“She shouldn’t have had it.”
“There are a lot of things that shouldn’t have happened, yet here we are.”
He flinched, and I softened slightly, though only because he looked genuinely terrified. “What is it?”
The old man’s gaze stayed on the charm. “A remnant. A key.”
The charm didn’t look like a key. It had no teeth, no shape meant for a mechanism, no practical reason to fit into anything other than a pocket or the pages of a book where my mother had hidden it. But it had opened doors and led me places I never thought about. Some good, others I needed to ignore.
And what if that was here? A place I needed to ignore.
“Telling me it’s a remnant tells me nothing.” I held it tighter and glanced at the doors.
“It tells you everything and opens doors you never imagined.” The old man’s eyes stayed on mine. “If you listen. If you’re the correct holder. It didn’t work for your mother.”
His revelation shook me to my core. It had already worked for me more times than I wanted to admit.
“Don’t do it, Maeve,” Barlen said softly.
“I have to.” I walked toward the Academy and up the steps, staring at the lock on the massive door.
I held it up, and Barlen whimpered just as the lock clicked open.
“You should not do this,” Barlen said. “Do not open the door.”
“I hear you,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.
“But apparently that is not the same as listening,” Barlen grumbled.
“People keep telling me that.”
The old man stepped back from the stairs. “If it opens for you, remember that it has been starving for a long time. It might not want to let you go.”
That nearly stopped me.
Nearly.
But just like Stonewick, somewhere under the soot, iron, boards, and shadow mud, this place had been filled with students. Teachers. Lessons. Laughter maybe. Fear, too, probably, because magic had a talent for including both, but still. There had been a purpose here once beyond silence and shadows.
The double doors groaned inward as a cold breath spilled out from the dark beyond, carrying dust, old smoke, dried ink, and a faint sweetness that made my chest ache for reasons I didn’t understand.
I took in a deep breath as the fog curled toward the opening. It stopped at the threshold as if it even knew better than to enter without permission.
I stood there staring into the darkness, wondering if I’d made the wrong choice.
Barlen whispered, “You opened Shadowick Academy.”
“I noticed.”
“You should close it.”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
The old man gave a low, humorless chuckle. “It never did.”
Inside, a single light flickered to life, and farther down a corridor, pale and unsteady, another light lit.
And another.
