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The night was illuminated, but the light still wasn’t enough.
It had nothing to do with fearing the dark, or not being able to see. Hades had never been scared of the dark in the first place, just cautious of it. Even if the darkness itself had never been evil, she had seen first-hand how evil could still be perpetrated in the name of darkness anyway. It would have been foolish to not have been cautious about it.
Besides, it had been long enough since the truth came out and she had become aware of the goddess residing within her. Long enough for the world to adjust to that truth, and for her own body and mind to acclimatise to the change, to learn to both understand and embrace the darkness. Long enough for most people’s living memories of those times to have faded, for that tumultuous year to be absorbed into what the current generation considered ancient history. So, it had been long enough that she could see perfectly well in a night that didn’t have a single light to give it respite, that she did not constantly look over her shoulder. It had been more than long enough.
Sometimes, she thought it had been too long.
Because although the night was illuminated, it did not hold the one light she had been looking for all this time. And yet, she gazed out of the window at the last few straggling students, carrying in rolled up posters and cardboard boxes filled to the brim with the various items they had used on their Club Rush stalls. Some of those stalls had been taken down, but a few tables and canopies remained, to be taken down the next day.
It was easy enough to imagine him there.
Cher had always loved things like this, after all.
He’d always loved these occasions, the ones when the whole school came out and came together. He’d squeeze out every last moment of them that he could, wishing the students good night one more time, stopping to help them stack chairs, simply watching the last of the chaos. He would have lingered, even this late, even when Hades tried to drag him back inside. She wouldn’t have succeeded, of course. She never had. She would have had to admit defeat, and she’d retreat and watch him from this very window. She’d wait for him as he waited for the final student to go back in, and then he’d turn and look up at the window. He’d give her his usual smile, lift a hand up in a half-wave, and then make his way inside to find her. That was the way it had always been, for the first three hundred years Kawaakari Academy had been running. Whether it was Club Rush (or, the Welcome Festival, as they’d called it then), the Midsummer’s Party, Winterlight festivities, or any of the other occasions and celebrations their school year had been filled with, that was how it had always been.
But it had been over five centuries since the last time he’d escorted students in and then looked up at the window to wave at her. Over five centuries since that fateful, final Dance of the Water Nymphs, since that entire world-shaking year. If she thought hard enough, she’d probably be able to say how long it had been to the day, even the hour. But she tried not to think of it.
And yet, here she was. Watching through the window as if any moment, he’d manifest and look up at the window. As if he’d look a little lost in thought, before his mouth quirked up in that familiar smile, his eyes warm and still sparkling, no matter how tired he was. As if he’d wave, and then make his way back to her.
What a fool she was.
The grounds were empty now. Even this cohort’s Astronomy Club had packed up and gone inside to sleep. The only light left was the moonlight reflected on the grass, the lanterns and string lights swinging gently. If she was going to try this one particular way of finding him again, now was the time to do it.
But as she turned away from the window, she saw Peach standing by the scrying mirror near the noticeboard. Though she had her blindfold on, it was clear that she was-or had been-looking at it. Hades walked over, but then found her attention caught by a notice on the pinboard next to the scrying mirror. It was almost completely papered over with copies of the various notices they had in reception, the cafeteria, or outside the classrooms. I’ll need to ask someone to make sure all the out-of-date ones are taken down, Hades noted to herself. But even as she picked out at least five leaflets talking about events that had occurred back in the summer, she was drawn to one yellowed, faded notice. It was half hidden behind posters from last semester’s Club Rush and those advertising a school concert, both of which she folded aside.
Headmaster Cher has been missing since the defeat of The Entity. If anyone finds any leads, please report to Headmistress Hades IMMEDIATELY.
And below these words, a picture. The photograph that featured on the school website, even now. His rich blue cloak, his hair (always in a thin ponytail), the smile that quirked up on one side. His eyes, light green, sleepy but still sparkling, even in an official portrait. Hades pressed her fingertips gently against the photograph, just looking at it. Then, she asked Peach:
“Anything I should know about?”
“Anything new, you mean?”
“Mhm.”
“Then, no.”
“Right.”
Hades swallowed, trying to hide her disappointment and looked to Peach, who now gazed impassively in her direction. Hades let out a small sigh, then made to say goodnight and leave, only to stop when Peach began to take off her blindfold. The diviner’s movements were slow, deliberate, and she continued to stare unflinchingly at Hades as she did so. It was only once she had folded it down as small as it would go and tucked it into a pocket of her voluminous dress, that she pronounced:
“You are not going to bed.”
“No. The library.”
Peach nodded slowly, and then asked:
“Have you tried the Floating Gardens again?”
“Would there be any point?” Hades asked bitterly.
