The Midnight Curse-Secrets of the Blackthorn - By Safura Fahad
Written By: Safura Fahad
Category: Novella
Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026
Join us in exploring the captivating world of "The Midnight Curse-Secrets of the Blackthorn," a novella by the talented young author, Safura Fahad. Entered into the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this piece navigates the mysterious and magical corridors of Blackthorn Academy. At just 13, Safura has woven an intricate tale of friendship, discovery, and the supernatural, capturing the imaginations of readers worldwide.
About the Work
Safura Fahad's novella is rich with atmospheric detail and suspenseful storytelling, drawing readers into the enigmatic world of Blackthorn Academy. The narrative is steeped in mystery, with elements of magical realism that enhance its allure. Through vivid imagery and compelling characters, Safura explores themes of loyalty, courage, and the quest for truth, all set against the backdrop of an ancient curse that haunts the academy's hallowed halls.
The Midnight Curse-Secrets of the Blackthorn
Original Submission by Safura Fahad
THE midnight curse-Secrets of the blackthorn
Written by-Safura Fahad
Age-13
Content
Chapter 1-The Beginning
Chapter 2-Beneath Blackthorn
Chapter 3-The Vanishing
Chapter 4-The secret in her pages
Chapter 5-The Truth in the shadows
Chapter 1
The Beginning
The carriage had been moving for so long that Elara Vales had begun to wonder whether the road ever ended.
Rain tapped against the windows, blurring the world beyond the glass into streaks of silver and black. Twisted trees leaned over the narrow road, their branches clawing at the fog. Occasionally, a lantern appeared between the trees, floating without a visible owner before vanishing into the darkness.
Elara watched one disappear.
“That,” she whispered, “is completely normal.”
It was not.
She tightened her fingers around the folded note in her coat pocket. Her mother had given it to her before she left, insisting that Elara should read it only when she truly needed it. She had not opened it yet. Somehow, keeping it close made the enormous distance between home and Blackthorn Academy feel a little smaller.
She wondered what her family was doing now. Whether her mother was worrying. Whether her father had checked the clock a hundred times.
And whether she would ever feel at home somewhere else.
The carriage jolted.
Elara caught the edge of her seat as a second girl stumbled through the connecting door.
“Sorry!” the girl exclaimed, grabbing the doorframe. “The corridor outside is apparently determined to throw me into every wall.”
She had golden-brown curls that fell around her shoulders, bright green eyes, and freckles scattered across her nose. Despite the gloomy journey, she wore an expression of delighted curiosity.
“I’m Evelyn Ward,” she announced. “And I’m beginning to suspect this school has a terrible sense of direction.”
“Elara Vales.”
Evelyn sat opposite her and glanced around the carriage. A small crystal lamp hung from the ceiling, its light shifting from gold to pale blue whenever the carriage passed beneath a tree.
“Have you noticed the lamps?” Evelyn asked.
“They change colour?”
“They change colour, float without chains, and occasionally whisper.”
Elara stared at her.
“Whisper?”
“Probably the wind,” Evelyn said, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “Or a ghost. I’m hoping for a ghost. It would make the journey considerably more interesting.”
Before Elara could reply, the carriage door opened again.
A girl with straight, glossy dark brown hair stepped inside, carrying a leather-bound book beneath one arm. Her amber eyes travelled from Evelyn to Elara before settling on the floating lamp.
“If that thing starts singing,” she said calmly, “I’m getting off.”
“Excellent,” Evelyn replied. “We can all walk through the haunted forest together.”
The newcomer smiled faintly.
“Mira.”
“Elara,” said Elara.
“Evelyn,” added Evelyn. “Professional investigator of suspicious lamps.”
“Professional complainer,” Mira corrected, taking the seat beside them.
The carriage continued through the rain.
For a while, they spoke about ordinary things: where they had travelled from, what they imagined their lessons would be like, and whether the academy's famous entrance examinations were as difficult as everyone claimed.
Evelyn had read almost everything she could find about Blackthorn. Mira had apparently read enough to conclude that most school brochures were written by people who enjoyed exaggerating.
Then Evelyn leaned forward.
“Actually, I found something interesting about the academy. Blackthorn is approximately a hundred and fifty years old.”
“Only a hundred and fifty?” Mira asked. “The way people talk about it, you'd think it had existed before time itself.”
“Perhaps it has,” Evelyn replied dramatically.
Elara laughed.
Evelyn continued, more seriously this time. “The article said parts of the original building are sealed. Students aren't allowed into certain corridors, and some old records have disappeared.”
“Perhaps the corridors are falling apart,” Mira suggested.
“Perhaps. But wouldn't you want to know what's hidden inside?”
“Not particularly,” Mira said. “I'm quite happy knowing that forbidden doors are forbidden.”
Elara glanced out of the window. The trees had grown thicker, their branches overlapping until the sky was almost invisible.
A strange symbol appeared on a stone beside the road.
It looked like a circle split by three crooked lines.
Before she could examine it properly, the carriage passed, and the symbol vanished behind the rain.
“Did either of you see that?” Elara asked.
“See what?” Mira replied.
“A marking on the stone.”
Evelyn immediately leaned towards the window. “What sort of marking?”
“I don't know. A circle with lines through it.”
For the first time, Evelyn stopped smiling.
“That sounds familiar.”
“From where?”
“I can't remember.”
Mira closed her book. “Wonderful. We've been travelling for less than an hour together, and already we're discussing mysterious symbols.”
“It's called making friends,” Evelyn informed her.
“Is it?”
“I'm almost certain.”
The door opened again.
A boy with untidy black hair and hazel eyes flecked with gold stepped inside. A small scar crossed one eyebrow, and his expression suggested that he had already decided the journey was ridiculous.
“Is this carriage occupied?”
“No,” Mira said. “We're imaginary.”
He looked at her for a moment.
“Good. Then I won't have to introduce myself.”
He sat down anyway.
“Rowan,” he said.
“Evelyn. Elara. Mira,” Evelyn replied, pointing to each of them. “Now that introductions are complete, do you know anything about Blackthorn?”
“I know the food is supposed to be decent.”
“Anything useful?”
“I've heard the west corridor is forbidden.”
Evelyn sat straighter. “Why?”
“Because it's forbidden.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one I've got.”
Rowan grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
The carriage door opened once more.
The last boy to enter was quiet enough that Elara barely noticed him until he stood beside the empty seat. His dark hair caught a faint blue sheen from the enchanted lamp, and his pale grey eyes moved briefly over the group.
“Cassian,” he said.
Just Cassian.
He took the seat opposite Rowan and looked towards the window.
“Do you know anything about the west corridor?” Evelyn asked him.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Elara noticed that his fingers had tightened around the edge of his sleeve.
But before she could ask anything, the carriage slowed.
Outside, the forest began to thin. Through the mist, enormous iron gates rose above a stone wall. Their black metal twisted into intricate patterns of thorns, and a crest sat at the centre: a circle crossed by three crooked lines.
The same symbol Elara had seen beside the road.
The gates opened by themselves.
Beyond them stood Blackthorn Academy.
The castle rose against the night sky, its towers cutting into the clouds. Hundreds of windows glowed with warm golden light, but several upper floors remained completely dark. Ivy climbed the ancient walls, and narrow bridges connected towers that seemed too far apart to belong to the same building.
At the far end of the grounds stood a separate tower.
Its clock face was enormous.
But it had no hands.
Elara leaned closer to the window.
