Nothing that is happening, has happened or will happen is right.

  “What should it feel like when someone dies?” Veaer asked, keeping her hands close and playing with her fingers. When the few seconds of silence became too much, she added, “Empty? Like your limbs are going to fall off? Like you’re suddenly aware of how quickly you could go too?”

  Haiwrin paused and used his palm to lift Veaer’s face. “Is this about Tychon? We don’t know if he’s… you know. They’re still looking.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question though.” Veaer frowned. They aren’t looking anymore. I know what happened to him. “I don’t understand how it can be so heavy. Or how it may not be heavy for another person.” Why doesn’t this bother Elise as much as it does me? Am I not strong enough?

  “I think that sometimes it feels lighter to the people who are still hoping. Who can’t quite accept yet that someone is gone. Maybe they try to convince themselves. Try to sit by the door and wait for that person to walk through, all okay.” Elise knows what happened too, so she shouldn’t hold her breath.

  “The police said the best case is that this is all a misunderstanding. Are they so disillusioned too?” Veaer rubbed her thumbs together. Her voice was quiet, and she was afraid of Haiwrin thinking her immature for this conversation.

  “We shouldn’t call them disillusioned.” Haiwrin glanced away for a moment and tapped his fingers against his thigh. “It’s what happens when grief takes us. I consider it a bit of a paradox. A feeling so foul, so bitter, so lovely, so peaceful.”

  Veaer ripped herself away from Haiwrin and stood before him with arms held out, shaking, boring her eyes into Haiwrin’s mind. “How can this be lovely and peaceful? Someone’s life has been taken and now we’re left to pick up the pieces. We’re left with all this fear and doubt. And is that all you and I are going to leave behind too?”

  Haiwrin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We leave behind love when we die.”

  “Love… love?” Veaer’s voice cracked as her breath got caught in her throat. “How can love come from death?”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to know, it depends on the person. Such as Tychon—we weren’t all that close to him. We won’t feel the same as his family, or his close friends. It’ll still affect everyone at Adraredon, because in the end he’s just like us. A student making his way through senior year. But maybe when you get a girlfriend, or a wife, and she must move on to the other side, that is when your unspoken and unmoved love will come out. Grief shows us our love left behind. And sometimes we won’t want to let go, because our grief is proof that this person was in our life and mattered then and matters now.”

  Veaer’s mouth opened and closed. Her mind whirled and the room became a timeless void. Her heart turned to dust and her soul belted in agony. It was all so much, too much. So much to gain, so much to lose.

  All the powers of the universe moved her forward and her knees hit the carpet and she fell apart in Haiwrin’s hands as she clung onto his legs.

  “Haiwrin,” she cried.

  “Yes, Veaer?” he whispered.

  “I will never let go of my grief for you.”

  CHAPTER 20

  THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION

  Year 2, Semester 2, Week 14

  When Veaer arrived upstairs, her art room was shut tight and deadly silent. Silent enough that she knew someone was inside and up to no good.

  “And so what?!” A broken voice whipped through the door and against her cheek. Sudden, unfamiliar, full of emotion. She hadn’t realised she had been loitering to eavesdrop.

  “You aren’t the only pebble on the beach, Elise. Don’t be so selfish.” Izot’s voice floated into her ears, sounding like he did when Veaer used to sit in the headmaster’s office for counselling.

  She had never heard or even seen the siblings together. She was so taken aback that she leaned into the door even harder. What are you hiding?

  “I don’t understand why you’re blaming me for this.” Elise’s voice levelled out, becoming whole like her strokes of paint. “If you care so much, maybe you shouldn’t be parading around… you should be… I can’t— I don’t understand?” There was a resounding huff and the clatter of a brush being dropped on a table. “Surrounding yourself with every other student. Going to father’s office constantly. Acting like you’re a king when your role means nothing after you graduate. You keep leaving me alone, keep blaming me, keep coming to me like this as if you know what is right for me. We’re supposed to be starting at this academy together.” A chair being pushed and two shoes hitting the floor. “No one will ever know what is best for me. No one will know me the way you think you know me. You don’t trust anyone and you especially don’t trust me. I will never trust you either, Izot, and you will never know what I’ve been through.”

  Izot sputtered, his words buffering, pieces of words being thrown to the walls. Veaer couldn't grasp anything of what he wanted to say as footsteps drew closer to her. Veaer held her breath and thrust herself into the next classroom away from the staircase. She filled her lungs with dusty air as the art room door slammed against its frame and more footsteps followed, walking away from her.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs and her skin prickled with excitement and wonder. Questions flew to every crevice of her mind.

  A challenge. A challenge of great beauty.

  “No one will know me the way you think you know me. You will never know what I’ve been through.”

  Veaer laughed to herself as she went back to the art room and Izot was gone.

  What do you know that I don’t, Elise Excava?

