II

Clara was awakened by the sound of the church bell.

The loud vibration traveled straight through the walls and into the frame of her bed, rattling her teeth. She lay perfectly still beneath her blankets, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. The room was cold, faintly reeking of thick lavender water from the night before.

Just across the room was Violet, who was already on her feet. She was half -dressed in a simple linen shift, standing before the thin mirror nailed to the wall, swearing under her breath as she fought to pin back a mass of tangled ginger hair.

"You're alive," Violet murmured, catching Clara's reflection. "Good. I was almost starting to get worried that you might have died."

Clara pushed herself up into the cold air, drawing her blue hoodie over her knuckles. "They're really loud." She mutters, referring to the bells.

Violet slammed an iron pin into her hair with an assertive click. "It's very annoying, I would say that. Give it two weeks, and you'll be hearing ghosts in your sleep." She goes ahead to turn around on her feet before mentioning, "Get up, before the washroom runs out of hot water."

The cold floor bit maliciously through Clara's thick white socks the moment her feet hit the ground. For a moment, she directs her eyes to the window to see it partly closed. She was finding it hard to understand why most of the places were always cold.

She rubbed the grit from her eyes and reached for the rough silk towel resting on her trunk. The thought of facing a crowded corridor made her stomach twist, but she couldn't exactly hide in the cellar forever. Not like that was possible.

The dormitory hallway was a chaotic mess. Clara noticed how the girls filled the corridor, while some managed to juggle their bowls and brushes. She noticed a girl holding a mug of hot tea in her hand.

The doors on either side of the hall slammed frantically, followed by laughters on the other end and a shiver that ran through Clara's entire body.

Clara kept her chin down and in an instant, she felt goosebumps gather on the surface of her skin. I can do this! She chants nervously in her head but the slight shaking of her fingers betrayed those fuming thoughts.

Deciding she wasn't going to allow her anxiety to ruin her morning, she steers through the sea of moving bodies until she hits the washroom at the far end, breathing out a sigh only after she reaches the foyer.

She immediately scrunches up her nose the moment she arrives. The heat hit her first—a thick wall of mist, and then the soap, and the last one was a scent of unwashed bodies concealed by cheap perfume. She crinkled her nose more, her face not waiting a second before transitioning into that of disgust.

It was a massive chamber. It had long troughs that ran along the main wall beneath foggy mirrors, while heavy privacy screens sectioned off the wash tubs. Clara breathed out, her eyes darting between several girls. The girls occupied every square inch, leaned over the bays to brush their teeth and wash their faces while some argued over borrowed ribbons, or stood in tight clusters to braid each other's hair.

Clara hovered at the threshold, her fingers tightening around her towel. Woah! All these felt too much for someone who just wanted a warm bath, she thought to herself.

She waits a minute or two, her eyes scanning through the chamber to see if she could secure a space for herself. Not seeing an open space, she did a last scan, finally concluded that going a morning without bathing wouldn't hurt anyone, almost on her feet to turn when she felt a force push against her, sending her wobbling.

"I believe you're not blind."

A girl with short, ragged black hair shoved past her without an apology, carrying a basket of pig-fat soaps toward the tubs. Clara opens her mouth to speak—anything to say—so she could prove to her that she wasn't blind. She was thrown off guard at the rudeness of her fellow student. She continues to stare in disbelief, all at the same time not being able to catch the student's face.

Clara flushed, quickly retreating toward an isolated basin a girl had abandoned moments after the rude student had pushed her. She felt something prick her chest, mixed with hot water bubbling within her. She wanted to speak, but her tongue couldn't give out. She hated the fact that she couldn't stand up for herself, she had always been afraid to.

The water inside the basin was ice cold. Beside her, two older girls were whispering quietly as they adjusted their ribbons.

"I'm telling you, I'm petitioning the proctor for a room change by noon."

"Because she stinks?"

"Stink is an understatement. I can't bear it. But..." The girl leaned closer, her voice dropping. "Her family owns three silver mines in the west. She's dripping in coins."

"So you'll suffer the smell for a connection?"

Clara splashed the freezing water onto her face, trying to drown out their voices and probably the sting in her chest. She didn't care about the conversation or gossips. She was already finding herself tired of the morning that was yet to start. Amidst her thoughts, her stomach let out a loud, hollow growl of hunger. She froze, praying the splashing water hid the sound. To her surprise, nobody noticed. They were all too busy talking over one another.