“Why doesn't the clock have hands?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Cassian spoke.
“Perhaps it doesn't need them.”
Elara turned towards him, but his face revealed nothing.
The carriage stopped outside the main entrance. Its doors swung open, and the five students stepped into the cold night air.
The rain had stopped.
Above them, the clouds moved across the moon, casting shifting shadows over the castle. The main doors opened, revealing a vast entrance hall filled with floating candles and portraits whose painted eyes followed the newcomers.
An imposing woman in dark robes waited at the foot of the staircase.
“Welcome to Blackthorn Academy,” she announced. “I am Headmistress Thorne. You have been selected because each of you possesses magical abilities that require discipline, patience, and responsibility.”
Her gaze moved across the group.
“Blackthorn has stood for approximately a hundred and fifty years. Its traditions are older than many of its surviving records, and its rules exist for your protection.”
Evelyn raised her hand.
The headmistress paused.
“Yes?”
“Why are certain corridors forbidden?”
A few older students exchanged glances.
“Because some places within these grounds are unsafe,” Headmistress Thorne answered. “You will not enter them without permission. You will not cross marked boundaries simply because you are curious. And you will never wander the grounds alone after the midnight bell.”
Elara felt the words settle over the hall.
“Why midnight?” Rowan asked.
The headmistress's expression hardened.
“That is not a question you need answered tonight.”
She turned towards the staircase.
“Your dormitories are prepared. Follow your prefects, unpack, and remain inside your assigned rooms when the bell rings.”
As the students began moving, Elara glanced at the distant tower through a tall window.
For a moment, its clock face shimmered.
A thin silver line appeared where a hand should have been.
Then it vanished.
“Elara?” Mira called.
She turned and hurried after her friends.
They had known one another for less than an hour, yet the five of them were already walking together through the ancient castle. Evelyn whispered theories about the forbidden corridors. Rowan complained about the stairs. Mira informed him that complaining would not make them shorter. Cassian walked a little behind the others, silent and watchful.
Elara tried to convince herself that everything was ordinary.
A school. New friends. Magic. A mysterious castle.
Nothing to worry about.
But when they reached the staircase leading to the dormitories, a bell sounded somewhere deep within the tower.
One slow, heavy note.
Every floating candle in the hall flickered.
For a heartbeat, the shadows on the walls stretched towards the students.
Then everything returned to normal.
Nobody spoke.
Headmistress Thorne stood perfectly still at the foot of the staircase, staring towards the tower.
And Cassian, who had seemed uninterested in everything since entering the carriage, looked genuinely afraid.
Elara noticed.
He noticed her noticing.
His expression immediately returned to its usual blankness.
“Come on,” Mira whispered. “I'd rather be in bed before this place decides to become any stranger.”
They climbed the stairs.
Behind them, the enormous entrance doors closed with a sound like a distant thunderclap.
And far below the castle, something ancient seemed to stir.
Welcome to Blackthorn, Rowan whispered.
And whatever it was, it had been waiting a very long time
________________
Chapter 2
Beneath Blackthorn
Morning arrived at Blackthorn Academy without a sunrise.
Pale light filtered through the tall windows of the girls’ dormitory, illuminating the carved bedposts, velvet curtains, and ancient portraits hanging along the walls. Outside, mist curled around the towers, hiding everything below the highest rooftops.
Elara Vales opened her eyes to the sound of someone arguing with a wardrobe.
“I am telling you,” Evelyn Ward declared, “I put my uniform in here last night!”
“Perhaps it escaped,” Mira replied from the neighbouring bed.
“Very funny.”
Elara sat up, pushing her dark brown hair away from her face. Evelyn stood before a tall wooden wardrobe with both hands on her hips. Her golden-brown curls were tangled from sleep, and her green eyes narrowed at the furniture.
“Have you tried asking it nicely?” Elara suggested.
Evelyn turned.
“Elara, if this wardrobe has swallowed my uniform, I refuse to negotiate with it.”
Mira emerged from behind her curtains, already dressed and holding a book beneath one arm.
“Try the left door.”
Evelyn pulled it open.
Her uniform hung neatly inside.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Mira smiled. “You're welcome.”
“How did you know?”
“Because you put your uniform in the left side last night.”
“Oh.”
Evelyn retrieved her clothes, muttering something about magical furniture being unnecessarily complicated.
Elara laughed as she dressed. Their uniforms consisted of dark skirts, white shirts, fitted black jackets, and silver badges bearing Blackthorn’s crest. The symbol looked ordinary in daylight, but Elara could not stop thinking about the marking she had seen beside the road.
A circle crossed by three crooked lines.
She wondered why the same symbol appeared on the academy gates.
And why Cassian had looked frightened when the bell rang.
“Ready?” Mira asked.
Elara nodded, slipping her mother’s folded note into her pocket.
The three girls left the dormitory together.
Blackthorn was considerably stranger in daylight.
Portraits whispered to one another as students passed. Staircases shifted between floors, sometimes leading to entirely different corridors. Tiny blue lights floated above the windows, following the movement of the clouds outside.
At one junction, a suit of armour bowed to Evelyn.
She bowed back.
It immediately attempted to shake her hand.
“Absolutely not,” Evelyn told it, hurrying away.
Mira shook her head. “You encourage these things.”
Their first lesson was held in the western classroom, where tall shelves contained jars of shimmering dust, bundles of dried herbs, and objects Elara could not identify.
Professor Alister Vane stood beside a blackboard covered in silver writing. He was a tall, thin man with neatly combed hair and sharp eyes that seemed capable of noticing every whispered conversation.
“Welcome to Practical Spellcraft,” he said.
A few students straightened.
“Magic is not simply a matter of speaking unusual words and waving your hands. A spell requires intention, concentration, and control. Without these, even the simplest enchantment can become unpredictable.”
He lifted a small brass key from his desk.
“Who can tell me what this is?”
“A key,” Rowan answered from the back.
Professor Vane looked at him.
“An extraordinary observation, Mr Rowan.”
A few students laughed.
“It is an ordinary key,” the professor continued, “and today we shall make it appear somewhere else without physically moving it.”
He placed the key beneath a glass dome.
“Your first spell is Illusara.”
Elara remembered the word.
Illusara.
It sounded familiar, although she could not understand why.
Professor Vane raised his wand.
“Illusara creates an illusion. It can make something appear to be somewhere it is not, or create a convincing image that deceives the senses. Remember this distinction: an illusion changes what someone perceives, not reality itself.”
He tapped the dome.
A second key appeared on the opposite side of the desk.
Several students gasped.
“Neither key has moved,” Professor Vane explained. “One is real. The other is an illusion.”
He swept his wand again, and the false key disappeared.
“Your turn.”
Students paired off.
Elara found herself working with Mira, while Evelyn partnered with Rowan. Cassian stood alone until Professor Vane directed him towards another student.
“Begin with something simple,” the professor instructed. “A small object. Concentrate on its shape before attempting the spell.”
Mira placed a wooden button on their desk.
“Please don't turn this into a dragon,” she said.
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good. I'd prefer not to explain to the headmistress why our classroom has burned down.”
Elara focused on the button.
“Illusara.”
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
“Illusara.”
A second button appeared beside the first.
Mira leaned forward.
“They look identical.”
Elara smiled, relieved.
Then the illusion began spinning.
It spun faster and faster until it resembled a tiny wooden wheel.
Mira stared at it.
“Perhaps we should stick to buttons.”
Elara laughed, and the illusion vanished.
