12. Chapter 11
Since receiving her assessment exam information, the rest of her classes flew by.
She was due at the exam hall no later than seven-thirty in the morning, but she couldn’t stay asleep past five.
Instead, she read her textbooks, hoping something in there could prepare her for what was coming.
After the orientation on Sunday, she read through what they’d sent with her acceptance letter on the topic.
While the exams were more structured, the magic randomized the assessments based on the individual’s perceived strengths, weaknesses, and other qualities, and was supposedly less intense.
But she wasn’t betting on it. She dressed in sneakers, her one pair of black yoga pants, and a loose T-shirt, unsure of what she would encounter. Before she left her room, she glanced at the photo of her parents on her desk. She brushed her thumb over the crinkled edges.
“I should get a frame,” she mumbled to herself and smiled faintly at the image. “Wish me luck.”
She left her room quietly after noticing Maeve’s door was still shut.
Her assessment was a little later in the morning, so she must still have been sleeping.
The building was quiet, considering it was almost seven o’clock.
As she walked through the hall, her stomach churned as her magic twirled and twisted inside.
God, she hoped she could shake the nerves before the exam.
She tried to shrug it off as she padded down the old wooden steps slowly, but they creaked beneath her movements, anyway. Several others milled about on the main floor, and someone was looking at the flyer for tonight’s party pinned to the corkboard by the door.
Her stomach lurched again. She should just attend the party with Maeve and have fun.
She’d been ruminating over tonight all week.
Nothing she discovered pointed her any closer to finding Briar.
Nothing except for the essay Thorne said she still had from last year.
She couldn’t believe she actually thought about breaking into her office to get it.
There must be somewhere on campus she wasn’t checking.
There were so many buildings, and she’d only explored a third of them this week.
Since she had some time to spare, she stopped at the small café in Arcania Hall to grab a hot flat white and a danish. Normally, she’d have a bit more for breakfast, but with her stomach in knots, she didn’t trust herself not to get sick.
The building was on the right side of campus at the foot of the hill that led to Desmorium Hall and the rest of the School of Fates buildings.
The exam hall was simpler than its neighbors—tall enough to hold perhaps three floors and about half as long, with similar worn limestone features, like pillars and a tympanum, around the entrance.
A singular tower stood at the front of the building with large rose windows.
The very top of the tower was open—as if there had once been a large bell hanging inside it.
She pushed one of the heavy oak doors open to reveal a similar entryway as Arcania Hall, only less grand.
A few people were already inside, talking with the staff at the front desks.
The walls were clean, creamy tan stone, and paintings of the campus hung on them, and the floors were the same geometric tile.
Ahead were a smaller set of doors, with frosted glass panels and a silver plaque above that read Exam Hall 1.
“Checking in?” Someone called out to her.
She looked back to see that the person ahead had moved, and she stepped forward. “Yes, uh, Ivy Heartwell. I was told to be here by seven thirty?”
“Alright, let’s see here,” the man said, scanning his list. “And there we are. You will be in exam hall two, room eight. There is another student inside currently, but once they’ve finished or their time is up, the door will open, and it will be ready for you.”
A bead of sweat gathered at her temple. She didn’t realize it was timed. “How long are we given?”
“For the assessment, each student is given fifteen minutes,” he said, and then he chuckled, no doubt at what could only be the sheer panic working through her body manifesting on her face. “Don’t worry, most finish with ample time left. And the full exams are anywhere from two to four hours.”
The panic slowly eased back to a manageable level. “Alright, thank you.”
She left the desk, making her way toward the stairs to go to the second floor.
It was the same as the first, only without the desks.
She stepped through the exam doors to a long hallway.
On either side were simple, singular doors, each with a number.
In the center of the room were two rows of back-to-back benches, with about half occupied by one student each.
She walked down the side with the even-numbered doors until she reached hers, which was still shut.
Ivy sat on the empty bench across from it to wait for her turn.
The man next to her jiggled his leg rapidly, the wood beneath him creaking with each movement.
