Vivi opened her eyes to find herself floating in black sludge, staring up at a grey sky. Groaning, she tried to stand, but her feet couldn't find bottom and she sank, sludge filling her nose and mouth. Throat and eyes burning, she kicked back up and broke the surface, coughing and gagging. With effort, she struck up a kicking rhythm to stay afloat and wiped gunk from her eyes.
Screams pealed above and her head jerked up, just in time to see a fleet of bony birds all let go of their prey—a dozen screaming students, falling through the air and then splashing into sludge. She could see another wave of the skeletal creatures coming through the fog, toting more children, and, deciding she would rather not have any land on her, she kicked to the banks and heaved herself out onto muddy soil. It was too wet for her fingers to find a hold, and she began to slip back.
A pale hand reached for her. "Here."
Without thinking, she grabbed it, and then looked up at the owner. A student around her age, with upswept black hair, streaked through with red, yellow-tinted eyeglasses perched on his refined nose. He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather I leave you to float there for a while longer?"
In response she threw up another hand to grip onto his arm and he heaved her out, holding her steady when her shoes slipped on the mud. Steadying herself, she peered up at him and removed her hand. "Uh, thank you."
He gave her a cursory nod. Now she didn't have to worry about drowning in black gunk, she suddenly noticed that he was inexplicably clean. Whereas she was sure she looked like a swamp monster by now, caked in sludge and long hair in tangles, there wasn't a smudge or a stain on him. In fact, he looked as if he'd just washed. His hair was brushed, clothes clean and pressed.
He must have noticed her staring because he flashed her a toothy grin. "I had the privilege of avoiding the stymphs." He looked up at the sky, a fresh wave of the birds—stymphs?—sweeping over. "I wonder where they all come from?"
"Woods," Vivi said, without thinking. "Ours hatched in the Woods."
"Ours?" He raised an eyebrow. "Most students aren't lucky enough to attend with a friend."
"Well, he—" She stopped, frowning. "He was dropped off . . . earlier than me."
"At Good?" The boy turned to look across the moat. Vivi followed his gaze, but Evil's grey fog obscured whatever lay beyond the midway point. "By a stymph? Must've upset someone."
"What do you mea—" She turned, but the boy was gone. She frowned, and then jumped when a whip cracked across the ground in front of her.
A bipedal wolf was standing a few feet from her, clad in a red solders' uniform, snarling. He raised his whip again. "Inside. Hurry up."
She hurried past him, following the line of students now trudging towards the Evil castle. First, they passed through a pair of tall iron gates, crisscrossed with barbed wire. As Vivi drew closer, she noticed that in fact it wasn't barbed wire, but snakes, tangling over the bars and snapping at students as they scampered through. She followed close behind, ducking her head as she slipped through the gates, and once safely on the other side, she threw a glance back over her shoulder. Large rusted letters sat atop the gates:
THE SCHOOL FOR EVIL EDIFICATION
AND PROPAGATION OF SIN
Pressing forward towards the main tower, the line of students were squeezed into a dark tunnel, thin and serrated like a crocodile snout. As they went deeper, the students were forced into single file, and just as Vivi felt her elbows begin to scrape against the walls, she was popped out into a dull, leaky foyer.
The floor was paved and webbed with cracks, the walls crumbling dark brick. Carved gargoyles pitched down from high corners, lit torches in their mouths, flames glinting against a tall iron statue in the centre of the room: a bald, cackling witch, brandishing an apple.
Along the wall, a decrepit column bearing a large black N was carved with leaping imps and trolls. The next column was decorated with swinging giants and goblins, embellished with a bloodred E. Trudging on, Vivi worked out what the columns spelled—N-E-V-E-R.
