Chapter 1
“Elmcrest has a rich history spanning five hundred years. Built by at least three members of the Council of Kings, we pride ourselves in rich experiences for young minds. Notably, High Chancellor Vykar, Alpha Ronan Blackwood, Vampire King Thorien Silver and the Lake Siren have all wandered these hallowed halls, seeking its deep, hidden knowledge and rising to their famed position to this day!”
Gly rolled her eyes at the very obvious PR-laden spiel the tour guide was currently providing. She knew all of this by heart, being descended from one of those “founding kings.” And although the family was only part royal now, it was enough to allow her very influential part fae mother to sit on the High Wizard Council, and her wizard father to be considered important by the Vampire Council, the Fae Court and the Original Foundry – enough to be a trusted advisor anyway.
They had both met on these grounds and, while they didn’t explicitly say it, they certainly didn’t hide that they hoped she would find her “True Soul” here too.
What absolute nonsense.
She moved forward with the tour, only half listening to the chipper guide droning on and on about "great minds shaped in these sacred halls."
She knew these grounds almost by heart, having been dragged here for more than one reunion, visit and/or tour. Her parents brought her here enough, excited and expecting their precious little girl to follow in their footsteps. Their little witch-ling.
And when her letter had predictably arrived, she had fully expected the exuberant joy they showed at it. As if her passing grades in one of the most elite preparatory schools hadn't prepared her for exactly this. As if they hadn't mentioned ad nauseum exactly how much they wished she would join the legacy that was Elmcrest.
Her thoughts, and the guide’s speech, were interrupted when the back doors of the great hall slammed open startling everyone. In the open doorway stood the one person she absolutely could NOT stand.
Lyndon Prescott.
Lycan heir with a lineage just as elite if not more than hers… and her family’s greatest foe.
He was more of an archnemesis, the Lycan King and her father being at great odds. Their families had been in a long blood feud - there had been plenty of losses on both sides. And in this modern world, the idea of drawing blood brought on by the term blood feud, while highly frowned upon, exactly described the visceral loathing she felt for the Lycan spawn and everything he represented.
He caught sight of her almost immediately and grinned, his fangs gleaming in the candle light as he strode into the room. He commanded attention, because of course he did.
He was third in line for the Lycan Throne and that came with not a little attention and privilege. And he walked, talked and bled that privilege in everything he did.
Today was no different.
He could have chosen to attend The Lowe School of Great Magics, Evertree Grove, Myrtle Academy or even his own school – the one specifically named after the smug rat – Lyndhurst.
But, of course, no.
Lyndon had to choose Elmcrest. Because she was here. Because he had known for a very annoyingly long time that she'd wanted to come here.
Because most of all, Lyndon Orwell Terrance Prescott prided himself on being the absolute bane of her existence.
She bristled as he stepped near her and, waved to the tour guide.
“Please… Carry right on.” Then he turned to her, his golden eyes gleaming as he swept thick dark curls back off his forehead.
“You don’t mind me joining you, right princess?”
She scowled at him which absolutely delighted him, much to her added annoyance. He loved a challenge. And she had been the biggest challenge of his life.
Both when they had secretly been dating and after the brutal breakup.
Smug ass.
She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, and so she resolutely turned to the tour guide determined to re-memorise this speech of hers if she had to. About five minutes in though, even she had to admit she didn’t have the level of concentration required to listen to a guide she could literally quote in her sleep. So she decided to count the number of trees heading up to the castle. The number of turrets on the building. The number of…
Wait…
She leaned over the side of the wall and squinted, the rest of the group trooping obediently on and completely ignoring her concern.
There were 25 turrets in the entire castle – this wasn’t the first time she counted. And each one had exactly five gargoyles – except for the fifteenth turret in the middle of the school. That one had a final gargoyle on the tiled roof.
Only now it was gone.
The guide looked unbothered as she continued. Gly turned back to the turret narrowing her gaze. She wasn't wrong.
Gargoyles didn't just up and fly away - let alone stone ones that had been in the same place for (if the paintings and books from the first years of the Academy were right) literal centuries.
"Much of the original architecture has been maintained over the years, and still remains one of the marvels of our world. Construction of the school began all of five hundred years ago, but didn't complete until at least the following century.
"If you look out over the common, you may still see some of the original brickwork overlaid with what most believe to be some of the greatest works of the artists, Fusili, Bracc and Tyrrh."
Nope. Nothing about the gargoyle. In fact, she didn't even mention the gargoyles on the towers, for some reason. Gly looked at the other towers, counting as they went. It was far too strange to ignore, and stranger still that they seemed to skip over the gargoyle thing anyway. They were hard to miss.
Lyndon noticed and slung his arm around her shoulders, his warmth and familiarity grating.
He grinned when she set her scorching gaze on him and pushed his arm off.
If you want to keep that arm, pup, you are going to get it off me, she signed, the glyphs accompanying her hand signs bright and menacing.
He backed off with a chuckle. The tour guide raised a brow at her, then smiled almost too brightly as she continued with her practiced speech.
"Thought I'd give you something else to focus on that wasn't a literal evil statue," murmured Lyndon, leaning close although not touching her again per her wishes.
She huffed and went back to her examination.
She'd been right. All of the other gargoyles had been accounted for... all except for the one that sat above the rest on the tower in the centre.
It made no sense... Had it fallen? Had it met with some strange mishap? She glanced back at the guide; she was still smiling, still speaking about the wonders of the school.
"There are five bells across the campus - three sit within the campus itself at three points, one at the entrance; hard to miss that beauty, and one near the graves of some of our founders. Each one has a specific meaning. Although the history books say they were rung in a specific order or at specific times throughout the year, this practice has more or less been lost to time. They sit silent now, with the exception of the large bell in the middle of the grounds."
The bell tolled, as if on cue. It sounded a deep, beautiful yet haunting knell, one that never failed to make Gly shiver – as if her magic was responding to it somehow.
When they got back down the stairs and into the main hall of the South Grounds, the tour guide seemed to gloss over some important parts of the tour. She didn't mention the witching tournament, the pier by the lake (commissioned by the old Mer King) or the path through the main forest to the fairy glen.
Instead she said, "We encourage our students to do most of their learning on the grounds. And while we celebrate every curious mind, we also believe that a healthy dose of discipline allows such explorations in complete safety."
Gly was sure of it now. The guide deliberately avoided mentioning any of those places.
And she hadn't mentioned the gargoyles when speaking of the architecture...
No. Something was wrong here.
"You've got that look again, princess," muttered Lyndon as he walked beside her.
She waved away his interest dismissively.
"No, no. I see that look. The one that says you're going to get yourself in trouble. And, I want in."
She huffed, turning to face him with an annoyed expression then signed, I have no 'look' Lyndon. Now leave me alone.
Gly glanced over her shoulder one last time, toward the turret.
Still no gargoyle and no explanation. The tour walked past the place it would have fallen... no cracked flagstones or damage of any kind. With the architecture as old as it was, a patch job/restoration would be all to easy for her to spot.
It was just gone.
The bell’s echo hadn’t quite left her ears, like a hum that still carried through the air. Her magic whirled within her, ebbing with the dying knell in a way that seemed to want to tell her something...
Lyndon followed her gaze but said nothing. For once.
The guide was already rounding a corner, her voice carrying on like a recording on repeat:
“...a place of honor, of scholarship, of safety...”
Gly wasn’t sure why that last word made her flinch.
She took a breath, pressing her hand lightly to the stone balustrade.
Something had shifted. Something was different at Elmcrest... and not in a good way.
