Much to Eric’s surprise, Oliver merely smiled. “You’re right, they are indeed coming, and I have no doubt at all that they would happily see us all burn upon the pyre. Every last man, woman, and child among us.”

  “We need to take steps! We need to fortify or flee into the forest. Perhaps Luigi can help us all step between realms?”

  Oliver favored Eric with an enigmatic smile worthy of his title. “Look out the windows, my young friend. What do you see?”

  Eric’s eyes widened as he gazed through the clear-paned windows overlooking the courtyard below, and the city beyond.

  City streets filled with people quickly hurrying inside the nearby buildings as fog came rolling in. Thick as soup, billowing white. Fog… or perhaps mist.

  Eric’s eyes widened as he heard distant shouts and a the shrill cry of a tin whistle bouncing oddly through the wind.

  “They can’t see through the mist at all, can they?”

  Oliver winked. “Not a soul can lacking our gifts can. Fear not, the cobblestone road has a deliberate clockwork design, and all know to turn towards the buildings beside them. At that point, it’s easy enough to get inside any building with a lantern. By law, no one will be refused shelter when the fog is out, just as any port may be used in a storm. But no one will find the entrance to our academy, unless they themselves are aligned with mist… or otherwise dare to explore the Grand Enigma.”

  Eric clenched his fists, filled with the same killing fury that he could see in Ivan’s eyes.

  When he caught the man’s glare, there was an instant frisson of understanding.

  Two hunters recognizing the crimson trails they raced upon.

  “We need to wait,” Eric found himself whispering, jaw clenched. “Wait until your mother is free.”

  Ivan clenched his fist… then dipped his head. “It will be tricky in the fog.”

  “Unless one sees heat as well as a pit viper,” Eric noted with a dark smile.

  He then turned to Oliver. “How long will this fog last.?”

  The man flashed an enigmatic smile of his own. “New England fogs are known to last for days. Such holds true for our town as well.”

  “Good.” Eric took a measuring breath. He would never forgive his foe and perhaps not himself... Not after the depths of twisted treachery that had almost played out, Eric both an idiot and a patsy. Only considering the absolute most twisted worst case scenario at the last possible second… and being proved right. Hideously so.

  Three traps to poison and kill en masse.

  Three.

  Yet still. There was a mystery he would solve. A riddle to unpuzzle.

  Just in case it would help secure his key.

  “Does the house crest of a heron and rose mean anything to you?”

  Oliver furrowed his brow thoughtfully, about to shake his head, when he suddenly stilled. “Come with me,” he said, and Eric did just that, leaving his friend to the indulgences of the headmaster’s office, and taking the pack filled with diffused death as well.

  “Are you sure the bag is now safe?” Eric quietly asked as they quickly made their way down a stately wood-paneled hallway, with plenty of windows overlooking the fog below.

  Oliver dipped his head. “It is. As are the treasures within.”

  Eric blinked at this. “Treasures?”

  For some reason, this earned a twinkle in the man’s eyes. “Multiple tomes on Egyptian era burial rights… and the arts of resurrection, if I’m not mistaken.” His smile grew. “Perfect, for a talented young master of our world’s oldest arts. Arts which some suspect linked ancient man to his immortal roots. And that blasphemy alone is enough for countless faiths to declare those lost arts heresy.”

  Eric froze, coming to a stop, glaring at the man. “So. You know.”

  Oddly, Oliver flashed him a bitter smile. “I know only what I’ve learned in Enigma. And you far better hidden than most. And had you not given paranoia her just reign… had you instead opened what I too had thought was just a mere collection of damning tomes…” He shook his head. “Clearly, our foe has taken deliberate steps. Which shows just how deadly he truly is. Yet if Chief Inquisitor Hatson had any knack for the fog, he would have claimed our academy with his dozen well-armored thugs long before now.”

  Eric’s thoughts raced, a dozen possible plans of action considered and discarded.

  Because he didn’t know enough. Not yet.

  But one thing was for certain.

  No matter what secrets were revealed, no matter how this night flowed…

  Governor Stibbs and the Chief Inquisitor would pay for their crimes in blood.

  “Ah, here we are.”

  The man opened the door to a well lit reading room, though Eric noted that the crystal chandeliers were lit not with candles but with tiny balls of steady florescent brilliance.

