Page 42 of Veiled

Ghost Walkers are the job I know the least about, which—if I’d slept more than two hours last night—would probably scare the hell out of me as we walk into the small, windowless classroom tucked deep in the West Wing. Unlike every other room we’ve seen, no banners are hanging in celebration of alumni or battle victories, no maps or relics on the walls, just bare stone and the faint chill of a place that doesn’t want to be remembered.

A few folding tables and the most basic metal chairs are arranged in rows, giving off serious rented-by-the-hour energy…nothing like the polished lecture halls our other classes are held in.

We’re among the first to arrive and take seats in the front row on the right side. The room fills slowly, and we wait. And wait. Class was supposed to start ten minutes ago, but there’s still no instructor. By the fifteen-minute mark, a few students give up and leave.

At twenty minutes, the door behind us opens. A Bravo recruit steps inside, silent and expressionless. He walks straight to the “instructor’s table” at the front, drops a handful of envelopes onto it, and walks right back out, ignoring the few questions thrown his way.

Five more minutes pass. Nothing.

Matt and I exchange a look, the kind that confirms we are thinking the same thing, and together, we head to the front of the class.

Sasha, ever the rule follower, hisses at us to sit down and wait.

A few students mutter warnings about touching the instructor’s desk, but there’s been something off since we walked through the door: the silence, the waiting, the Bravo recruit…it all tells me we’re not breaking rules.

We’re solving a puzzle.

Matt picks up one of the envelopes, turning it over cautiously, like he’s expecting it to bite. There’s no name, no marking, not even the academy seal—only plain parchment, folded and sealed with a single black wax dot.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” he says, sliding his thumb under the seal.

The room goes quiet. Even the students who’d been whispering fall silent, watching as he pulls out a small square of paper.

He frowns. “What the hell?”

I take it from him. The words are printed in a neat block font, and the paper feels—warm? Like it was freshly pulled from the printer. I read the short lines over in my head before looking back at Matt.

Where the forest remembers fire, the path begins. Be there before the sun touches the mountains. Failure to arrive is failure to begin. When success depends on making the right choice, who can you trust?

“That’s it?” Sasha repeats, now leaning over my shoulder. “What does that even mean?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, but it sounds like a test. And if I’m right, that last line is telling us that we can’t trust everyone around us.”

“This could be a trap…” Matt mutters, though there’s a glint of excitement in his eyes that I recognize all too well.

One of the other students grabs another envelope and reads it out loud…same note, same vague threat. A nervous murmur ripples through the class as everyone starts comparing their copies, hoping for some difference, some clue. There isn’t one.

I glance at the clock on the back wall. It’s half past three.

The three of us grab our bags and leave while everyone else is distracted.

“What time is sunset today? I ask quietly.

Sasha pulls out her phone, “6:32.”

“Ok, so we’ve got three hours,” I say quietly.

Sasha folds her arms. “Three hours to find—what, exactly? ‘Where the forest remembers fire.’ That could mean anything.”

Matt grins. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Alright,” I say, breaking the silence as we step outside. “We’re going to need maps, I think. How about we head to the library, see what we can find? We can make a list of possible meanings and locations, then start narrowing it down.”

“Sounds like a good place to start to me,” Matt says.

“Yep!” Sasha chimes in.

We claim a table in a quiet corner, far enough from anyone else that no one can eavesdrop—and spread out our notebooks and a few dusty maps of Scion, Ravenwood, and note anywhere within an hour's drive that’s near a forest.