Across the classroom, Evelyn had created three convincing copies of Rowan’s wand.
“Which one is real?” she asked.
Rowan picked up the middle wand.
It disappeared in his hand.
Evelyn burst out laughing.
“That was the illusion!”
“I knew that.”
“You absolutely did not.”
Professor Vane approached their desk.
“Miss Ward, impressive detail. Mr Rowan, rather less impressive observation.”
Rowan placed his hands over his heart.
“I shall never recover.”
By the end of the lesson, Elara could create a stable illusion of a button. It was hardly spectacular, but she felt an unexpected satisfaction when the tiny image remained perfectly still above the desk.
For the first time since arriving, she felt that she might actually belong at Blackthorn.
Their next class introduced them to three additional spells.
Luminara produced a floating ball of light.
Aegira created a temporary protective shield.
Ventora summoned a controlled gust of wind.
The professor warned them that these were introductory spells, and that mastering them required far more practice than memorising their names.
Evelyn immediately tried Luminara.
A bright sphere appeared above her wand.
Then it shot towards the ceiling and attached itself to a chandelier.
The entire chandelier began glowing.
“Is that supposed to happen?” she asked.
Professor Vane closed his eyes briefly.
“No, Miss Ward.”
“Still, the room looks lovely.”
“It does,” Mira admitted.
Even Professor Vane seemed to struggle not to smile.
At lunchtime, the five friends gathered at a long table in the great hall. Plates filled themselves as students sat down, and silver pitchers poured juice without anyone touching them.
Rowan inspected his plate.
“I'm beginning to understand why people attend magical schools.”
“Because of the education?” Elara asked.
“Because the food arrives without effort.”
Mira passed him a piece of bread.
“Then your future is secure.”
Evelyn had barely touched her lunch. She was reading a folded sheet of paper covered in handwritten notes.
“What are you looking at?” Elara asked.
“An old description of Blackthorn. I found it in a book last night.”
“You found a book about the academy in the academy?”
“It's a remarkable place.”
Mira leaned closer. “What does it say?”
Evelyn turned the page towards them.
The paper was yellowed and brittle. A drawing showed Blackthorn as it might have looked a century earlier, with fewer towers and a much smaller entrance hall.
Beneath the illustration was a short paragraph.
The academy's oldest boundaries must remain undisturbed. The marked passages are not to be entered, and the midnight bell must never be answered.
Elara read the final sentence twice.
“The midnight bell must never be answered?”
“What does that even mean?” Rowan asked.
“Perhaps someone used to ring it,” Mira suggested.
“Or perhaps the bell rings by itself,” Evelyn said.
Everyone fell silent.
Elara remembered the single note that had shaken the entrance hall the previous night.
“What are boundaries?” she asked.
Evelyn turned the paper over, searching for an explanation.
There was none.
Only a small symbol had been drawn in the bottom corner.
A circle crossed by three crooked lines.
Elara's stomach tightened.
“That's the symbol from the gates.”
Evelyn stared at the drawing.
“You're right.”
Cassian had been sitting at the other end of the table, apparently absorbed in his meal. At the mention of the symbol, however, he looked up.
His eyes fixed on the paper.
Then he looked away.
Elara noticed.
Again.
“Cassian,” she called.
He paused.
“Do you recognise this symbol?”
“No.”
“You looked at it as if you did.”
“Perhaps I'm looking at the paper because you're holding it directly in front of me.”
His voice was calm, but his expression had hardened.
Rowan frowned.
“There's no need to be rude.”
“Then don't ask questions you don't want answered.”
Cassian stood and left the hall.
Evelyn watched him go.
“Well,” she said quietly, “that's suspicious.”
“Maybe he's simply unpleasant,” Mira suggested.
“Both can be true,” Rowan replied.
Elara looked down at the paper again.
The symbol seemed darker than before, as though the ink had absorbed the light around it.
She blinked.
It returned to normal.
That afternoon, the friends attended History of Magic in a classroom lined with portraits of Blackthorn's former headmistresses. Their teacher, Professor Merrow, spoke about the academy's founding and the families who had helped establish it.
“Blackthorn was founded approximately one hundred and fifty years ago,” she explained. “Its early records are incomplete, but the academy has survived wars, political disputes, and several changes in magical law.”
Evelyn raised her hand.
“Why are the earliest records incomplete?”
Professor Merrow adjusted her spectacles.
“Old documents deteriorate, Miss Ward. Fires, damp, and careless storage have destroyed many historical sources.”
“Were any records deliberately removed?”
The classroom became quieter.
Professor Merrow studied Evelyn for a moment.
“History is full of unanswered questions. Your responsibility is to examine evidence rather than invent explanations.”
It was a reasonable answer.
Yet Elara noticed that the professor had avoided saying no.
At the end of the lesson, Elara remained behind to return a book. While Professor Merrow organised her papers, Elara glanced at a framed painting near the classroom door.
It showed five people standing before Blackthorn's original entrance.
One wore a dark cloak bearing the familiar symbol.
The nameplate beneath the painting had been scratched away.
“Professor?”
The teacher turned.
“Yes, Miss Vales?”
“Who is that person?”
Professor Merrow followed her gaze.
For the briefest moment, her face changed.
Then she stepped between Elara and the painting.
“An unidentified figure from the academy's early history.”
“Why has the name been scratched off?”
“Because we no longer possess reliable information about the individual.”
“But—”
“That will be all, Miss Vales.”
Elara left the classroom with more questions than answers.
Later, while the others prepared for their evening study period, she found herself standing before a narrow corridor she had never noticed before.
A silver line ran across the stone floor.
Beyond it, the passage descended into darkness.
The familiar symbol had been carved into the wall beside the entrance.
Below it, someone had written a warning in faded letters.
DO NOT CROSS THE BOUNDARY AFTER THE BELL.
Elara stepped closer.
The air beyond the silver line felt colder.
She raised her wand.
“Luminara.”
A small sphere of light appeared and drifted into the passage.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the light revealed dozens of symbols carved into the walls. They formed a continuous pattern, stretching down the corridor towards a heavy stone door.
At its centre was another inscription.
What was taken shall remain beneath the stone.
Elara's breath caught.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
She turned sharply.
Cassian stood at the far end of the corridor.
“You shouldn't be here,” he said.
“Neither should you.”
His gaze shifted to the silver line.
“Go back.”
“What is this place?”
“An old passage.”
“Why is it forbidden?”
“Because people who ignore warnings tend to regret it.”
Elara tightened her grip on her wand.
“I saw the symbol on the gates. I saw it in Evelyn's book. And now it's here. You know what it means.”
Cassian said nothing.
“Who was the person in the painting?”
His expression changed at the question.
“Where did you see that?”
“In History of Magic.”
He stepped closer, stopping before the silver line.
“Forget the painting. Forget the symbol. And stay away from this corridor.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
The answer startled her.
Cassian glanced towards the stone door. For one instant, something like fear crossed his face.
Then a bell rang.
Not the deep, distant note from the previous night.
This one was louder.
The silver line beneath Elara's feet flashed white.
A cold wind rushed through the corridor, extinguishing her magical light. The carved symbols glimmered, one after another, as though something beneath the stone had awakened.
Elara stumbled backwards.
Cassian seized her sleeve and pulled her away from the boundary.
“Run!”
They hurried towards the main corridor as another bell note echoed through the castle.
The heavy stone door shuddered behind them.
Something struck it from the other side.
Once.
