Veaer shook her head even if Elise couldn’t see, but she seemed to understand her response when Veaer felt a hand touch her knee.

  “Listen, we’re currently on the first floor. I can hear the new lights they installed and based on how many people are nearby… we’re not in the main gallery. A room, off to the side. Like a storage room. Their voices are muffled past this lift panel. Like there’s a door or another wall there.”

  “What do we do?” Was this for nothing? Veaer regulated her breathing and tapped her fingers. She moved her hand from her mouth to above Elise’s. Equilibrium. Warm palm, cool skin.

  For the next moments, Elise spread her free hand across the walls, floor and ceiling of the lift. When she pawed one of the corners in the ceiling, something loosened and a piece of metal moved to the side.

  Veaer’s chest tightened as Elise used a knee to push against the lift’s main panel and opened it slightly, just enough to let light stream in. She struggled to find the right words—she loved that she could see a stronger outline of Elise because of the light, because she could confirm Elise was real, but she hated the idea that everything could fall apart here if they made the wrong move. Or if she really wasn’t smart and the coordinates were all wrong in the first place.

  “Look at this,” Elise whispered. From the hole in the roof was a cord that threaded downwards and in Elise’s hand was a small remote with a few worn buttons. Level 4, Level 1, Maintenance, Return… and then a button that’s symbol was scratched off. “There’s no reason we wouldn’t hit this one right?”

  A sour taste coated Veaer’s tongue.

  “I’m not asking you to find me, you don’t have to.”

  Veaer grabbed the remote, shut the panel, and hit the button herself.

  CHAPTER 25

  BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU STEP

  The lift came to a stop again and this time the panel opened on its own, revealing a small room lit with flickering oil lamps. It only lent Veaer the idea of others coming down here to maintain the lighting, meaning something of significance had to be down here too.

  Veaer closed her hands into fists by her side as she waited for Elise to unfurl herself from the metal box. Her heart pounded in her chest—dread for what was to come next, excitement for having Elise all to herself in what seemed like a forbidden place.

  Cool dampness stuck to Veaer’s skin as she climbed out next, and not a moment too soon as the lift suddenly closed and sped out of their view, leaving the empty shaft in its wake. She couldn’t tell if that was normal, or if that masked person had discovered what they’d done and urgently called the lift back, but either way she knew she had to get moving.

  With a glance towards Elise, she could see a reflection of the flames in her eyes, giving them an otherworldly glimmer. The warm light served to make Elise’s skin look softer, enticing.

  Her lips parted to say something, but she was unsure what. Then, Elise spoke instead.

  “I never knew they had something under the school.” Elise didn’t turn away, and heat rose to Veaer’s cheeks. “Do you want to keep going?”

  Before them was a narrow spiral staircase, so the lift didn’t even bring them all the way down. The steps were made from polished oak and the ornate handrail was carved with the shape of twirling vines. This rang strange as the walls were a mossy stone, unrefined and designed for the underground.

  The ghost of Tychon hovered by one of the lamps, holding his mangled hands towards the heat. He opened his mouth and bits of dirt fell to the concrete floor. Patches of feathers adorned his skin and this time he was wearing some sort of robe, different from the one he wore in his passing. It was white with a rope belt and no hood, showing off part of his chest and the scars underneath. Then he disappeared and appeared again by the stairs.

  “That’s what we’re here for, right?” Veaer avoided revealing her prayers to the red dragon for protection, instead opting for a small smile.

  Veaer and Elise descended with the sound of creaking growing louder and more frequent as they went lower. Every so often there was another lamp lighting the way, but there were moments of full darkness that had Veaer reaching for Elise’s hand but unable to find it.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and the ground flattened out. Beyond the steps was a dimly lit chamber, lined with ancient stone coffins and statues, a few more doorways along the walls like the one they had just come from.

