The Final Bell of Blackthorne

I’d never heard of faculty positions being inherited. But here I was, standing at the gates of a formidable stone building, gripping a worn sheet of paper and hoping I hadn’t fallen for the most obvious scam ever.

The letter had arrived three months ago with no return address. From the moment my fingers touched the rough paper, something had felt…wrong. But honestly? With the economy the way it was in Haven, being offered a job and a place to live was a blessing.

I raised my hand and grasped the wrought-iron knocker, a gargoyle with a ring in his grotesque mouth. The moment my skin made contact with the ring, bells began to toll from everywhere and nowhere at once. Ten, eleven, twelve…thirteen? A shiver rocked my core as the bells faded away and the air went suddenly still. No birds sang and a heavy pressure pressed in on my ears, making me slightly dizzy.

The gate swung open of its own accord. “Hello?” I peered across the cobblestone courtyard, the edges of the stones swallowed by patches of stiff grass. It was eerily still for midday at a university. The space felt…liminal. Like I was intimately familiar with every rock and blade of grass, even though that was impossible.

“You’re late, Hazel.”

The voice startled me and I fell back a step, catching the bars of the iron fence to keep myself from hitting the ground. The owner stepped into view, his dark cloak fluttering as he moved. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, and they hardened when they touched my face. His jaw flexed, then eased. “Follow me.”

Something about his face was familiar, too. I followed with no complaint because he felt like an old friend I hadn’t seen since, well, I don’t know when. Maybe we’d gone to school together? Haven wasn’t a very large kingdom. As far as I could tell, he looked to be in his mid-30’s like me, so it was possible.

I glanced back once at the winding trail that led down the mountain, to where the forest was swallowed up in fog. The carriage that brought me here was long gone, not even a trail of dust remaining to prove it ever existed at all. The gate swung closed with a certain finality I didn’t understand.

The courtyard itself held a low-hanging mist that blocked most of the building from view and gave the area a clammy chill. It swirled around our ankles as we crossed the space and reached a massive stone castle. It emerged from the mist like a phantom, its window eyes burning with torches and doorway maw opening wide to devour us.

He led me down chilly corridors lit by flickering torches and oil lamps. Occasionally we’d pass a student also dressed in black, their eyes seeming to bounce off me before they hurried away. Eventually he spoke again, and his voice just lingered in my bones like a part of myself I’d lost somewhere. “I’m Maelstrom Blackthorne, headmaster here at Blackthorne Academy. You can call me Headmaster or Mr. Blackthorne.”

I nodded, only partially listening. I could feel magic pulsing through this castle. And not the normal, low-level magic that permeated the landscape of Haven. This had to be a wizard’s college, then. It was the only thing that made sense. Maelstrom (because the other options sounded too stuffy) brought me to a solid oak door, which he pushed open to reveal a large office. It glittered with oil lamp light that reflected from metal instruments placed on every surface.

We settled into chairs across the desk from each other. I tried to make eye contact with him, but looking at him too long gave me a headache. My lips tingled with the need to ask him if we’d met before, but I couldn’t get the words to come. Instead, I lay the letter on the desk, face up. It smelled slightly of smoke and sulfur, and the handwriting was archaic. No one formed their letters this way anymore…I could only read the correspondence at all because I’d spent my childhood studying Haven’s historical texts.

“Ms. Hazel Albany,

The time has come for you to fill the faculty position left behind by the death of Francine Albany. You will report to the university no later than noon on the fifth day of the fifth month. Room and board is included in your wage.

We look forward to your return.

Blackthorne Academy”

The wording was…strange. How could I return to a place I’d never been? Maelstrom glanced down at the letter and his jaw clicked as he clenched it. “You shouldn’t have accepted the position.”

I raised one eyebrow, confused. “You sent me a weird letter out of the blue, mentioning an aunt that nobody in my family was willing to discuss. You offered me a job and a place to live when Haven is being destroyed by the Erodites. And now you’re telling me I shouldn’t have accepted?”

“I didn’t send that letter.” Maelstrom’s lip twitched, but it didn’t quite seem like irritation. He didn’t make eye contact with me, either.

