Chapter 3

“But we haven’t yet seen the stationary store or the one where the kids buy their magical pets!” Sebastian said, mockery thick. “We could have made this into a full-day excursion!”

Alastair rolled his eyes. Truth be told, he was eager to reach his chambers and have a little time by himself to think. The day had given him a lot to ponder.

“I’ve been asked to give you a tour of the school,” Sebastian went on, shoving his way through the crowd of frustrated parents and out onto the street. “And then I’ve got dinner with the other House heads—a real swanky affair—so we’d best get going.”

Alastair cocked his head. “A tour? I lived here for almost a decade.”

“I don’t set the rules. I merely do as I’m told.” Those words were bitter as winter itself. “And that’s what they say they want.”

“I’m sure we can—”

“We’ve got to beat the bridge,” Sebastian said, picking the pace up even further.

A wide drawbridge paved the way to Emberstone’s main entrance—a bridge that was ceremonially raised every day at nightfall. Though there were other ways in and out by night, especially for teachers.

The sun was low as they made their way upward through the winding streets toward Emberstone, and it painted the school’s north towers with an eerie red glow. Alastair hadn’t realized they’d spent so long visiting the shops, and against his will, he had to concede that Sebastian may have had a point. It was time to be getting on.

A bell rang out ahead.

“Hurry up,” Sebastian called back. “We’ll be just in time.”

Alastair considered reminding him that he was talking to the new interim headmaster, but instead, simply doubled his pace to match Sebastian’s.

As students, they’d only really used the front door at start and end of term, before and after their ritual welcome and goodbye feasts, but it was tradition for each new teacher to make their first entrance through it.

Each new teacher.

It was beginning to sink in that this was all really happening. He was truly Interim Headmaster of Emberstone. It was an enormous job. How was he going to do it?

They crossed the bridge, accepting the chastisement from the drawmaster, and once on the other side, Alastair gained his first up-close view of Emberstone in a decade.

It was glorious.

The main building, an opulent castle with soaring towers and turrets, exuded an aura of great mystery and boundless wonder. Walls of polished white stone, veined with threads of gold—magical wards—glimmered softly as if infused with a perpetual twilight glow. Vines of flowering ivy climbed the walls, their blossoms emitting a faint yet succulent scent.

Two rows of ancient oaks, whose branches twisted together to naturally mimic the school’s entrance, stood on either side of them, resulting in a path paved with smooth, luminous stones. Between each tree trunk were nestled statues of mythical creatures that seemed almost alive, their eyes following Alastair with an uncanny awareness. He recalled vividly his first year when those giant hunks of stone scared the daylights out of him.

The gates themselves, crafted from enchanted iron and adorned with intricate runes, swung open silently at their approach into the courtyard—a verdant oasis, filled with rare and magical flora. Trees with silver leaves and bright red fruit stood alongside shimmering ponds, their surfaces dotted with twinkling lilies.

The central tower, rising high above the rest of the structure, was topped with an immense crystal that radiated a soft, pulsating light, casting rainbows across the grounds as it refracted the sunlight. This beacon ensured the school’s magic was visible from miles away, a symbol of Emberstone’s presence and power in Watermere.

Surrounding the main castle were a multitude of smaller buildings, each with its own distinct character, connected by winding pathways through the enchanted grounds.

“Gawk later,” Sebastian said.

“Excuse me?”

But Sebastian wasn’t listening.

“Entrance Chamber,” he said as he made his way up the two flights of stone stairs toward the massive gilt front doors. Each was carved with images from old mages’ fairy tales. As a student, he’d paid them no mind. Especially since he’d only seen them from this angle a couple of times a year. Now that he was interim headmaster, he would have to memorize each image and the story behind their crafting. After all, Headmaster Ozelius had been able to rattle them off easily.

The view of Emberstone’s Entrance Chamber flooded his memory with thoughts good and bad. His first year at school, it was like a dream, seeing those high ceilings and vast walls covered with airy stained glass depicting each of the magical arts. However, in later years, it had begun to feel more like a prison. Even now, Alastair fought back anxious feelings.

Despite his obvious haste, Sebastian paused beneath a window portraying an old mage holding a scale, gold piled at his feet. Alchemy.

“It’s my favorite,” he said. “Not just because I teach Alchemy, either.”

Alastair had always been more drawn to the Elemental window, though he saw the appeal of this one. The evening light shone through the gold glass and cast rippling patterns on the stone floor.

