Ryker’s heavy, thunderous snores echo in my mind. I should be asleep, I wish more than anything I could be, but for whatever reason, I can’t. It’s infuriating, the endless tossing with no reprieve. I hit my wits end when Ryker’s snore rattles the bed, and I sit up, furious and red eyed.

  Grumbling, I tie the laces of my shoes, and slide off the bed, carefully making my way down the ladder, doing my best to not disturb those blessed with slumber.

  When I reach Kieran’s bed, I stop in my tracks. It’s empty, only ruffled sheets left behind. I look around, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I’ve been awake all night, I should have heard him leave.

  Frowning, my feet embrace the floor, and I find Ryker’s mouth ajar, tipped up to Kieran’s bed frame, releasing a long, slow snore.

  I walk soundlessly into the hall, and slink along the shadowed wall. It is not forbidden, to walk the castle as we please, but I would rather avoid being caught unnecessarily. Besides, if Kieran is truly out in the night, I want to find him before anyone else.

  The castle is quiet, deathly so, and I do my best to stop my shoes from making sound as I trail my hand along the jagged walls. The torches were extinguished long ago, leaving only the obvious smell of smoke, and the taste of ash on my tongue.

  After a while, I reach the main corridor, and decide to venture down a path I have yet to see. It widens as it winds up a flight of stairs, and before I know it, I’m staring at an entrance. The door has a metal plate secured to the top, with a branded ‘WHITES’ standing clear through the rust. Clearly, this is the dormitory of the White’s. It would take up an entire wing of the castle, based on the size of the class.

  Losing interest, I turn back down the corridor, mentally mapping the new room. I search the castle for many hours longer, finding doors to supplies and secret alcoves, hidden behind paintings and tapestries. One particular secret I have just stumbled upon is in the form of a strangely hollow column.

  I had been running my fingers down the wall, when the ribs of the column passed under my skin. Bored, I rapped my knuckles, and it made a very flamboyant ding. Stopping dead, I rapped again, and when the same sound called out, I stood back to observe. Which is where I am now, circling the pillar, my face scrunched in a slight frown.

  There has to be something, the other pillars are normal. I would know, I’ve checked many times. A secret lies hidden behind the thin granite, if only I could-

  My fingers find a bare spot in the rock, in a space closest to the dark wall. The divot feels as if it could just be a scratch, but something in my gut knows better.

  Digging in my fingers, only barely squeezing through, I find a latch buried deep inside, and give it a strong pull. Like a spring trap, a thin compartment retracts, revealing a tight, coiled set of stairs.

  Beaming with pleasure, I look around the hall before slipping inside the pillar. It goes up so far I can’t see the ceiling, the tight spiral terrifyingly high. Just as I gather the nerve, at last taking my first step, the sliding door snaps closed, and the stairs begin to tick.

  Retreating back into the column, the ledges become smaller with each passing second. Realizing what will happen, about the opportunity I may easily miss, I bolt up the spiraling stairs. They retreat quickly, as if wishing for me to fall, and I barely get my feet on a stable platform before the stairs fully disappear into the circular walls.

  I release a long sigh, panting as I stare down the tower, which looks so much like our old well. Dax would have loved it, the threat of danger, which easily could have led to my death. But he always had a zest for adventure, even if we usually ended up covered in dirt and blood.

  I push open the small door, and slip out of the pillar, sealing the column once more. The room I have entered is really quite small, with only one plush chair and a small, burgundy couch surrounded by a tall set of bookshelves, each filled to bursting and making the room smell like old parchment. The room is lit by a few rouge lampshades, the candles inside flickering with delight, licking the air for a taste of the new presence. There is a small window, at the center of the room, and the black stained glass almost looks seamless with the night sky. The shards depict a twisted rose, the thorns so sharp they slice into the walls. And while the floor is stone, it is covered in thick carpet, twisting with pinks and oranges, creating something of a forest.

  Curious, I look around, watching the titles with my head tilted to the side. The texts vary from history to language, some in words I don’t recognize at all. Lovely nook, one that few know about, based on the thick lining of dust on the shelves. How many secret rooms are there in the castle, if I found one after only a night of searching.

  I look across the room, finding another door, this one tall and obvious, and made from stone. I would go through it, but just as I move, the knob rattles and twists with a screech.

  Ducking behind a bookshelf, crouching close to the ground, I listen as the door creaks open, and two sets of boots enter without a sound.

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  As the door snicks shut, one of the unknown leans against it, his large feet crossed and rigid. The other paces silently, delicate, black slippers moving as quick as sound.

  “Do you think he knows?” A soft, worried voice of the pacing woman whispers quietly.

  “Who?” The boy murmurs, “Crane? He’d have to. Talonveil and Barronhart must, too.”

