Chapter 5 Nyx #2
“This is you,” she says, motioning for me to unlock the door with keys from the folder.
Unlike the main doors, this one doesn’t make a sound despite how old the building must be.
Augustine leans back against the closed door and flips the light switch, and I wince when the sudden brightness reveals a sparse room.
There’s a neatly made bed against the wall, an ancient desk and chair, and a tall wardrobe with a small wall-mounted sink next to it.
One large window framed by dark curtains overlooks the forest on the edge of campus.
Through the gap, the moon shines high in the night sky, dancing with the stars.
“Communal bathrooms and showers are just down the hall, there’s an elevator next to the main staircase we passed, and additional staircases in the corner of each wing.
” I nod and drop my backpack unceremoniously on the bed.
She watches me intently as I take in the room.
Her mouth opens, but closes when she changes her mind.
“What?” I ask, unable to hide the exhaustion in my voice when I sit down at the weathered desk and set the folder down.
“Just… try not to piss people off. At least until your epiphaneia.”
I raise my eyebrow at her. “You almost sound like you care.”
“What can I say, you’re growing on me.”
“Aww—”
“Like a fungus,” she interrupts. I chuckle, but it fades as fatigue settles in. “A lot of people will want to see you fail, Nyx Byrke.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I answer with a hint of sadness. She hums, but doesn’t press further. With a sharp nod, she steps away from the wall and pulls the door open.
“I’ll see you again, witchling.” In a lower voice, she mutters a prayer that I barely make out.
“May the goddess watch over you, Daughter of Night.” My skin prickles at the unspoken emotion in her voice, but she’s closing the door behind her before I can ask what she meant.
I lock it behind her and start unpacking my clothes into the wardrobe, but startle at the clink and dull thud of something hitting the desk.
“Aw, she does care,” I say, looking at the plate of food. It’s nothing extravagant, just a peanut butter sandwich, some cheese and fruit on the side, and a bottle of water.
Once my meager belongings are put away, I tiptoe through the hallway to the communal bathrooms she mentioned earlier and get ready for bed without bothering to explore the large, cold space any farther tonight.
I’ll leave that for tomorrow. When I get back to my room, I change into my favorite worn, oversized t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts before laying on the bed.
As I eat the sandwich, I dump out the contents of the folder and start reading.
“Dreadhurst College of Dark Magic is the premier institution of higher learning for dark wielders in North America for over 300 years. Students of Dreadhurst go on to perform exceptional acts of bravery, leadership, and magical mastery in service of the human and magical communities at large. The undergraduate curriculum at Dreadhurst encompasses a wide-range of subjects and levels of expertise, taught by world-renowned Specialists, Masters, and Grandmasters. After completing the required prerequisite undergraduate courses, students may choose to pursue post-secondary education to attain higher levels of Mastery via continuing study.”
It’s several pages of self-aggrandizing bullshit before I find something that actually helps.
“The Dreadhurst campus is designed to accommodate the needs of everyone who attends, no matter their Order or affinity. With specially designed facilities, students and faculty alike may practice their magic without fear or risk of harming themselves or others”.
The map of these “specially designed facilities” resembles a heptagram—at the topmost point of the seven-pointed star sits a temple situated near the cliffs, then in clockwise fashion there’s the planetarium, the library, an extensive academic complex including a large conservatory and student union building, the administration building with a legitimate Great Hall, the Mercury housing complex where I am now, and finally a Training Center that sits on the edge of a large lake, all connected by numerous paths that congregate at the square in the center of campus.
The nearby town, Hemlock Hill, doesn’t look much larger than Lynden, but hopefully as a result of hundreds of years of rich and powerful…
magicians? sorcerers? wielders, Celestine called them—it’s much nicer.
Like something off of the Hallmark channel instead of a horror movie.
I’ve barely gotten through the town description when my eyelids droop, and I surrender to oblivion, nestled under cold, unfamiliar sheets.
As I drift off to sleep, I admit my first truth to this empty bed in a hushed whisper.
I want this to be real.
I know I'm dreaming because I can swim. I’ve always wanted to learn how, but Lynden didn’t have a pool, and I never left Lynden.
Cool waves lap at my heated skin, cradling my weightless body as I drift beneath twinkling stars, flashing in and out of existence in the black sky above me, an endless expanse stretching into infinity.
I swirl my arms through the dark waves, relaxed and pliant from the gentle caress of the sea, soothing the tension from my body and carrying it away into the night.
Underneath the swells, crooning whistles and sharp clicks echo in the depths—whispers on the waves, reminding me of the monsters in the deep, forgotten by time and memory. Of the gods who rule the seas.
A sudden chill in the air pricks at my skin, and in the distance, rumbling thunder signals the arrival of a storm.