  Veaer’s skin prickled. The air was dusty and full of decay. She stared at the coffins and wondered if their ghosts would rise and follow her too, and then shut her eyes in fear that she would manifest it if she thought too hard.

  But Elise became one with the macabre surroundings, moving gracefully through the chamber, picking up an exposed lamp that cast light and shadow across her beautiful features. Veaer couldn’t help but admire the way her long black hair fell past her shoulders and the way her eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement.

  “This crypt must have been here since they first built the academy.” Elise’s voice was that breathy tone again, awe-filled and just for Veaer to hear. “So much history. Perhaps we’d even find the four heroes down here.”

  The idea of the tombs of the four heroes being close left Veaer with a mix of feelings again. She often avoided the thought of someone she knew being in a coffin, and the last time she attended a funeral was so long ago that she wondered if she associated her memories with fabricated images and movies.

  The four heroes were powerful and venerated like saints. They weren’t often integrated into religion, but she had heard of groups across the world maintaining shrines and praying to them. Even the big statue in the courtyard reminded her of a relic of blessings. If they were down here, would all her prayers and dreams come true?

  Elise moved forward, choosing an archway at the other end, and Veaer trailed behind her. She didn’t contain her gasp when she looked upon a square room with four pedestals, two on the left and two on the right, and a statue of each hero upon them. Against the far wall was an ornate chest, covered in intricate carvings and adorned with jewels.

  Her body moved with her mind, yet she hadn’t registered it so, an urge to investigate further taking full hold of her focus. She carefully pried open the lid, and inside was a collection of ancient scrolls bound in leather and tied with twine. Between scrolls she could make out a silk bag filled with cards, a key and pocket watch linked together, a handful of coins that didn’t look anything like their own currency, and a goblet with some gem rings in it.

  A little bit of air remained like a rock in Veaer’s throat, and she didn’t know whether to cry or scream or shut the lid. She was overcome with a sense of love and power, like the four heroes were alive and standing right beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and telling her they were here, and they would bring justice to the land.

  She decided to close the lid, afraid that if she touched anything more, that she would be attacked by every ghost in the crypt.

  Elise made a small sound like a squeal while looking at one of the statues on the left side of the room. She examined a delicate parchment encased in thin glass, placed on a short podium in front of the statue.

  Veaer’s heart burst as she watched Elise bounce from foot to foot, unable to stay still as she traced her finger just above the glass to read the text but seemed to skip too quickly and had to start again to really read it, this time out loud.

  “Iris Galacia of Vestirr, Kyross. Having joined the quartet of heroes at the beginning of The Separation, she had lent her abilities of tarot and the wisdom that came from the heavens above through her divine transmutation. Her participation in the return of the sorbra cemented her allegiance to the Rosell throne, and from there—”

  Veaer forgot all about the potential dangers of ghosts, or if the masked person would find them. Forgotten that this place was likely forbidden and not for a mere young caemi’s eyes. She was captivated by the beauty and mystery of this crypt, and the enchanting presence of Elise by her side.

  Rosell. That was her. Her name, her legacy. Her ancestors. Every Rosell who came before her, in allegiance to the four heroes. She had never felt so connected to her heritage as this moment, and never prouder.

  But Iris was Tychon’s ancestor. And while his line hadn’t ended with him, his piece of history, his potential to follow Iris’ footsteps as a blessed tarot reader, was gone. And that left a hole in her chest, and she made her turn away to glance at the other statues.

  Kalaya Thawan of Equala, Syriphia of the Purple Cat Caemi was placed across from Iris. She only let herself stare for a few seconds before marching out of the room and forcing herself to take a few deep breaths. This was a lot, maybe too much.

  So much to gain, so much to lose. So much to gain, so much to lose. So much to gain, so much to lose—

  Only now did she notice a weight upon her head—and not of the mental variety. Her hand flew up, touching soft fur in the form of canine ears. Animal ears, caemi ears. Those didn’t belong here, at least not with Adraredon Academy’s policy for uniform appearance among senti people and caemi people. The last time she had felt these ears was the moment before she stepped onto the academy grounds, forcefield zapping her caemi distinction away.

