Chapter 4 – — First Year Handbook, Mirror Ceremony Procedure #2
The thought hasn’t really crossed my mind until now that I am going to be taking classes with a whole lot of men and women my age, and none of them will be human.
I’m not terrible at talking to people after working in the clinic and speaking to patients day after day, but most of my patients were human. Most of them were elderly. The only boy my age I have ever truly spent time with is Jace.
Our village never had many children. Since we were educated at home, tutored mostly by my parents, my world was always very small. Jace, Briana, and the eccentric husband and wife who live in the tavern down the street from our house are my people.
That leaves Jace as my one real friend.
The idea of navigating a school full of magical bloodlines around my age, of learning how to exist among them, makes my stomach twist.
It’s a good thing I don’t mind being alone, because I have a feeling I am about to be very alone indeed.
Once outside, I’m taken back for a moment by the courtyard.
It is a winter wonderland of snow and ice, but alive with motion.
Students cluster in loose groups, talking and laughing, boots crunching against frost, arms full of heavy-looking books.
Breath fogs the air. The contrast is jarring after the warm, hushed stillness of the dormitories, and I simply stand there, overwhelmed.
“How many people attend Ashwell?” I ask, as Elizabeth tugs my arm to get me moving again, my gaze drifting as I take it all in.
A girl with pale-pink hair and startling blue eyes catches sight of me as we pass, and her steps slow. Her stare lingers, curiosity flickering across her face.
I swallow.
“Ashwell accepts a hundred students a year when taking new students. Sometimes there are….gaps,” she says.
I find myself wishing I knew more about the other bloodlines so I could tell them apart. I know angels have wings. Fae have pointed ears. Beyond that, everything blurs together into unfamiliar possibilities.
“A hundred students a year seems like a lot,” I say, but I don’t know how many gap years there are. “I didn’t realize there were so many Veilguards.”
We follow a narrow path lined with trees, their branches bare and sheathed in ice. From the frozen limbs hang delicate blue trumpet-shaped flowers, translucent and glowing faintly, as if grown from frost rather than soil.
“There aren’t that many Veilguards,” she says. “Bone year starts with roughly a hundred students. Blood year usually begins with fifty to sixty. Breath year has around thirty, and not all of them graduate.”
I snap my head toward her. “What the hell happens to all the other students?”
She glances at me, and for the first time since barging into my room, her expression isn’t playful or amused. It’s almost pitying.
“Let’s hope you don’t find out.”
That’s reassuring.
Of course being the only human here is going to put a target on my back. And most of them are going to expect me to fail. But I am not going to make it easy for them.
We reach the end of the path between the two dormitories, and the campus opens up in front of us.
Ashwell is enormous, a sprawling complex of dark stone towers, interlocking buildings, and high walls stretches across the mountainside.
The structures rise at different heights, some only a few stories tall, others climbing so high their upper spires disappear into drifting clouds.
Narrow bridges span the gaps between towers.
Arched walkways cut through lower levels.
Staircases cling to outer walls, winding upward in tight spirals.
The stone is almost black, mottled with deep browns and charcoal tones, dusted with snow that clings to ledges and window frames.
Hundreds of tall, narrow windows line the buildings, many glowing with dim amber light.
Others remain dark, creating an uneven pattern that makes the school feel awake in some places and asleep in others.
At the heart of the grounds stands a massive central structure wider and taller than the rest with a broad stairway leading up to enormous iron doors. Beyond it, more buildings branch outward in layered tiers, forming a rough semicircle around an open courtyard of packed snow and stone.
Elizabeth keeps leading us down different paths, and I barely manage to process anything she says.
My attention keeps snagging on the scenery, the buildings, and the steady flow of students moving between them.
We pass directly by the largest structure near the center of the grounds, and carved above its doors are three words, “Bone. Blood. Breath.”
A wolf stands etched beside “Bone.” A snake weaves through the letters of “Blood.” A bat clings to the curve of the H in “Breath.”
What is it with this place and animals?
We continue toward the front of the campus, where a gigantic iron gate looms in the distance, closed and blocking the main road. Near it is a much smaller building compared to everything else around it, though people constantly move in and out.
“This is where we’ll pick up your class schedule,” Elizabeth says.
I follow her inside and fall into line behind two girls.
“So what other bloodlines go here?” I ask quietly as we wait for the girl in front of us to finish checking in. “Are there a lot of other shifters like you?”
“Oh, Ashwell accepts all bloodlines other than humans.” She glances at me, lips twitching. “Well, until now.”
I lift a hand in a small circular motion. “Like…”
“There are shifters, fae, vampires, angels, demons.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “Oh, and mages ,though they’re rare. I only know of five here at the school.”
“Five?” I echo.
“Other than the headmaster,” she adds casually.
That makes me blink. I had not even considered the headmaster.
“Who’s the headmaster?” I ask.
“Headmaster Valerius Ashmoor,” she says. “He’s a blood mage. Those are extremely rare, practically extinct and extremely powerful. He’s the only one I know of in Valen.”
Sounds powerful and intimidating. “And what’s he like?”
She thinks about it for a second. “Intense.”
Before I can ask anything else, the girl in front of us steps away from the desk. An older woman with pointed ears and thin spectacles looks up at me, offering a polite smile.
“Name, dear?”
I clear my throat. “Maelis Rose.”
Her hand pauses before she opens a large drawer beside her. She flips through several folders before pulling one free. Her brows knit together as she scans the page then looks at me. Then back at the paper. Then at me again.
She hesitates then slides the sheet across the counter.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth says quickly, plucking the schedule before I can even reach for it.
I realize I’m still staring at the woman, caught on the way her smile has faded into something strained.
“Come on,” Elizabeth says, tugging me toward the door. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I let her pull me back outside as she glances over the parchment. “Architecture of Flesh. Fracture and Form. Mortal Limitations. And Triage of the Damned.”
My stomach tightens. None of those sound like topics I know anything about.
“That’s…a lot,” I mutter.
She snorts. “Welcome to bone year. That’s not even all of them. You’ll have six classes and two labs, not to mention ward hours, but you won’t have them all every day.” Her eyes light up. “Look on the bright side. You’ve got Professor Nestor for Architecture of Flesh and one of your labs.”
She finally hands the schedule over, beaming like she has delivered good news. I glance down at the parchment, catching glimpses of days, times, and unfamiliar professor names before my brain threatens to short-circuit. I fold the paper and shove it into my pocket.
“Who’s Professor Nestor?” I ask. “And are you being sarcastic, or is that actually a good thing? I honestly can’t tell with you.”
She laughs, “I didn’t have him last year, but he’s supposed to be kind of a mad genius. Everyone says he’s brilliant but unpredictable.”
That does absolutely nothing to calm me. At least with other students I’ll be able to hide in the back and never have to interact directly with any of the faculty or staff. They’ll probably never know I’m here.
A deep male voice from behind startles me out of my thoughts.
“Maelis Rose, you’ve been summoned to the headmaster’s office.”