Her eyes shifted along to a tall stone obelisk off to the side, lined top to bottom with student portraits, framed gold near the top, silver in the middle, and bronze at the bottom. Filing past in line, she peered at these portraits and found them grouped in pairs, depicting students and what they had become after graduation. Skimming along the gold-framed portraits at the top, she came to rest on a pale, elfish girl in Evil's black uniform, painted in the next portrait as a menacing witch standing over an unconscious maiden on the ground, a bitten apple in her lax hand. Stretched under the two portraits, side by side, was a plaque that read:
CATHERINE OF FOXWOOD
Snow White (Villain)
Next to hers hung two more portraits, one with a smirking boy with a thick unibrow, and the other with a snarling bearded man, holding a screaming woman:
DROGAN OF MURMURING MOUNTAINS
Bluebeard (Villain)
A row assigned to successful students, then, ones that became the main villains of their stories. In the silver row below Vivi's eyes landed on a slender boy with shock-blonde hair, depicted in the next portrait as one of many ogres pillaging a village:
KEIR OF NETHERWOOD
Tom Thumb (Henchman)
The clue was in the name. Henchman and helpers, undoubtedly assigned to the gold-framed leaders at the top. Her eyes drifted down further, onto the bronze frames, chronicling the lower-ranking students that ended up Evil servants and the like, forgotten with the masses. There was one portrait, though, right at the bottom, coated in dust, that caught her attention. A boy she'd seen before, eyes wide and scared. Bane. He used to bite the other children and play cruel games on animals, before he was taken with Garrick from Tempo four years before. His plaque was much shorter than the rest, not bearing a name or a role, but a single rusted word:
FAILED
Vivi looked at Bane's scared face and felt a chill. Failed? What happened to students who failed? She turned away, anxiety clamping in her chest—and suddenly found herself far enough into the room to see the line of students snaking in front of her. For the first time, she had a full view of her classmates, and she blanched in shock.
A few students in front of her was a sickly pale girl with wispy hair, a hideous overbite, and one large eye right in the middle of her forehead. Behind her trudged a thin, impish boy with blonde hair and long, pointy ears. Further ahead in the line she saw a tall girl with black hair and green skin, face fixed in a snarl.
Predictably, there were students of all shapes and sizes, all shades, with dozens of strange and unnerving features—but there was one commonality between them all. They all wore cruel expressions, lips curled in disgust, eyes brimming with hate. One by one, these eyes fell to her and narrowed, growing sharper.
There was an intruder in their midst.
༻·𖥸·༺
Across the bay, Arthur had almost swallowed a fairy.
He had woken on soft grass beneath a pair of giant lilies, deep in animated conversation. He was pretty sure the conversation was about him, because they kept gesturing at him with their leaves. The matter seemed to be settled rather quickly however as soon they hunched over him and wrapped leaves around his wrists, pulling him gently to his feet.
They let go and he stumbled forward, reeling from the bizarreness of talking flowers—he stopped short.
Scores of princesses were—there was no other words for it—blooming out of the lawn in front of him. Dozens of beautiful girls with creamy skin, luscious hair and clad in expensive dresses in an array of colours were rising from the ground, arms reaching to the sky as if just having woken up, labelled trunks sprouting beside them. Some had short hair, some long, some with dark skin, some moon-pale, some willowy and tall, while others fell on the shorter side—but each and every one of them were fantastically gorgeous, with perfect features and soulful eyes, as if from a dream. No. From a storybook. From a fairy tale.
Arthur felt his ears burn red and turned away, catching his breath— something flew into his mouth. He gasped in shock and the thing went right to the back of his throat, sending him into a hacking fit, face reddening, eyes watering. He doubled over and pounded on his chest, gagging, coughing, until finally he spat whatever it was out.
A dishevelled fairy, wet with saliva.
Slowly, he looked up.
Sixty gorgeous girls gaped back at him.
He closed his eyes. He didn't have the strength to deal with this.
Thankfully, he didn't have to, because next thing he knew his feet left the ground. His eyes shot open to find a fairy on each shoulder, flying him over the grass and towards the crystal castle across the lake. The princesses were also being ferried across the water, each with a fairy patrol of three. He glanced back to see the fairy from before, assumedly part of his own patrol but steadfastly refusing to assist, standing on the grass and wringing its clothes out. It looked up. It was a boy.
