"Professor Varren," I stammered, stiffening immediately and pulling my silk gloves higher. I suddenly felt a little silly in my dress. The academy didn't feel like the place for bare shoulders, silk, dripping silver necklaces, and an exposed back, yet here I was. If he knew how cold I'd been outside, he would have thought me quite ridiculous—and perhaps he did. Worst of all was that Death still stood behind me. Lurking. I tilted my head slightly, hoping for a glimpse of him, but the place he had been was empty. Letting out a shuddering breath, I faced the professor again. "What can I do for you?"

His attention had wandered from me to the portraits, which he admired as he slowly approached me. It was the sort of wandering admiration he had when he was about to deliver a lengthy lecture. I braced myself. "Do you recognize any of the faces here?" he asked.

"Not particularly." My fingers curled. The closer he got, the more my skin crawled despite that the air was quite warm. I wished I wasn't alone, yet I didn't know why. Varren was odd at times, but he had never shown ill will toward me. He asked prying questions and puzzled me greatly, neither of which were reasons to feel as unsettled as I did. I couldn't shake the warning Bren had given me just yesterday.

Varren hummed thoughtfully as if I'd given him much to consider with my answer. His pale face was particularly ghastly in the low light, outlining every sharp feature of his face from his brow to his cheekbones to even his strong chin. He always looked somewhat dour; here, he looked downright mean. As he came closer, I realized he was dressed in the same green cloak over the same clothes he wore to teach every day, which made my lips twitch. Did he seriously have nothing else to wear? Or maybe it was just impossible for him to imagine himself as anything but a professor of the alchemy track. "I was wondering if you sought refuge in this hall for a reason."

"I'm not seeking refuge," I said, all too quickly. My face warmed. "I like art. And reading plaques."

"More than dancing?"

"I like anything more than dancing."

"If you want my advice, you ought to have declined Bren's invitation if that was the case." He managed a somewhat fatherly smile, but it only made me squint. Mother had always said it was common to play at matchmaker in the king's court because no one had anything better to do, but surely Varren did have better things to occupy himself. Like books and potions and complex formulas—the things he loved to drone on about.

"I was doing him a favor," I said. "He would have been alone otherwise."

"Would he?"

My anger surged quite hot at his tone, and I lifted my chin definitively. "If you'll excuse me. I think I'll find my friends now. Enjoy the rest of your evening." Begrudgingly, I knew I'd see him in class again once a fresh week rolled around, but it wouldn't wipe the slate clean of this encounter nor the last. I was beginning to think Varren would be forever stained by these bizarre occurrences.

"Of course," he said as I passed him, catching a stale scent upon his cloak when he turned. "Although..." He caught my arm before I could make it very far in a grip far stronger than a man of books ought to have. I gasped at the cold seeping through my gloves and couldn't resist as he dragged me to a stop.

My fingers twitched, magic flicking across their tips, but I held it back and swung to glare at him instead. I started to question him, then the words died on my sharpened tongue at the sound of a familiar crow's caw. From a tall window high above the paintings, a small black figure descended in a drunken flutter as though it had hit the glass first. Seraya's ugly, ruffled crow landed upon Varren's shoulder, and the two of them scrutinized me together. The darkness in their old gazes was strikingly similar in a way that made me want to disappear entirely. I looked between them. The crow, Varren, the crow, Varren. When I was quite dizzy, I wondered if I had ever seen Seraya's crow with anyone besides her.

"Yes, indeed." With surprising strength, Varren hauled me back into my prior place—with my back to the portrait Death had been admiring. The one of the man in the crown. He studied me, then the painting, then me again; as he stared, my gut sank with a dreadful realization. I shot a quick, pleading glance at the bird, hoping maybe it was a sign that Seraya was looking for me, but it only cocked its head and shook out its patchy black feathers.

"I think you must be right. She does bear a striking resemblance." Then Varren looked down at me with the same intensity which he used upon a mismade potion in class: with fascination and interest, but a tainted curiosity. "What a treasure. And to think, Elias brought you all the way here, Miss Celestine. A rare treasure indeed. Yes, you are right. This is the lost princess indeed."

A familiar spool of dread unraveled within me, chilling me down to my bones. My tongue was sandpaper in my mouth, heavy and weak and stuck horribly. I steeled myself just enough to twist out of his grip. Once I was free, I found my voice again. "Who are you talking to? The crow?" I snapped. "You're quite stupid if you think it answers."

