A fme burst from the surface of Edgar’s palm. It twisted towards his thumb and then upwards, arcing round in a circle and meeting itself back at the source. Edgar grinned wider than ever. Osric stared in awe, watching the tiniest tendrils branch off from the dinner pte-sized ring of fire in front of him. The fme flowed gently, its shape holding firm. It seemed… stable. Controlled. Edgar was in command, and the fire he wielded molded to his instruction.

  “What does it feel like?” Osric asked.

  “Warm, I s’pose? It doesn’t burn, if that’s what you mean,” Edgar replied.

  “No—spelltaming. Domatio Incantationis. What did it feel like?”

  Edgar closed his fist, and the spectacle before them faded into air. Osric noticed a few of the other first-years in the common room gncing over.

  “Oh, right. I’m not sure, really. I spent the day not being able to cast anything rger than my thumb. It was like drawing blood from a stone. Then, all of a sudden, it started to listen to me. I felt this sense of calmness, of power. That’s when I knew I’d done it.”

  Edgar grimaced and massaged his forearm.

  “Looks as if all that showmanship has finally caught up to you,” Nellie said.

  “Didn’t drink enough magic tea?” Mary asked.

  “More than I deserved,” Edgar admitted, “I overheard Nellie whisper the correct answer in Botany. Don’t think she could stand not being able to let us all know that she knew it.”

  “Hardly!” Nellie excimed, scowling. “I was merely thinking out loud.”

  Osric couldn’t believe it. Edgar had won the bet, and all because of that damned tea—and now it turns out Edgar hadn’t even earned it fairly! He wanted to call foul py, but something told him that that wouldn’t get him very far. He could only hope Edgar would use his new power wisely.

  “So,” Osric said, lowering his voice slightly, “what’s it to be, then? ‘Steal Mrs Hawthorne’s spectacles’?”

  Mary ughed.

  “I wouldn’t try that one if I were you. Mrs Hawthorne can be vicious. Miss Copley bowed instead of curtsied in Etiquette and she sent the poor girl away in tears.”

  “Nah, nothing like that,” Edgar said. He gave Nellie a knowing look. “In fact, it was Nellie’s idea. She said that—”

  “—Let me tell it!” Nellie said, putting a hand on Edgar’s arm. He shrugged in agreement.

  “My parents used to tell me these stories: when they were our age, they used to sneak out after dark and go down to the kitchens. Apparently, there was this giant pantry stacked to the ceiling with all kinds of puddings.”

  “Wait,” Osric said, “your parents went here?”

  “Of course, have I not mentioned it before?” Nellie said. “So, here it is. I reckon this pce hasn’t changed all that much in the st 25 years, which means that that room probably still exists, and it’s probably still packed with treats!”

  Avery looked a little pale.

  “You mean to say, we’ll be defying the curfew in order to steal from the academy?” he said.

  “Oh come on, Aves!” Edgar said, apparently deciding now was the time to try out a hitherto unused nickname. “Nellie’s parents did it, and they’ve managed to escape the gallows. We’ll be fine.”

  “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to,” Osric said, ignoring Edgar’s pointed look. “I mean it. I know I’ve pushed you to do things you weren’t comfortable with, and I don’t want this to come between us.”

  Avery nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “No,” he said, “I’ll do it. I gave my word.”

  “That’s it!” Edgar said, patting Avery on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t get caught. We’ll go shortly after lights-out. You can be the lookout, if it’d make you more comfortable.” Avery nodded.

  “Care to join us, either of you?” Edgar said to Mary and Nellie.

  “I’ll let you lot go first. Maybe next time,” Mary said.

  “Agreed,” Nellie added, “Do bring some food back, though.”

  Edgar rolled his eyes.

  “Sending us errand-boys out to fetch you cake…”

  “Nonsense. You boys made this daft bet, and besides—it’s the least you could do to thank me for the tea,” Nellie said, smiling sweetly.

  The common room was nearly empty now as most of the other first-years had already left for the night. Nellie and Mary soon followed suit, wishing the boys luck before they did so. Osric, Avery and Edgar waited out the time in their dormitory. Avery paced back and forth across the dense carpet. Edgar y sprawled across his bed, so still as to almost fool Osric into thinking he had fallen asleep. When the bell finally rang, the boys blew out all but one candle. They waited for what they hoped was around half an hour, then gathered their things and nudged open their door.

  Creeeeeak.

  The boys froze. Had it always been that loud? They nudged it further, just enough to squeeze through sideways. Osric took off his bag and dragged it through behind him. They stood in a huddle in the common room for a minute, their ears pricked, nervous looks exchanged between them. Once they were sure they had not been heard, they snuck across the room and tip-toed down the stairs. Edgar held the candle, shielding its fme with a cupped hand while holding it near enough to his face to blow out at a moment’s notice. Osric stayed close, determined not to lose his footing on the perilously dark steps of the First-Years’ Tower.