Twice.
Then everything fell silent.
Elara stared at Cassian.
“What was that?”
He released her sleeve.
“An old mechanism.”
“Mechanisms don't make the walls glow.”
“Some magical mechanisms do.”
“Cassian—”
“Go to your dormitory, Elara.”
He turned and disappeared around the corner.
Elara remained where she was, listening to her own heartbeat.
She knew what she had seen.
Whatever lay beyond that door was not an ordinary school secret.
That evening, she told Mira and Evelyn everything. Rowan listened without interrupting, his usual humour replaced by a serious expression.
Evelyn immediately opened her notebook.
“An ancient boundary, a sealed door, missing historical records, and a warning about the midnight bell,” she murmured. “These things have to be connected.”
“Or we're connecting things that aren't related,” Mira said, although she did not sound convinced.
“We could ask a teacher.”
“And tell them we were exploring a forbidden corridor?” Rowan asked. “Brilliant plan.”
Evelyn ignored him.
“I want to find out who the person in that painting was.”
Elara thought of Cassian's expression when the stone door had moved.
“I think he knows.”
“Then we'll have to discover what he's hiding,” Evelyn said.
Outside their window, the mist thickened around the towers.
Far away, the clock tower stood motionless against the night sky.
Its clock face remained without hands.
But as the hour approached midnight, a thin silver line appeared across the empty dial.
And beneath Blackthorn Academy, behind a sealed stone door, the ancient boundary began to weaken.
The Midnight Curse had not forgotten its promise.
And the students had just taken their first step towards discovering why.
Chapter 3
The Vanishing
Six months.
That was how long it had been since Elara Vales first arrived at Blackthorn Academy, staring through a rain-covered carriage window at a castle that seemed to have been built from shadows.
Six months of magical lessons, enchanted staircases, whispered rumours, and friendships that had grown stronger with every passing day.
Elara, Evelyn, and Mira had become nearly inseparable. They studied together, shared secrets beneath the dormitory blankets, and spent countless evenings arguing about which professor was most likely to be hiding something.
Rowan had become a permanent part of their group, usually appearing whenever food was available or trouble was about to begin.
Cassian remained harder to understand.
He attended his lessons, completed his assignments, and rarely spoke about his family. Sometimes he was almost friendly. At other times, he seemed to disappear into himself, watching the old corridors as though he expected something to emerge from the shadows.
Elara had never forgotten the sealed door beneath the western passage.
Neither had Evelyn.
If anything, Evelyn had become more determined to discover what lay behind it.
“You know,” Mira remarked one evening, looking over Evelyn's shoulder, “most people spend their sixth month at school preparing for examinations.”
“And I am preparing for examinations,” Evelyn replied.
“Your notebook says the midnight bell, forbidden boundaries, and the missing Blackwood records.”
“History is an examination.”
“Not the sort Professor Merrow means.”
Evelyn grinned and closed the notebook.
They were sitting in their dormitory, surrounded by books and half-finished homework. Rain rattled against the windows, and a Luminara orb floated above the desk, casting a soft golden glow across their papers.
Elara had learned to control the spell much better. She could now create a steady light without sending it into chandeliers, windows, or Rowan's hair.
Rowan had once spent an entire afternoon insisting that his hair had become permanently enchanted.
It had not.
Unfortunately, he continued telling the story.
“Have you found anything new?” Elara asked Evelyn.
Evelyn's smile faded slightly.
“A few things.”
“What things?”
“Old records. Names. Dates.”
“Evelyn.”
“I'll explain when I'm certain.”
Mira lowered her book.
“You've been saying that for weeks.”
“I know.”
“Then perhaps you should stop investigating alone.”
For a moment, Evelyn looked as though she might argue. Instead, she stared at the notebook in her hands.
“I didn't want you all getting into trouble.”
Elara moved closer.
“We're your friends. You don't have to protect us by keeping us in the dark.”
Evelyn looked at her, then at Mira.
“I promise I'll tell you everything soon.”
It was a promise none of them realised they would spend the following weeks wishing she had kept.
The next morning, Evelyn was absent from breakfast.
At first, nobody worried. She sometimes visited the library before lessons, especially when she had discovered a new book worth reading.
But she did not appear for Spellcraft.
Her seat remained empty while Professor Vane demonstrated a more advanced protective charm.
“Aegira,” he instructed. “The shield must respond to your intention. It will not remain stable if your concentration wanders.”
Elara raised her wand.
“Aegira.”
A pale silver barrier formed in front of her, shimmering like sunlight on water.
“Good, Miss Vales,” Professor Vane said. “Maintain it.”
Elara held the spell steady, but her attention kept drifting towards Evelyn's empty seat.
When the lesson ended, she hurried to the library with Mira.
They found no Evelyn.
They checked the great hall, the courtyard, and the classrooms she usually visited. Rowan joined them after lunch, his expression growing increasingly worried.
“Perhaps she's ill,” he suggested.
“Then she would have told us,” Mira replied.
“Maybe she didn't want us worrying.”
Elara remembered Evelyn's promise.
Something cold settled in her stomach.
They searched the library again.
At last, Mira spotted Evelyn's favourite notebook lying on a table beside a stack of old history books.
“That's hers.”
Elara picked it up.
Several pages had been filled with hurried handwriting. Some were covered in dates, while others contained sketches of the symbol carved into Blackthorn's gates.
Near the back, a page had been torn almost completely out.
Only a few words remained.
Alistair Blackwood — the first curse.
Below that, in smaller writing, Evelyn had added:
The records are false. Someone changed the story.
Elara read the words twice.
“Who was Alistair Blackwood?” Rowan asked.
“I don't know,” Mira answered. “But Evelyn clearly thought he mattered.”
A faint scraping sound came from the shelves behind them.
All three turned.
A book slid out of place and fell to the floor.
Elara approached cautiously. She raised her wand.
“Luminara.”
Light spread across the narrow aisle.
At the far end, a shadow moved between the shelves.
“Who's there?” Rowan called.
No answer.
He hurried towards the end of the aisle, but found nothing except a narrow window and a locked door leading to the old archive.
Mira picked up the fallen book.
Its cover was dark green, and its title had faded almost beyond recognition.
Inside, the first page contained a list of names.
Several had been crossed out.
One remained untouched.
Cassian Blackwood.
Elara's fingers tightened around the book.
“Blackwood,” she whispered.
Rowan looked towards the archive door.
“Cassian's surname is Blackwood?”
“We only knew his first name when we met him,” Mira said. “He never told us his surname.”
Elara remembered the way Cassian had reacted to the symbol in Evelyn's notebook.
The fear in his eyes.
The warning beside the sealed door.
And the way he had told her not to trust him.
They needed to find him.
But when they reached the courtyard, Cassian was nowhere to be seen.
That evening, the academy announced that Evelyn Ward had not attended any of her scheduled lessons and had not returned to her dormitory.
Headmistress Thorne instructed students to remain within the protected sections of the grounds until further notice.
Teachers searched the classrooms and corridors. The prefects checked the dormitories. The library was examined from top to bottom.
Nobody found Evelyn.
Elara barely slept that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined Evelyn wandering through the forbidden passages, carrying her notebook and searching for answers.
She imagined her discovering something behind the sealed door.
And she imagined the midnight bell ringing.
The following morning, Elara, Mira, and Rowan returned to the library.
They searched Evelyn's usual table, hoping she might have left another clue.