  They speak of the instructors of Merikna. There are only a handful of them, but Crane, Talonveil, and Barronhart are the top of their classes. For these students to be speaking of them must mean they are not first years, and if they first mentioned Crane, they must be Lynx. Crane, the scar faced instructor who told Alec off, Crane who watched us like a hawk when we first arrived.

  “But if they know…” the girl trails off, and at last her pacing comes to an end, “Do you really think it’s true? That all of it…all of the…the, you know,” she groans.

  The soft sound of opening lips is cut short by the boy as he holds his hand up in warning. The room falls silent, and I hold my breath, not even daring to move. But then I hear something from the secret door, the one which I sit statue-like beside. The click of stairs, the quick patter of footsteps, and the breath of relief as they reach the platform.

  By the time the door opens, and I’ve pressed as far into the shadows as I can manage, the two have slipped out of the room, disappearing seamlessly into the unknown.

  Light, firm footsteps caress the dust eaten rug, and I almost cry out in relief.

  “Kieran,” I whisper, making him jump to the ceiling.

  “Gods, Fangera,” he gasps, extending a hand to pull me from the floor, “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” I gape, pushing his shoulder, “What are you doing here?”

  Kieran arches an eyebrow, his hands planted on his hips as he eyes me with those cunning, brown eyes. He looks like a mother who’s caught her child doing something they shouldn’t be doing. The resemblance smothers my lips with a smile.

  “Oh come on, then,” he sighs, nodding to the next door.

  “Hang on,” I grab his arm, “Some Lynx just left. We should give it a minute.”

  “Lynx?” His eyes widen, “What were they doing?”

  I think back on the strange interaction, “I’m not entirely sure. They were worried about something, and said that the heads of Merikna knew.”

  Kieran looks at me, but it is clear he isn't looking at me at all. His face is unreadable as he ponders the scene, and turns around to look at the door, to the ruffles in the rug where the girl paced the floor.

  Quietly, he walks to the door, and leans his ear against it, his eyes closed in concentration. Seeming satisfied, and only giving me a glance of warning, he slowly turns the handle, and peeks out of the crack.

  Startled, but equally as curious, I meet his side, crouching down to look out with him. It leads to a darkened hallway, with no signs of light or life. It is silent and narrow, with no visible doors, and the air is cold, tasting of ancient dust.

  After waiting to hear any morsel of sound, Kieran and I slip into the hall, making sure to close the door quietly, and fall into steady, silent footsteps. Every breath has me glancing over my shoulder, every creak from the castle stops my heart.

  We travel for long, the entire time in silence, desperately searching for a sign. Like before, I trail my fingers along the wall, but Kieran, with his strange gift of the night, merely walks with purpose, entirely steady and dignified.

  When we at last approach the end of the closed hall, Kieran comes to a stop, looking directly at the floor.

  He glances at me and holds a finger to his mouth, his eyes darting to a chipped spot on the ground. Kieran crouches and pulls me with, pointing to the split in the floor, where there is a small, hidden trap door.

  Hesitantly, he reaches towards it, sliding his finger in the crack. The door opens silently, and we look down into the room, which appears to be some sort of lounge. It seems homey, with plush chairs and a crackling fire, the walls covered in paintings and decor. Our peephole is hugging the back wall, draped with a midnight blue tapestry. Bolted to the wall, licking the tapestry, a thick, silver rope hangs strong.

  We glance at one another in question, but don’t wait for long before I grasp the rope, praying my landing will be graceful as I shimmy down. Releasing a breath of relief despite my burning hands, I land smoothly and wait for Kieran to join. He meets me with grace, and we look around the room, suddenly entirely red faced.

  The lounge appears to belong to the Merikna, told true by the boy who sits over a scattered mess of papers, looking at us from a desk with a mild expression of surprise. At his feet lounges his bonded fox, her silky, black hair spiked from our intrusion.

  Kieran and I stay silent and still, entirely unsure what to do. The boy stays equally as quiet, his face now smoothed into nothing. As the tension grows raw, and I can no longer take it, he finally gestures over his shoulder, to a large painting of Evermeah.

  Smiling without thinking, Kieran and I rush to the painting, and peel it open to reveal a tunnel. I glance over my shoulder, finding the boy once more consumed in his papers, and the fox watching us with intensity that could kill.

  I scurry inside, quickly met with Kieran, who quietly closes the painting, and nudges me forward. We don’t have to travel for long before coming to a rather small painting, the paper back patched and grimy from centuries worth of hands. I push it open, looking around the hall before continuing, and slide into the new corridor.

  Kieran meets me, and we look around, but there is hardly anything to see. There are only more paintings, and pillars with old weapons, each brandishing some ancient tale. Deciding we’ve had enough for one night, we hurry down the hall, careful to stick close to the dark walls, and at last reach the grand opening of the muck hall.

  Relieved, we easily find our way back to our dormitory, and smoothly slide into our beds. Just as I get comfortable in my sheets, my heart still beating fiercely, I look over my shoulder and find the raven looking intently between both of our heads.