How many times had she tried that? She’d stopped counting at some point. Nonetheless, she probably would try again. If it came to it, at least she could sit there and remember. Not to cry, because she did not cry. But perhaps, up there, she’d come the closest she ever would come to weeping. But she wouldn’t be going to the Floating Gardens tonight. Instead, she would be trying something else equally pointless, something she’d also tried countless times.
Peach seemed like she was going to say something, but then the door to the room swung open, and Fome, Lance and Lunarveil came through. They were apparently there to get belongings they’d left in the room (Lunar’s wide-brimmed hat, Lance’s laptop, a basket of Fome’s inexplicably large collection of fidget toys). But they either didn’t notice or decided to pay no heed to Hades and Peach as they chattered. Despite her itching need to leave, Hades turned to watch them.
“Oh, they’re a fun bunch. Makes me feel young again!” Lunar was saying. “Those girls-Lavender and Neeta, they remind me a little bit of myself when I was that age.”
“Is that Lavender Lisanne Seleneschild?” Fome asked curiously.
“Yes, why?”
“She’s quite an adept alchemist, especially for a first year.”
“Oh? That’s interesting to know. What about Neeta? Her full name’s Ayneet Mayuno, does that ring a bell?”
“Hmm. Not on the same level as her best friend, but she’s showing signs of improving. We’ll have to see how this semester goes. Though, I think all of our first years this time are quite special, don’t you?”
Lance grimaced and immediately retorted:
“No. I think they’re bloody weird. I thought they’d make sense by this semester. But no, I just don’t get them. Little weirdos.”
“You don’t like them?” Lunar asked curiously. “I do.”
“Hey, did I say anything about not liking them? They’re still weirdos though. Where in the world do they get all that energy from?”
“Are they, though?” Fome asked.
Lunar and Lance both turned to Fome in bafflement.
“Are they what?” Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The weirdest students we’ve ever had? Or, even, are they weird at all? How are we defining weird here? Or perhaps, the more pertinent question is how does one define normal? After all, how can you decide if something is weird if you do not know what normal is?”
“Um….” Lunarveil blinked, goggle-eyed.
“Seriously?” Lance raised an eyebrow.
“Actually,” Fome continued. “I think that’s an interesting question to ponder upon. Maybe I’ll pose it to the students one day. “
“Uhhh….” Lunarveil pulled a face. “What does that have to do with alchemy?”
Fome didn’t seem particularly fazed by the less-than-positive reactions to his musings, for he went on:
“I mean, are we contrasting ourselves against them when making the judgement? One could say, with our unnatural lifespans and how set we are in our ways, that we’re the weird ones, no? On the other hand, we have literally seen social norms evolve-”
“Um….that still doesn’t tell me what that has to do with alchemy.”
“I swear to the Goddess, if you leave this as a class assignment the next time I have to substitute for you, then you can find a new substitute.” Lance groused.
Fome’s forehead furrowed slightly.
“Oh, no, I’d want to lead this discussion-“
Hades chose this moment to clear her throat, and she smirked when the three professors all startled. Lunar and Lance had more dramatic reactions-exclaiming, jumping back-but Fome merely blinked multiple times before then picking up his basket and coming over to look at the notice Hades had been staring at.
“Are you going to the Floating Gardens, then?” he asked, just as Peach had.
“No,” Peach answered before Hades could. “The library.”
“Why?” Lunar asked.
“Ah. The mirror?” Fome asked.
“No.” Hades responded.
“Then, it’s either the drinking glass or the constellation. Am I right?”
“What, oh-you’re looking for Cher!” Lunar exclaimed. “Wait? I’m right, right?”
“Yes,” Hades sighed, trying to be patient. “You’re right.”
“Ah, I thought so,” Fome said, clearly pleased. “Although, I’d recommend the drinking glass. We’ve already established the constellation isn’t one you can clearly divine events from. And you’ve said yourself you cannot see the threads of fate across it.”
“Mhm.”
I want to leave, she thought. I need to leave, now.
“But…” Lance said sceptically. “You’re going to try it anyway.”
“You’ll notice I didn’t confirm which of the two I was hoping to make use of tonight.”
Hades tried to keep her voice light, but she couldn’t stop the ice creeping in, just at the edges. Lance, Lunar and Peach exchanged careful looks at this, but Fome didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, that’s true!” Fome exclaimed. “So…um….hmmmm…..”
“The threads are still frayed, aren’t they?” Peach asked quietly.
“Mhm.”
Hades’ thread, and Cher’s. Cher’s, and Hade’s In the tapestry that Fate made, their threads had always been woven close together. Bright gold, tinged in the red of blood, stretching so very far back and twined so close together they had become the same thread. That bright, pure-gold thread of fate, woven right across the tapestry. Other threads came close, crossed over, ran in the same direction as them for some of the way. But whether they had been deities or whether they had been people, whatever direction they had gone in, whatever choices they had made both in their times as deities and in their times as people, their threads had been woven together. Together right until the end. Cher and Hades. Hades and Cher. One was not meant to exist without the other.