  They made slow but steady progress, reaching the bottom of the tower before following Osric’s painstakingly-memorised directions. The kitchens were located just behind the Great Hall, and while they were all familiar with the route by now, they had decided that taking a winding route along some of the less-used corridors would be safer.

  “Left here,” Osric whispered as they reached a statue of a long-dead monarch, the candle’s fme seeming to cower in its presence.

  “If this goes out, I’m not certain I could light it again,” Edgar whispered.

  “Now you tell us!” Avery hissed.

  “It’s not my fault this pce doesn’t have ordinary candles!”

  The boys trudged on, stopping and starting in time with the flickering fme and the occasional sound echoing through the stone corridors. Finally, they reached the Great Hall, and instead of ascending its steps they continued on a little further, eventually finding a narrow and well-worn staircase leading down.

  “This is it,” Osric said.

  They descended slowly, reaching the bottom of the staircase and through an archway into a cold room, the dim candlelight swallowed up by its expanse. Osric could just about make up a rge, heavy wooden table running into the bckness before them.

  “Look,” Avery said, pointing to a copper sconce mounted onto the wall to their right.

  “Well spotted,” Edgar said, lifting his candle up to the one in the sconce. Despite neither possessing a wick, the fme jumped across, and the room’s murky features were illuminated with a spsh of light. They could make out two rows of sconces along either wall of the long, rectangur room, and Edgar paced along the room’s perimeter, lighting candles as he went.

  “Right,” Avery said, “I’ll head back up to the corridor and keep an eye out. Don’t be long.” He gestured, and Edgar handed him his candle. Edgar and Osric watched the light follow him back up the staircase before turning back.

  “Cor, would you have a look at this!” Edgar said, running up to an immense hearth built into the far wall. An enormous stewing pot hung from an iron frame, a handle enabling it to be swung out and back into the firepce.

  “What do you think they cook in that?” Osric said.

  “Soups, stews, the children they catch out of bed after dark…” Edgar said, peering into the giant pot so that his voice echoed back out of it. Osric chuckled, gncing round the rest of the room. Pots and pans adorned the walls, and bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, their gentle scents mixing into a pleasantly busy aroma. Knives and rolling pins still y scattered across the table, as if the cooks had vanished in the middle of preparing a meal.

  “All the people that work here, toiling away all day just to feed us. I could get used to that,” Edgar said, picking up a knife, its edge glinting in the warm light. “‘Course, it ain’t new for Nellie and Avery.”

  “Not just us,” Osric said, “there’s the staff too, and visitors. I wonder if the gods ever come here. Do they eat the same food we do?”

  Edgar looked puzzled.

  “I don’t know. Why wouldn’t they? They look just like us, don’t they?”

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” Osric said, the rough edges of Elowen’s idol coming to the surface of his mind. He wondered if it still remained untouched where he had hidden it, or if Morak had broken his word and stolen it. His shoulders tensed.

  “Come on, let’s look for the pantry,” he said, shaking the image from his thoughts. Edgar nodded and grabbed a candle from the nearest sconce.

  They spotted an archway at the end of the kitchen and walked through it to the corridor beyond. Along one side of the corridor was a row of sturdy wooden doors. They pushed through the nearest one.

  The room beyond was no bigger than half the size of their dormitory. Shelves lined all four walls up to a high ceiling, each packed with food: vegetables, grains, and innumerable jars of pickles and sauces. They tried the next room. It was almost identical to the first, this time lined with cold meats. Strings of sausages hung from the ceiling, and the shelves were packed with cuts of pork, beef, and various fish, all coated in salt. The smell was overwhelming. The boys backed out and tried the third room.

  “Blimey!” Edgar said, marvelling at the rows of cakes, tarts and pastries now surrounding them. The scent of fruit and sugar embraced the two boys, and Osric’s mouth hung open in awe.

  “She was right, it’s exactly as she said it would be!” Edgar said.

  “What should we do?” Osric asked.

  Edgar’s gaze settled on a tray of glistening buns, their surface dotted with currants. He grabbed one and took a bite.

  “Avery’s missing out,” he said, “here, try one.”

  Osric did as Edgar suggested, his mouth salivating from the sheer abundance of food in front of him. With such an exorbitant supply, they’d surely not miss a few bits and pieces. He took a rge bite, savouring the sweetness of the dough and the soft crunch of the currants. Nothing could quite match up to his mother’s enchanted cooking, but this was the closest he’d gotten since leaving Brynwode.