  CHAPTER 21

  EXCERPTS DECODED

  Decoded Note 1

  In raising this to the angels, they have denied my request to join hands in the ceremony. Having two came alongside me would bring strength to the spell. I don’t understand what they expected when they joined me. If they thought they could draw the line here but not what we have done so far. I can’t help but think we wouldn’t have needed to do so much if Elise hadn’t done that years ago. It’s as if she has a precognition to these things

  Decoded Note 2

  The society draws closer to our objective. In finding the requirements, are place at three of four. Naturally in our collaboration, it seems too easy, but perhaps the spirits above have brought us together for our higher purpose.

  But Elise. Her nature. As we know in her blood - has come to delay the operation. the crypt is a constant reminder of what has been done.

  What Elise had done.

  What can’t be brought back.

  And what we still need.

  But earning favour, we can manage to make things right

  Decoded Note 3

  Elise asked me again today. Like yesterday. And last week, and before that too

  I am days away from changing it all. She can’t keep asking me

  Sometimes I wonder if we’re still the same as we were as little kids

  Patrons above, is this what happens to best friends?

  Or maybe what it means to want to protect someone so much that we end up hurting them too

  Elise continues to compare me to izot. It’s quite irritating but I suppose it’s not her fault.

  If I discover how to undo what has been placed upon her, then I can let her in.

  But not now.

  CHAPTER 22

  SUN AND MOON

  Year 3, Semester 1, Week 9

  Veaer’s second favourite place on campus was one of the smaller art rooms on the learning centre. Every Friday, except for last week’s gem necklace heist, she would spend her lunch and afternoon working on her folio projects.

  The space was brightly lit by a wall of wide glass windows above long work benches. Around the room were seating arrangements that accommodated different kinds of groups and individuals; tall chairs and low chairs depending on how a student felt more creative, cushions for the floor and even standing desks that many students requested. A few easels were placed to the side, housing half-finished pieces with labels stuck on them to indicate who they belonged to. The scent of oil paints, clay and the floral perfume stuck to the ceiling and walls. In rummaging through a pile of unclaimed work, she had found a small painting, dated back more than a year, with the initials E.E written on the back. She slid it into her folder.

  She sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a labyrinth of papers and canvas, with her folio binder sitting on a table a short distance away to make the most of the floor.

  Every piece was like looking in a mirror. Their folios had to consist of self-portraits throughout the semester, to gain an understanding of how material worked with creator, and how creator served material. So far, she had completed an acrylic painting using a real reflection as a reference, colours as accurate as she could get them. Then there was a paper collage portrait made from magazine cut-outs, her eyes looking strange, her hair struggling, and her lips never quite right. She had an odd liking for the pointillism piece, as the process was relaxing and she didn’t quite mind how it turned out as long as she didn’t look too deeply into the gaps between the dots.

  Her fingertips were stained with charcoal as she worked on a side profile, her ear cringing into her shoulder as she attempted to block out an alright-looking nose.

  She considered peeling herself away from the centre of her folio to turn the music box on, at least to occupy her auditory mind, until the clamouring of what sounded like a hundred footsteps filled the hallway outside and her curiosity grew tenfold.

  Then a voice she knew well spoke louder than anything, “Pardon me, friends. I do have some council duties to attend to now.”

  “But—in the art room?” Many voices joined the one in agreement and Veaer immediately rolled her eyes. “That’s not very… in art they just—”

  A beat of silence said enough before Izot spoke again, “All students of Adraredon are students I care for. It’s part of the job, of course.”

  Some mumbles of disappointment and others in awe. Typical, typical.

  And before she could decide if she wanted to set up camp in the supply closet to see if the prince would just leave her alone, the wooden sliding door was thrown open hard enough for it to bounce back and almost shove Izot into the door frame on the rebound.

  “Veaer Rosell! What a pleasure to find you here!” Izot Excava, prince of Adraredon Academy, shut the door behind him and strode in with outstretched arms.

  In her opinion, Izot and Tychon didn’t have very much in common at all.

  “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Veaer grinned with the intention of sending a message. Go away.

  “I cannot just visit one of my classmates?” Izot returned the smile, with no apparent message, and paced around the room. He seemed to be searching for a place to sit, but they were either the wrong height for him or caked in paint. His lack of commitment was entertaining enough for Veaer to crack a proper smile.

  “Not after what your sister told me.” She shrugged and looked back down at her piece, disappointed to find a dark stroke of charcoal that she must have struck upon Izot’s aggressive entrance.

  “No, no. This isn’t about Elise.” He finally settled on leaning against the teacher’s desk and looked out the window. Something of a smirk flitted over his lips before it morphed into his smile. “There’s no need to bring her into the conversation.”

  She decided that she could work the strike-through in, dashing more black across her eyes and lips and neck.

  “Alright,” Veaer acknowledged. “How can I make this clear?” She went back to blocking her features on the paper. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that golden boy smile drop from Izot’s face.

  “Listen, Rosell.” She preferred it when Elise said it. “I know what you do on Thursdays with that Boudreau twin. I know where to find you on Fridays. There is much more I’m capable of… discovering.”