  “I can see why you would want to avoid candles or gas lamps in a library.”

  “A lesser library, I assure you. Our main one is below, but this chamber serves as a storehouse for our internal records, research, and findings… and of course with plenty of tables and padded chairs, is an excellent place for both research and personal study. Or prayer, if one is of a mind.”

  The man then waved for Eric to follow him into a rather secluded and sparse alcove in the rear of the room, overlooking a portion of the now mist-filled courtyard below.

  “Ah… here we are. The student journals. And yes…” The man carefully flipped through several dozen journals kept upon an otherwise empty bookshelf. “I do believe we have a match.”

  Eric blinked. “Wait, you keep track of student journals?”

  The man blinked, as if taken aback by the question. “Why, of course! How else can we learn from the insights and revelations our students make in their journey toward glimpsing Enigma?” He flashed a conciliatory smile. “Fear not. No confidence recorded within will be used against them. In fact, it is widely understood that every semester finished with journal properly turned in automatically validates all past work and forgives all recorded transgressions.”

  Eric blinked, then grinned. “So if students record exploring ‘Enigma’ via carnal acts… or cribbing their peers notes in class… it won’t be used against them if they actually get away with it and record it. It will instead be considered part of their...what… sacred record on their journey forward?”

  “Precisely. And who knows? Sometimes regulations are lifted when unorthodox ways are shown to be of aid to various students… and we learn how best to minimize future breaches of protocol where and when certain transgressions are deemed to be of no benefit whatsoever.”

  Eric couldn’t help but smirk. “So students end up tattling all the secret catches, tricks, and goings-on that their future peers would use, in return for a clean slate for themselves.”

  Oliver winked. “There is some truth to that. But it is also true that our desire is to genuinely help and learn from aspirants and perhaps equally, when something goes wrong, when a student is overwhelmed by Enigma far too soon, far too unprepared…” He sighed, solemnly handing Eric a lilac dyed leather-bound journal. “We can better understand what compelled them, what preoccupied their minds, before daring Enigma for the very last time.”

  Eric swallowed, stomach fluttering with trepidation and anxiety both.

  Oliver waved at the nearest table.

  Eric sighed. Because even if a part of him wanted to believe this was all no more real than the wildest of delves, as much living dream as reality… he knew better.

  He then blinked at the cover. “This says her name is Jane Doe? Seriously?”

  Oliver furrowed his brow. “Is there something significant that I should know?”

  Eric flushed, realizing that particular pseudonym, or at least its common usage as a pseudonym, might not be common at all. But still.

  “You know when people give you false names, right?”

  Oliver sighed. “Now when they’ve chosen that name to be their own, Eric.”

  “Fair,” he said, and began to read.

  *

  I can’t believe they accepted me! I was so afraid that I hadn’t done enough, hadn’t studied enough. I’m lucky that I even know my numbers, and only to the extent that I can run a household. Father is so strict about everything! The bible is all I need. It will give you strength. Embrace your duty and know your place.

  Is life truly supposed to be a trial of suffering for women? Ernest and George hunt every weekend. Their eyes light with joy and excitement. I know they savor those hunts. Why can’t I enjoy a similar passion? Why did father punish me the one time I even suggested it? Ha. I know how eager they are, and the knowing looks in their eyes, I recognize that as well. Willmenth told me their secrets, how she enjoyed pleasing the twins, so sure that one of them will marry her.

  Poor Willy. At least I’m not that deluded. And I have secrets of my own. Secrets they can’t even imagine!

  I’ve heard the whispers in the fog. I can almost make out the most wonderful secrets!

  Secrets Mother has kept from Father.

  Secrets that would tear this town apart!

  *

  Eric looked up, catching Oliver’s knowing gaze. “She was clearly fascinated by the mist. I guess that’s enigma? She mentions something about it whispering to her.”

  Oliver dipped his head. “Her story is a troubling one. It is regrettable that we weren’t able to intervene in time.”

  Eric frowned, before putting his misgivings aside and forcing himself to skim through the journal, only pausing when he came to the final handful of entries in exquisite penmanship like the entire journal had been. Yet the elegant pen strokes were now tight with anxiety even he could sense.

  *

  Tomorrow, Janice and Elene will dare Enigma. They say it’s still to soon for me. That I need endless seasons of boring study.

