Chapter 55 The Safe
“Can I do that now?” I asked.
Emily’s eyes shifted from my face to the bunch of keys in my hand. She shrugged lightly. “Yes, you can,” she said.
I walked past her.
“Sorry about today,” she added.
I turned back to her. “For what?”
“What happened in the meeting,” she said. “Don’t take any of it personally. Just keep living the way you want. None of it is your fault.”
I didn’t know how to feel after her apology. I hadn’t expected it from her, of all people.
She stepped closer. “They’re just a bunch of spoiled, privileged kids,” she continued. “And you’re a scholar. That’s why they find you odd.”
My throat tightened. I almost cried in front of her. Instead, I hugged her.
Her hands froze in the air.
“Uh— you shouldn’t do that,” she said nervously. “I have a girlfriend.”
I pulled away immediately. “Oh…” I wiped at an invisible tear. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not… really,” she said.
Silence settled between us, awkward and thin.
“Well,” I said softly, “I should go check the council hall—”
“Melissa!” Emily exclaimed suddenly, her hands lifting wide.
She approached from behind me and stopped beside Emily. Emily leaned in and kissed her cheek lightly.
“Where have you been?” Melissa asked.
“Uh, here,” Emily said nervously, glancing at me. “With your roommate.”
Melissa’s eyes flicked between us. “Oh,” she smirked. “Since when did you and Lexie become so… close? If that’s the right word.”
“We—” Emily started.
“I’m going to check the council hall,” I cut in quickly. “See you soon, Melissa.”
I turned away before anything else could unfold. I wasn’t ready to witness whatever scene was about to play out.
I walked straight to the council hall.
The weight of the keys in my hand felt heavier than it should have. There were twelve of them, identical.
I took one out, “I’ll try this first,” I muttered.
It didn’t work.
Neither did the next. Or the one after that. The fifth key finally clicked into place.
I paused. The fifth key opens the council hall.
I stepped inside.
The hall was quiet, almost reverent. I moved toward the shelf and pushed it aside. A concealed door revealed itself behind it.
Again, I looked down at the keys. I separated the fifth one, then tried the others, one by one, until another lock gave way.
The door opened.
Another door stood behind it.
This one had a keypad.
I stared at it.
“Seriously?” I muttered. I had no idea what the code was. Kaitlyn hadn’t mentioned this.
I turned to leave—
Then my eyes caught a small drawer embedded in the wall to my left.
I opened it.
Inside was a scroll.
I unrolled it slowly.
I frowned.
The writing was upside down.
At first, I thought it was a mistake until my chest tightened. The ink was too deliberate, too careful to be accidental.
I turned the scroll fully upside down.
The words settled into place.
When the truth stands on its head, time must follow.
Do not move the sun.
Obey the shorter shadow.
Begin where the council was born.
My pulse echoed louder than the ticking clock on the far wall.
A clue… to open a safe?
Keys alone clearly weren’t enough for this kind of security.
I lowered the scroll and stepped back into the council hall, moving toward the long meeting table.
Behind Kaitlyn’s seat hung the old ceremonial clock—antique, decorated, its brass rim dulled by decades of polishing. A compass was embedded at its center.
Strange.
This was the same clock I had tried to touch on my first day.
Now I approached it carefully, the scroll clenched in my hand, my steps slow and measured.
“Do not move the sun,” I whispered.
My eyes traced the long minute hand, thin, sharp, dominant. The sun moves fast.
Then my gaze dropped.
“The shorter shadow…”
The hour hand.
My breathing slowed.
I glanced back at the scroll, then at the plaque mounted beneath the council crest on the wall beside the clock. I had passed it a hundred times without really seeing it.
It read:
GRAVENMOOR STUDENT COUNCIL — EST. YEAR III
Year III.
Three.
Understanding settled in.
“Begin where the council was born,” I whispered.
I reached for the clock.
Not forward.
Backward.
Counterclockwise.
The hour hand resisted me at first, groaning softly like metal protesting. I held my breath and applied steady pressure.
One.
The clock ticked loudly.
Two.
The air around me felt heavier, thicker.
Three.
A soft click sounded behind me.
The safe door had opened
I froze.
The ticking stopped, then slowly started again, deeper and heavier, like a heartbeat that had changed its rhythm.
I stepped back toward the open door of the safe, my breathing quick and shallow. My eyes scanned the room.
It was shaped like a walk-in closet, but it wasn’t filled with clothes. Stacks of money lined the shelves, bars of gold gleamed under the dim light, and neatly arranged folders sat in precise rows. Files. Records. Secrets.
I moved in, drawn first to the files. My fingers hovered over the folders, but something else caught my attention.
A tiny box.
It lay on top of the gold.
I didn’t want to step fully inside the safe. The room felt heavy like it held the entire weight of Gravenmoor Art Academy within its walls. The tight security suddenly made sense.
But the box… I couldn’t ignore it.
I swallowed, forced myself forward, and picked it up. My fingers traced the edges as if testing whether it was real. I slid the lid open easily.
Inside, resting on black velvet, lay a ring.
It was beautiful and strange.
Silver and gold intertwined, catching the light in a way that didn’t feel natural. Fine symbols were etched along its surface, and when I stared too long, they seemed to shift, almost moving. At the center sat a pale stone, translucent and softly glowing, as though it had trapped daylight inside.
“Is this… the Daylight Ring?” I whispered, staring at it.
My chest tightened.
“I need to show Julian first.”
I slipped the ring into my inner pocket and held onto the box. As I lowered it, something else caught my eye, something carved behind the gold, half-hidden in the shadows.
A sigil.
I leaned closer.
It was a raven’s head formed on it.
I froze.
The image burned into my mind, dragging memories with it, Sally. Marcus. The ravens. They had appeared at their deaths.
My pulse raced.
Is this a sign? A symbol?
Why is it here… in the safe?
I picked it up as well, my hands trembling. Whoever had placed this here wanted it to be found but only by someone careful enough to look beyond what was obvious.
Someone who would understand it meant something.
I swallowed hard and whispered to myself,
“I found it… but what does it mean?”