Until five hundred years ago. When the Entity had threatened everything that they had built in the three-hundred-odd years since the Great War and the founding of Kawaakari. With the help of those clever and unusual students, the truth had been revealed, the mistakes of the deities they held within them had been exposed. Through them, the God (or sometimes, Goddess) Akari and the Goddess Kagami had atoned and made things right with both each other and the world. The Entity was vanquished, evil was overcome. The world had been saved.
The world had been saved, but the thread had frayed. Her thread, and Cher’s. Cher’s thread, and hers. Why that had made him vanish, and not her, or even the both of them, she did not know. Even when she had looked deep within herself to beg Kagami for the answer, she hadn’t found it. All of a sudden, she had gone to being part of Hades and Cher, Cher and Hades to just…herself.
“That does rather suggest you’re not going to find him.” Fome asked.
“And?” Hades asked, still trying to be calm.
“It is strange, that there hasn’t been a single trace of him, whatever methods we’ve used. We must be overlooking something.” Fome mused.
“And I suppose you have some idea of what that is?” Hades asked.
Fome opened his mouth to say something, but Lunar punched him in the arm and scolded:
“Don’t be dense!”
“But I could try to think of something-“
“No offense, but is there really, truly, any point?” Lance interrupted.
Hades turned to look at him and asked (quite pleasantly, she thought):
“Excuse me?”
“Well, after all this time, it’s a bit daft, don’t you think? He’s gone. I don’t like it, none of us like it, but he’s gone. The threads make it pretty clear he’s not coming back. And if Peach hasn’t seen anything-you haven’t, right?”
“I would have said something if I had.” Peach confirmed.
“Well, there you go, then. Won’t it be better for us if you accept that? Then we can get on with our lives.”
“And who,” Hades stepped closer to Lance, “Are you to decide what is better for us? And who are you to act as if I have not been getting on with life?”
“I must admit, with so many dead ends, I fail to see how doing the same thing over and over is going to help. Then again, you do need to repeat experiments to make sure that the results are reliable in the first place-“
“Fome, oh my Gods, this isn’t the time for you to go all big-brain on us.” Lunarveil exclaimed.
“Lunar, he’s always big-braining on us. But in any case, again, Hades, is there any point? After five centuries, isn’t it time to give up now? Isn’t there enough going on?”
“The impending darkness,” Fome exclaimed. “Peach, have you seen anything about that-?”
“Nothing new there, either. Though, this cohort….they are the key.”
“The key? The key to what?”
“They are just the key.”
“Oh, really helpful, Peach.” Lunar snarked.
“There you are, see!” Lance exclaimed. “We need to focus on the students, rather than a fool’s errand!”
“That’s funny, coming from you.” Peach said with a smirk.
And as they continued to debate amongst themselves, Hades felt all her feelings spin and whirl and rise up. A tornado in her heart, thunderclouds in her mind, threatening to crash through everything. Could they not allow her just one indulgence? Didn’t she allow Cinn’s moroseness, Koeu’s blazing hot temper, the silences that Junbug occasionally retreated into-any of the different ways the centuries had strained at every single one of them, weighed them down? If allowances could be made for all of that, then what about her? Could she really not just be allowed her grief?
She watched them turn to her, exchanging looks. She stared them down, hoping that would be enough to put them off whatever else they wanted to say to her. Leave it at this, she tried to convey over the crashing of her thunderclouds and tornadoes, don’t say anything else and I’ll pretend it never happened. But then, Lance said:
“The school’s been running for longer without him than with him, anyway.”
The thunderclouds and tornados spilled over, seeming to expel her from her own body. The fistfuls of Lance’s shirt, his startled expression as he tried to wrench himself free, the shaky puffs of breath he exhaled when she got right into his face -she felt and heard and watched it all from somewhere above, her vision blurred. There were so many things she wanted to say, to make them all stop, but all those words got choked up in her throat and stung her eyes. She knew she should let go, walk away, but she was still detached from herself, flailing.
And then, a new, calm voice:
“Hades, stop.”
A steady hand on her arm, and Hades felt herself drop back into her body, and blinked as she turned to the side to see Rynacel there. Ryn, who was implacably calm, who always seemed to know where the trouble was. Upon seeing that Hades had acknowledged her, Ryn took a step back and gave her an expectant look. Hades took in a shady breath, and then glanced first at Fome and Lunar, the former baffled and the latter trembling but both of them baffled. Then, Lance. His face, somewhere between mutinous and worried, almost had her faltering but then she remembered him saying, it’s been longer without him than with him, and she gritted her teeth.
Lance let out a volley of swear words (some of them obsolete), and then said:
“What’s wrong with you?”