My storm. Ominous clouds creep across the night sky, devouring the stars as they plummet into a starving sea.
Waves that held me moments earlier roil and churn, and I thrash in vain as they threaten to pull me into the dark, ravenous maw below, hidden in the void.
Lightning cracks the skies open, and each pounding beat of thunder drowns out the echoes of my agony as the abyss swallows me whole.
I jerk awake, disoriented and desperately gasping for breath.
My trembling hands creep to my throat and I try to forget the entirely too-realistic sensation of drowning.
Not even my daydreams leave my chest aching like that.
Insistent knocking on my door startles me out of my stupor, and I crawl out of my bed, legs shaking, to see who just gave me a fucking heart attack.
A blonde girl around my age with bright blue eyes stands at my door, her blinding smile in sharp contrast to the bleary grimace on my face. She holds a coffee cup in each hand and lifts one up in offering.
“Good morning sunshine!” she greets, entirely too enthusiastic. I crook my eyebrow at her, not awake enough to understand who this person is and why she’s knocking on my door.
“My name is Victoria, but you can call me Tori,” she says, as if that explains fucking anything.
“Why?” I ask, incapable of complete sentences at the moment.
Thankfully she seems to understand what I’m failing to articulate. “I’m your student ambassador for the day. I’m going to show you around campus and help you get everything you need before classes start.”
Realization dawns. “Oh yeah, the welcome wagon.” I eye the coffee in her hand. “Is one of those for me?”
“Yes! And I’ll take you to breakfast if you can get dressed.” She smiles, eyeing my disheveled sleepwear. I reach for one of the coffees but she pulls it away, just out of reach.
“You get this once you’re moving,” she taunts.
I stare daggers at her before groaning and closing the door.
Going through the clothes I put into the wardrobe last night—well, earlier this morning—I pick out the same ripped skinny jeans and worn high-top sneakers from last night, a loose crop top, and my favorite hoodie.
I brush my teeth in the shallow sink and braid my hair into two rows for that “messy but cute” look that I’ve defaulted to over the years.
Opening my door again, I hold my hands out in the universal sign for “gimme” before so she’ll end my torture. The scalding, bitter liquid hits my stomach and chases away the unease from that fucked up dream-turned-nightmare.
“God that’s so fucking good,” I say, nodding my thanks.
She beams. “You’re welcome!” Kill me now if she’s going to be like this the whole day. “So where are you from?” she asks, leading me toward the entrance. There are a few students milling about in common room, but she’s already through the front doors and I have to hurry to catch up.
“Small town in the middle of nowhere. Far cry from this place, that’s for sure,” I answer vaguely, gesturing to the campus to distract her from prying further.
If it was impressive at night, it’s breathtaking in the day.
Gothic architecture, stained glass windows, massive wooden doors—everything screams “old world”.
There’s no peeling paint, no cracked asphalt or scent of rotting garbage tucked behind an alleyway.
The air is crisp, clear, and clean. When I breathe in, it feels like I’m tasting happiness for the first time.
She hums in agreement as we continue along the cobblestone paths, and I spot the massive statue in the square.
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding towards the stone monstrosity. It looks like an obelisk, carved with what I now recognize as runes.
“Oh, that's the Foundation Stone. It’s the nexus anchor point for the wards around campus.” My blank stare at her explanation prompts her to continue with her little history lesson.
“There are several anchor points along the perimeter of the grounds, and each one ensures the wards cover not just the buildings but the forest and lake too.”
“Huh.”
She looks at me quizzically, and I can practically see her bursting with curiosity. “What do you know already?”
“About?”
She pauses. “Everything?”
“Oh. Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Tori stops in disbelief.
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
I laugh under my breath at her bewildered expression.
“You know Celestine and Augustine? I mean, I’m assuming you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have woken me up at such an ungodly hour,” I ask with a pointed glare and she merely smiles, unrepentant.
“In between breaking into my apartment and kidnapping me they only had enough time for the cliff notes.
Something about souls and a magic cosmic blanket and this epiphaneia thing that can make people blow up.
" Her jaw drops, but I’m not sure which part shocks her the most.
“Hold up—what? The email said you grew up human but that’s…
wow. That’s fucked,” she says with a wince.
“Sorry—that came out wrong,” she says, scrambling to recover.
“I can’t believe they didn’t explain more.
” She shakes her head we continue our journey to breakfast. It’s mildly endearing, watching her try to figure out what to say next without putting her foot in her mouth.
The administration building appears, but she directs me to the opposite entrance.
“Okay, so, that’s not great for you. But good news is that I’m here now and I know everything.” She grins and somehow it makes me smile too.
Oh no. Her happiness might be infectious.