1
AVERY
My footsteps echoagainst the volcanic stone as I walk through the covered walkways that connect the buildings of the academy, and I count them like I used to count the beats between Oliver’s laughs. One, two, three. They’re steady and measured—the rhythm of someone who definitely isn’t falling apart.
You’re fine. This is fine. You’re meeting a first-year in a creepy death chamber at night because everything is totally, completely fine.
Finally, I arrive at the entrance and walk inside, to where three corridors branch off from the central room. I’ve never been a religious person, but I came here once with Oliver during our first year, when he insisted on exploring every inch of the island.
“Come on, Avery. Adventure awaits!”
The memory hits like a punch to the gut. But I do what I’m best at and shove it down, burying it deep and continuing forward like everything’s fine.
The door to the Crone Chamber is already open.
Inside, Nina Aldridge stands before the altar, her braids catching the light from the eternal flame. The obsidian walls gleam around her, the hundreds of names carved into it creatinga tapestry of the dead. Some are so old they’ve worn smooth, and others look fresh, the letters still sharp.
Will Oliver’s name end up here?
Stop it. You don’t know anything yet.
The emptiness where the emberlink used to burn says otherwise.
“You came.” Nina turns to face me, her expression calm and assessing, like she’s already catalogued three details about me since I walked in.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I thought you might lose your nerve.” She gestures to the space beside her. “Close the door.”
I do, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should.
“Do you know why I chose this place?” She moves to one of the walls, trailing her fingers along the carved names.
“Because it’s empty at night?”
“That’s part of it.” She turns back to face me. “But mainly because the Crone Chamber has its own magic.Truthmagic. There’s an old tradition that lies can’t be spoken here without the flames dimming.”
I glance at the eternal flame. It burns steady and bright, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
She holds my gaze, her voice matter of fact. “I need to know I can trust you before I share what I know.”
This is insane. This is absolutely, positively insane.
But I don’t leave. Because the void in my chest where Oliver used to be is aching, and I’m desperate enough to do anything that might give me answers.
“Fine.” I straighten my shoulders, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Ask your questions.”
Nina nods once. “Do you believe Oliver left the island voluntarily?”
“No.”
The word comes out sharp and certain.
The flame doesn’t flicker.
“Good.” Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s approval in her tone. “Do you believe the Council is telling the truth about his disappearance?”
“No.” Again, the flame stays steady.