  Silence broke in the presence of dripping water somewhere deeper in the crypt, and a breeze she didn’t understand the origin of brushed past the tail that decided to appear now too. She combed through her hair, allowing the silver strands to neaten around the base of her fluffy ears.

  Perhaps the field didn’t reach the underground. Or the tombs of the heroes were just that magical.

  She flinched with Elise inching up to her and whispering in her ear, “Will you come with me to the next room?”

  Veaer didn’t need to respond, only follow. The next archway they found led to a labyrinth of corridors with narrow paths and crumbling stone pillars. The further they winded, the less frequently the lamps were lit, and the more statues of unrecognisable senti and caemi were damaged.

  Her heart hammered and the lack of light in many sections only served to disorient her, like she was suddenly pulled into a daze. The walls were thick and suffocating and their footsteps echoed loudly against the ground that was part stone, part weathered floorboards.

  Her solace came when they paused at a corridor not unlike the others, but this time there were banners hanging from the roof and small podium displays between pillars along the wall.

  Elise’s eyes widened as she examined one of the contained scrolls, her fingers tracing the air above the calligraphy. Veaer didn’t bear to look as she didn’t want to overwhelm herself once again, more than she needed to while she was alone with Elise.

  “This is incredible,” Elise mused, and nothing more needed to be said between them as they hovered by each case.

  Veaer couldn’t help but smile as she watched Elise. She had always admired Elise’s passion for knowledge, demonstrated in every assignment she submitted, and every time they did have to present their findings to the class. Insatiable curiosity was a feeling she could understand.

  It’s one of my strengths.

  “You should hope so.”

  Tychon’s ghost was at the end of the corridor, but Veaer wasn’t able to tell which way he was facing, even with his feet pointed towards her.

  She wanted to take Elise’s hand as her finger continued to draw a path between each line on the parchment, to lend her support in these discoveries, and to avoid the gnawing feeling that they were being watched, every spirit tracking their every move.

  Unseen eyes, unseen eyes.

  She grasped the princess’ hand, and their eyes met in an instance. Veaer became captured by Elise’s rosy cheeks and smiling eyes with an inner glow, and the alert of danger slipped away, exhilaration she had never experienced before taking its place. A small burst of laughter erupted from Veaer and it took all her might to neither kiss the young woman nor push her far, far away.

  Elise and herself were the only ones in this world, Tychon and crypt spirits be damned. She only needed her ruling queen by her side, exploring a sanctuary others would never be able to see or fathom. The past laid in agony and elation in these walls, and while she wasn’t in the right mind to consume this knowledge at this time, it was theirs forever, and always would be.

  In a continued effort to find even more to this catacomb, they kept walking and walking through each ghastly or awe-striking display until, finally, they came to a small alcove, tucked away in the deepest part of the crypt. Inside was an intricately designed statue of what appeared to be… an angel.

  A plaque was displayed on its pedestal labelled Angelus. Four arms struck out from its sides, one hand holding up a scale, another with an orb decorated in a golden frame, the next with a thick tome that had loose pages sticking out here and there, and the last empty with the palm against its heart. Three sets of mighty feathered wings protruded from the statue’s back, and rings of eyes surrounded the being’s head. Whoever this was, Veaer could not tell, and she wondered over and over what the story of this angel was.

  What concerned her the most as they stood there, bathed in the eerie light of a lamp soon to run dry, was not the deep connection she felt to this statue, but how Tychon’s ghost, with a blood covered toga and a pair of wings, broken and wet with mud, bowed deeply, deep until his forehead was being pummelled into the ground, and cried and cried and cried.

  And when she turned to Elise for a semblance of clarity, she caught only a second of her world—her queen—being dragged away by a masked, hooded person, before she was knocked in the dark and Tychon mocked her with whispers and taunts.

