouble to deliver two identical letters to the same room, yet stopped short of sending Edgar one.”

  “Are you sure you looked everywhere?” Nellie asked Edgar.

  “I’m certain,” Edgar said. “Anyhow, their letters were on top of their clothes. I would have seen it straight away.”

  Osric speared the st of his dinner with his fork. A little while ter, the teacher’s table had caught up. Dessert, some kind of tart, was served to the waiting students. A sharp scent filled the air as Osric took a rge bite. He grimaced as the fvour hit his tongue.

  “What is this? It’s horribly sour!” he said. Nellie’s eyebrows raised, stifling a ugh as she chewed.

  “Don’t tell me you have never had lemon before! It’s delicious, once you get used to it.”

  The others ughed with her, excluding Mary, whose contorted expression mirrored Osric’s own. He braved another bite, Nellie giggling as his nose scrunched up in disgust.

  He forced himself to finish it, having been taught from a young age to never waste food. The sound of the gavel erupted from the end of the Great Hall, and Osric felt the same sense of brotherhood he had earlier as he joined his peers in chanting the school motto. The Headmaster stood up, indicating to the rest of his table before following the nightly procession of staff out of the room. As they passed by, Osric noted with dismay that Mrs Waverly was not amongst them.

  As soon as the Headmaster had stepped through the Great Hall’s archway, the five of them left their seats and hurried towards the exit. They were amongst the first ones out, which they used to their advantage as they made their way down the academy’s now empty corridors. Osric had his map in hand, though Nellie seemed to know where they were headed, asking him for directions only as they neared Cvis Quadrangle.

  “It’s up here on the left,” he said, as they walked down a corridor stacked with portraits of the academy’s professors.

  The quadrangle itself was a sizable and neatly trimmed wn positioned just north of Ravenhurst’s exact centre. Surrounded on all sides by corridors, with an arched entrance in each cardinal direction, it offered a respite from the dark ste of the building itself. Particurly, Osric supposed, when the sun was sufficiently high as to illuminate the various marble statues which inhabited its corners. In the evening’s gloom, the figures took on a more sinister appearance, glowering at them from the shadows as they paced across the crisp grass.

  “It’s here, against that wall,” Osric said, pointing towards the southern side of the quadrangle. They approached, examining the grey ste with as much scrutiny as was possible under the dim light which spilled out from the corridors encircling them.

  “Hm. I am not sure what I expected, but I dare say I expected something.” Nellie said.

  Indeed, the southern wall of the quadrangle was much the same as any other. It featured no discernable mark or blemish, and offered little more than shelter from the howling wind above.

  “We must look like eejits, the five of us staring at a wall in the darkness,” Mary said.

  “Come on,” Osric said, “Perhaps it’s on the other side.”

  They walked through the southern entrance and into the corridor beyond it. Turning back to face towards the quadrangle, they once again scanned the wall.

  Nothing. No secret entrance. No hidden message.

  They took a few moments to look up and down the corridor in either direction. Edgar stood on his tip-toes and stuck his hand tentatively over one of the golden sconces which illuminated the academy after sunset.

  “Ow!” he said, shaking his hand out.

  “Shall we try the upper floors?” Mary suggested.

  They spent the next hour climbing floor after floor, examining the southern wall of Cvis Quadrangle for any clues or abnormalities. Time and time again, they were met with the cold and unyielding stare of Ravenhurst ste. Some floors had vases, others had statues, yet none contained so much as a crumpled rug, let alone a hidden library. Five floors and as many singed fingers ter, the increasingly frustrated group approached the southern side of Cvis Quadrangle for the final time.

  “This is it,” Osric said. “It has to be here.”

  As they drew closer to the location of the red ‘x’, it became apparent that the sixth floor was unlike any they had encountered so far. Instead of the usual dull ste, a grand firepce, as tall as Avery, was fixed into the southern wall. Carved figures of dragons, griffins, and gargoyles screamed at each other within the mantelpiece. A roaring fire surged upwards from a bed of marble, the ck of any identifiable fuel no longer a surprise to the onlooking first-years.

  Above the firepce, a vast ndscape painting, framed in eborate gold leaf, stretched up to the ceiling. ‘The Battle of Waterloo’ read an engraved brass pque beneath it. Osric stared in awe at the scene. Men in red and blue uniforms fought over ravaged fields, charging towards one another with sabres and rifles. Dotted amongst the savagery of steel and cavalry, the Empire’s mages wrought destruction upon their foes with wave upon wave of elemental magic. Osric recognised the spells he had learned about in Professor Edwards’ css, as well as many more that he had not.

  With a sinking feeling, he realised that these were the great mages that Holloway had spoken of the day prior. Were they honouring oaths much like the one Osric himself had just sworn? Perhaps this was the future that Ravenhurst was preparing him for—one disciple amongst many drowning in a sea of violence.

  “The battle that changed everything,” Nellie said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “No wonder they were chosen by the royal family. The Empire’s enemies didn’t stand a chance.”