Hades did not say anything. Once again, Ryn touched her arm briefly, and then said:
“We’re yours. You know that.”
Hades’ hands shook at that, so violently her teeth began to chatter. Quickly, she gritted them once more. But this time, she did let go of him, stepping back to give him space as he straightened his shirt and let out a deep breath. Though she couldn’t look at him, or any of them, in the eye, she watched him with a sideways glance as he gathered with Peach, Lunar, Fome and Ryn. He did not seem injured, and she was glad of that. The tornado and thunderstorm in her heart had quietened now, and all that was left was the wreckage. It still hurt her to talk, but she forced herself past it to say:
“I know. I’m yours, too.”
She heard Lunar let out a shaky sigh. Lance, however, let out an irritated huff. And she supposed he was justified in that, but all the same her anger flared up again and she looked up sharply to glare at him, to glare at all of them, and say:
“But he was mine before any of you were.”
Still, the way they all looked at her, it made her seethe. Not necessarily because they were afraid of her. They were justified in feeling that way, after all. It didn’t matter that she hoped she wouldn’t have seriously hurt any of them, and that they knew she wouldn’t want to seriously hurt any of them. In the moments she had been floating above herself and watching, she’d been terrified of herself, too.
And though she was used to being feared (indeed, it was one of her most well-honed weapons, the fear she evoked in others) suddenly she was sick of it. Just once, just once, couldn’t somebody be afraid for her, instead?
“Perhaps we should talk through this in the morning.” Rynacel suggested.
Lance rubbed his face and sighed.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“A weekend meeting?” Fome pulled a face. “But I have reading- “
“And we don’t even have Saturday lessons to deal with, your books won’t wither away.” Lance scoffed, though not entirely unkindly.
“It’s academic journals, actually- “
“Monday morning. We’ll have a meeting on Monday morning, with everybody. It will be good to review how the year has gone so far.” Hades said briskly, glad to be on steadier ground.
“Yes, I believe so. This cohort…do you know something; I feel they have something in common with that cohort.” Peach commented.
“You do?” Lunar asked. “How so?”
“Oh, just that they seem particularly special in the same way they did 500 years ago. How, though, is another question completely.”
“Aaaaand, are you going to answer it?”
“That would rather depend on me having an answer, wouldn’t it?”
“Peach!”
But Peach had transported herself out of the room in a flash of light the same colour as the name she now used. Lunar groaned, and then yawned, before promptly mumbling goodnight and wandering to the door. That just left Fome, Lance, Ryn and herself. The two men looked cautiously at Hades, though Lance’s caution was laced with some annoyance, still.
“You’re still going to go ahead with the drinking glass, aren’t you?” Lance said heavily.
Hades nodded. Lance’s frown deepened a little. After another uncomfortable pause, he eventually decided:
“Tell me how they’re doing, then.”
This, she thought, was probably the closest she’d get to an apology. Really, she needed to apologise herself, but she wouldn’t. Neither of them were particularly accustomed to saying the words I’m sorry, even when they felt it.
Nonetheless, I’ll find a way to make it right, later.
But for now, she nodded at him and waited impatiently for him and the others to leave. Ryn gave her another long look as she left, but thankfully didn’t say or ask anything. Once the door shut behind them, Hades rubbed her forehead tiredly. Then, she strode to the back of the room and unlocked the tall cupboard right in the corner. There, she stood and contemplated the rows of bottles, vials and other containers. Some had been filled, and others were not. After a few moments, she selected a crystal bottle on the middle shelf, originally lotus-pink but now appearing a deeper pinkish-purple thanks to the rich hue of the drink contained within it. The lid was sculpted to look like a full moon, with filigreed stars dangling from it.
“And this, I found at the local marketplace there.” Cher said proudly, placing the bottle on the table with a flourish.
“Cher, remind me how many crystal bottles you’ve already bought at local markets over the centuries?”
“Ah, but Hades,” Cher said with a knowing smile. “I didn’t have this one, did I?”
Hades scoffed, and huffily informed him:
“Well, you’re the one figuring out where to store it.”
Still, she couldn’t help but smile. After all, he was happy. And the bottle was lovely.
Hades shook her head, and picked the bottle up before locking the cupboard up again. Then, she too left the room.
…
As she wound her way through the library and towards the Club Artefacts room, she came across Ruz in front of a set of shelves. Rather unusually, the librarian was on their feet as they rearranged a small section of the shelving, muttering something about ‘no concept of the damn alphabet’. From the way they tensed, it was obvious they’d sensed Hades’ arrival. But she knew full well that the librarian was not going to turn around or acknowledge her until the tidying was done to their satisfaction. So, she waited.
Thankfully, it didn’t take too long before the section was finished and Ruz let out a sigh of relief as they levitated a few centimetres off the ground and then turned to face Hades.