  Yet I do not. The endless susurrations that haunt me as I travel the halls between classes more suited to a scholar or teacher’s professions than a mage’s make it clear that I am ready.

  I know the secret vices, hidden shames, and dark desires of my entire class.

  My entire school.

  They disgust me.

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  I want to be free of the petty mundanity of their lives.

  I was meant for something greater!

  ~~~~~

  I understand, now.

  The susurrations in my dreams have made so many things so very clear.

  The Enigmatics have absolutely no intention of sharing any truths with us aspirants! This is merely a University. An extension of England’s academia! Half my peers talk of getting scholarships to attend Oxford and Cambridge, increasing the college’s prestige and influence, with no talk of Enigma at all! Janice and Elena are the only ones who remember our purpose. The pact we swore!”

  *

  Eric looked up from the journal. “Is it true?”

  Oliver flashed a sad smile. “That most students end up following a path of academia, earning letters of recommendation to attend the great academies of France and Britain?” The man solemnly nodded. “It is true.”

  Eric furrowed his brow. “Why?”

  The man sighed. “For many… most, even, Enigma touches their lives lightly. Leaving the blessings of creativity and insight behind. A final blessing as adolescence becomes adulthood and they step firmly into the world of man, commerce, scholarship and trade.” He shook his head, taking a sip of tea from a pot Eric knew hadn’t been there seconds ago.

  “Only a few of us are doomed, or blessed, to find themselves tied to the dream eternal. But we don’t shun all those struggling souls who but glimpsed revelations for just a single season. Or a handful of seasons. The least we can do, the gift we give to honor enigma is the gift of wisdom and opportunity. Boons that we’ve granted scores of students, over the years.”

  He flashed a bemused smile. “And the grants we receive in return, for finding so any diamonds in the rough, has done more to finance our school than all the boons, tithes, and donations we’ve extracted from New York. If anything, we’ve done more to finance this town than any other party, even as the Inquisition, which by treaty shouldn’t even be here, drains us all dry.”

  “And for those who actually have the gift?”

  Oliver sighed. “We do our best to show them a path through the mist. A path of wonder and revelation. A path to bring gentle dreams to life. Sadly, our methods require a degree of caution and careful steps that few youths see the value of before eagerness sends them spiraling toward greatness… or absolute folly.”

  Eric tightened his gaze. “What do you mean by absolute folly?”

  Oliver lowered his head. “Most are wise enough to heed our counsel, Eric. To wait. To wait to enter the mists until after their 16th birthday. When their mind has matured. When their body is stable. When they are truly one with this world. Only then are our advanced arts taught.”

  Oliver flashed a bittersweet smile. “Arts upon which reality itself may be leveraged to unexpected and wondrous places by the power of dream alone.”

  Eric gazed at the man for long moments. “And how many lose the ability to sense Enigma altogether by that age?”

  Oliver took a reflective sip of tea. “Most.”

  Eric’s frown grew. “And how many of those boys and girls would be able to embrace Enigma and do truly great things, had you shown them how to access Enigma before their minds and bodies were, how did you put it? Truly one with this world.”

  Oliver’s gaze grew heavy with regret. “All of them would be able to enter, Eric. I won’t lie. Each and every last one of them.”

  Eric’s eyes widened with outrage. “Then why the hell would you deny them any chance at a gift that so many ached to embrace, that they were clearly gifted enough to sense, when the whole point of this college is to help their gifts to blossom?”

  The headmaster took no offense at the accusation in Eric’s voice. “You misunderstand, Eric. The purpose of this school isn’t to raise brilliant Mystics.”

  “No? When what the hell are you here for?”

  “To save these gifted children from destroying themselves.”

  Eric blinked at those words.

  Oliver sighed. “Of those who dare the mists before sixteen… from them, legends will be forged. Assuming they make it out of the maze at all.”

  Eric blinked at those words, ire instantly frozen to bitter understanding. “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  Eric sighed. “How many make it back?”

  “If they are fifteen? Over half. If they are younger? Far less. Those that do will become legends, but that is of little comfort to the parents waking up sobbing in bitter tears, knowing that they lost something truly precious… yet even the memory of their child is gone. Only in dreams do they recall their lost child, their lost happiness, only to awaken with the cock’s first crow cold and empty and in a purgatory that never ends. A wound that forever bleeds. A grief, an injury they don’t even realize they have. So how can they possibly heal it?”

  Eric froze at those words, before forcing himself to read the final passages.

  *

  I woke up from the best night’s sleep I’ve had in two years.

  And I’m in tears.

  The voices stopped.

  My birthday is less than two moons away… and they stopped!

  I know what it means by the sad, sad looks Janice and Elene gave me. I’m not a fool.

  We used to joke about it, all three of us, the way the mundanes lost the sparkle in their eyes. Could no longer see the wondrous rainbows, or the distant faerie castles... just a hop, skip, and dream away from the rose maze.

  Now when I look, all I see is the faintest outline of mist.

  I’m so afraid. So afraid of being sent back to father’s cold bitter household, Father, George and Ernest not even remembering the two years of my life that I was gone from their sight.

  I’m so afraid of waking up a boring girl with no memory of all I’ve seen and done. The wonders I came so close to embracing.

  The secrets filling my head and heart with awe and joy.

  Soon to be pulled away. I know they will.

  No matter how hard I try, I’m no good with numbers. I have no interest in a scholar’s pursuits and no skill with flute or harp at all. And my attempts at poetry and artwork makes my friends cry with pity. I have no hope of attending university. I see it in the sad, pitying looks in all my professors’ gazes.

  All I had was my connection to Enigma.

  And it will fade, as it does for most of us.

  Right before our sixteenth year!

  But it’s not too late. Even through my tears, Janice confessed.

  There is a way forward.

  A path.

  There is hope!

  No matter how the professors coax and counsel, we are, by Enigmatic law, permitted to dare the maze whenever we so choose. To pursue the secrets within.

  The Pear of Wisdom. The Dragon’s Eye.

  The keys to Enigma.

  The paths to Faerie.

  So many wonders and secrets hide within.

  Yet the only wonder I seek is the ability to become one with the mists, to share their secrets… to never be forced back into that house that is the farthest thing from a home.