This time, Elara noticed a folded sheet of paper tucked inside a book about the academy's founding.
Her name was written across the front.
Dear Elara.
Her hands began to tremble.
She unfolded it carefully.
Dear Elara,
If you're reading this, then please don't stop looking for me if I ever disappear.
I know I've been acting strangely. I'm sorry I haven't told you everything. I found something in the old records, something that changes the history we've been taught about Blackthorn.
The Midnight Curse is not a rumour.
The boundaries are real. They protect certain parts of the academy, but there are places where the protection ends.
Someone knows what happens beyond those boundaries.
Someone has been hiding the truth.
I think I know who it is, but I need proof.
If anything happens to me, look beneath the old tower. Don't trust the records. Don't trust the story they tell you.
And please, Elara, don't come looking for me alone.
Evelyn.
Elara lowered the letter.
For several seconds, she could not speak.
Mira read it over her shoulder, her face pale.
Rowan's expression hardened.
“She knew she was in danger.”
“Why didn't she tell us?” Mira whispered.
“Maybe she thought she could solve it before anyone got hurt,” Elara replied.
Her voice broke on the final word.
Evelyn was missing, and the letter sounded almost like a goodbye.
Elara pressed the paper against her chest, trying to hold back her tears.
Mira wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“We'll find her.”
Rowan nodded.
“All of us. Together.”
Elara wanted to believe him.
She needed to believe him.
But the final sentence of Evelyn's note kept repeating in her mind.
Don't come looking for me alone.
At the bottom of the page, beneath Evelyn's signature, was one final word.
Cassian.
That afternoon, Elara found him standing beside the courtyard fountain.
He looked exhausted.
“Where is Evelyn?” she demanded.
Cassian turned towards her.
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me.”
His eyes flickered towards the library windows.
“What did you find?”
Elara held up the letter.
For the first time since she had met him, Cassian looked genuinely shaken.
“You shouldn't have that.”
“It was addressed to me.”
“Then you should put it away.”
“She mentioned you.”
Silence.
“She wrote your name, Cassian. She found something about your family, didn't she?”
He looked towards the old tower.
“You need to stop investigating.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't understand what you're dealing with.”
“Then explain it!”
His jaw tightened.
“I can't.”
“Or you won't?”
Cassian stepped away from the fountain.
“Go back to your friends, Elara.”
She stared at him, furious.
“Evelyn is missing, and you expect me to do nothing?”
For a moment, something like regret crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“I'm telling you to stay safe.”
He walked away before she could answer.
Elara watched him leave, her thoughts racing.
She no longer believed his silence was accidental.
Whatever Evelyn had discovered, Cassian was connected to it.
And he was terrified of what would happen if the truth came out.
That night, the midnight bell rang.
Its sound travelled through the academy, deep and mournful, shaking dust from the ancient rafters.
Every protected doorway glimmered faintly.
Elara stood at her dormitory window, watching the old tower through the mist.
A light appeared behind one of its narrow windows.
Then another.
For a heartbeat, a figure stood silhouetted against the glow.
Elara pressed closer to the glass.
The figure raised one hand.
The light vanished.
The tower returned to darkness.
Behind her, Mira stirred in her sleep. Rowan was staying in the neighbouring boys' dormitory, and the corridors beyond the protected boundary remained silent.
Elara looked down at Evelyn's letter.
The Midnight Curse is not a rumour.
She finally understood that Evelyn had not simply gone missing.
She had uncovered something Blackthorn had spent generations concealing.
And somewhere beyond the safety of the academy's protected walls, the truth was waiting.
Chapter 4
The Secret in Her Pages
Twenty-one days passed without a single sign of Evelyn.
Blackthorn searched its classrooms, its courtyards, and every corridor students were permitted to enter. No one could explain where she had gone.
Elara refused to believe her best friend was lost forever. Evelyn had left clues, and Elara intended to follow every one of them.
But somewhere beneath Blackthorn, a secret remained hidden.
And when the truth finally emerged, it would destroy everything they thought they knew about their school.
The twenty-second morning began beneath a sky the colour of slate. Rain streamed down the tall windows of the great hall, and the usual chatter of students sounded strangely subdued. Evelyn's empty seat remained untouched.
Elara sat between Mira and Rowan, barely noticing the food on her plate.
“She would have hated this,” Mira murmured.
Elara looked at her.
“Hated what?”
“Everyone whispering about her as if she were already a ghost.”
Rowan pushed his plate aside. “The teachers still haven't found anything?”
“Nothing,” Elara answered. “They searched the grounds again yesterday.”
For twenty-one days, they had followed every lead they could find. They had questioned students, searched the library, and revisited the corridors Evelyn had mentioned. They had even asked Professor Merrow about Alistair Blackwood, but the professor had insisted that the surviving records contained very little information about him.
Elara no longer believed that explanation.
Evelyn had found something. Someone had been determined to keep it hidden.
And Cassian knew more than he was willing to admit.
A sudden commotion interrupted their conversation.
Several teachers hurried into the great hall, speaking in urgent whispers. Headmistress Thorne followed them, her face pale and unusually tense.
“Students,” she announced, raising her voice. “Remain in the great hall until your teachers instruct you otherwise. An important discovery has been made on the grounds.”
Elara's heart began to pound.
Mira reached for her hand beneath the table.
“What kind of discovery?” Rowan asked.
The headmistress hesitated.
“Miss Ward has been found.”
For one impossible second, Elara could not understand the words.
Found.
Evelyn had been found.
She pushed back her chair so quickly that it scraped against the stone floor.
“Where is she?” she demanded.
Headmistress Thorne looked directly at her.
“Please come with me, Miss Vales. You and your friends may accompany me, but you must remain calm.”
Elara followed without waiting for another invitation. Mira and Rowan hurried after her.
They crossed the courtyard, where rain had soaked the flagstones and gathered in the grooves between them. Several professors stood near the old Bell Tower, an isolated structure behind the oldest section of the academy.
Elara had never been permitted to enter it.
A silver boundary had been drawn across the entrance, and ancient symbols glimmered faintly along the stone archway.
The same symbols she had seen in the forbidden corridor.
A professor stood beside the doorway, holding a small lantern. Its light trembled despite the absence of wind.
“Headmistress,” he said quietly.
She nodded.
Elara stepped forward.
Then she saw Evelyn's familiar green scarf lying on the wet stone.
She recognised the tiny embroidered flowers along its edge. She had helped Evelyn sew one of them back into place after it came loose during their first month at Blackthorn.
Elara stopped breathing for a moment.
“No,” she whispered.
Mira caught her arm.
“Elara…”
Headmistress Thorne moved towards them, her expression filled with sorrow.
“I'm very sorry.”
Elara looked beyond the entrance, towards the darkness inside the tower.
She did not need to hear the rest.
Evelyn was dead.
The truth struck harder than any spell Elara had ever experienced. Her knees weakened, and Mira held her upright while Rowan stood beside them, his face drained of colour.
For twenty-one days, Elara had imagined Evelyn returning through the great hall doors, apologising for disappearing and explaining everything with one of her excited smiles.
Now those imagined moments were gone.
And the friend who had promised to tell them everything would never speak again.
They were taken to a quiet room adjoining the infirmary. Nobody demanded that they explain their feelings or pretend to be composed.
Mira sat beside Elara, holding her hand.
Rowan paced beside the window, repeatedly running his fingers through his untidy hair.
After a long silence, he stopped.
“We have to find out what happened.”
Elara wiped her cheeks.