Looking first to the Good castle, then to the sixty girls in front, then to Arthur, the fairy shook his head disapprovingly. Flushing, Arthur turned back to stare at his shoes. He was sure the fairy was thinking the same thing he was.
Out of all the potential students in Tempo, all the students from wherever these girls from, the hundreds of pure souls hoping to attend this school to graduate into fairy tales . . . how had a loser like him, someone who half an hour ago hadn't even believed in all this, ended up here?
༻·𖥸·༺
As soon as the students reached the banks on the other side, they were all dropped off by their fairies, who instead turned to assisting with the luggage. Arthur's fairies, however, stayed clamped to his shoulders and dragged him towards the castle. Arthur was sure this was because they could sense that if they put him down he would have bolted the other way and dived into the lake. He wasn't sure if this uncanny ability to read his mind was a good thing or not.
To reach the castle students first had to pass through a set of tall golden gates, topped with large mirrored words:
THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD ENLIGHTENMENT
AND ENCHANTMENT
He ducked his head to avoid the reflections as he passed through. He didn't need to look at his sunken face and dark eye bags to remind himself he didn't belong here.
The fairies swept him up to large frosted glass doors, emblazoned with the silhouettes of twin swans, and ushered him through with the rest. Finally they let him go, and he almost stumbled when his feet touched smooth marble.
Now that everyone was inside, the huge doors shut magically behind them. He was left in a hall full of beautiful girls, now all stopped and staring at him. His cheeks burned. This was a nightmare. Like that one of him turning up to school completely naked.
Girls started whispering. Fixing his eyes on the floor, he tried to shrink back—
"Hey, hon, what's your name?"
His eyes flicked up. A beautiful princess stepped forward from the mob and approached him. He backed away.
"Hey, it's okay," she soothed, as if trying to tame a wild animal. "I don't bite." She tucked a lock of mulberry hair behind her ear and smiled. "I'm Annik."
"Hi," he mumbled, eyes flicking around nervously.
She was quite close to him now. She smelled of roses. "You feeling okay, hon? You look kinda sick."
He forced out a laugh. "Not the first time someone's said that."
She huffed softly out of her nose and laid a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. "Hey, uh, I just want you to know you shouldn't be embarrassed. I think these girls are being pretty rude. I'm sorry this has to be your first experience at school."
He relaxed, just a bit. This girl seemed nice. She wasn't going to ridicule him. "Hah . . . yeah."
"Not much of a talker, are you?" she hummed. His eyes flicked nervously to the girls surrounding them and then back to the floor. She seemed to understand because she straightened and turned. "Hey everyone, don't we need to go and get settled in before the Welcoming? Wouldn't want to be late."
With half-hearted grumbles, the girls seemed to agree and began shifting down the hallway. Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief.
Annik laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder, guiding him along. "Come on, we need to get you settled in too."
Arthur tensed at that. "Uh, actually, I don't think I should be here."
"What do you mean?" she asked, affording him a curious glance.
"I, uh. . ." His eyes drifted back to his feet. "My friend Vivi should be here. She's been dreaming of going to this school all her life."
"Aw, well, that's a shame hon, but that's not your fault. She should understand."
"No—I mean she's here . . . we both came together . . . but the bird dropped me into Good instead of her."
"That's very sweet of you," she said, smiling at him, "but stymphs don't make mistakes. They can tell an Ever and a Never apart from first sight. Which means she's in Evil, right? That's pretty lucky, actually! I've never heard of anyone coming to school with someone they already knew. That should make things a lot easier on you two."
Arthur flailed for words—
"I've never heard of a stymph taking an Ever to school before, though. I thought they only took Nevers. Where are you from? Couldn't you access the Flowerground?"
"Flowerground?" he asked weakly.
"Yeah—that's how we all got here." She laughed. "I know it looks strange seeing people bloom from the ground first time, but you get used to it after a while."
