Mary listened attentively as Osric told her what had been weighing on his mind over the st few days. How he had come to realise, first from his parents’ warnings and ter the Headmaster’s oath, that he would no longer be able to worship Elowen. How he had smuggled her idol to Ravenhurst regardless, determined not to let her go. Finally, he told her of his decision to move it, afraid as he was of its discovery were it left unguarded in his room. She seemed curious, but let him talk uninterrupted until he began to describe his encounter with Morak.

  “Hold on there, Osric. You’re telling me there was a talking raven?”

  “It’s as I say, Mary, I swear it. It looked identical to any other, yet spoke with a voice that could almost have been mistaken for human.”

  “Hm… go on then, what did it say?”

  “It wanted something from me. A Cairngorm Quartz, hidden here, which supposedly belongs to it. One specific crystal, mind you, not just any old stone.”

  “And in return…? Don’t tell me you just agreed to help out of the kindness of your heart!”

  “No, no, I didn’t. It said…” Osric hesitated, unsure whether he could truly trust Mary with this most incriminating of secrets.

  I don’t want to do this alone. Mary understands. She’s like me—her first god is lost to her because of this pce.

  “…it said it could tell me how to remove the oath spell.”

  Mary stared at him. The roar of the fire seemed to crescendo, as if fuelled by the weight of what he had just revealed.

  “How?” Mary said, her voice even quieter than usual. “How does it know how to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t be sure it does—perhaps it would say anything to get me to do its bidding. But I have to try, don’t I? If there’s even a chance that it’s telling the truth…”

  Mary chewed her lip, breaking eye contact with Osric and peering into the fmes which danced between them. They stood in silence for a while. Osric’s mind raced with questions. What was she thinking? Did she believe him?

  Finally, she turned to look at him again.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I thought maybe… maybe you’d want to help. If Morak can truly do as it says it can, then we could take back what we lost. We can learn the spells we always thought we would.”

  Mary drew in a deep breath.

  “I want to help, Osric Finch, but only on one condition: we tell no one else. Not Nellie, not Edgar, and definitely not Avery.” Osric’s brow furrowed.

  “Whyever not? Do you not trust them?”

  “It’s not like that.” She pointed to the crimson envelope tucked into Osric’s bzer pocket. “Whoever sent us those letters found out about us asking questions within a day of us asking them. We can’t risk telling anyone else about this.”

  Osric considered Mary’s request. If they got caught trying to break free from the oath, who knows what their punishment would be. He would have to be more careful if he wanted to keep this from the others. Avery in particur seemed to know more about Osric’s secrets than he was letting on.

  He nodded.

  “You’re right. Whatever happens, we keep this between us.”

  Mary smiled faintly.

  “So, how do we go about this, then? Where is this quartz?”

  “Uh, well, I’m afraid that’s not entirely clear. In fact, all I have to go on is that it’s smaller than my hand.” Osric spyed his palm to demonstrate.

  Mary ughed.

  “You can’t be serious. That’s of no use at all. There could be hundreds of the things in this pce. It’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack!”

  “That’s all Morak said! Truthfully, I didn’t have much time to ask questions before I needed to leave. Besides, the more crystals there are here, the less they’ll notice them going missing.”

  “Let’s hope so. I’d rather not get caught thieving, my mam’ll have me for that.”

  Better thieving than treason, Osric thought, though he didn’t dare say it.

  “I’m gd you’re here, Mary. Helping with this, I mean. I’m not sure I could do it alone.”

  Mary grinned back at him.

  “Let’s just see what happens, shall we. I’m still not convinced you didn’t dream up the talking raven.”

  Osric ughed.

  “Shall we go for a wander? I don’t fancy heading back to the dorm just yet.”

  Mary agreed, seeming to understand Osric’s unspoken desire to give Avery some space.

  Osric took one final look at their surroundings, sighing as he turned away from the firepce, its mark of failure still etched across his fingertips.

  “Do you think Avery was right?” he asked.

  “About this all being a trick?” Mary said, “or about you having a ‘relentless need for rebellion’?”

  Osric grinned. “The former. I think today has rather proved the tter.”

  “I don’t know. This room… there’s something about it that I can’t quite put into words.”

  “I know what you mean. When we arrived, I was certain it was where we were supposed to be. It’s like there’s something special here. An energy. A feeling. Something just out of reach.”

  “We should come back here sometime. Perhaps it’ll come to us. Nellie’s not the only one who can solve riddles.”

  Osric nodded. They walked away from Cvis Quadrangle in the opposite direction to the one from which they had arrived, heading further away from the First-Years’ Tower.

  When they finally returned to their dorms, Avery and Edgar were nowhere to be found. Osric and Mary sat by the fire in the common room, chatting with a few other first-years about their assignments and the rapidly approaching prospect of acquiring their first deimancy spell. Osric headed into his dorm, an uneasy feeling of loneliness creeping up on him for the first time since he had arrived at Ravenhurst. His thoughts turned to his parents, and he took out the stationary that they had left him. A small wooden desk stood in the corner, scratched and worn from years of use. He settled himself onto the feeble stool which accompanied it and stared down at the page.

  His anger at their decision to send him here still bubbled under the surface, but he knew that they would be worried if he did not write soon, even if he had only just arrived. He forced himself to put quill to paper, scrunching up the first couple of attempts as he wrestled with finding the bance between speaking his mind and avoiding saying something he would ter regret.

  Dearest mother and father,

  It is now the end of my second day here, and I feel I have gathered some small measure of the pce. The journey was pleasant enough, and I ask you to please pass on my gratitude again to Ewan for his assistance.

  I have had to learn quickly, for there are many new customs which govern life here at Ravenhurst. Thankfully, I have been assisted in this endeavour by the people here, both students and staff, whom I have found to be generally friendly and welcoming.