-

By the time Clara and Violet crossed the central courtyard, the university had fully ground to life. It was something to witness.

Hundreds of students moved along the slab paths, some in pairs, some in trios, while some walked on their own, choosing to stay loyal to their introverted nature. As the students continued walking, waiting to assemble, Violet turned her head to her black-haired roommate who had her eyes fixed on the passing buildings.

"You keep looking up like you're waiting for a saint to drop from the sky," Violet remarked, her boots crunching against the gravel.

Clara immediately removes her gaze before turning to her roommate. "I've just—She hesitated, " —never seen buildings this old," Clara said softly. Violet only nods, a sign of agreement, before the two fell quiet again.

The orientation hall sat adjacent to the cathedral. Its large doors were carved with the agonizing faces of weeping martyrs. Surprisingly, the iron handle was that of smoothness even after centuries of fingerprint engraved on its texture.

When Clara stepped inside, the size of the room stole the air from her lungs as she struggled to maintain walking. The ceiling faded into expansive arches interspersed with charred beams.

She surveyed the scene, noting the grand chandeliers that hung low, their candles casting a golden glow over numerous rows of sturdy seats. The glass windows bathed the floor in deep reds and sapphires. Her eyes widened, disbelief etching itself onto her features.

Clara and Violet slid into the middle row. Clara immediately buried her hands in her lap, rubbing her palms together to stop the shaking.

"Do you think they'll lecture us until dinner?" Violet whispered, leaning in. Clara could perceive a minty scent, her brown eyes going over to settle on Violet's face to see her munching on something. It was a minty flavored candy.

"Probably." She answers, looking away. Violet only lets out a groan, her eyebrows pinched between her forehead to display irritation. "Why did I come out for this orientation again?"

Clara only rolls her eyes, not choosing to believe the kind of words her new roommate had uttered. "Stop being ridiculous."

"I am a realist, Bellamy." Violet bites back.

A small, genuine smile cracked through Clara's anxiety. She feels a fraction of her tension roll of her shoulder.

Suddenly, the ambient roar of hundreds of voices began to thicken as the room grew suffocatingly quiet. The scrape of a single chair at the front was the only thing that echoed; and then came silence.

Clara straightened her spine.

A tall woman dressed in a black and white robes stepped onto the raised dais. She had a big silver crucifix hung from her neck, catching the candlelight as she moved. Her face was lined and she had her brown hair pounded into a low bun.

"Good morning, students."

Her voice was smooth to listen to. It didn't need to be loud, it was almost as if the architecture carried it perfectly, cold and clear.

"My name is Headmistress Verena Laurent. On behalf of this institution, I welcome you."

The silence in the hall was absolute. No one dared utter a statement, not even an awkward cough.

"For over two centuries, I'm proud to say that this institution has stood as a bastion of discipline and divine preservation," Laurent continued, her hands folded neatly behind her back. Her eyes continued to scan the crowds, studying each of their faces. "Long before your families purchased your way into these halls, generations of holy men and scholars bled to maintain these traditions. We've had students from various popular families, school here, and not a single one graduated without an honor."

Clara's gaze drifted to the windows behind the dais. The painted saints stared down with grim, unblinking expressions.

"As students here, you will learn three things above all else," Laurent's eyes swept the room, sharp as flint.

"Respect. Restraint. Discipline."

The word " restraint" hit Clara like a blow. It was her father's favorite sermon. "Restraint of the tongue. Restraint of the flesh." The memory made her throat tighten. She missed her father. But now wasn't the time for memory lane. She needed to pay careful attention to what the headmistress had to say.

"Curfew begins precisely at the eleven o'clock bell," Laurent said, her tone clinical, leaving no room for arguments. She didn't expect every student to agree with these rules, but, these same rules have always existed.

"The residential doors will be barred from the outside. Anyone found in the courtyards after the midnight toll without written faculty dispensation will face immediate expulsion."

A low, anxious murmur rippled through the building. Clara could feel her chest tighten, glancing briefly at Violet before returning her gaze back to Laurent. She hoped Violet was listening to these rules too.

"Furthermore, the northern archive wing is restricted. And students are strictly forbidden from entering the bell tower."

Laurent paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Additionally, you are expected to refrain from entering the eastern cloisters after dark."