“Why can’t we have shelving units where I don’t have to stand to put the books back?” they groused.
“Because the average student is probably going to stand or sit while browsing?” Hades answered with a raised eyebrow.
Ruz huffed irritably at this, as though this was utterly absurd.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Ruz asked. “Not going to sleep?”
“I could ask you the same, but if the drinking glass is in place, I thought I might take it.”
Ruz pursed their lips as they seemed to notice the bottle that Hades was holding for the first time. Then, they nodded.
“Right, then. Let’s get you signed in.”
“…”
“What? Don’t give me that look! Come on.”
From experience, Hades knew that if she tried to protest, she would simply be met with the retort that Ruz wanted to do things properly. When it came to running the library properly, there was no getting around Ruz’s stubbornness. So, Hades resigned herself to following Ruz to the Club Artefacts room, signing her name in the leatherbound sign-in book Ruz insisted on keeping (rather than something electronic, even though they had plenty of computers and had an electronic lock on the Club Artefacts room door) and then waiting for Ruz to deactivate the lock and extra protections.
She stepped into the room and gazed at it. Directly opposite her, at the back of the room was a large noticeboard with a banner that stated: THE ESTABLISHED CLUBS OF KAWAAKARI ACADEMY. Beneath it, posters with information and photographs of the students of the Established Clubs. Some of the photographs were carefully posed ones-indeed, the Influencers’ Club had in fact staged a photo shoot just after they’d graduated, especially for the display. Others, like the Astronomy Club and the Studies of the Darkness Club, were portrayed in a series of candid shots. Then, between the posters, photographs and the banner there was a notice that explained who and what the Established Clubs were. For someone who wasn’t familiar with Kawaakari Academy or its role in world history, the distinction between established clubs and Established Clubs could be confusing.
But the seven Established Clubs were not necessarily ones that still continued on to this day, or ones that incoming students could join. Rather, they were the seven clubs who, in the tumultuous year of Taiki 28 of what became the Re-lit Era, played a pivotal role in discovering the truth of Akari and Kagami’s origins and in then helping to defeat the Entity. There had been other students who had helped, too, but these seven clubs had been at the forefronts of the efforts and had also been the one to find and leave behind artefacts over the course of their discoveries and ordeals. So those seven clubs were an indelible part of the fabric of the school, even after they graduated, grew old and eventually passed away. Even as gradually, Hades and the Kawaakari staff became the only people who had living memories of them.
And hence, they were Established Clubs.
In the room itself, each of the artefacts was set on a plinth, the way exhibits in a museum were displayed, complete with a little handwritten label. Every single item gave off a glow. The Astronomy Club’s constellations gleamed in bluish-purple while the Influencer Club’s music box a rich rose-gold, and the Adventuring Guild’s mirror glimmered in a flame-like hue. The glow of the Elite Chess Club’s chessboard was a near-blinding white, a close match to the moonlight-silver the Kagami Fan Club’s charm and worm and a sharp contrast to the black of the Studies of the Darkness.
And then there was the drinking glass of the Jazz Club, glowing in the warmest honey-gold.
It had been placed back on its plinth slightly askew, as if someone had used it earlier and returned it in a hurry. This was very much possible, even though Hades had seen from the sign-in book that nobody had come into this room for the entire day. After all, that was the nature of the drinking glass, to disappear in and out of time, to move from the past to the future and everywhere in between. When it did, it sometimes brought along the members of the Jazz Club along with it. It meant that even now, long after the ends of their natural lives, they still kept living on. Kept repeating the year of Taiki 28 over and over again, even though now it was Drita 16.
There was no real rhyme nor reason to when and how the students of the Jazz Club might appear. Whether they were actually able to interact with the moment that they ended up in, or whether a moment of their own lives simply ended up superimposed across the present day, replaying like a video clip layered over reality. Most of the time, it was only ever the Jazz Club who appeared and disappeared in this way. But Hades had found that if she took the glass, poured a drink and set the hourglass mechanism that was set within the drinking glass to spin then the other six Established Clubs also appeared. With a couple of exceptions, these other groups mostly seemed to replay moments of Taiki 28. But whoever it was, sometimes she saw moments of their lives that she hadn’t witnessed when they had actually happened. And in those moments, she sometimes hoped that she would hear or see something that would give her a clue as to where Cher had gone, or even how, or why.
When she had first started experimenting with the drinking glass, she had also hoped that she’d be able to capture a glimpse of Cher, too. After all, if she could take advantage of the unique power of the glass and its manipulation of time, then surely, he could too. And she still hoped. But these days, the most she expected was clues, just something to light her path back to him.
She tried to tell herself there was a difference between hope and expectation, but in trying to fool herself this way, she only proved herself the fool.
