I
I
Throwing one last glance at her appearance in the antique speckled looking glass, she adjusted the stray curls framing her face and smoothed the creases in her starched white collared shirt. The heavy glass reflected the dim glow of her oil lamp, casting flickering shadows across the room's peeling wallpaper. Her gaze flicked to the window, where lines of swaying lights—lanterns borne by carriages—snaked their way up the narrow road to the imposing castle on the hill, its dark silhouette outlined against the star-strewn sky.
Cursing softly under her breath, she grabbed her cloak from the back of the door and slipped outside, the cool night air biting at her cheeks. Hidden by the shadows, she drew the heavy hood over her head, the fabric muffling her features. The lane before her was uneven and dusty, its edges lined with scraggly trees and the occasional crumbling stone wall. She kept close to the shadows, moving silently and deliberately, her boots whispering against the packed dirt. The muted rustle of leaves in the night breeze covered the sound of her hurried footsteps.
When she reached the tiny village square, the faint glow of the lamplight revealed cobblestones slick with dew. She hesitated, scanning the area for the telltale silhouettes of night stragglers or patrolling watchmen. Her breath fogged in the cold air as she darted across the square, her cloak billowing behind her. The dim light played tricks on her, turning ordinary shapes into looming figures. Heart pounding, she pressed herself into the deeper shadow of a narrow alleyway, waiting until she was sure the coast was clear.
Glancing at her battered gold wristwatch, she stifled a groan. The second hand ticked mockingly as she realized how late she already was. Picking up her pace, she moved swiftly, her feet finding purchase on the steep incline as the lane gave way to the long, winding driveway leading up to the castle gates. The once-quiet air now buzzed with distant chatter and the rhythmic clatter of carriage wheels on stone. Panting slightly, she wiped her damp brow with the back of her sleeve, cursing the incline and her own tardiness.
As she approached the grand entrance, the last of the carriages from the village station came to a stop, the clamor of students spilling into the driveway. She slowed her pace, straightening her cloak and lifting her chin as she tried to blend in with the boisterous crowd. The students, all cloaked in black, paid her little mind as they bustled toward the castle’s large oak doors, their laughter echoing against the towering walls. Fitting herself seamlessly among them, she took a steadying breath and followed, her nerves tightening with each step.
Upon reaching the large stone entrance hall, the girl paused for a moment to take in her surroundings. The space was cavernous, its towering ceilings disappearing into shadowy heights where massive stone arches crisscrossed like the ribs of some ancient, slumbering beast. Wall sconces cast pools of warm light across the polished flagstone floor, their flames flickering as if alive. She unfastened her cloak with a practiced hand, draping it neatly over her arm, and absently tucked a stray curl behind her ear. A cool draft carried the mingled scent of aged stone and beeswax polish, tinged faintly with the enticing aroma of roasted meats and spiced cider wafting from the feast beyond.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped through the towering arched doorway into the great hall. The scene before her was a riot of motion and sound. The cacophony was instant and all-encompassing: bursts of laughter, delighted shrieks from students spotting long-missed friends, and the rumbles of low, excited chatter. The noise bounced off the walls, the acoustics amplifying every cheer and murmur into a symphony of youthful energy.
Her gaze lifted to the enchanted ceiling that stretched high above, a masterpiece of magic and wonder. Midnight blue in color, it shimmered with clusters of glinting silver stars arranged in constellations she recognized—and a few she didn’t. Wispy clouds, opalescent and ghostly, floated lazily across the expanse, sometimes obscuring the stars but never lingering long. It was as if the heavens themselves had been invited to the feast, their serene beauty a sharp contrast to the bustling activity below.
Rows of long, gleaming wooden tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, laden with silver goblets and polished plates that gleamed in the golden light of the floating chandeliers. Students were seated or standing in clusters, their diverse faces alight with joy and anticipation. The girl hesitated at the threshold, overwhelmed for a brief moment by the sheer energy of the space. Then, steeling herself, she moved forward, her steps feigning a confidence she didn’t quite feel. She approached the end of one of the long tables, choosing a spot near the shadows cast by the towering stone walls. Sliding in gracefully, she arranged her cloak over her knees like a makeshift blanket to ward off the chill that swept in from the grand doors. Her hands smoothed the fabric absentmindedly, her fingers brushing the worn edge of the cloak’s hem as she kept her eyes fixed on the polished silverware before her.
She deliberately avoided glancing around, her posture carefully composed to project indifference. Drawing in a quiet breath, she focused on the intricate engravings on the goblet before her, wishing she had thought to bring one of her books. Her current read on wandless magic would have been perfect—a ready excuse to bury herself in something scholarly and make it clear that she had no intention of joining the lively chatter. The thought of engaging in gossip or laughter with the surrounding crowd felt as foreign to her as flying without a broom.
The room filled steadily, and with it, the noise grew—a vibrant discordance of voices, chairs scraping, and goblets clinking as students jostled for seats and reconnected. The sheer volume swirled around her, a hurricane of sound that threatened to overwhelm. She tightened her grip on her goblet, her fingers wrapping around its cool surface like an anchor.
Just as the noise reached its crescendo, a hush fell over the hall like snow, soft and absolute, blanketing every sound. All eyes turned toward the dais at the front of the room, where a towering man stood. His presence was commanding, his long grey beard cascading down to his navel like a waterfall of silver threads. His deep-set eyes gleamed with a mix of wisdom and mischief as he raised his hands, demanding the room’s attention without uttering a single word. The air seemed to shift, anticipation rippling through the crowd like a tangible force.
The welcome feast had begun and with it a new school year.