This time, the shift in the room was obvious. You could feel it in the way everyone started glancing at one another, exchange of words flowing between them. These rules were strange. Some students thought.

A girl three rows ahead stiffened, her knuckles turning white against her skirt. To Clara's left, a student traced a frantic sign of the cross over her chest.

Clara's stomach dropped. She had heard from her father on how strict this school was, but she never could have guessed to what extreme these rules were leaning to. Clara had to force her fear down. She didn't need to be afraid.

She wasn't here to break rules or explore forbidden hallways. She wanted to keep her head down, survive the year, and make her father proud. She never wanted to see Headmistress Laurent up close.

"Respect our customs," Laurent concluded coldly, "and the university will tolerate your presence. Disrespect them, and the stones themselves will reject you." Violet throws out a scoff, crossing her arms together.

The hall remained silent for a beat before a wave of applause broke out.

Violet let out a long, shaky breath beside her. "I am terrified of that woman."

Clara kept clapping, her voice low. "She's just strict.

Violet turns to Clara, her mouth left open in surprise. "Clara, are you out of your mind?"

Clara bit her lip to stifle a sudden laugh. She was starting to find Violet's sense of humor funny.

As the Headmistress stepped back and other faculty members began sorting through parchment scrolls on the tables, the oppressive silence finally defrosted. The room filled in with the low hum of student gossip once more.

Clara relaxed slightly, wiggling her numbed toes inside her shoes.

That was when she noticed a girl sitting entirely alone to the left. While everyone else was whispering, this girl was staring at the opposite aisle with frightening concentration.

Clara followed her line of sight.

A brunette student was standing near the aisle, laughing loudly as she gestured animatedly to her friends. The lonely girl was watching her with an intensity that looked almost painful. Her dark curls hid most of her face, but her shoulders were locked tight, her thumb obsessively picking at the fraying hem of her sleeve.

"oh," Clara thought, a sudden wave of recognition softening within her chest. A crush.

It was a look of pure, desperate yearning. For the first time since she had arrived, the place felt a little less scary.

Violet nudged her arm, smelling strongly of the mint candy she had been chewing on. "She's been burning a hole in that girl's back since we sat down."

Clara doesn't say anything but nod which made Violet bend her brows. She paused, her jaw dropping as she put the pieces together."

"Do you think they're homosexuals?"

Clara turned to look at Violet who had snapped her head to stare back at her. Homosexuala. The way Violet had said it did something to her. She didn't know why it had gotten her offended but she didn't like the tone one bit.

"What do you mean?" She questioned.

Violet, on seeing the way Clara's tone was quick to change, bites inside her cheeks, turning slightly on her seat before going silent. That significantly marked the end of their short observation.

Clara rolled her eyes, but the knot in her chest had loosened.

At the front, Clara had noticed that a flat-voiced had cut through the noise and was reading off the registration times for the theology and literature departments. She manages to listen, taking mental notes.

But the atmosphere in the hall still felt strange. Clara didn't know if she was the only one who had been feeling off since she entered the hall. The air was too thick, almost suffocating. The shadows between the high beams too deep. High above, the faint, ghostly rustle of pigeons nesting in the rafters sounded like whispering voices. Something was definitely off!

"Excuse me? Is this bench taken?"

Clara blinked, looking up. A girl was standing in the aisle. She looked to be a bit taller than Violet. Clara's brown eyes fell on the birthmark close to the bridge of her nose. It looked similar to the shape of a star.

Clara moved over quickly. "No. Sit."

The stranger didn't hesitate, afraid of missing out on this new spot.

"Thank the heavens," she gasped, sliding into the row. "Everyone here looks like they're about to be knighted, and I got lost twice trying to find the doors." She comments, beaming at Clara.

Violet leaned across Clara immediately, startling Clara a bit. "You are incredibly real for that." She says, her eyes way too bright.

The girl let out a quiet, relieved laugh. "I'm Emilia."

"Violet. And this is Clara."

Before they could say more, the bells rang out again. This time, the sound was violent and deep.

Clara turned her head instinctively toward the windows. Through the distorted, colorful panes, she looked out toward the forbidden eastern quad.

As she continues to look, for a terrifying second, Clara could have sworn she saw a dark shape standing perfectly still beneath the arches, watching the hall.

But when she blinked, a gust of wind caught the courtyard creeper and the shadow dissolved into the gray stone before she could be sure it was ever there.