Castien’s eyelids drooped. He scrubbed his face with his hands, wishing he had a cup of Everleaf tea to rouse him. It had not been long since he sat at his desk, but exhaustion had sunk in rather quickly. As had the cold. Even the blazing hearth did little to chase away the chill. Castien wondered if the snow was making its return aboveground. He stood and stretched his arms above his head. Perhaps it was time to retire. There was not much he would accomplish in this state. 

The red seal on his letter to Wren glinted in the candlelight. He put it and the letter she gave him in his coat pocket, then headed to the door. It was upon opening the door that he heard it. A preternatural scream that made his blood run cold. Then, footsteps. Swift ones. Someone was coming in his direction. 

His Gift flared to life, painting the darkness in theories about the murderer and who had access to the passageways. Whimpering sobs echoed through the tunnels. A figure appeared at the end of the hall. Torchlight illuminated a woman with unmistakable moonlight hair. Wren. 

Castien called to her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He ran forward to meet her. She barreled into him unseeing, and he caught her in his arms. Her fingers grasped his coat, then she let out another piercing wail. She began to claw at Castien.

“No! Please, no!” she sobbed.

“Wren!” Castien’s panic roared within him. He held her face, though she thrashed beneath his touch. “Wren, Wren, it’s me! It’s Castien. Look at me.”

She stilled. He stared down at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Tears wet his hands, and he swiped them away as gently as he could.

“What’s happened?” He kept his voice low in an attempt to calm her. “Are you hurt?”

He frantically trailed his hands down her arms, squinting in the low light to see if she had any marks or blood. She shook her head in a delayed response to his question. He framed her face with his hands again. Her eyes shone with tears. 

“Tell me what’s happened. Are you sure you’re not hurt? What are you doing down here?” 

There was no restraining his feelings. The thought of her being hurt in any way was too much for him to bear. His Gift flickered in and out of his vision. There was no logic to be found here. Only her frightened expression and his determination to kill whatever caused it. He was lost to his emotions.

“Wren, please, you must speak to me,” he begged.

“Alysia,” she choked out. “Alysia is dead.”

Shock coursed through him. He dropped his hands. Alysia was killed. In his passageways. How? Why?

“She is down here?” he asked to confirm.

Wren nodded. Castien steeled himself. No longer could he afford to panic. He needed to get Wren to safety, then deal with the body. The headmaster could not find it here, but it had to be found somewhere.

“We need to get you out of here,” Castien said, his voice stern. “Come with me, I’ll take you to your chambers.”

He held out his hand. Wren stared at it. Shook her head. Dread filled Castien. He needed her to cooperate. They didn’t have time. The murderer could still be lurking down here. His hands itched to get his sword and go hunting for the monster. But Wren’s safety came first. 

“A-Alysia is dead. We need to alert the headmaster right away. The murderer could still be down here.”

Castien saw the fear all over her face. Her entire body shook. He pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I will take care of it,” he reassured her. “But first we need to get you aboveground.”

Wren slowly lifted her gaze. He saw the fire in her eyes. The insatiable curiosity that was likely the reason she was down here in the first place. He saw the fighter he wanted her to be, but one she couldn’t be right now. He shook his head. 

“Don’t, Wren. Not now. I need to get you out of here.” 

“You asked me what I was doing down here.” She took a step away from him. Pain at her distrust of him sliced his chest open. “And I will tell you.” Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “A secret for a secret. Why are you down here, Castien?” 

Their eyes locked. Castien saw the hurt, the betrayal, pouring out of her expression. He did not know how to assuage her. His emotions were too high for his Gift to help him discern a plan. He needed to tell her something, but he didn’t know what or how much. He opened his mouth to try.

Then came the smoke.