  “My word!” he said, finishing it up with another bite. “Let’s grab some more and get out of here. Avery’ll be furious if we don’t get back to the dorm soon.”

  Edgar nodded.

  “I saw some empty jars in the first pantry. You get to choosing, and I’ll fetch them.” He gave Osric the candle and left the room, a small fme in the palm of his hand guiding the way.

  Osric peered at the shelves before him. He’d never have enough time to try them all. He eyed a few different cakes decorated with thick, floral icing, and a row of swirling pastries, topped with a reddish golden spice that he didn’t recognise. Edgar returned with the jars, and the boys got to work packing them. They divided the cakes into portions, making sure not to leave any half-eaten pieces behind. The buns fit nicely into the jars, and Osric packed his bag with as many as would fit, stuffing another couple in his bzer pockets.

  “That’ll do,” he said finally, and the boys gave a cursory gnce at the room, making sure they hadn’t left too much of a mess.

  They left the pantry, closing the door behind them, and made their way back through the archway to the kitchen.

  “Not bad at all,” Edgar said. “Why don’t we—”

  The boys stopped.

  Footsteps echoed through the room from the staircase ahead. A light cast across their steps, then Avery’s panicked form burst into the kitchen.

  “She’s coming this way!” he said, his voice steeped in fear.

  “Who?” Osric asked.

  “Mrs Hawthorne! We need to hide—now!” His eyes darted across the room.

  “In there!” Edgar said, pointing towards the hearth they had spotted earlier. He rushed over to it, swinging the pot out slightly to make room for the three of them and beckoning them in. Avery and Osric followed his lead, Osric stashing his bag in the heavy iron pot.

  “The candles,” Avery said, his voice cracking “she’ll know we’re here!” He blew out the one he was holding.

  Edgar made to leave their hiding spot, but Avery grabbed onto his shoulder.

  “There’s no time! Can’t you just…?” He waved his hands around.

  Edgar’s eyes widened.

  “I don’t—”

  He closed his mouth and raised his hands, pointing them down the length of the room. At the far end, the two fmes furthest from them withered into nothingness. Edgar grunted with the exertion, his brow glistening with sweat. He snuffed the next few candles out. His fists clenched and unclenched, and another fme was extinguished, the room beginning to fade into darkness.

  The sound of footsteps rang out once more.

  Edgar grunted again, and the nearest fme flickered, but clung on.

  “I—I can’t get it,” Edgar said, panic in his voice.

  “Osric, do something!” Avery whispered, the footsteps getting ever louder.

  Osric’s heartbeat raced. There was no time to think. No time to question whether Nautanios’ spell would disobey him as it had in Professor Edwards’ lesson. No time to wonder whether he had replenished enough aether.

  He reached out his hand. The cold, still air of the kitchen pulsed with him, its motions inundating his senses. A gust of wind surged from him, hungrily advancing on the lone fme. Suddenly, it twisted around, writhing away from his control. A familiar sting of pain shot through his arms.

  He narrowed his focus. He didn’t need the vicious assault he had pictured earlier in the day. He needed a concentrated attack, destroying the fme in one swift strike.

  He focused on a slither of air, no wider than his arm, and blotted out the rest. He felt it writhe, a serpent caught by the tail, but under the weight of his singur focus it had no choice.

  Onwards.

  He felt it close the distance in less than a second before stopping, poised to strike. He closed his eyes, seeing the candle in his mind’s eye. He felt its heat, the warmth of the air around it.

  Attack!

  The serpent pounced, swallowing the fme whole.

  Darkness fell.

  The faintest light poured from the staircase, spilling into the kitchen more and more with every echoing step. The boys’ breathing quieted as Mrs Hawthorne’s thin figure emerged, a ntern clutched in one hand. She stared through the room towards them.

  “Who’s there?” her sharp voice called. “Make yourself known.”

  The boys pressed themselves together, squeezing behind the iron pot as best they could. Mrs Hawthorne began walking towards them, swinging her ntern this way and that and checking under the table. Any relief Osric felt from blowing out the final candle evaporated. She closed in on them, so close that the light from her ntern bounced off of the wall behind them, so close that Osric could see the suspicion in her eyes.

  “There you are,” a deep voice called from the far end of the room.

  Mrs Hawthorne spun around to face the man, a bright fme bursting from his hand.

  “Headmaster,” she said.

  “Everything alright, Edith?” Holloway asked.

  “I was just doing my rounds. I thought I saw something.”

  “Hm. I’m afraid that’ll have to wait. You’re needed.”

  “I was under the impression that we had agreed—”

  “—our gods are getting impatient. We must accelerate the search. Come.”

  He turned and proceeded up the stairs without waiting for a response. Mrs Hawthorne took one st look around the room, sighed, then followed, moving with a speed that defied her age.