Cronus Hall

'Page two-twenty one section B.' Mr. Fernsby pointed to the board. 'Now this is a favourite of mine, our school's history.' He beamed at the attention his students were finally giving him. But my classmates had no intention of learning about how the school came into existence, or who exactly Eleanora Elliot could have lost the building to. They were looking for answers to the Grim— as was I. 'And you all already know about Ophelia Moon's reign, her time as headmistress that is. She kept discipline at this school her highest priority. At the time, this was all over the papers, people were trying to prove her guilty for child abuse. Not the students,' he assured us. 'Her daughter. They say she was so caught up in running the school that Rose, her child, was forgotten completely. The school was understaffed and Moon couldn't afford anyone to take care of Rose. There are a lot of alleged reports—' he took the crinkled stack of papers on his desk and pinned them to the board one by one. '—Some said she strangled her daughter, locked Rose in her room without so much as a morsel, some even went as far as saying she chopped up her child and fed her to the students. It sounds ridiculous, but remember this was a time near The Ripper. Accusations were wild and fictional.' He pointed to the newspaper clippings. 'The only fact remains that Rose Moon was found dead in her rooms by the police.'

'I might strangle myself at another word of this useless history,' Avarice whispered. She had her own wonderful brand of dark humor, one that often reminded me of William. But came without the unconventional possibility of a heart attack. 'Do you think she starved or strangled the poor child? I would suggest cannibalism but I don't think a widowed mother could... What do you think?'

'Starvation I suppose?' I said as I copied down Mr. Fernsby's notes.

'Is it true what I've heard?' She lowered her voice further, completely ignoring my choice to learn instead of conversing. 'The detectives found a Grim Letter in your rooms?'

'It's—' could I tell her? Would she think of it as a lie just as William had told them? '—true. They found a Grim Letter in my room.'

'And the professors say there was another with Adelia Rose as well.' She leaned in. 'Did you see it?'

'False,' A second year from the next table joined in. 'You didn't see anything. Adelia Rose was burned to death.'

'What do you know, Mr. Abbington?' Avarice countered. 'You've never seen a corpse in your life.'

'You know him?' I looked back and forth between this olive skinned stranger and my friend.

'We're dormmates.' Mr. Abbington filled in. 'How would you know?' He returned to his conversation with Avarice. 'You've only been here a year. I could've done all sorts of things before that.'

'You're an arse Abbington. Everyone knows you've never come close to the morgue, let alone step foot in it.'

'What about your friend then?' He eyed me with distaste. 'Are you proud, being friends with the Grim?'

'What?'

'You don't know what you're talking about Abbington.'

'Don't I?' he sneered. 'She was the first to see the body. She has a Grim Letter. Perhaps she's trying to draw innocence to herself.'

'Does everyone think that?' I thought back to the odd stares in the halls. I always assumed it was William, never me.

'No one thinks that,' Avarice tried to assure me. 'You don't know what you're talking about—'

'Miss Rosamund,' Mr. Fernsby glared directly at her. 'While I know a lot of you find this a useless subject compared to the arts or the many faces of maths and science—' he rolled his eyes. '—you could at least put in the same effort as your classmates. Now, before we move on to the kingdom's history of folklore, are there any questions?' Several arms went up in unison. 'Edgerton,' he nodded to a bold looking third year. 'Go on.'

'You haven't said anything about the Grim sir.'

'Well I don't know if that's appropriate to share with you all—'

'Oh come on sir, you've got the paper clippings up already.' Necodemius stood as various other voices joined in agreement.

'Alright I suppose I could.' He made a show of clearing his throat before continuing. '25 years ago, you all know the story,' he pointed to each headline. '25 students died and a killer was never found. It was when King Henri started his reign and three years after the school was opened. No one knows why he attacked and frankly, no one cared. The police were only trying to accuse someone so society would stop worrying. The press were sharks, taking in every last morsel of information to twist into a story. The only trail he left behind were what people call 'Grim Letters'.' He pointed to the clipping in the left corner. 'There were three in total, bought by a private collector after they closed the investigation.' Several hands went up again. 'Augustus.'