“On to the Main Hall?” Alastair said.

“Whose tour is this?” Sebastian sneered.

“Apologies. So where to?”

Sebastian groaned. “Main Hall.”

“Ah, great idea,” Alastair said with as much cheer as he could muster to hide his small victory.

“Yes, yes. Then a sampling of classrooms. Show you a dormitory. Formal Gardens.”

“Is this all really necessary? I know where all these places are.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Like I said, it’s tradition. They want me to do it, and I don’t make the rules. They do this for all the new teachers.”

Alastair’s steamer trunk set itself down in a corner, apparently choosing to opt out of the tour. A twinge of jealousy struck Alastair as he obediently followed Sebastian into the Main Hall—and was stunned when he saw what it looked like now. Ozelius had redecorated. The room was once plain, almost austere, with bare stone walls and rugged-looking columns. Now, the walls were lined with paintings: portraits of previous headmasters and famous mages, scenes from old tales, historical tableaux. Even the columns were newly plastered and painted an austere white.

“I’m not sure I like it,” Alastair said.

It wasn’t ugly by any means, merely different. Emberstone wasn’t supposed to change.

Sebastian shrugged. “You get used to it. It makes the room feel brighter. That’s Ozelius’ reason for it anyway.”

The room did feel brighter than it had when the walls were dark stone, and the paintings added variety and visual interest.

“Let’s move on. As you said, you know what the Main Hall looks like, and I’m getting hungry.”

Next, they climbed the spiral stairs at the end of the hall. Alastair already knew where this particular staircase would take them. Of course, Sebastian would choose his own chosen art for the first stop. The second floor hallway was made up of a long line of Alchemy classrooms. They passed a fair number of them before Sebastian opened a door and led them in.

“Looks like a third-year Alchemy room,” Alastair said.

Neat rows of metal tables already equipped with jars, beakers, and basins crisscrossed in an orderly fashion. Scales not unlike those the upset parent on Fierstown Avenue was hoping to get a deal on filled workbenches at the far side of the room, and a door at one end, next to the chalkboard, led to a storeroom. Fifth-years and below weren’t allowed to pull from stores without a teacher’s supervision.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“We keep it tidy,” Sebastian said, a note of pride creeping into his voice. “I make them clean the room up themselves.”

“Fascinating,” Alastair said, eliciting a scowl.

“It is important they learn to respect the space.”

Alastair could think of several responses—chief among them that the students who most needed to learn respect were the rich nobles like Sebastian—but he held his tongue.

“Nice work,” he said instead. He was, after all, going to need the support of the teachers if this transition to interim headmaster was going to go smoothly.

He would have to save the accusation that Sebastian hadn’t changed at all, that he, Alastair, had memories of the bully forcing him to clean up the space after class.

Sebastian cast one last proud look around the room, closed the door, and locked it behind him. Then he led the way down the hall and around the corner. He lifted one corner of a tattered tapestry to reveal a narrow stone staircase behind it.

“I’ll take you to my dormitory,” he said. “House Aurum.”

“Ooo!” Alastair’s excitement at this was genuine. He’d never been to the Alchemists’ dorm. As an Elemental Mage, he’d lived with the other students of his specialty next to the Formal Gardens. Entering one of the other quarters still carried a forbidden thrill.

“Well?” Sebastian said from the top of the stairs. “Come on. Let’s go up.”

Pushy, as always.

Alastair trotted down the hall to a wide-open chamber. Its walls shimmered with thin streams of colored liquids, and the trickling sound as they gathered in the troughs below was calming.

“They’re not real concoctions, are they?” Alastair asked, pointing to one stream of noxious-looking green fluid.

Sebastian shook his head. “Don’t be daft. If that truly were Acidus Potos, the walls would have been chewed raw centuries ago.”

They stopped at a landing with a moss-colored wooden door. With no students yet on campus, Sebastian opened it without announcing himself and stepped aside for Alastair to take in the view.

“Wow.”

Alchemists had a reputation for being neurotically organized, and their dorm fit the stereotype. The common room was sparse and neat as a pin, with rows of empty shelves and workbenches where future students could store their things. Broad bay windows overlooked the gardens, and Alastair could see how the room would feel bright and airy by day. A fireplace at the other end of the space stood dark and empty, with pristine leather armchairs clustered around it.

“Looks nice,” Alastair said. The Elemental common room had never looked this well-kept.

Sebastian nodded. “I make them—”

“Clean it themselves, yes; I’m sensing a theme.”