His face flattened, if it was possible for it to look even more condescending. "You know very little of this world. It's astonishing."

"I know better than to talk to birds."

"He wasn't speaking to the bird, Celestine."

If it was possible for the world to come to a complete stop, it certainly did then as my heart plummeted. I turned, perhaps too slowly but it was all I could manage as I begged that I had misheard. Surely not. I had fallen asleep, and this was merely a cruel dream.

Yet there stood Seraya in all her silver finery, her black mask plastered over her face and her hair hanging in loose curls across her back and shoulders. She kept her fists at her sides, and her lips were set into a hard line. There was a coldness in her gaze that I had never seen, a kind of unwavering steel that I did not think possible for someone normally so warm. So friendly. So light.

The life drained from me, leaving a hollow shell of a girl behind. "Seraya," I whispered, as fragile as I was, "what's the meaning of this?"

She set her jaw and looked away. Not that Varren gave her room to answer. His hand landed against the small of my back, guiding me forward gently. "You are special, Celestine, more than you know," he said in a smooth voice. "You will be coming with us tonight."

I shuddered and jerked away from his touch. "To where?"

"A place familiar to you, I believe."

My hands were slick with sweat inside my gloves. I curled my fingers tighter, knowing my nails would be leaving marks if my fingers were bare. The ache in my fingers kept my panic low and my mind clear. I forced myself to breathe. The walls were close and rapidly shrinking in. The room was too small, the air too stale. It smelled of earth and rot. It was a grave—they would make it so if I let them.

I had to get out. Pulling magic to my fingers, I summoned just enough force to send Varren stumbling away from me and the crow into the air, squawking indignantly. Seraya shouted something at me, but I flung the magical force at her too. It knocked her down, and she landed in a heap of silver. Already, both were getting to their feet again. I bolted, throwing the doors open and dashing back out into the crowd.

In the ballroom, the music had died down, but the chatter was enough to make me dizzy. I shoved straight into the heart of the crowd, weaving and pushing and practically throwing students out of my way. Would Reverie be able to help? Should I tell another professor? I didn't know who to trust anymore. Surely the whole school couldn't be rotten.

No, I'd already known it was. That was why I had come, and I had played my cards foolishly.

I'd go home. I'd tell Yvonne. We would find Elias. He would take me home. Mother and I would escape and disappear again. I focused on that as I ran even as a stitch formed in my side and grew, lancing up with each step and sapping my breath.

Skirting the center of the ballroom, I eventually made it up the stairs leading out the door I had entered with Bren. As I was leaving, I caught sight of the crow circling the room behind me. It was only a matter of time before that stupid bird found me.

Why was it Seraya? All I could picture was her mischievous smile, her carefree laugh, the way she complained about the crow and dropped everything for a slice of cake—had it always been a façade?

Then there was Varren, his bizarre nature and overbearing questions. Bren had warned me not to trust him, but it had come a little too late and only after we had read the book. The book with the initials E.V.. What had his door sign said? E. W. Varren.

It could have been a coincidence, but there were no coincidences when I was running so fast that the world was a blur and my lungs were weeping for relief.

You are special, Celestine, more than you know.

My head was pounding. In what way was I special? Because of my father, I assumed, but that was a specialness I'd always known. Was it something else about that messed up family? Some stench that clung to me because of them?

As I rounded upon another set of doors, the final pair between me and the outside world, I collided sharply with a figure entering from the cold. Both of us fell back, and I gasped as I slammed into the floor. The impact rattled up my arms.

"Celestine?" It was Reverie that I had barreled into, and she collected herself much faster, with all the grace she might have if she were a real fox. She came to my side and helped me up. "What's happened? You—"

Warning bells still blared in my mind, dizzying and certain. I'd been foolish with my trust. I shirked out of her grasp. "Don't try to stall me."

"Stall you?" She frowned behind her fox mask, and her eyes darkened before flicking to something behind me. Quickly, she pulled me outside and allowed the doors to shut. Cold snapped around us and sucked the strength from my bones. "Go on then," she said, nudging me into the darkness. "Get moving. I can lead her away."