“Yes.”
Mira looked towards the door.
“And we start with the Bell Tower.”
That evening, the academy held a brief memorial for Evelyn. Students placed flowers beside her portrait in the entrance hall, and Headmistress Thorne spoke about her curiosity, determination, and kindness.
Elara could barely listen.
She remembered Evelyn laughing at enchanted furniture. Evelyn creating ridiculous illusions in Spellcraft. Evelyn asking questions that nobody else dared to ask.
And Evelyn's letter.
If you're reading this, then please don't stop looking for me if I ever disappear.
Elara had kept it folded inside her coat.
Now she understood why Evelyn had written it.
She had been afraid.
And she had gone searching anyway.
After the memorial, Elara, Mira, and Rowan returned to their dormitories. They agreed to meet in the library once the corridors were quiet.
They could not bring Evelyn back.
But they could discover why she had died.
The library's oldest section was locked after evening study, but Rowan had discovered a narrow side entrance several weeks earlier. It was normally used by librarians carrying books between the archive rooms.
“Just so we're clear,” he whispered as they approached it, “if we get caught, I am blaming both of you.”
“Of course,” Mira replied. “We would expect nothing less.”
Rowan pressed his hand against the wooden panel. A faint click sounded, and the door opened.
They slipped inside.
The archive smelled of dust, old paper, and something metallic. Shelves stretched into darkness, packed with ledgers and documents that had not been touched in decades.
Elara raised her wand.
“Luminara.”
A golden orb floated above them.
“We need records about Alistair Blackwood,” she whispered. “And anything about the Midnight Curse.”
Mira searched the shelves on the left while Rowan examined a collection of old registers. Elara moved towards a locked cabinet at the back of the room.
Its surface was covered in the familiar symbol.
She touched the carved circle.
The cabinet shivered.
A thin line of silver light appeared around its doors.
“Elara,” Mira whispered. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
The lock clicked open.
Inside lay a bundle of documents tied with a faded black ribbon.
Elara carefully lifted them out and placed them on the desk.
The first document was a list of the academy's founders. Most of the names were familiar from the portraits in the entrance hall, but one had been crossed out so thoroughly that the paper was nearly torn.
Beneath the damaged writing, Elara could still make out a surname.
Blackwood.
The second document was a letter addressed to the academy's founding council.
The protective boundaries were never intended to be separated from the family entrusted with their keeping.
You have taken our knowledge, altered the records, and accused us of crimes we did not commit.
You have left us with nothing but the name you intend to erase.
You will learn what happens when protection becomes punishment.
There was no signature.
Only a symbol stamped into the bottom of the page.
Mira leaned over Elara's shoulder.
“They stole something from the Blackwoods.”
“Not something,” Rowan said, examining another document. “Knowledge. Look at this.”
He placed a faded diagram beside the letter.
It showed Blackthorn's foundations, with lines running beneath the castle and converging beneath the Bell Tower. Each line was marked with a protective symbol.
At the centre was a sentence:
The boundaries must be maintained by those who understand their origin.
Elara studied the diagram.
“The Blackwoods created the protections.”
“Or helped create them,” Mira corrected. “We can't be certain yet.”
Elara turned to the next page.
It described a dispute between the Blackwood family and Blackthorn's founders. According to the surviving account, the Blackwoods had been responsible for maintaining the academy's protective magic. Their knowledge had been considered essential to keeping the grounds safe.
Then, following a conflict whose details had been removed from the records, the family had been accused of dangerous magical practices.
Their position was taken away.
Their names disappeared from the official history.
And their protective knowledge remained at Blackthorn.
Rowan frowned.
“If they were responsible for the protections, why would the founders turn against them?”
“Power,” Mira said quietly. “Or fear.”
Elara found another document hidden beneath the others.
It was a fragment of a diary, written in hurried handwriting.
Alistair says the council has betrayed us. They have used our family's work to protect their academy, yet they refuse to acknowledge our name.
He believes the boundaries can be changed. He says they can become more than protection.
I fear he intends to prove it.
The final lines were almost illegible.
If he binds the magic to the bell, no one will be able to separate the curse from the foundations.
Elara looked up.
“Alistair Blackwood created the Midnight Curse.”
“That's what the diary suggests,” Mira said. “But we still don't know exactly what happened.”
A soft sound came from the doorway.
All three turned.
Cassian stood in the entrance.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Rowan stepped in front of the desk.
“You have some explaining to do.”
Cassian's gaze fell on the documents.
“Where did you find those?”
“Don't change the subject,” Elara said. “Who was Alistair Blackwood?”
Cassian remained silent.
“Your name was in the archive register,” Mira added. “Cassian Blackwood. You're descended from the family, aren't you?”
His expression changed.
It was not surprise.
It was the look of someone whose secret had finally been uncovered.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Elara felt anger rise in her chest.
“You knew about the curse.”
“I knew the story my family preserved.”
“And Evelyn found out.”
Cassian looked away.
“She found the records.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I didn't want her involved.”
“That isn't an answer!”
Her voice echoed through the archive.
Cassian flinched, but he did not leave.
“My family was blamed for what the founders did,” he said. “Our name was removed from the academy's history. They took our knowledge and called us dangerous when we tried to expose them.”
“That doesn't explain the curse,” Mira replied.
“No. It doesn't.”
Cassian looked at the diagram of the foundations.
“Alistair Blackwood twisted the protective magic. He bound it to the midnight bell and the foundations of Blackthorn. When the bell rings, the curse can reach anyone beyond the protected boundaries.”
Elara remembered the silver line in the forbidden corridor.
The warning carved into the stone.
The sudden coldness when the bell rang.
“Why didn't the founders destroy it?” Rowan asked.
“Because ordinary spells couldn't undo it. The curse had become part of the foundations. Alistair died, but the magic remained.”
“And your family kept the truth hidden,” Mira said.
Cassian did not deny it.
“My family believed the curse was the only proof that Blackthorn had committed a crime. They believed exposing everything would mean losing the last part of our history.”
“So you let innocent people live in danger?” Elara asked.
“I didn't create the curse.”
“But you knew about it.”
Cassian's silence answered her.
Elara stepped towards him.
“Evelyn was trying to expose the truth. What happened in the Bell Tower?”
Cassian's face grew pale.
“I warned Evelyn to stop investigating,” he said. “She refused to listen. She found the entrance to the chamber beneath the tower and discovered what my family had hidden.”
“What did you do to her?” Mira asked.
Cassian looked down at the documents.
“I took her to the Bell Tower. I told her I would show her the original boundary and explain everything. She believed me.”
Elara felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach.
“And then?”
“I locked the door.”
For a moment, the archive seemed to fall completely silent.
Rowan stared at him. “You what?”
“I locked Evelyn inside the tower,” Cassian repeated. His voice was quiet, but he no longer tried to hide behind excuses. “The room was beyond the protected boundary. When midnight came, the curse would reach her.”
Elara shook her head, refusing to accept what she was hearing.
“You knew what would happen.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she could die?”
Cassian hesitated.
“I knew the danger. I knew she couldn't get back across the boundary once the bell began to ring. I left her there because I thought it was the only way to keep the truth buried.”
“Keep the truth buried?” Mira's voice trembled with anger. “You murdered our friend to protect a secret?”
“My family has spent generations carrying the blame for what Blackthorn's founders did. Evelyn was going to expose everything. I thought that if she disappeared, the records would stay hidden and nobody would discover what my family had become.”