She walked to the drinking glass’s plinth and stared down at it. Then, she set down her bottle next to it, and lifted her eyes, to where Ruz was still floating in the doorway, watching her. Hades would have wondered why the librarian was still there, but the fraught exchange she’d had earlier rose back up to the forefront of her mind. She gestured to the drink and the glass and asked:
“Do you think it’s pointless for me to keep doing this?”
“Yes.”
Hades flinched at the immediate answer, and Ruz crossed their arms and tilted their head before elaborating:
“Yes, but it’s a pointlessness that’s all yours, and only yours.”
Hades blinked, and Ruz shook their head and went on:
“I mean, I don’t get it, but how can I get it? I mean, the two of you weren’t just fated in the ordinary way, you were chosen as a vehicle for the Goddesses’ atonement. Their clean slate.”
“Not so clean.” Hades said drily, thinking of all the blood shed on the path they’d shared together.
“Yes, well. The fact remains that that’s what you were, right? And that, on top of everything else you went through together…remind me, how many centuries was it before you gathered us in the first place?”
“About two and a half.”
If she hadn’t been so angry, so fragile, back there in the staff meeting room, she might have said that to Lance. Told him, I know that Kawaakari’s been around longer without him than with him, but for me, alone, that’s not the case. And I can’t bear the thought of his absence dragging so long that one day, that will become true too. If Hades thought about it, she knew, right down to the hour, how long it would be before she had lived longer without Cher than with him.
But that, too, was something she tried not to think about too much.
“Well, there you are then,” Ruz said with an exaggerated shrug. “So, what would I know about the pointlessness? The only person you’re hurting is yourself, anyway.”
Hades bit her lip. She wasn’t so sure about that, anymore.
“Not,” Ruz said ominously. “That that’s an excuse to leave the library in a mess at any point.”
Hades barked out a laugh at that, but it was laced with more bitterness than she would have liked, enough to make Ruz tilt their head again and inquire:
“Did someone say something?”
“Perhaps.”
Ruz just stared, then shrugged again. Hades couldn’t really expect any more of them and wouldn’t have asked even if she had expected it. She’d weighed down enough of her staff with her burdens tonight. The rest she’d have to bear alone, as she had been doing all this time. But, since Ruz still floated in the doorway watching her, once she had pulled the stopper out of the bottle, she held it out and offered:
“Would you like some?”
Ruz gave her an unimpressed look.
“It’s ceremonial mead. You know I hate mead.”
“Is it, now?”
Ruz’s face went through so many different expressions at that it made Hades wonder whether they were having a seizure. Eventually, they drifted over and gave the bottle a cautious sniff.
“OH! Sloe gin. Very season-appropriate. In my defence, though, you almost always fill that bottle with ceremonial mead.”
“Mhm.”
“This smells a little different, though.”
“It’s their recipe.”
Hades pointed to the drinking glass. Ruz looked at it, and their expression turned contemplative.
“Then,” they concluded. “I’ll have some. Just a splash.”
It was always ‘just a splash’ for Ruz, no matter the drink. No matter the situation. Hades waited for Ruz to duck out of the room and come back with a tall glass carved to look like a tree, curving branches and all.
“That’s one of his, isn’t it?” Hades remarked.
“Yup. I’ll take care of it until he gets back.”
Ruz’s face lit up in a cheeky grin briefly before returning to their usual watchful, somewhat grumpy expression. Hades poured the splash of sloe gin into it, watching the purple pooling at the base of the ‘tree trunk’. Ruz nodded in acknowledgement, then gruffly said:
“Don’t take too long. I’m not waiting up.”
“…I could just wake you up.”
“I suppose you could.”
“Assuming I still have it by then.”
After all, depending on how time decided to bend around the glass tonight, it could disappear right out of her hand. One of the original Jazz Club members could walk up to her and take it. Or maybe…maybe, Cher would be the one to take it. It had never been, not the many other times she had tried it. Mostly, if anyone ended up taking it. it would be someone from the Established Clubs, Jazz or otherwise.
“Good point. Either way, not waiting up.”
Ruz didn’t say goodbye as they floated their way out of the room. Hades watched them go, and then stared down at the drinking glass in her hand.
“Alright,” she said aloud. “Let’s see what happens tonight, shall we?”
She poured out the sloe gin slowly and carefully, watching it rise gradually to the rim, making the hourglass mechanism spin and spin. Lifting the glass so that it was level with her eyes, she concentrated on that spinning, and only on that spinning, until she felt her own head spin, too. The lanterns flickered around her. The world began to blur.
And then-
A shifting, the ground feeling different beneath her feet, from smooth floorboards to the soft crunch of grass-
The cold making her bare arms and shoulder tingle-
The breeze tangling her hair-
-and she looked up at the moon. And she waited.