'Sir, they say there was a Grim Letter with Adelia Rose's body. Is he back?' Whispers followed her question, filling every crack of silence in my thoughts. The Grim. There had been whispers, rumors and theories, but no one had declared him back.

'I... well, I can't—' he ran a hand down his face, sighing at our expectant faces. 'Yes, but, but— no hold on, quiet down,' Chatter, answers and questions erupted from the class. Avarice was going on next to me about the theories she'd heard between classes, but Mary-Lou could fill me in later. I was busy reading into the defeat scrawled across our teacher's face. 'Alright, class dismissed!'

'But sir,' Waves of protest replaced the earlier buzz.

'No, no, no. You can indulge in your theories out of my class. Get your things, get out.' He shooed us away. 'Walk in groups. And the school's centennial is still going on as planned. You'll be informed about it this evening,' he waved to the few who thanked him. 'Good day.'

◊◊◊

Hephaestus Dorm, Number 1998

There really was no stopping irritation.

Rain pounded on the roof and my windows, almost begging to be let in. Well, the rain... and William. He had been trying to enter from six in the morning. Our lessons were cancelled again to make way for preparations and even I had to admit William finding nothing better to do was a bit sad. But annoying seemed a bit more appropriate when someone is knocking incessantly on your door going 'Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham, Cunningham—'

'Who let you— oh,' I'd thrown open the door to the devil himself and an older woman I'd never seen before. 'Hello.'

'Hello,' she smiled. 'Do you mind if we have a word in private?' She looked pointedly at William.

'Fine,' he muttered, dragging his satchel as he left.

'Miss Cunningham?'

'Hold on,' I looked at William. 'I... I just need a moment.' I caught him just as he headed out the door. 'Why were you looking for me?'

'I wanted to talk to you, obviously.'

'What exactly is so important that you climbed up my window at three in the morning?' I recalled the alarming sight of a dark silhouette knocking on my window.

'I'll definitely try the door next time.' he flexed his bandaged fingers. 'You didn't have to shut your window on my hands.'

'No, but you looked like a burglar.' I raised my brows. 'And I have a guest to entertain.'

'Point taken.' he straightened his tie, standing up straighter as he spoke. 'Well, I can wait here until you're done.'

Annoying idiot.

'Miss Cunningham?'

'That's me.' I jogged back up to the lady and shook her hand, noticing the family crest on her satchel. 'What's wrong? Father never sends people over to check on me.'

'Well Miss, he insisted that this was sent to you personally.' She handed me the bag she had slung over her shoulders and a letter with no return address. 'He sends his luck for the ball and he asked you to keep an eye on your brother.'

'Of course.' I tucked the letter away. 'You must have come from Aurelius.'

'Clement miss. The country home. Nice friend you have there.' She looked down the hall to where William was sitting on the stairs. 'Is he always like this?'

'I wish,' I opened the door for her as she entered my dorm room. 'I have a better chance of catching him hanging himself than knocking on people's doors. It's normal,' I assured her. 'He's careful. Brilliant friend though, very perspective.'

'He doesn't seem very perspective.'

'No, I don't suppose so,' I said, thumbing through my papers. 'But he's been friends with me for two years. He must have found some reason to stay. Here we are.' I gave her a letter of my own. 'For father.' I set down the bag and helped her to the door. William was silent as soon as it opened, but he stood near it with urgency. 'Thank you.' We smiled, waved and watched her leave the dorm before William spoke.

'Who was she?'

'Postwoman.'

'Don't our letters come on Sundays?' he peered at where she had disappeared.

'Have you checked on Sarah yet?' The nerve of this boy. It's a miracle no one's plotted murder against him. 'You were gone for a moment. There was peace behind this door for a moment. Where did you go?'

'I went to Sarah's.'

'Then what is the—'

'She's not there.'