Professor Crawford’s literature class had been an exercise in surreal normalcy. While he dissected the symbolic weight of the albatross, Niles sensed that the man’s gaze linger on him just a moment too long. He had took meticulous notes, participated with a carefully measured comment, and felt the strain of the performance in his jaw. Every minute was a tightrope walk.
When the bell finally rang, Niles didn't head for the courtyard. He moved with purpose towards the one place he knew called to him: the library. The low, resonant hum—the whisper that had started it all—was always strongest there. It was a siren's call he could no longer ignore.
The Blackwood library was a cavernous space, all dark wood and towering shelves that seemed to absorb the light. It was divided into two sections: the brightly lit, modern area, and the older, dimmer section in the back, now separated by a velvet rope and a bigger wooden sign: AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, NO ENTRY. The hum emanated from behind that rope.
He had observed the old librarian’s schedule: the old lady took her lunch break at 12:30 PM precisely, leaving a pimply and disinterested junior student at the main desk. Today, that student was engrossed in a sci-fi novel.
This was the window, Niles thought.
Slipping past the main desk was an easy task, the challenge came when he had to lock pick the door to the restricted area. Yet, he couldn’t lock pick in the open. He needed a good division.
Slipping into the middle aisle of the modern section, he pull out a thick and dense-looking chemistry book from a high shelf. Niles released his hand and the book was sent straight to the ground, making a very loud THUMP that echoed through the quiet and serene atmosphere in the library.
As expected, the junior student rolled his eyes, placed a bookmark in the book, and reluctantly walked straight towards the source of the noise.
Niles was already in front of the restricted door and his hands were on the lock. The paperclip lock pick was in his right palm. He worked with a frantic precision, while his ears were straining for the junior student’s return.
The lock was a stubborn one, yet the mechanism was simple. With a final, delicate twist, the lock was unlocked with a small ‘clunk’ sound. Niles immediately slipped inside the area, pulling the door shut behind him just as the junior student returned to his seat.
The air in the restricted area was cold and thick, with the strange mixture of smell of decayed old paper and dust. The whisper was getting louder and louder.
The shelves were close together and the books were bound in aged brown leather. Niles’ fingers trailed over the book spines, squinting in the gloom.
Treatises on Botanical Anomalies… The Geometries of Forgotten Spaces… And then he saw it, tucked away on a bottom shelf: a thick, ledger-like book with a simple, gold-stamped title: Blackwood Academy: A Chronology.
He pulled it out with both hands. It was heavier than it looked. Without a second thought, he tucked it under his brown blazer, the hard cover pressing cold against his right side. He cracked the door slightly open. After checking that the coast was clear, he slipped out quietly, merging with the few students in the main library as if he’d been there all along.
The fencing salle felt different now. A command center and also a safe haven. Alice had pushed equipment lockers against the door as a barricade. Leon was also there, sitting down with his crutch next to him, his injured leg propped up, pale but alert.
“Did you get it?” Alice asked the moment he entered.
Niles slid the heavy book onto a wooden bench which served as their table.
“The RESTRICTED area?” Leon screamed loudly, his tone a mixture of admiration and alarm. “Did you just—?”
“We’re past that, Leon,” Alice interrupted him rudely, her focus entirely on the book. “What did you find?”
Niles opened the heavy book. The pages were brittle, the ink faded. It was a dry, chronological list.
“It starts in 1898,” Niles said, his voice low and calm. “'The Blackwood Trust established the site, building the campus around the anomalous geological formation designated The Weeping Stone.' They knew what it was from the very beginning.”
He flipped forward, the entries painting a grim picture of the school interior design. “In 1923, ‘the East Wing Annex completed. Architectural modifications implemented for optimal isolation and behavioural observation.’ That’s your dorm room, Alice. It was built to be some sort of laboratory.”
”So I guess my previous deduction is correct then…” Alice sighed softly, keeping her tone calm.
He kept flipping, the purpose of Blackwood solidifying with each entry. “1951. ‘The Initiative for Exceptional Students formally established. Protocol for the identification and acquisition of high-potential subjects initiated.’ They’re not recruiting students; they’re acquiring subjects.”
The air became thicker and colder as the trio slowly realised the truth behind the school, they were poor sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
Niles' finger stopped in front of a stark, unadorned entry, “1977, ‘The Initiation’, there are no more details, just that.”
He flipped the pages. The trio noticed the entries became sparser and sparser, more cryptic, as if the record-keeping itself was a part of the mysterious ritual.
“‘1979, Subject Selection Criteria Confirmed.’”
“‘1982, The Initiation Secured.’”
“‘1998, The Cycle reaffirmed.’”
“‘2000, The Foundation Secured.’”
Alice leaned forward, “They don't just watch it, they even manage it.”
Niles flipped to the last page, to the most recent entries. They were a chillingly simple log of the school's true function.
“‘2022, Subject L-2: Absolved.’”
“‘2023, Subject B-5: Absolved.’”
“‘2024, Subject A-14: Absolved.’”
Leon's eyes widened, “Did... did you just say L-2?” Niles nodded, and he had immediately deduced the truth.
“L-2. That's... that's Lance's student ID prefix. My elder brother... he... Lance... I...”32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVdEc22gPnO
Alice gently placed her hand on Leon's shoulder, comforting and calming the poor boy down. She knew the truth would be too painful for the little brother who loved his older brother more than anything in the world.
“And A-14. That was Chole's student ID prefix,” Alice added, her expression serious and dark, completely lacks her usual kind and compassionate demeanour. “It's not a one-time thing. It's a process. They are absolving students, regularly.”32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVuM5C6VMOc
The silence in the salle was absolute. The dry, bureaucratic language was more terrifying than anything they had encountered in their lives. It laid bare a century of cold, systematic purpose: find gifted children, bring them in, treat them well, isolate them, and then absolve them.
Leon, who finally calmed down from the cruel truth, reached out and slowly closed the book, “They are basically building a factory and we are on the assembly line.”32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHvDHujMKpU
“And we are definitely not letting that happen to us.”32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcx9Bv1VvlF
Niles' expression was grim, masked with a layer of fury and determination. He had secretly announced a war, a silent war, against the whole academy.
ns216.73.216.33da2
and then Add to home screen.