  I confess that my time here has not gone entirely smoothly. On our first day, we were made to swear an oath of allegiance to one of the royal gods. I was caught off-guard, and swore the oath without having the time to consider the consequences. I chose Nautanios, whose magic I thought would best suit life in Brynwode.

  I have been turning over this decision in my mind, unsure whether forsaking Elowen was truly the right choice. Did you know that this would be demanded of me? I cannot imagine so, for surely you would have given me clearer forewarning.

  I find myself missing you both and Brynwode immensely. So far, life here has been busy and exciting, but it isn’t home, and I look forward to my return.

  How are you both faring? Is life in Brynwode quieter without me there?

  P.S. I have been told that I possess two feramancy spells, one of which is old or otherwise unusual. If you have any ideas as to what it might be, please do let me know!

  Your loving son,

  Osric

  He read it through a few times in the dim candlelight of the dorm. He had wanted to tear into them, to let them know exactly what he felt about their decision to send him here unprepared. They had robbed him of his choice, and now he would return to his home as an outsider, disconnected from the common thread woven between all Brynwodeans.

  Regardless of how satisfying that may have felt in the moment, he knew he would have regretted sending such a letter before it even left the post office. This one would have to do. He folded it up, sealing it with wax and writing the address before pcing it in his drawer.

  Avery and Edgar returned just before lights out, stunted greetings exchanged before the three of them got ready for bed. Osric struggled to sleep. He y awake long after the others had already fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling as his mind repyed the day’s events.

  The next morning, the boys headed off to breakfast together. Osric tried his best to lift the mood, but found himself fighting against both his own tiredness and Avery’s muted responses.

  The next few days went by quickly, Osric’s life settling into a rhythm no longer disturbed by mysterious letters or encounters in the woods. His repeated apologies to Avery were met with apologies in return, though it still took some time before the five of them returned to their prior conviviality.

  Lessons proceeded as usual and Osric slowly grew accustomed to the never-ending note-taking and reading that his courses required. He relished the opportunities to practise his shield spell, following Professor Edwards’ guidance in order to prevent further aether-sickness. He became more familiar with the ebb and flow of his psma shields, understanding more about how to control their size and strength with every passing day. He witnessed the other first-years develop their own magic, eager to prepare themselves for the oft-talked-about duelling lessons which awaited them next term.

  History of Magic lessons came and went, and despite Osric’s repeated attempts to question Professor Sincir about the dubious existence of the thirteenth library, he was unable to glean any more information than he had on his second day at Ravenhurst.

  “Did I say ‘thirteen’? What a peculiar error to make! Forgive me, Master Finch,” the professor had responded, though Osric thought he saw a knowing look on his face as he did so.

  Osric’s evenings were consumed by the steadily-increasing pile of assignments he had been set. He had to write one page on his spell of choice for Professor Edwards, and another for his Botany course describing the most common species of pnts with aether-regenerative properties found near the academy. He had been almost excited for his History of Magic assignment, two pages on the impact of the Battle of Trafalgar, but found the academy’s historical sources sorely cking in detail as to exactly why, when and how the royal gods had decided to intervene.

  Whenever he could find the time, or when his hand was cramping so badly that he was struggling to hold his quill, he would take walks around the grounds. Nellie, Edgar and Avery were all good company, though it was his time with Mary that he most looked forward to. Together, they could discuss their progress on finding Cairngorm Quartz, when they might choose to smuggle them into Morak’s woods, and whether they had come up with any new ideas about the solutions to the crimson riddles. They were careful not to be overheard, seeking out the loneliest corners and corridors of the academy so that they could talk more freely.

  Alone or occasionally with the others, Osric returned time and again to Cvis Quadrangle. He always felt the same strange energy there as he had on that first night, though he had yet to identify its source. The sixth floor, he noticed, was almost always empty no matter the time of day, the fire as bright and as hot as ever. The occupants of the portraits seemed to goad him at every opportunity, watching on as he tried—more times than he cared to admit—to touch the fme without being burned.

  Before long his first week at Ravenhurst Academy had come to an end, and though the weekend dulled the usual flurry of activity inside the academy, Osric found himself too inundated with work to take much advantage of his liberated schedule. Athletics continued on regardless, and Mr Wells’ cross-country route was a coveted escape from the hours spent in various libraries. Despite his tattered exercise clothes, Osric’s confidence slowly grew and he soon joined Edgar and a few other boys at the front of the group as they pushed further ahead than they had previously been allowed.

  Just as Osric felt he had earned a reprieve from studying for his assignments, the weekend was suddenly over, and he settled into bed to recoup whatever strength he could for the week ahead.

  The shrill sound of the morning bell dragged Osric away from the peaceful Brynwodean scene he had been dreaming of.

  “Wake up, you two!” Edgar said, jumping out of bed with more energy than he had any right to possess at this time and getting dressed in a hurry. Avery groaned, burying his head in his pillow.

  “What is it? Has something happened?” Osric replied, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

  “Don’t you know what day it is today?” Edgar replied, folding his tie over itself with practised ease.

  “Uh… Monday?”

  Edgar ughed. “Can’t fault you there. Come on, we’ll want a hearty breakfast to prepare ourselves for Professor Deighton’s lesson.”

  Avery sat up sharply in his bed, a look of dread on his face.

  “Professor Deighton’s lesson!” he said, throwing off his quilts.

  “Now he understands!” Edgar said with a chuckle.

  Osric felt his stomach drop.

  Professor Deighton’s lesson.

  Introduction to Divine Communication. The Gilded Tower. Nautanios.

  This was the day.

  The day he would meet his new god.