Before Arthur could respond, they entered an enormous foyer and he lost his breath.
Polished marble floors reflected in glossy white walls, soaring up to a meet a domed glass roof, sunlight spilling down from above. Four columns against the walls flaunted the letters E-V-E-R in pink and blue, carved with sylphs, angels, and other elegant and magical creatures. In the middle of the room stood a tall obelisk, lined top to bottom with ornately framed portraits, painted in rich oil colours, depicting students and what they became after graduation. Scanning the portraits, Arthur found that despite whether the students came out of their stories as gold-framed royalty, silver-framed fairy godmothers and sidekicks, or bronze-framed servants or chimney sweeps, every single face was beautiful and good, flashing warm smiles, expressions gentle and kind. He looked away guiltily, searching for something else to distract himself with.
Four glass staircases wound up from the floor in each of the room's four corners, two pink, two blue. One of the blue banisters was tattooed HONOUR, etched with dashing knights and kings, while the other read VALOUR, embellished with friezes of muscular hunters and archers. The two pink staircases named PURITY and CHARITY were decorated with sculpted reliefs of gentle maidens, beautiful princesses, and adorable animals.
A line of adults in colourful attire stood at the far end of the foyer, women on the left, by the pink staircases, wearing matching gowns, each of a unique block colour, with sweetheart necklines and long sleeves poofed slightly at the shoulders. The men on the right, closer to the blue staircases, wore similarly-hued, well-fitted suits, along with matching vests and slim ties.
As Arthur's eyes travelled across their faces, he found kind smiles and warm eyes, found lines in faces made by a lifetime of laughter, found youth and beauty in all its glory. Here were the most attractive, the most attentive, and the kindest-looking adults he'd ever seen.
His ears burned red under their gaze, wondering what each of these beautiful and happy people thought when their gaze landed on him, pale, gaunt, expression betraying his shame. He watched as teachers' eyes widened when they saw him, travelling along the line, synchronised. . . until the last teacher in line, a young, pale woman, with short black hair and a pale blue dress, looked at him and crinkled her eyes in an even warmer smile, as if glad to see him, as if believing wholeheartedly that he belonged here in this perfect, pure School for Good.
He immediately averted his gaze, uncomfortable.
"Welcome, new princess," said a voice, and he turned. Floating beside them was a seven-foot nymph with neon green hair and flowing robes, clutching a basket of books and a schedule in her hands. Arthur blinked in shock.
The nymph handed Annik her load, then her eyes shifted past her to Arthur. He froze, a deer in the headlights.
"And welcome, new prince," the nymph said, not batting an eye. "Come with me and I will find you your schedule. Your uniform will be in your room."
"R-Room?" he squeaked, eyes flicking to Annik for protection.
She smiled. "Go get settled in. I'll see you at the Welcoming."
The nymph rested a hand on his shoulder and began to guide him away. Speechless, he could only follow dumbly, looking over his shoulder at Annik. The purple-haired girl gave him a small wave and turned away, heading for one of the pink staircases, effectively leaving him alone.
Again.
༻·𖥸·༺
Vivi moved forward in line, gaze fixed ahead, trying to ignore the dozens of eyes boring into her. She'd be out of here soon enough. Surely she could make someone see there had been a mistake; she didn't need the other students' hateful stares to tell her she didn't belong here.
The line crept forward towards three twisted black staircases at the far end of the foyer. The first, crooked baluster carved with monsters, was tattooed MALICE; the second with spiders MISCHIEF; and the third with snakes VICE. They three stretched up past a semicircular stone chamber, lined with even more portraits, this time with faces she recognised. There, near the top, was the pale girl with one eye, labelled ARACHNE OF FOXWOOD; next to her portrait the blonde boy with pointy ears, labelled VEX OF SLEEPING BOUGH; and a couple of rows below the green-skinned, black-haired girl's portrait—MONA OF OZ.