  “That’ll be us, one day,” Edgar said. “Unstoppable.”

  They stood for a moment, studying the details of the scene before them.

  Eventually, Osric took a step towards the firepce. The heat pushed against his skin. Shadows flickered across his face.

  “The ‘fme which does not burn’. Exactly where the letters said it would be.” he said.

  “Are you sure?” Avery said. “Be careful, Osric. It feels real to me.”

  Osric took another step forward.

  Fear not the fme which does not burn.

  This was it. It had to be. Whoever had sent those letters had led him here.

  All he needed to do was not be afraid.

  “Osric…” Avery said, concern in his voice.

  Osric reached out his hand. Searing heat assaulted him, his body begging him to retreat. He pushed on.

  His hand came within inches of the dancing fmes.

  Fear not. Fear not. Fear not.

  The words chanted in his head. His skin screamed in pain, the memory of the previous day fshing before his eyes. He would endure, as he did then. He would—

  “Argh!”

  His hand recoiled. He heard a gasp behind him.

  He had touched the fme, he was sure of it. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Are you alright?” Nellie said, pcing a hand on his shoulder as she checked over his freshly burnt hand. His fingertips were a little pink, but the damage was not as bad as they had endured in swearing their oaths. The five of them stared at the marble firepce in silence, expnations evading them. After a moment, Edgar too tried his luck with the fire, but was no more successful than Osric had been. Finally, Avery spoke up.

  “I fear we may have been deceived,” he said, his usually soft voice taking on a harsher tone. His words drew a sigh of exasperation from Nellie.

  “Nonsense,” Osric said. “Nobody goes to all that effort just to send us on a wild goose chase. We just have to keep trying. There must be something we missed.”

  “Why bother?” Avery said. “We’ve spent the st day searching for a library, the existence of which we only hypothesized because Professor Sincir got his numbers mixed up! One of the students in Albion Library probably overheard us admit as much to the librarian, and decided to py a cruel trick on us.”

  Osric felt his face flushing with embarrassment.

  “That would expin why only you and Avery got the letters…” Nellie said, her brow furrowed. “Oh dear. Have we been chasing a mirage this whole time?”

  Edgar put his head in his hands. Osric clenched his jaw.

  “It has to be real,” he said, meeting Avery’s sullen gre. “I need to find answers, and the curriculum certainly isn’t going to provide them.”

  “By all means, find your answers,” Avery said, shaking his head. “I know not where you get this relentless need for rebellion.”

  “Why are you always so quick to dismiss?” Osric said, anger brewing in his voice. “Why must you rationalise everything away, as if nothing untoward could possibly happen here?”

  “I did not say that!” Avery fired back. “I entertained your mad conspiracies, did I not? I am here, after all.” He threw his hands up, gesturing to the room.

  Osric exhaled through his nose, searching for his next words.

  “Look,” he said, “there are things you don’t know about Ravenhurst—things we don’t know about Ravenhurst—and we need to figure them out before it’s too te.”

  “Too te for what? Osric, in case you have forgotten, you’ve already sworn fealty! This is the path you’ve chosen. Not running around looking for trouble. Not hiding things or sneaking off to do who knows what.”

  Osric’s head was pounding.

  “What does he mean, ‘hiding things’?” Nellie asked, fixing Osric with a piercing gre. Osric met her eyes momentarily. Avery dropped his gaze.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Osric said.

  “Osric… I’m sorry,” he said, the frustration dissipating from his voice. “I… I need a moment.” He gave Osric a mournful look, then turned and headed back in the direction they had come from. Nellie called after him, then followed him out.

  “For what it’s worth, I really thought we were on to something,” Edgar said. He took another look at the painting, sighing before following the others. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

  Osric watched him leave.

  How has it all gone so wrong?

  He felt a pang of remorse.

  I’ve upset Avery, and all for nothing. Why couldn’t I just be kinder to him?

  He was so lost in his own thoughts that Mary’s quiet but firm voice startled him.

  “They don’t understand,” she said, “Avery and Nellie, I mean. They grew up with these gods. They were lucky. The oath was a choice they had been prepared for their whole lives.”

  Osric turned towards her. She was right, of course. No wonder Avery seemed reluctant to believe in Osric’s more sinister theories—Ravenhurst was practically a temple to his family gods.

  “Did you… I mean, back home… was there…?” Osric said.

  “Was there a god I left behind?”

  Osric nodded again. Mary smiled sadly.

  “Mylom, God of the Forest. He has the most incredible magic.” She let out a soft ugh. “My mam has a spell which calls animals to her. You would not believe the trouble she’s caused with that one!”

  Osric ughed with her. He thought of Elowen, and the spells his parents possessed. The rich food his mother cooked. The enormous crops his father grew. The spells he still allowed himself to dream of, if only Morak’s word could be trusted. A silence stretched out between them.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “Mary, can you keep a secret?”