“But you’re the headmaster. So aren’t you in charge of hiring?”

His fingers curled slightly, then flexed. “Not in this case.” I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t seem at all inclined to elaborate. “You’ll be teaching history and mythology. The lessons have already been written up for you and you’ll find the materials in your classroom.”

That actually eased my tension, just a little. “I’ve never taught before, you know. I have studied as much history as I had access to, but–”

Maelstrom cut me off with a glance. “All irrelevant. This is in your blood. Now. You’ll begin your lessons in two days’ time. I suggest you spend those days studying the scrolls left behind by your aunt. They will prepare you.”

“How did you know Francine was my aunt? And how did you know about me at all? Wizard colleges don’t usually pay much attention to people living in the cellar of the inn, scrubbing potatoes and hoping the innkeeper doesn’t get too sober and kick them out.”

I thought I caught a flash of pain on Maelstrom’s face before it disappeared. “Your line has taught here from the beginning. You always end up returning to Blackthorne.” The phrasing caused the hair on my arms to rise. “Enough prattle. I’ll show you to your room.”

He stood abruptly, his knee smashing the underside of the desk as he rose. His teeth clenched and his eyes watered, but he otherwise didn’t acknowledge the pain. I left my chair more cautiously and followed him back out into the musty hallway.

We reached the foot of a spiral staircase that rose up to fill the inside of a tower. In the center hung an elaborate chandelier, every sconce holding a burning candle. The firelight danced in the thousands of carved crystals that hung from the metal frame. Its many layers rose with the stairs, making this the brightest part of the castle I’d yet seen. Though I didn’t want to think about how much work it must be to extinguish all these candles at night and light them again in the morning.

At the very top of the tower stood an iron door. Maelstrom pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. “These will be your chambers. Tomorrow morning, return to my office and you’ll be shown your classroom.”

“What about meals?” My stomach rumbled, which wasn’t uncommon. I was used to being hungry. But the letter had specified that board was included, which meant food.

“Your meals will be delivered morning, noon, and night. Speak aloud anything you require within your chambers, and it will be brought to you. A chamber maid will ensure your room is cleaned and your linens are washed. Do you have any more time-wasting questions?”

I shook my head, and he handed me the key. “First light, my office. Until then, Ms. Albany.” Maelstrom pushed past me and took the stairs twice as fast as we’d ascended them, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud. I watched him go, a misplaced sense of sadness settling into my chest.

As his footsteps faded away, I pushed open the door. A wave of damp, musty air hit me as if I’d released a pack of spirits trapped inside. It was dark, but torches burst to life as my foot crossed the threshold. The place appeared to be untouched for a long time; a thick layer of dust coated the floor. The scent of old leather and dust filled my nose, causing me to sneeze. The decor was…outdated, to say the least. A four-poster bed with a faded burgundy canopy dominated most of the room, in competition with an intricately-carved desk and a bookshelf loaded with leather-bound books.

Yet there was also a vase of fresh flowers in the windowsill, and when I opened the wardrobe, it was filled with clothing of my size. As equally outdated in style as the furniture, but it was mine. Exhaustion from the long trip overruled my confusion, and I told myself this was a magic college. It wouldn’t be hard for them to cause flowers and clothes to appear without having to cross the room, right?

The fireplace in the corner was already lit, which helped banish some of the damp chill that had settled in my bones. I dropped my small satchel on the bed and sat on the edge, enjoying the warmth on my calloused hands and feet. There was something familiar about the scent in the air, but I couldn’t quite place it. Another childhood memory, perhaps?

Whatever the case, and as lonely as my space was up here in the tower, it was mine. I’d get over my unease (no doubt from unfamiliar surroundings) and settle in soon enough. For now, I’d enjoy sleeping in an actual bed.

I lay down for a nap, ignoring my stomach for the time being. I’d be fine until the evening meal was brought. My eyes began to close, but paused when I noticed someone had carved something into one of the bedposts.

I sat back up and leaned closer, wishing my room was just a little bit brighter. I squinted for a moment, then made out the words: DON’T ANSWER THE FINAL BELL.

A single bell tolled, distant and lonely.