Chapter 1
For the last four years of her life, Lesya Rosefield went to sleep each night bearing the full weight of the towering castle.
Or so it felt sleeping in the undercroft.
House Balthazar knew not of the luxuries of airy hallways, windows with backdrops of the hills and forests, or of dorm rooms where light, warmth, or greenery teemed in.
She felt like it had been a mistake when she’d been inducted in House Balthazar and had gone to the admissions office trying to get them to change their decision.
“We do not make these decisions lightly, Ms. Rosefield. We take into account your family history, your magical aptitude, and your psychological profile when we assign students to one of the two houses. Let’s just say that a girl of your particularities would be ill-suited in the House Solaris,” the head of the admissions committee, Madam Rutherford, had said with a stern face, not looking up from Lesya’s files.
Finally, she’d looked up with a little sympathetic smile on her face and said, “At Umbrveyl, you will learn over the course of years that it is not the house that one’s assigned to, but what they choose to do with their time here that decides what sort of a mage they’ll end up becoming.
We do not believe in the faux binary of good and evil.
I myself am from Balthazar, and you shall find no dark magic hidden in my closet. Tell me what this is really about.”
When Lesya said nothing, Madam Rutherford’s face broke into an even more sympathetic smile as she said, “It’s the undercroft, isn’t it?”
Lesya nodded.
“It takes some time getting used to living there, I’ll admit.
Where is it that you said you were from?
Oh, look. Lynsfeld. Would you look at that?
I’m from Lynsfeld too. When you’ve got sprawling hills and lush forests as your backdrop back home, the undercroft can feel like a bit of torture,” Madam Rutherford said, closing Lesya’s file.
She leaned closer, even though there was no one else in her office other than Lesya, and said, “When I used to get claustrophobic, I’d sneak to the astronomy tower.
There are a series of rooms that are never opened.
Big windows, archways, terraces. Knock thrice on the gargoyle at the left of the astronomy tower’s entrance, and it shall open the secret entrance to Voltaire’s Research Wing. ”
Lesya had felt a bit hopeful with that little bit of secret information, and had even gone to the astronomy tower that night.
This was her first week at Umbrveyl, and she’d had five sleepless nights already, the suffocating darkness of the basement (it was a dungeon, no matter what anyone said) getting to her.
She had a pillow tucked under her arm, and she’d been wearing her nightgown. She could already imagine the place, and could already envision herself sleeping peacefully there. At first light, she’d sneak back into the undercroft and no one would be any wiser.
She’d knocked thrice on the gargoyle and waited.
A wall slid to the side, revealing a curving hallway with lamps throwing blue flame light and tall open windows.
She could feel the wind in her face. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
The wind smelled sweet, of leaves and grass and mountain springs.
She walked along the hallway, wondering who this Voltaire was and why he had a hidden research chamber at the top of the astronomy tower.
The curving hallway came to an end at a series of rooms, just like Madam Rutherford had said. There were astrolabes, armillary spheres, orreries, star maps, sextants, and telescopes scattered about gathering dust and cobwebs.
But there was another smell here, a rank smell like something being burned.
And that’s when she saw a group of girls and boys in the first room, smoking something.
The room would’ve been choking with smoke if not for the big windows.
There were six of them, some of them lying, some of them sitting, and one of them just leaning against the window frame.
By the looks of their stark black robes, they were all House Balthazar.
Just how many people had Madam Rutherford told about this place?
She managed to stay hidden behind the empty armors that served as decoration.
Perhaps she could lock herself in the farthest room.
But to her surprise, in the second room, a girl was kneeling in front of a boy.
The boy had his hands on the girl’s head and was moaning as she moved back and forth.
Their black robes were bundled by their feet, revealing their skin.
To her shock, there were other couples in the remaining two rooms, moaning, kissing, groping each other, partially obscured from each other by all the equipment and boxes that gave the rooms an appearance of a maze.