As her eyes scanned the walls, Vivi found one more familiar face: the boy who had helped her out of the moat, labelled MATOKO OF BLOODBROOK. Here he was painted with a sneer to match the other portraits' scowls but it didn't look right on his calm face. She glanced over her shoulder, looking back along the line behind her, but couldn't find him in the sea of faces.
Turning back, she and the other students approached a hag, a satyr and a dwarf at the bottom of each respective staircase, all with wicked expressions and a load of fraying baskets. As students approached, the three would step forward and foist these baskets and slips of stained parchment on the students, who would then ascend a given staircase. Vivi waited with bated breath, creeping along in line, until she was close enough to speak to one of them. She went for the least-murderous-looking one of the bunch, the satyr.
"Excuse me," she whispered hurriedly, grabbing a hold of his arm. "There's been a mistake. I was dropped into the wrong school—I should be in Good—"
He yanked out of her grip and shoved a basket in her face which she barely caught before being pushed aside by bustling students. Peering into the basket, she saw her name on a piece of paper and snatched it up.
VIVI OF WOODS BEYOND
EVIL, 1ST YEAR
Malice Tower 66
Session Faculty
1: UGLIFICATION Prof. Skandar Mépris
2: HENCHMEN TRAINING Castor
3: CURSES & DEATH TRAPS Prof. Cadence Eliades
4: HISTORY OF VILLAINY Prof. August Chambers
5: LUNCH
6: SPECIAL TALENTS Prof. Declan Todorovic
7: SURVIVING FAIRY TALES Yuba the Gnome
(Forest Group #3)
It was a schedule.
She gaped, whipping around. "But—"
She didn't get time to finish her sentence as she was shoved up the Malice stairs by dozens of impatient students, hurrying to their assigned rooms to get settled. After fighting the tide for a moment, she realised her efforts were fruitless against the mass and slumped along with them into Malice Tower. Filing down the hallway, she watched as students found their doors and disappeared inside. Checking her room number again, she glanced around at the surrounding dorms, doorplates in ascending order. 63, 64, 65 . . .
Finally she found number 66 and hurriedly stepped out of the line before she was trampled by grumbling students. Setting her hand on the rusted doorknob, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
A screeching black blur flew into her face and she dropped her books.
༻·𖥸·༺
Arthur was ushered up the blue Honour staircase and down a sea-green corridor, painted with cresting waves and stamped with numbered doors on either side. Finally they reached the door numbered 51 and the nymph opened the door, pushed him gently inside, and shut it behind him.
He stood, gaping, at a spacious, blue-upholstered room, furnished with thick cerulean carpet, and two large, plush, four-poster beds against the far wall, the only one of which was left painted in a block royal blue, jarringly simple against the three others, painted with scenes of sculpted princes, sparring or clasping beautiful maidens by their sides, in rich colours and painstaking detail. An ornate lamp hung from the ceiling, glistening carved nacre, with matching sconces on the walls over the beds and lamps on the nightstands.
He closed his eyes in disbelief. I have to be dreaming. This can't be real.
He opened them again. The room was still there, even more dazzling than before, if possible. He steadied himself against a muralled wall, knees weak. He'd never seen such luxury.
The dorm was decorated in dark hues but bright rays still streamed through from the large window on the far wall, reflecting off the white curtains and pillows on the beds and bathing the room in light. He drew closer to the window and peered out.
Valour's deadly-sharp blue spire jutted up beneath, sparkling in warm sunlight. Pushing the double panes open, Arthur gripped onto the top of the window and leaned out, twisting around—Purity and Charity's pink towers loomed behind him, connected in the middle by a purple glass breezeway; he looked down at the parallel blue towers, also connected by a similar breezeway. Raising his eyes, he squinted across the interconnected moats at the far banks, obscured by grey fog, but looking up, he could just see the faint shadows of three crooked towers reaching into stormclouds, still belting rain. A flash of lightning glinted off something in the corner of his vision—he turned and gaped.