  ~~~~~

  My heart now races with excitement. With hope!

  After staring for half an hour this evening, wiping away the tears… I saw the faintest shimmer over the maze.

  It’s enough.

  I’m going to dare the maze now smelling so sharply of summer roses and come out an Enigmatic…

  Or not come out at all.

  Either way, I will be free of the steel bars of the trap that even now I feel closing in.

  I refuse to wake up in my old chilly bed, belly fluttering with anxiety and dread as my father pronounces my doom. Forces me to bow before the cold-eyed Inquisitor who will be permitted to share my bed.

  It won’t matter how I scream and protest after knowing what true love feels like… Father’s favored hound will beat me as he likes. Do what he likes. Force me to submit. Then he will fill me with his seed. And with that single brutal act… that vile monster will claim me as his lawful wife. For such is his right as an Inquisitor.

  I will be no man’s slave.

  Tonight, I shall embrace the mist.

  May God take pity on my soul.

  *

  Eric took a shuddering breath, heart racing for some odd reason as he slammed shut the journal and looked up at Oliver’s solemn countenance. “Did you know?”

  Oliver slowly shook his head. “When you mentioned your suspicions… her family crest, the rose and the heron… it feels like a dream still.”

  He lowered his gaze, looking both shamed and humbled. “And that is the other reason why we keep journals. So we may remember. Even as the rest of the world forgets. So that we may honor them with a proper burial, and once a year, pay our respects and remember them all.”

  The man sadly shook his head, eyes red with unshed tears. “And that’s why we wait until they are sixteen. Wait until they are fully anchored to mundus. So even if we are weaker than our ancestors… even if we lose all access to regio entirely… at least we still have our lives and the precious lives of our charges.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I do keep a record of how many tombstones we have… lest I forget how many students we lose to desperation and folly.”

  “How many were lost this year?” Eric breathlessly asked.

  The man before him smiled sadly. “Two. And I have no memory whatsoever of the second girl… only a name. She left no journal to be found.”

  Eric swallowed. “Was Agda…”

  “Yes. She was one of our best. Our brightest. Her grandmother having introduced her to Enigma at an age none of us would dare… and somehow pulling her through.” He flashed a gentle smile. “Then she fell in love.”