…
It took a few moments for the hourglass mechanism to stop spinning, for the sand to begin its slow descent. In the meantime, Hades took the first few sips of her gin, letting the flavours settle on her tongue and then slide down her throat. She looked around her at the grounds, and Aeternum in the distance. She wondered if Kaguya was watching but made no effort to seek him out. This was not something that he could help her with. Besides, his efforts were better kept to keeping an eye on the forest, on the grounds as a whole. And she had asked enough of him already, both as herself and as Kagami.
Slowly, she walked, and she sipped her drink. She remembered the Jazz Club members as they had been five hundred years ago, explaining the process of the gin-making to both herself and Cher.
“See, the key isn’t to prick the berries, like the traditional way. Instead, you freeze them.”
The students smiled broadly, and then one of them held up an almond.
“Also, neat trick. You know how sometimes; sloe gin can taste kinda marzipanny? If you want to really bring that out, add a crushed almond at the start of the maceration process. Anyway, give it a try.”
Cher and Hades stared at the expectant faces, and then looked at each other. Cher lifted his glass and then held it out. Hades raised an eyebrow, then picked hers up and clinked it against his, before taking a sip.
In the here and now, she held the glass to her lips, ready to take a careful sip. But then, something in the air made her freeze. What…oh, there. Little motes of light, like dust or fireflies, rose up in the air and spun around her. Bluish-purple, and rose-gold. The air itself shimmered. And then…. the sounds of laughter, and chattering.
“Hey, I do NOT have a crush on Mifune!”
“Yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that-“
“Well, what about you?”
“What do you mean, what about me?”
“It wasn’t the moon you were looking at up there, was it?”
“….no comment! No comment!”
The Astronomy Club and some of the members of the Influencers’ Club appeared almost suddenly, hazy at the edges and laughing as they walked back towards the main building together. She watched one of them turn back and call out:
“Hey, aren’t you coming in?”
“Yeah, yeah, hold on!”
And there, surrounded by sparks of fiery light, the Adventurers’ Guild was. Their scales were partially out, jewel-bright and glittering, their eyes glowing as they studied a map. As the Astronomy Club and Influencers’ Club got further away, one of the Adventurers stabbed at the map and said:
“So, we can walk up to that point, and then Ani can fly us the rest of the way-“
“Oh, so now I’m good enough at flying, am I?” came the retort, laced with laughter.
“Why are we standing out here planning? Let’s at least go back inside, where it’s, y’know, warm?”
Hades shook her head at them, though of course they didn’t notice, and walked on a little, still sipping. Four students ran past her, surrounded by inky tendrils that shimmered despite their darkness. She recognised them as the smallest of the Established Clubs, the Studies of the Darkness Club. One of them, the warm-hearted, silly, pink-haired boy nearly collided into her, and skidded to a halt, looking up with a bug-eyed look.
“Uhhhh, sorry, Headmistress!”
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, making him squirm. It was amusing for a second, but she made sure to then soften her expression just a touch, and said:
“You should go inside, now. It’s late.”
“Ah, y-yeah!”
The boy turned to his three friends (who were similarly bug-eyed) and said:
“Let’s go! Goodnight, Headmistress!”
And just like that, the four of them were running again. Hades watched them go and thought to herself that Lance had a point. Where did these young people get that energy from? No matter how many times she watched them, year after year, it baffled her. Whether it was the present students, or the ones she saw in moments like these, caught up in the tangles of time, it baffled her.
An arm around her shoulder, a whisper tickling her ear:
“They’re funny ones, aren’t they?”
Hades flinched and spun around, the liquid in her glass sloshing. But he wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. Instead, she spotted the Kagami Fan Club near the outskirts of Aeternum. Despite being shadowed by the greenery, a moonlight-silver glow still illuminated them. Kaguya still couldn’t be seen, but she knew that he’d be watching them carefully, making sure they didn’t do anything stupid. It wasn’t clear to her whether the moment the drinking glass had pulled was from the third semester of that year, or an earlier semester instead. But if it was the third semester of the past, as it was in the present, then Kaguya would have been taking extra care to make sure there was not a repeat of the infamous mushroom incident.
Nonetheless, she stood there for a moment, watching them crouched there, talking. Though they looked ominous and mysterious in amongst the plants, their chatter was anything but:
“Oh, screw the homework!”
“Seriously, Seil? Do you want another detention?! Because, FYI, I haven’t forgiven you for eating all my damn snacks that other time!”
“But I was HUNGRY!”
“Geez. And I thought the worm was insatiable.”
With this pronouncement, the Fan Club’s leader sprung up and pulled her cloak’s hood over her head and began to also head back to the building. She was soon followed by the others, all of them sticking close to the shadows. They walked past another member of the Influencers’ Club, who looked as if he were talking to the air. This, of course, was not the case. It was just that the moment being replayed was one involving a student from outside of the Established Clubs, and the drinking glass never showed those ones.