A thin, silver-brick tower rose from the middle of the bay, anchored right between lake and sludge, bordered by wooden planking over the moats, hosting a guard of bipedal wolves in red soldier jackets, each with a quiver of arrows slung over its back and armed with a wooden bow; higher up, a drone of fairies circled the tower, keeping a lookout. Arthur frowned. Just what in that lone tower would need so much protection?
He lifted his eyes to the singular window at the top and froze. A crooked silhouette loomed inside, and Arthur squinted closer, sun shining from the Good castle and into the tower. . . he could make out flowing robes and a silver mask. . .
The figure turned and Arthur jerked back, trying to duck below the windowsill, but tripped over his own feet instead and landed on his backside on plush carpet. Heart pounding, he crawled forward, raising to his knees and peeking over the windowsill—but the figure was gone, the window dark.
Arthur stood on wobbly knees and slammed the panes shut, yanking the curtains across to block out the view. That crooked shadow was the same one that crept into Tempo last night, wearing an identical silver mask. . . His breath shallowed. Now he knew where the School Master was. Could they meet with him and ask him to send them home?
He turned back into the room, trying to calm his racing thoughts, and noticed that each of the two beds had baskets on them, filled with brightly-covered books. He padded cautiously towards the bed on the left side of the window, peering at the slip of parchment poking out and the name at the top.
EUGENE OF NETTLE FOREST
GOOD, 1ST YEAR
Honour Tower 51
Eugene? Was that his roommate? He turned to the other bed, zeroing in its basket's contents. A piece of paper poking out, stamped with a name:
ARTHUR OF WOODS BEYOND
GOOD, 1ST YEAR
Honour Tower, 51
He gulped and crept forward, pulling the sheet out.
ARTHUR OF WOODS BEYOND
GOOD, 1ST YEAR
Honour Tower 51
Session Faculty
1: GROOMING Pollux
2: CHIVALRY Prof. Lykoi Todorovic
3: SWORDPLAY Prof. Eider Întuneric
4: HISTORY OF HEROISM Prof. August Chambers
5: LUNCH
6: GOOD DEEDS Prof. Pippin Deoír
7: SURVIVING FAIRY TALES Yuba the Gnome
(Forest Group #3)
It was a schedule. For the School for Good.
With his name on it.
Heart pounding, he peered at the text on the spines of the books.
Privilege and Power: The Princely Balance
Rescuing (And Winning!) Your Princess
The Recipe Book for Good Looks
How to Rule a Kingdom 101
Combat Sparring: Form and Techniques
He felt the blood drain from his face. How to Rule a Kingdom? Rescuing Your Princess? Somewhere along the line, someone had made a huge mistake. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't cut out for a life like this. A prince? A fairy tale prince?
He dropped the schedule like a hot stone. He needed to get out of here.
But first, he needed to find Vivi. And soon. He couldn't imagine what could be happening to her over in Evil.
Rescuing Your Princess, his thoughts mocked.
Shut up, he gritted back, and then stopped. Annik had said something about a Welcoming. Would Evil be going too? Would he find Vivi there?
He turned back to the basket, hoping to find some sort of map or students' handbook. Instead he noticed a sliver of blue cloth tucked in beside the books.
He pulled it out and almost dropped it.
A navy blue jacket with intricate gold brocade, a silver swan crest glittering over the heart, tucked around a slim-cut white dress shirt and matching white trousers. Leaning further over the basket, he found inside a blue-and-gold striped tie embellished with a capital A, long grey socks, and a pair of blue briefs, stamped over and over with what looked like a school crest.
He swallowed. Those briefs were way too big for him.
He turned back to the door and only now noticed two huge pairs of tall black boots tucked into the corner. Great. As if he wouldn't be drawing enough attention to himself already, not only would he have to wear a baggy uniform, but now he'd be clomping through halls in too-big boots like a toddler playing dress-up in his parents' wardrobe.
Eyeing his books again, he was reminded of Vivi, no doubt trapped and terrified in Evil. He held up the uniform, clenching his jaw. He'd just have to grin and bear it.