I didn’t want to assume that Priest Brown carried on the potential sinister acts of his ancestor, but I would be a fucking fool not to trust the conversation I just overheard. Especially one that just left me victim number one of their next ritual. What rituals are even happening anyway? Is this a baptism against my will? The blog mentioned disappearances, but I don’t want to find out the truth at the cost of my life.
I pull my phone out and look at the date: September 11th. I have 25 days to either prove myself as a properly holy student and bring down the Brown family name or find myself as some sort of sacrificial lamb for their bloodthirsty clergy.
I squeeze the books in my hands until they turn white. I’m tired of living in these shadows. I’m tired of hiding from my true identity. I’m sick and tired of being a fraud. I shove the books back into their places on the shelves and sneak out of the rows of books, checking that I’m alone.
Ending up at this school was the worst-case scenario, but I refuse to be silent any longer. Overhearing that conversation ignited something within my spirit, a fire that refuses to be smothered. I clench my jaw as I walk down the stairs of the library. I’m going to need help to get the truth out there, and I know just the person.
Chapter 9
Mildred
September 11th
Igaze about my room, engrossed once more in thoughts of her. How effortlessly she haunts the corners of my mind. A delicious torment of my thoughts, my heart, even the air within my lungs. Until she is before me, even the simplest breath feels half-lived. I have walked the grounds until every turn felt familiar, mastered the delicacy of one too many confections, and even delved into many magics. But no other has haunted the corridors of my mind as she does. A film of light and shadows without reprieve.
All my existence, I have prayed for her shadow, dreamt of her touch, hoped for her closeness, but never did I dare to think myself worthy of her divine existence once more. To feel drawn to a soul at first sight and know without explanation she is made for me, a certainty that frightens me, that it isher.
I float toward my bookshelves, my hand translucent against the dim light, as I trail along the spines of old books. I halt at the grimoire I have tended to for a century’s passing and draw it free. I turn its familiar pages as I settle upon the worn couch.
“There you are,” I murmur as my finger traces over the familiar incantation.
I confess, I dismissed the notion of witchcraft as folly. Yet in death, one comes to see how vast the unknown truly is and how blind the living choose to be. Of course, there are threads that bind us to the universe. Of course, there is a greater power. I have witnessed it far too frequently to turn a blind eye. Of course, we can shape the very reality we dwell in. Every whispered dream becomes corporeal and shadow.
Through the long years of existence in this form, I found my power ever increasing until one day it lulled. I realized with horror that I was no longer truly living, but rather performing in memory of life. Dying is not merely the end of your body; it is to bid farewell to the self you once called your own. So much slipped through my grasp. From the confines of these campus walls, I have seen my loved ones' lives unfolding just beyond my reach. I missed it all. The weddings, the children, the grand adventures to new foreign places, while I remained a specter bound by memory.
A tear lands upon the grimoire as I smile with sorrow. It was desperation that drove me in a feeble hope to escape the weight of solitude. There are other ghosts in these halls. Most drift in their own paths, caught in the endless cycle of reliving their most grievous moments. They never embrace the life that follows death.
Wenever embrace it.
It is said that in coming to terms with one’s trials, your spirit can ascend to the clouds of Heaven or the fires of Hell. But how does one move on when the gift of living was denied from the start?
I manifested her presence. I enchanted our meeting, never having imagined a power this strong and a longing so fragile could bend my reality.
Indeed, I have power. I toyed with summoning the elements, but I never undertook anything of true significance. I had never sought to refine my abilities again, never thinking it was worthwhile untilher.
I may feign a desire for distance, yet every fiber of me knows I am incapable of it. Somehow, the universe listened to guide the other half of my long departed soul back into my reach. Could she still bear the name of soulmate at all when my own soul has wandered far beyond life? In spite of it all, she is here. Warren’s presence must be banished from this place.
I must alert her. I must shield her. I must save her.
Chapter 10
Grace
September 12th
Sitting at my desk, I fidget with my pen as I wait for the clock to pass midnight. I have yawned a few times, paced the floor, and tried to find anything and everything to keep myself awake and distracted. My roommate hasn’t come back yet tonight. Part of me is grateful I can avoid interacting with Jocelyn, but the other is nervous about what that could mean.
It hits midnight, and I head into the common area and slip on my shoes as quietly as possible. I pull my black hood over my head and open the door to Jocelyn, waving her key over the lock.
“Oh!” She startles as my heart begins racing.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say.
She looks me up and down and offers a half smile. “It’s alright, I just didn’t expect you to be up this late. Why do you look like you’re going to rob a bank?” She chuckles.
She squeezes past me and heads into the kitchen, placing a bag of groceries on the table as well as her purse.
I glare at her for that comment and nod at her bag. “I didn’t know that the grocery store was open this late.”