Her. "How did you...?" I stared at Reverie, snagged on her words, puzzling at the certainty with which she delivered them. "You already know. Why do you know?"

"I can explain later." She smiled briefly, and it was all the reassurance I needed that she was still my friend. Dependable Reverie, always there. I could have cried. "Bren is looking for you in the courtyard. He can help you get home safely, but then you must leave the city."

"What does Bren have to do with this?" I asked, wrapping my arms around myself. It was quite cold. I didn't know if I could run anymore. I was still struggling to breathe, and all I could taste was ice. There was a part of me that wanted to find a teacher, but then—I heard the ring of my bells in my ears, a soft warning. And I knew I couldn't. If there was any place likely to be overrun with adults desperate for the information in that journal—Varren's journal, if I was right—it was Aetheria Academy.

"He doesn't," Reverie said. She put a gentle hand against my arm, pushing me away again. "But he cares about you and is perfectly capable of protecting you. Let him take you home. Now go!"

I held her gaze a moment longer before nodding. "Thank you, Reverie," I said. Then I left her and the party behind, plunging into the dimly lit path. It wound around campus aimlessly. It had never seemed so frustrating during the day, when I walked at my own pace with Seraya and Reverie or Bren beside me, when nothing in the world mattered but that moment.

Here, choking on my own breath, fighting my own body, and tripping over the fine silk of my skirt, I hated everything about its aimless slowness. If it weren't for the lack of light, I'd have plowed straight toward the courtyard like the mad girl that I was. However, dark clouds had rolled in, obscuring the moon and stars, and all that lit my path was the flickering lamps, many of which had already had their flames die out. I was berating the poor job of the lamplighters, anything to keep myself from spiraling, when I finally reached the familiar courtyard.

The flowering trees scattered about the green had finally lost their blossoms as autumn had settled quite firmly about the school. Petals lay forgotten across the ground, shriveling slowly. In the dark, the walls of the academy framed the swash of manicured wilderness in tall and foreboding walls, almost gothic in their secrets. Or maybe it was just the idea that this whole place was an overstuffed coffin.

I could not see Bren on the green, but I slowed to a walk as I scanned the alcoves beneath the covered walkway. I was panting and wheezing from the trek, sweating through all that fine silk and favoring the painful ache in my side. I'd become quite wild and unruly in such a short span of time. Yvonne was going to be worried before I even got a chance to tell her what had happened.

Eventually, I came upon a bench, the very same I had visited on many occasions. Bren sat there, knee bouncing irregularly. He stood suddenly when he saw me. Both of us ran to the other, and we met beneath one of the arches that led into the courtyard. He was already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over me before I could explain myself. Like me, he had lost his mask at some point during the evening. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Reverie said you were looking for me. There's been an incident. I need to get home as soon as possible."

"Vesper again?"

I shook my head fiercely and took his arm. "We have to go."

His face flattened, but I turned away and tugged him with me before he could argue. To my surprise, he didn't. After a bit, he took the lead, but I did not let go of him. I felt safer with him beside me, so when he didn't urge me to run anymore, I allowed myself to finally slow down so that I didn't have to worry about collapsing on my trembling legs. I'd never run so much in my life, and I thought I was near fainting because of it. There were dark spots gathering at the edges of my vision, persistent and growing. I could barely see through them to keep watch for the bird. Or Varren. Or Seraya.

My knees were weak. The more I tried to understand what she was doing with Varren, the more muddled my mind became. I was too tired to put the pieces together. I was...

I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of Bren's coat again. It was comforting in some ways, yet bitter on my tongue. It hadn't been before. It was familiar now in a different way, one I couldn't place through the fog over my head.

Then I realized I was walking—stumbling more like—but couldn't place where I was. Grass tickled my ankles—wouldn't it be faster to take the path around the front of the school to the road? My fingers were cold. I tried to flex them to warm them, but I couldn't.

"Bren," I said. It came out as little more than a breath, one which I struggled to grasp again. The ground rocked beneath me, and with it I fell. I must have landed in his arms, for I was staring up at his face—it cracked with such regret that I felt it in my core.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, growing fainter as the darkness around me swallowed him. "You must remember that."

I couldn't answer, for I had gone somewhere far from myself, into the deepest shadows. In that space between us, I heard the caw of a crow. Even in pieces as I was, I knew. 

Night night, Celestine :)