Page 113 of The Holy Academy of Witches

“Are you sure? I know I’m a teacher and we all must seem like old fuddy duddy’s, but I’m a good listener.” She sat down next to me, her dutiful dog limping over and laying its fluffy head in her lap. “…And I won’t speak of it to your mother… if that’s what you’re worried about.” She gave me a look which suggested she understood the nightmare that was Camilla Alva. As someone who had to deal with her as their boss, she probably did. She waited patiently beside me, one hand idly stroking the dog’s head. It’s fur woolly and standing in four different directions, All of which seemed to obscure its eyes.

“I’m just… tired.” I said with a sigh.

“Hmm… in more ways than just physically, I’m guessing?”

“…Yes. I… I constantly work to the best of my abilities, which in itself can be draining, and that’s without taking into account the pressure I’m under from…otherpeople, but then there’s all this in the news about the attacks… that’s obviously troubling and then I had a bit of…involvementwith a male student and I felt like I could talk to him like an equal, like I had found someone who…” my voice cracked and I coughed, “Never mind, I’m just being silly.”

“How you’re feeling is never silly, Adeline. It sounds as though you’re dealing with quite a lot of… well, shit, frankly. Pardon my French.” She gave me a small nudge before continuing, “But-

“Professor Hershaw… Adeline?” My mothers voice pierced the frigid air like an arrow shot down the jetty.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Professor Hershaw murmured with a wink before jumping to her feet, “Headmistress Alva!” She greeted, “Our lovely Adeline was just showing me a wonderful piece of magic.”

“I see… Well, some of us are rather busy doing our actual jobs. Could I have a word please, Miss Hershaw?”

“Absolutely! Come on Barnaby, let’s give Miss Alva some space.” I stared after them as they spoke quietly, their low voices drifting further away till I could neither hear nor see them. I sighed once more and looked back out across the water to the boys academy. The Holy Academy of Warlocks stood proudly amongst landscaped gardens and a thick tree line. Its shape slightly more modern than the Gothic arches and spires of our own buildings. My pocket vibrated with an alert from my phone, as though I had summoned him by sight my thoughts immediately went to Teddy. My heart deflated as I saw his sister’s name instead lighting up the screen.

Sage: You woke the beast and now we’re all paying for it.

I laughed as I thought of Dorcas’ foul moods when she doesn’t get enough sleep.

Adeline: I’ll be back shortly, just went for a walk.

Sixty

Sage

Iwas wandering the candle lit hallways of the Academy, inspecting every alcove for another clue to the riddle that seemed to be utter nonsense. Finding nothing but the occasional splash of colour from stained glass, I continued on my way to the music wing. Ducking into an empty classroom with a piano, I warded the space. Starting on the scales I’d reluctantly memorised under Adeline’s tuition, I let my muscle memory take over while I tried to puzzle out the riddle. It was no surprise when my mind wandered to the book Cillian and I had uncovered instead.

Unlike the books he’d found that only contained vague mentions of the life bond and its hypothesised effects, this book contained dozens of first hand stories about those that failed to fulfil their life bond. How over time the bond grew stronger, the range shrinking until the bonded had to live in the same house, then sleep in the same room, and finally the same bed as their bond reacted to the threat of old age. The act of comforting their saviour and captor the final price before the bond fell away. Some followed their bond soon afterwards, and the authors speculated whether it was from the bond having extended the bonded’s life, or if there was simply a lack of will to go on after the person whom they’d spent so long protecting was gone.

My fingers stumbled over the notes as I lost my focus. I laid them next to me as I did some vocal scales instead. Trusting the wards would keep any prying eyes away.

There were only two stories where the bond was broken. The first was through taking their bonds place in a duel. The bonded died moments after their marks disappeared. The debt being paid in full. The last story though, my favourite story, that pair saw their marks disappear just after the bonded cast a goblet of poisoned wine away from the bonds hand. I clung to the hope that if I anticipated a dangerous enough situation, I’d be free. At some point the scales had turned into my humming one of The Muses’ songs. Cillian’s part to be exact, probably because I was thinking of the bond.

I didn’t know very many people that would want to poison him… beyond myself of course, for… being so… whatever. Maybe I could just slap some glasses out of his hand. As a cautionary measure of course. I’m sure he’d understand, probably applaud my dedication to his safety. We could say it was an American show of affection. Theo would love that. Not that he knew we were dating, or anything about what was going on with me… we hadn’t been speaking much since Christmas. Apparently my ignoring his demands to “unfriend” Adeline was grounds for pouting like a child.

He’d gone radio silent honestly, something that hadn’t happened since Tyler. I’d learned then that my interference in his less than healthy coping mechanisms only made things worse, and maybe I was horrible for thinking it, but I wasn’t ready to try again. He knew where I was, he knew I cared about him, and you can only be hurt or ignored by your own blood so many times before you have to put yourself first. So that’s what I was doing for now, dealing with my own problems, and making the best out of a situation I’d gotten myself into. As well as the other situations I was dealing with as I acclimated to everything my peers had been raised with.

The traditions that encouraged others to do everything in their power to discover my secrets, and use them against me over something as seemingly trivial as an inter-school competition. Several people had been disqualified, Marsha only the first. And others had been all too happy to take their spots in the competition and the accompanying harassment. Masochists, the lot of us.

I clenched my teeth in frustration, both over the memory of the latest trap that dropped water balloons full of hair dye over me, as well as the fact I’d just started singing the bridge for another Muses song. I’d copied the recording to my new phone, sans explosion, and was pretending it was totally normal to listen to their set on repeat.

Was it so bad to sing what I wanted to? In a warded room, alone? I was fully warmed up now, and Cillian’s comment kept circling my head. Maybe I could never sing in his band, or in public, but I could sing. And if he was to hear me, I’d want to sound good. And that only came with practice. I put in my headphones and pressed play on the recording. Testing out some harmonies, I increased my volume once I got my stride. I sang till I felt weightless, weaving through their notes like a bird swooping under and over branches. I lifted the gates of my emotions just enough to colour my tone. Enjoying the taste of sincerity for a moment. I sang every song with my heart on my sleeve, keeping my eyes closed and just enjoying the taste of falling without a net. And as the last notes played I felt a tear stream down my face. Perhaps anticipating my next move.

Shoving the gates of my heart closed felt impossible, as if my brief lapse in judgement had strengthened the unnamed feelings. Conjuring a cold iron chain and lock I looped it through the gates in my mind and took a sick sense of satisfaction when the lock closed loudly. The sound as heartless as the dread I’d woven it from. Dread of the inevitable, of the worst my mind could conjure.

Sending the information of the bonds to Cillian numbly, I turned my phone off before he could reply. Turning my traitorous hands to the piano, I forced myself to play every song I’d learned so far under Adeline’s tutelage. As the robotic notes filled the room I told myself this was just as necessary as repressing the vision triggers. Both would land me in a life sentence, or buried six feet under. Better to be alive. And I was… Alive.

Sixty-One

Adeline

It had been a month since we had returned from the winter break. The weather had predictably become its usual unpredictable self. Standard England, it would be Spring next month yet the sky looked like it wanted to snow more than ever before. I ran my usual route, skirting the edges of the forest around the lake. Even the still waters looked in anticipation of snowfall with its lack of wildlife. No birds or insects dancing across its surface. Just a reflection of the white sheet above.

I hadn’t seen Theo in weeks and hadn’t seen his name on my phone in longer than that, yet as if fate felt I hadn’t dealt with enough - our feet found their way to each other once more.

We stood facing one another, panting, on the very path we had first met.

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