“Hey! Who the fuck?—?!”
Someone had spotted her. Almost immediately, a spell shot out of one of the rooms and struck her arm. She held her hand to her face and muffled the scream as pain blinded her.
Lesya ran back through the hallway, aware that some of the students had come out of the rooms and were looking for the intruder.
“Fucking Rutherford going around telling more first-years!” one of them yelled. Lesya ran fast, outpacing the patter of the advancing steps behind her. She tapped the gargoyle thrice and slid out of the secret wall.
“Look for her. She can’t have gone far!” someone yelled.
She hid behind a wall, tucked into an alcove. Her shoulder was bleeding away. Her shirt had ripped where the spell had hit her, revealing a deep gash.
It was her first week. She knew of no spells that could heal an injury of this sort. She hadn’t even been issued a channeling device.
She remained hidden in the alcove, watching the seniors as they looked for her, but given that they were inebriated, they did not look all that close. Once they were sure she had run away, they went back to Voltaire’s Research Wing.
Later that night, a sympathetic house-fellow had spotted her lying whimpering in her bed and had walked up to her.
“Hey. You do know you’re bleeding all over your bed, right?” she said.
“Go away,” Lesya sobbed.
“Hey, come here.” The other girl pulled at Lesya’s bleeding shoulder. Lesya stifled a painful scream.
“Oh shit,” the girl said. “Looks like someone wanted to kill you. What the hell were you doing anyway?”
“Trying to find a place to sleep.” Lesya bit down on her lip as the other girl looked at her injury.
“And these quarters are not fit for her highness?” the other girl scoffed deridingly. She placed a hand on Lesya’s ripped shoulder and recited something under her breath.
All at once, Lesya could feel the veil of pain lift from her shoulder. She could move it now. She touched it, and found that there was no gash there any longer. She turned over and looked at the other girl.
She was a curly haired, dark-skinned first-year. Her face was riddled with acne and she wore glasses two sizes too big for her. She had a bandana around her forehead, keeping her curls back.
“Trisha,” she said, holding her hand out. “Trisha Evermore.”
“You’re…Dr. Lenny Evermore’s daughter?” Lesya asked.
“The very same,” Trisha said proudly. “Dad knew where he was sending me. Said it would be foolish if he didn’t teach me a few healing spells.”
“Your dad was from Balthazar too?” Lesya asked, sitting up in bed.
“Hey, what does that have to do with anything? Are you one of those idiots who thinks our house is the lesser of the two?”
“Balthazar was a renowned practitioner of profane-craft,” Lesya said, wiping away at her face. Now that she could feel no pain, it felt awkward to have tears lingering on her cheeks.
“And? Did that stop him from working hand in hand with Solaris Solwyn? They were friends, fellow accomplished mages who built this school. Solaris knew that there would be mages who’d have a touch of dark about them.
Doesn’t make ‘em evil,” Trisha said. “Both my parents are doctors at St. Trina’s.
Both were from House Balthazar. Hell, Professor Moore was from House Balthazar. ”
“As was the necromancer Mortandagh,” Lesya added bitterly.
“Yeah,” Trisha sighed. “And all of his followers, the Deathless.”
“So…” Lesya said, rubbing her shoulder.
“So that still doesn’t mean anything. The guy who killed all the Deathless, Vincent Crenshaw, even he’s from Balthazar.”
“The guy who cursed me earlier tonight was from Balthazar,” Lesya said, feeling suffocated once more.
The sleek black walls of this shared bedroom, the black theme of the interior décor and furniture, and the windowless nature of the undercroft made her feel like her throat was constricting with each inhale.
“As is the girl who healed you in like five seconds,” Trisha said. “What’s your name?”
“Lesya Rosefield. I’m from Lynsfeld,” she said.