  PART III

  “& so what – if my feathers

  are burning. I

  never asked for flight.”

  ― Ocean Vuong, Devotion

  CHAPTER 26

  WINGED DREAMS

  Veaer (Elise) dreams that she’s a butterfly of purple and red (red and black) wings, blended, not distinct. Butterfly wings in these colours rarely (often) appear.

  As a butterfly, she indulges in the sporadic and random movements, while also knowing, deep inside of her, the position of the sun, the planet’s magnetic field, the landmarks that surround her. She turns right (left), or at least as right (left) as a butterfly can interpret.

  A patch of grass and a swing in the distance tells her that she’s near (far from) her childhood home. A suburb that is (isn’t) important to her (—at least, she tries to avoid thinking about it).

  She knows that something happened here, but time doesn’t exist for butterflies. So maybe it was in the past, or maybe it’s something yet to happen.

  When she was ten, she lost her best friend (she found her best friend). What exactly happened that day continued to elude her (continued to haunt her), and she blamed that on growing up. She blamed it on the fact that friends weren’t meant to be forever (the fact that she was stuck with him for good), such as enjoying a song wasn’t (a song never left her mind), and every book eventually ended (every book always left questions).

  Veaer sees a red and black butterfly (Elise sees a purple and red butterfly). They know nothing except to crash into one another and see who is able to fly away with their wings still intact.

  The purple and red butterfly drops and falls into a white specimen frame, and then the glass is shut tight.

  (The red and black butterfly has its wings ripped apart and it’s so fragile.)

  Elise wakes up first, and she realises she is blindfolded. She remains still, like she is still sleeping, and waits for Veaer to wake up.

  CHAPTER 27

  POISON AND DIRT

  Veaer emerged overwhelmed and sweating. Cloth over her eyes, wrists and ankles tied together by rope, something hard but not cold beneath her—maybe a wooden bench. Someone was next to her, she felt it was Elise. She could tell by her breathing.

  Water was still trickling somewhere, so they were still in the crypt. But it was close enough that they had to be in a new place. Warmth filled the edges of the room. There were a few more people in here—she noticed her aura was stronger and able to detect the presence of others, and she wished it worked earlier so they wouldn’t be in this situation. One other aura was particularly comforting, though this situation was everything but.

  “Veaer, you’re awake.” A new voice, but she couldn’t recognise it no matter how hard she tried. Something prevented her from doing so, and it felt like magic.

  She remained silent. She read enough novels to know asking ‘who are you’ or ‘what do you want’ or ‘why am I here’ wouldn’t be productive.

  “Your friend has been asleep for a while,” the voice continued, and it was enough to make Veaer struggle against her ties. Elise, Elise, Elise, are you hurt? Are you okay? But then she felt the soft, soft touch of Elise’s fingers on hers, only a brush. Elise was awake too but made an effort to keep it between them. “No matter, we don’t need her for you to make a choice.”

  Veaer yelped as someone forced the blindfold off her and the light in the room, even if by lamp and candle, pierced her eyes and forced them close before she could even take a better look around.

  She blinked for a long time to adjust her eyes, and the voice waited. When she could see again, she counted two other people in the room with her and Elise, and she detected several people outside of this room. The two in front of her were caemi, based on their strong, but muffled auras, and while she assumed they were students, they weren’t wearing their uniforms, not even cloaks like the ones in the gallery storage. They dressed in tunics and luxurious flowing linen robes without hoods.

  Jewellery made of golden chains and crystals hung from their necks and ears, and around their heads and wrists and ankles. Amethyst, clear quartz, rose quartz, and selenite twinkled in the dim candlelight bringing a mysterious but beautiful appearance to these strangers. One of them had dark brown braids and the other had their red hair cut just above their ears. Many students had these hair colours and styles, and she wasn’t any closer to understanding who these people were.