  Eric winced. “I take it she went back home when she found out she was…”

  “Yes. And her Grandmother never forgave us for letting her precious Spring rose embrace the change of seasons. As for the boy?” The man sighed, shaking his head. “He left for Oxford and has already made his mark in the fields of magnetism and light.”

  Eric blinked at this, suddenly understanding. “He lost all sense of Enigma.”

  Oliver nodded. “A single year separated them. And a single night was all it took for the most insightful aspirant I know, one who sensed so many of the maze’s secrets before he had even entered.., to forget it was anything but an odd distraction as he prepared himself for higher education.”

  The headmaster sighed and shook his head. “The greatest tragedy of all… he forgot the woman who had won his young heart to, in the first place. As deeply tied to Enigma as she is? He couldn’t see her at all. Or me at all.” The headmaster flashed a bittersweet smile. “Yet for the short time they were together, you could see the magic of things wild and wonderful in their shared gaze. He looked almost as fey a you, for a time. Hence why I claim he was but a tool of the seasons, though perhaps I say that as much to keep Ivan from taking his vengeance on the foolish idiot who couldn’t even acknowledge the existence of the woman who had once touched his heart… even if Ivan put his deadly rifle right up to the doomed boy's skull.”

  Eric blinked. “I see.”

  “Indeed. The real reason why I had the few instructors he could actually interact with coax him to attend Oxford. To avoid yet one more tragedy.”

  Oliver flashed a wry smile. “Fortunately, everything turned out as well as one could hope. You might be surprised to find that of the students who dare to sail for the Old World, every last one of them survive the trip in perfect health. A final blessing, perhaps. Even if they don’t even remember any but a handful of the most mundane teachers and subjects. Recalling the Academy of Enigma only as a preparatory school that assures them full scholarships at Oxbridge and no more. And for them, it is just and only that.”

  Eric blinked, eyes filling with gentle sympathy. “So, no twisted plot. No malicious intrigue. Just a boy and girl who fell in love, embracing a dream that only one now remembers.”

  Oliver nodded. “Yes, Eric. Exactly that.”

  Eric sighed, gazing down at the journal. “You have no idea how much I want to make that bastard of an Inquisitor pay.”

  Oliver said nothing, gazing silently on as Eric clenched his fists, wonder and regret turning to fury, recalling once more how close they had come to peril.

  “Even his daughter feared and despised him.” Eric then coolly shook his head. “But that’s not the move I need to make.”

  He glared down at the journal still in his hands. “That’s not how this story needs to play out. Not if it’s to have the ending I’m hoping for.”

  Oliver tilted his head, gazing intently at Eric. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Eric flashed a toothy smile. “That I’m leaving all my options open. We’ll try it one way. If that doesn’t work? Then we’ll do it the other.”

  Oliver blanched, eyes widening, as if only now getting a glimpse of who and what Eric truly was.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but I need to get going. I’ve wasted enough time trying to feel out another path forward. But you know what? I don’t think a happy ending is in the cards for a certain asshole, no matter how many mystical tomes I might stumble across. You cool if I keep this journal? Awesome.”

  The man gave a sad shake of his head. “Your aura. So well hidden. So like another who I confided far too much to. Poor child… what have you been forced to endure?”

  “Thank you, headmaster. I’ll see myself out. And don’t worry. I’ll take this bag with me. Who knows? Maybe it will serve as a fine present for a certain asshole.”

  “Wait, Eric. Please, have a care! However talented you might be, you’re but a single youth, and the Inquisitor’s men are over a dozen! All fit as knights of an earlier era, and twice as ruthless.”

  Eric forced a laugh, ignoring the tension fluttering inside him. “I guess I’ll have to be careful then, won’t I? I’ll see you later. Hopefully when Agdelina’s well out of their clutches.”

  With a farewell wave, Eric darted out of the room and made his way down the wood-paneled hallway lined with portraits of crimson robed scholars, rococo era mythological scenes, and lush pastoral landscapes that so strikingly contrasted with the college’s own wild grounds and rosebush maze, as shown through the very windows lining the hallway. If the view weren’t covered by thick white fog, that was. Countless works of art to both study and perhaps be inspired by, were the hour not so late.

  Yet the moment he locked gazes with the robed Enigmatic guarding the academy door, the man did naught but bow his head and crack the door open just enough for Eric to step through… suddenly finding himself in a sea of blinding mist.

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