“So you decided she should suffer for it?” Rowan demanded.
Cassian's expression hardened, but his eyes betrayed him.
“I told myself she would only be frightened. I told myself there might be a way out. But when I locked that door, I knew she might never leave.”
“You left her there to rot and die,” Elara whispered.
The words hung between them.
Cassian lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Elara felt tears gathering in her eyes, but this time her grief was tangled with fury.
“Evelyn trusted you.”
“I know.”
“She thought you might help her.”
“I know.”
“She was our friend!”
“I KNOW!” Cassian shouted.
His voice echoed through the archive. For a moment, his carefully controlled expression broke.
Then he spoke again, more quietly.
“I couldn't let her expose the truth. I thought losing one person would be better than losing everything my family had left.”
Mira stepped forward.
“You don't get to decide that someone's life is worth less than your family's reputation.”
Rowan stared at Cassian in disbelief.
“And you don't get to call this a mistake. You planned it. You took her there, locked the door, and left her to die.”
Cassian said nothing.
Elara looked at him, searching for some sign that he understood the enormity of what he had done.
There was no apology that could bring Evelyn back. No explanation that could make the betrayal disappear.
“You could have told us the truth,” Elara said. “We might have helped expose what happened to your family. We might even have understood why you were afraid.”
She swallowed hard.
“But you chose Evelyn.”
Cassian looked up.
“I chose my family.”
“No,” Elara replied. “You chose yourself.”
She folded Evelyn's letter and slipped it into her pocket.
“You're going to tell Headmistress Thorne everything. You're going to tell the authorities what you did. And you're going to answer for Evelyn's death.”
Cassian stared at her.
“And if I refuse?”
Elara raised her wand.
Behind him, the shadows along the archive shelves began to shift. She focused on the image she wanted to create.
“Illusara.”
A convincing illusion of Cassian appeared beside the doorway, blocking the route out. The false image looked exactly like him, right down to the faint blue sheen in its dark hair.
The real Cassian turned instinctively towards it.
That moment of hesitation was enough for Rowan to move between Cassian and the exit while Mira gathered the documents that supported their discoveries.
Cassian looked from the illusion to Elara.
“You think a trick will stop me?”
“No,” Elara said, her voice shaking. “The truth will.”
She let the illusion dissolve.
For the first time, Cassian had nowhere to hide.
Elara gathered the letters and records, making certain the evidence of Blackthorn's history remained together.
They would take everything to Headmistress Thorne. They would tell her about the hidden archive, the stolen protective knowledge, Alistair Blackwood, and the Midnight Curse.
And they would tell her what Cassian had confessed.
He had knowingly locked Evelyn beyond the protected boundary, leaving her to face the curse alone. His family's suffering might explain his anger, but it could never excuse what he had chosen to do.
Cassian followed them out of the archive under their watchful eyes.
Elara did not look at him again.
She could still remember Evelyn's laughter, her endless questions, and the promise that she would explain everything soon.
Now Elara understood the terrible truth.
Evelyn had not disappeared because she had become lost in Blackthorn's secrets.
She had disappeared because she had come too close to exposing them.
And Cassian Blackwood had decided that keeping those secrets mattered more than her life.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
Far above the academy, the clock tower remained without hands.
But beneath its foundations, a bell waited for midnight.
The truth had finally emerged from the shadows.
Now Cassian would have to face it.
Chapter 5
The Truth in The Shadows
The corridors of Blackthorn had never felt so cold.
Elara Vales walked beside Mira and Rowan, clutching Evelyn’s recovered papers against her chest. Behind them, Cassian Blackwood was escorted by two professors. He had not spoken since the truth had emerged in the archive.
For six months, Evelyn had searched for answers. For twenty-one days, they had searched for her. And now that they finally knew what had happened, Elara wished more than anything that they had never discovered the truth.
Knowing had not brought Evelyn back.
It had only left them with a name they could never hear without remembering her.
Cassian.
Mira walked silently, her amber eyes fixed on the floor. Rowan, usually the first to fill an uncomfortable silence with a ridiculous comment, said nothing at all. The absence of his jokes frightened Elara almost as much as the expression on Mira’s face.
When they reached Headmistress Thorne’s office, one of the professors knocked firmly.
“Enter,” came the reply.
The headmistress stood behind her desk, surrounded by towering bookshelves and tall windows streaked with rain. She looked from Elara’s tear-stained face to the papers in her hands, then to Cassian.
“What has happened?”
Elara placed the documents on the desk.
“Everything you told us about the Midnight Curse was incomplete,” she said. Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to continue. “Evelyn discovered the truth about the Blackwood family. She found out that the founders betrayed them, stole their knowledge, and erased their names from the academy’s history.”
Headmistress Thorne’s expression changed.
Mira stepped forward. “And Cassian knew. He knew about the curse, the boundaries, and the Bell Tower. Evelyn trusted him, and he used that trust against her.”
The headmistress turned towards Cassian.
“Is this true?”
Cassian stared at the floor.
“Yes.”
One word. That was all he offered.
Elara’s hands tightened around the edge of the desk.
“He took Evelyn to the Bell Tower because she was getting close to the truth. He knew the tower stood beyond the ancient protective boundary. He knew what would happen when midnight came.”
“I understand,” the headmistress said quietly.
“No,” Elara replied. “You don't. You didn't see her searching through those papers. You didn't hear her wondering why certain corridors were forbidden. You didn't watch her become frightened and keep investigating anyway because she believed the truth mattered.”
Her voice broke.
“And you weren't there when we found out she was never coming back.”
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Headmistress Thorne stepped around her desk.
“Elara, I cannot undo what happened. But I can ensure that the truth is not buried again.”
She ordered the professors to secure every document recovered from the archive and Bell Tower. Cassian was to remain under supervision while the authorities investigated the evidence.
As the professors led him away, Cassian briefly looked at Elara.
She waited for an apology. Some sign that he understood the weight of what he had done.
He lowered his eyes and continued down the corridor.
Elara turned away.
She no longer needed to hear anything he might say.
________________
The investigation began the following morning.
Officials arrived at Blackthorn and examined the recovered records, the entrance to the Bell Tower, and the old protective markings carved into the academy’s foundations. They questioned the professors who had known Evelyn, inspected the documents she had collected, and compared her notes with the original school records.
For the first time in generations, the academy’s history was being examined rather than accepted.
The discoveries were worse than Elara had imagined.
The Blackwood family had not created the Midnight Curse in the beginning. Their ancestors had helped establish the protective magic surrounding the school, designing boundaries that kept dangerous forces from reaching the students.
But the founders had betrayed them.
They had taken the Blackwoods’ knowledge, removed their names from the official records, and blamed them for magical incidents they had tried to prevent. Alistair Blackwood, furious at the injustice, had twisted the protective enchantments into something darker.
The Midnight Curse.
It had survived him, becoming bound to the academy’s foundations and the bell that sounded at midnight.
The school had hidden the truth for years, hoping that silence would keep the curse forgotten.
Instead, silence had allowed it to continue.
Evelyn had discovered the connection between the old records, the forbidden corridors, and the Bell Tower. She had realised that the protective boundaries were not simply rules created to frighten students. They were the remains of ancient magic, separating the areas where protection still held from places where it did not.
The Bell Tower stood beyond the protected boundary.
Cassian had known this because his family had preserved records that the academy had deliberately removed from its own history. He had also discovered an old Blackwood passage leading towards the tower, along with the original markings that showed where the protection ended.