  She pursed her lips into a straight line and lifted her head to stare at the boy. “So what?” Elise had warned her of this already, though it was a wonder someone would snitch on her activities while they likely did the same. On that note, “It’s not like you’re much different. You and that Harq—I bet you like it when he makes use of his cane—”

  “That’s enough.” He lifted a hand towards her but then brought his palm to his face in an attempt to cover his red cheeks. “How are you to call me all of that, and you’re spending your days attached to the hip of my sister?”

  Veaer averted her gaze, landing on a piece on the outer edge of her folio hurricane. This one was a full body lead sketch with smoke twirling around her drawn self, faces amalgamated into the design. The faces looked familiar—familiar enough that one of them followed her everywhere. In her ears, in her eyes.

  “So, this is about Elise.” Her recent whirl of thoughts and speculations about Elise were reinforced behind a barrier, but she feared that the dam would soon flood. She didn’t need all that while she was working on her folio. She didn’t need to wonder about those journal entries and every question that squeezed her heart and gripped her mind.

  “That doesn’t answer my question!” His voice went up an octave and he gave her a strained smile with a clap. “Perhaps I should make myself clear as well.”

  He pushed himself off the teacher’s desk and crouched just outside the circle of art, close enough to whisper to Veaer.

  “There’s a reason my sister isn’t like me. A reason why my sister only has a few around her who she uses for break time activities. A reason why I’m the sun and she’s the moon. She needs my light, because otherwise she’s only a rock in the sky.” He pointed up, vaguely, and something of a smile danced on his lips, awkward like finding balance in a pit of soft sand.

  “What are you trying to say?” Veaer’s arms seized in her lap, and she didn’t know if her face was doing what she wanted, but she imagined herself unaffected and calm, because Izot Excava couldn’t chip away at her. Izot Excava didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Izot shook his head like a parent would at a child who was without the context that adults kept from young people because it helped them feel superior.

  He stood up and straightened his back, turning his feet towards the door which only said he wanted to leave as soon as possible now that he had planted his seeds.

  “Miss Rosell, I think it will do you well to be cautious. After all, we still don’t know what happened to Mr Galacia.”

  And as he approached the door and grabbed the handle, the door slid open and revealed Elise on the other side, the melting face of Tychon’s ghost hovering over her shoulder.

  CHAPTER 23

  SELFISHNESS

  Elise led Veaer through the corridors of floor four of the learning centre. They were looking for room eighteen.

  “Only a theory,” Elise said, her back turned to Veaer who was only a few paces behind. Veaer watched Tychon’s ghost pulse in opacity. He looked different… almost impossible. Usually, he took the form of his student self, what Veaer was most familiar with, but now his uniform was shredded, and cold lumps of white feathers hung from his back. His face melted like a wax candle and dirt tracked along his hands and arms. “No one can tell me it’s only a coincidence that x 18 y 4 on the building’s map points to room 18. He did this on purpose.”

  The ripped journal entries Veaer decoded left her uneasy and, she found hard to admit, spooked, especially in the presence of Elise, and even more so with Tychon following their every step. Elise didn’t seem to notice the boy she stabbed floating around her.

  Though it did help to have the journal as a scapegoat. With so much encoded, it wasn’t out of the question that she ‘decoded’ another equation that led them to y 4. Elise was satisfied enough with that answer, and Veaer tried to convince herself of the same.

  If there was ever a feeling of dismay towards questions and mysteries, she chalked that up to the feeling of inadequacy. Tychon had taken many answers to the grave or passed them on to Elise who held the answers to the universe, quite hard to unwrap, quite hard to stay away from—despite it all. Veaer was left feeling hollow and strange, like holes had been punctured in her soul now that she allowed herself to freely read Tychon’s words. They were some of his most recent ones. Still fresh.

  “Have you ever done anything bad?” Veaer asked, before she could catch the words and force them back down her throat. She stumbled to a stop when Elise paused in the middle of the hallway and Tychon’s attention was drawn to the windows.

  “Bad? What sort of bad?” Elise responded and gave Veaer the courtesy of turning around. Her expression was expected, if she were any other student, a tilt of the head, slightly furrowed brows in curiosity. At this point, Veaer wanted to find a tool and wedge it between Elise’s skin and bones so she could see the reality of her thoughts and feelings.

  “Bad like… you don’t want to tell anyone, ever. Not even the patrons or saints.” Veaer hooked her hands together behind her back and counted her fingers.

  “The patrons see everything, silly.” Elise laughed and waved her hand. Veaer scolded herself for the rush of blood that filled her cheeks. “Plus, if I have, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re part of ‘anyone’.”

  Veaer frowned—part for the lack of substance in the reply, part for just being another ‘anyone’.

  Questions continued to flash in her mind, like a frantic lightning storm.

  Did she murder you so you couldn’t confess for her? So you could shield her from her reckless decisions in doing something she shouldn’t have?

  You were only trying to protect her—you had plenty to hide.

  “We should find out,” Tychon replies.