“Well, Lesya Rosefield from Lynsfeld, its nearly three in the morning, and if what everyone says is true, the eldritch horror that swims in the lake is going to stir from its slumber in five minutes and is going to swim past the submerged window. I already checked it out last night, and I nearly pissed my pants. What say you we both go into the undercroft’s main hall and see that for ourselves?
I know for a fact there’s no place in the entire castle that has a view like that. ”
Reluctant and terrified, Lesya followed her new friend out of the room and into the hall where the rest of the House Balthazar students were gathered in front of the tall circular window, the only of its kind, in the undercroft.
It gave a wide yet murky view of the lake, almost akin to an aquarium.
Lesya’s claustrophobia had prevented her from fully admiring the dark green view from the window of all the lake floor with its many weeds and reeds, the algae on the rocks, and the underside of the water lilies that covered its surface.
“She’s gonna be here any minute now,” one of the seniors said, tapping his spellblade at the window, sending forth vibrations through the lake that made all the underwater vegetation stir and all the fish clear the way.
Once she’d gotten over her fear, the view of the lake wasn’t as terrible. Moonlight shone through the water and painted the dark floor in the main hall a shade of rippling deep green.
“It’s a she?” Lesya muttered, but the white-haired senior standing by the window heard her.
“It’s a she indeed. The books would have you believe that it’s a cosmic entity from somewhere deep in space, but we’ll let you decide what she is,” he said, and then put his face against the window, peering into the lake.
Lesya admired the way the senior stood there next to the glass. She wondered who he was. But then she spotted a group of girls already eyeing him somewhat longingly, most of them seniors, and she laid any such thoughts that arose in her to rest.
“Wait for it.”
But what caught her by surprise was not the appearance of the dreadful creature that called the lake home. At that moment, the tall black doors that led into the undercroft banged open and a group of students staggered in.
They were the same students she’d seen in Voltaire’s chambers. She hid herself against Trisha, covering her shoulder for good measure.
“Where the hell have you been?!” the white-haired senior yelled at the latecomers.
“Out,” one of them said.
“What did I tell you about being out of the undercroft after hours?” the senior snapped, glaring at them.
“Who is he?” Lesya whispered.
“Cassian Veilmonte. He’s a fourth-year. It’s his last year here. He’s also the head of House Balthazar. Tries to keep a tight ship. Also quite fucking hot, don’t you think?”
“Shut up.” Lesya grinned.
“Someone’s blushing.” Trisha poked Lesya’s side.
The group of students who had appeared late dispersed toward their rooms. Cassian chose to ignore them.
“Any second now,” he said, tapping his spellblade at the window.
It was as if the creature was waiting for Cassian’s signal. At that moment, all the weeds waved, and the lake water splurged, sending ripples pressing against the window.
And then it appeared, rearing its head, a beast of unimaginable size. Wrapped up in dozens of tentacles, its countless red eyes stared at the students gathered on the other side of the window.
Amidst all the fear and awe she felt, Lesya noticed that the creature had long draconic wings on its back. It swam in front of the window, brushing against it, and then shot out in a brilliant display of its behemothian size, disappearing back into the lake.
“For those of you beholding the kraken for the first time,” Cassian said, reverie brightening his face.
“That is the privilege of House Balthazar. Our founder was a master of profane-craft. He communed with the outer realm gods, and bid one of them to come down to earth. It settled here, in this lake, and imparted its maddening wisdom to Balthazar. Secrets of life, of death, and of the affairs beyond both. If any of you feel out of place in House Balthazar, or in the undercroft, just know what a great privilege it is to be here, to witness an eldritch miracle every night, to grow and learn under its shadow.”
And so, it became easier sleeping in the undercroft, bearing the whole weight of the towering castle, knowing that there swam a god in the lake, keeping watch, protecting, imparting its maddening wisdom.
In the four years that Lesya Rosefield spent at Umbrveyl learning magic, she could not help but be affected by that wisdom, accepting her place at House Balthazar, owning the dark legacy of her house, and welcoming some of that darkness into herself.