He knew Evelyn was investigating. He knew she would not stop until she uncovered the truth.
And he had chosen to take her somewhere the protection could not reach.
The officials confirmed that the evidence supported the account Elara and her friends had given. Cassian's actions had not been an accident, and the documents showed that he had deliberately concealed what he knew.
His family had suffered a terrible injustice.
But Evelyn had not caused it.
She had not stolen their knowledge or erased their name. She had only tried to uncover the truth.
Nothing in the past could excuse what Cassian had done to her.
________________
The following weeks passed in a blur of interviews, examinations, and difficult questions.
Blackthorn changed in ways Elara had never expected.
The old records were removed from storage and placed under official protection. The academy issued a statement acknowledging that its history had been incomplete and that the Blackwood family had been wrongfully erased from its records.
The forbidden passages were inspected and sealed where necessary. The protective markings were checked by experienced magical investigators, who confirmed that the enchantments still held in the main academic buildings and designated safe areas.
But the Midnight Curse itself remained.
Nobody could promise that it had been destroyed. Nobody could explain how to remove it without risking the protective magic that still shielded the school.
The academy therefore established stricter midnight restrictions. Students were forbidden from approaching the Bell Tower or crossing any boundary that had not been officially inspected. Professors supervised the corridors after dark, and the midnight bell was no longer treated as an ordinary part of school life.
The rules were no longer mysterious warnings written on old doors.
They were precautions supported by evidence.
Elara hated that Evelyn had needed to die for the academy to take those warnings seriously.
She hated even more that the mystery was not finished.
The curse remained beneath Blackthorn, waiting in the darkness.
________________
Cassian’s trial took place after the investigation had gathered enough evidence.
Elara, Mira, and Rowan were called to provide their accounts. They described Evelyn’s investigation, the clues she had left behind, and the documents that revealed Cassian’s connection to the Blackwood family.
They explained how the evidence had led them to the archive and how Cassian had finally admitted his role in Evelyn’s death.
Elara found the questions difficult. Each answer forced her to return to moments she desperately wanted to leave behind: Evelyn’s empty seat in class, the note in her hands, the search through the academy, and the awful discovery at the tower.
Still, she answered honestly.
Evelyn deserved the truth.
When the proceedings concluded, Cassian was found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment.
The news spread through Blackthorn quickly. Some students whispered about his family, while others wondered how he could have hidden such a secret for so long.
Elara refused to join their arguments.
She understood that the Blackwoods had been wronged. She understood that the academy had concealed its own shame. But she would never accept that Evelyn’s death was an inevitable consequence of history.
Cassian had made a choice.
Now he would face the consequences.
Elara, Mira, and Rowan never forgave him.
They did not need to pretend that his punishment repaired anything. It did not bring Evelyn back, restore the days they had lost, or erase the memories that followed them through the corridors.
It only meant that the truth had finally been heard.
For now, that was all the justice they could receive.
________________
As the term approached its end, Blackthorn began preparing for the holidays.
Students packed their trunks, gathered their books, and hurried through the corridors discussing journeys home. The dining hall grew noisy again, and the courtyards filled with excited voices.
Everything looked almost normal.
That was what Elara found hardest to bear.
Evelyn should have been there, complaining about the amount of homework they had been given. She should have been helping Mira pack, teasing Rowan about his hopelessly untidy trunk, and asking Elara whether she had noticed anything strange about the academy lately.
She would have noticed something.
She always did.
One afternoon, the three friends sat together beside a window overlooking the courtyard. Evelyn’s last notebook lay between them.
Mira turned its pages carefully, stopping at the questions Evelyn had written in the margins.
“Why are certain corridors forbidden?”
“Who knows the truth about the curse?”
“What happens at midnight?”
Mira swallowed.
“She couldn't leave a mystery alone,” she whispered.
“No,” Rowan replied. His voice was unusually gentle. “She couldn't.”
He attempted a small smile, but it disappeared almost immediately.
“I keep thinking she'll walk through that door and tell us we've got everything wrong.”
Elara looked towards the doorway.
For one foolish second, she imagined Evelyn appearing there, her golden-brown curls untidy, her green eyes bright with excitement, already talking before she had fully entered the room.
But the doorway remained empty.
Mira closed the notebook.
“I don't want people to remember her only because she died here,” she said. “She was more than that.”
“She was curious,” Rowan said. “Brave. Stubborn.”
“And our friend,” Elara added.
The words settled between them.
Their friendship had begun with an ordinary journey to an extraordinary school. It had grown through lessons, laughter, secrets, and adventures they had never expected. Now one of the people who had made it special was gone.
They could not return to the beginning.
But they could remember her properly.
Elara placed Evelyn’s notebook carefully inside her trunk, determined to keep it safe. The academy had begun restoring the missing Blackwood records, and Evelyn’s discoveries would be preserved alongside them. Her name would not disappear from Blackthorn’s history.
Neither would the truth she had uncovered.
________________
On the morning of departure, Elara stood outside the academy gates with Mira and Rowan.
Their trunks waited beside the carriage. Students climbed aboard, calling to friends and promising to write during the holidays.
Elara looked back at Blackthorn.
Its dark towers rose against the pale morning sky. The windows reflected the light, and the old Bell Tower stood silent above the surrounding buildings.
For generations, the academy had hidden its past. Now some of that past had finally been revealed.
Yet the Midnight Curse remained unbroken.
The investigators had confirmed that the protected boundaries were still functioning in the areas designated as safe, but nobody knew how long the ancient enchantments would endure. The Bell Tower remained sealed, and the midnight restrictions would continue when the students returned.
Blackthorn was safer than it had been when Evelyn began her investigation.
But it was not free.
A faint glow appeared behind the clock face.
Elara stopped.
The clock had no hands. It had never shown the time, yet the light seemed to pulse from somewhere behind its dark glass.
Once.
Then again.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
Mira turned towards the tower, her face tightening.
Rowan stepped closer to them.
The glow vanished.
For several seconds, none of them spoke.
Perhaps it had been a reflection. Perhaps some old enchantment had stirred beneath the stone. Perhaps the curse was simply continuing as it always had, hidden from those who did not know where to look.
Elara had learned not to mistake uncertainty for an answer.
She climbed into the carriage with Mira and Rowan. As the wheels began to turn, she watched Blackthorn grow smaller through the window.
She thought of Evelyn, of the truth she had fought to uncover, and of the mysteries still waiting beneath the academy.
They had exposed the past.
They had brought Cassian to justice.
They had protected the truth Evelyn had left behind.
But they had not ended the curse.
And somewhere within Blackthorn, beyond the sealed tower and the ancient boundaries, something remained hidden in the shadows.
Elara held Evelyn’s notebook close as the carriage carried them away.
The holidays would pass.
They would return.
And when they did, Blackthorn would still be waiting.
And as Elara believed, the end was just the beginning. She had 4 more years to endure.
Year Two wouldn't come soon enough.
About the Competition
The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, invites writers from around the world to showcase their creativity and storytelling prowess. This prestigious event celebrates diverse narratives and innovative expressions in poetry and creative writing, providing a platform for established and emerging voices to be heard and appreciated.
We extend our heartfelt thanks to Safura Fahad for sharing "The Midnight Curse-Secrets of the Blackthorn" with us. Your participation in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 brings a unique and enchanting perspective to our platform. We are excited to see where your literary journey takes you and your readers next.
About Hashtag Kalakar
Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.
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