She turned her head to get a better look at him and saw a bead of sweat trail from his short, thick curls.
The overhead lighting above them gave his umber skin an unusual pallor.
“Nervous?” she asked.
The man huffed with slight laughter. “You’d think this would be easier the second time ‘round.” His voice, the accent somewhere from England she’d bet, trembled as he spoke.
“We have to do this every year?” Ivy asked, her eyes widening a bit. Judging by his reaction, perhaps the assessments were tougher than the person downstairs had led on.
“Apparently so.” He shook out his shoulders and neck to release some nerves. “This is only my second year here. I’m Liam, by the way.”
“Ivy,” she said. “So this must be harder than expected?”
“It’s not that it’s difficult.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Last year, they filled the room with spiders. I had to fend those off while rescuing an illusion of a person they had caught in their web. I hate spiders.”
“Oh.” She swallowed roughly. What was something she feared? Falling. Particularly from somewhere up high, like the top of a building or a bridge. Or, worse yet, her parents dying before she could bring their magic back.
The door to room six opened, and a tan woman, tall and strong, strode out. Liam exhaled before standing, and he nodded over at her. “Good luck, yeah?”
“You too.”
She watched as he stepped inside, and the door closed behind him.
It was then she noticed none of the doors had knobs.
Her throat tightened, and sweat slicked her palms. Shards of ice pricked at her magic, and the bench behind her creaked.
She glanced over her shoulder to where a pale man with ice-blond hair obscuring part of his face sat.
Ivy turned back to face her door, her heart thudding harder in her chest with each minute that passed. Ages later—though it was likely only a few minutes—her door creaked open.
But nobody came out.
She blinked, remaining seated. Maybe the last student was traumatized enough that they were still inside? She waited another minute. Then another. And another. Until she finally rose from her bench and inched toward it. When she reached the doorframe, she peered inside.
Nobody was there. In fact, there was nothing at all other than the simple ceiling light in a small, basic, square room. There were no windows and there was only one door. How could someone get lost in here?
Only one way to find out. When she stepped inside, the door behind her closed, and the light flickered off, leaving her in total darkness. She fell back against the door, her breath catching in her throat. A wave of magic washed over her, tingling against her skin.
“Ivy Heartwell,” an ethereal voice said. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. It was all around her. “Welcome to your assessment. You will have fifteen minutes to prove yourself.”
A moment later, the door beneath her fingers transformed from wood to metal, and a chill settled in the space.
The thrum of electricity filled the air as a clinical white light filled the room.
Ivy squinted, shielding her eyes at the sudden change.
Once her vision adjusted, her heart stilled for a moment.
On the three walls boxing her in were rows and columns of scratched and dented metal doors with long latch handles keeping them sealed. In the center of the room was a bare, silver metal table. Her exhale transformed into mist in front of her.
She was in a morgue.
“What the…?” She slowly made her way around the room, passing the doors. Most of the names on them had either been scratched out or faded with time. But three along the wall behind the table had names written clearly. As if they were brand new.
MCEVERS—she wasn’t sure who that was. Could it be the student before her?
MAYCLAIR—tears sprang to her eyes, clouding her vision.
HEARTW—
Ivy blinked rapidly to rid herself of her tears. When she looked again, her blood ran cold. It was her last name on the door. Except…it was different from the others. The first five letters were freshly carved, like the others. The last four were faint, like they were written decades ago.
All the names blurred as her tears fell. She stumbled back into the table; the metal clattered with the impact. Her breathing increased—tiny, white clouds puffing out from her mouth every second. What the hell was this magic? Was there any truth to it? Could Briar actually be dead?
It didn’t explain why her name would be there, partially renewed.
She was still alive. Though a cold bead of sweat slid down her neck as dread pooled in her stomach.
Ivy placed her hand on her chest, willing her heart to return to its normal pace.
She needed to focus. How much time did she have left?
She turned around to the table, but there was nothing on it anywhere. Whatever she needed to do must be behind the morgue doors. Ivy groaned.