“Ooooh, Finn, look at you! You’re really looking good in this.”
Of course, Hades couldn’t hear the response, but then the Influencer said:
“Sure, you, Cleo and Varun can swing by tomorrow and we can pick the best shots for your reel. Don’t you worry, Finnmede De Henra, you’ll be viral in no time! Though, not as much as us….”
Hades snorted at the unfiltered vanity, but then again, she supposed it had been justified in the end. Her laughter, however, caught the attention of another student, this one picked out in a blinding white glow and dressed sharply in black and gold, her long hair whipping around in the breeze as she stared at Hades in surprise. Hades stared back, as calm as possible.
The Elite Chess Club had, that year, also been caught up in machinations of time, or rather, fate, given the kind of deity Oura had been. The Studies of the Darkness had been caught in the crossfire of that, giving rise to their unique situation as well. It was why, on some of the occasions Hades used the drinking glass, the members of these two clubs would also be able to sense her presence and even briefly interact with her.
Hence, why Delilah De Callaway had stopped to stare at her.
“OI, DEL, I’m not waiting for you!”
Somewhere ahead of Delilah, three of the other chess club members strode on. The one who had yelled was the girl wearing a half-mask in the shape of a cat’s face. Beneath it, her pretty mouth was twisted into a derisive scowl. Delilah looked over her shoulder, anxious, and then darted off to the side, banners and smaller boxes appearing out of thin air as she made contact with them and then disappearing, and the larger box she put them into also appearing as she touched it before winking out of sight again. The same happened with a tablecloth she rolled up, and a banner she reached up on tip-toes to take down.
“A-ah, sorry, I have to leave you here!”
This was said with an apologetic bow once she’d handed over the banner to an invisible student, and immediately she ran off, somewhat unsteady in her high-heeled boots as she called out:
“E-Evie, hold up!”
But even as Delilah scrambled, she looked over her shoulder at Hades. Though Delilah’s face had always been expressive, it was hard to tell exactly what emotion it held. But it reminded Hades of 478 years ago, when she had filled the drinking glass with ceremonial mead and gone to sit in one of the outdoor seating areas. She’d watched the Elite Chess Club sitting around one of the tables, caught up in an intense game, when Delilah had jerked her head up suddenly to glance across the courtyard and right at a second-year student who had snuck out to have a night-time wander. That student had just so happened to be Zoe Hope Abelschild, the daughter of Delilah and another member of the Elite Chess Club, Abel. She’d been born about roughly five or six years after Delilah and Abel had graduated.
Zoe and Delilah had not exchanged words when they’d looked at each other, and the moment had not lasted very long as Delilah’s attention was drawn back to the game she had been playing. Neither of them seemed to have consciously remembered it or worked out who they were to each other. Zoe had, by all accounts, been an entirely unplanned (though very much loved and wanted) child. And the morning after that encounter, Zoe had been observed telling her friends about her ‘weird dream’ and then shrugging it off. But that moment had been one that crackled with electricity, and so Hades was sure that on some level, Delilah and Zoe had recognised each other.
But whether they had recognised each other or not, the expression Delilah had had on her face 478 years ago as she’d stared at Zoe was identical to the one she gave Hades now. Fearful, incredulous, but something deeper beneath it. She tilted her head slightly, asking something silently. What it was, Hades didn’t know, but she didn’t get a chance to find out as Delilah turned away in her continued efforts to catch up with the others. Hades tried to shake off the unsettled feeling she had, and idly wondered where Abel and Maria were, since they were not with the rest of their club. It didn’t take long for her to spot them, talking with invisible students and helping to carry and pack away more supplies. The best she could tell, they each seemed to be helping a separate club.
Hades left them to it and continued on her way aimlessly. All the while, she looked around, watching all the different colours of sparks swirling and swimming around in the air around her, hoping for just a glimpse of him. A swish of his ponytail, the edge of his cloak, footprints left from trampling the grass. Something. Anything. Please, she thought, with increasing desperation as she looked. Please.
After a little while, she ended up in the Central Courtyard and decided to sit on one of the benches under its pavilion. It was empty at first, but it didn’t take long for students to come to fill it. This time, at last, the Jazz Club, shrouded in honey-gold warmth. They plopped themselves down on two benches opposite the one she was sitting on, and produced glasses, bottles and various snacks from the air. They laughed and chatted together, clearly letting loose after a long, hard day. Hades watched them as they poked or pinched and pulled faces and burst into peals of musical laughter. But also, as they offered each other snacks and offered praise for the things they had done and leant their heads on each other’s shoulders or otherwise just snuggled. Their closeness, both easy and intense, had been a thing of wonder five hundred years ago. It was still that way now.
But, if I am being honest, I’m envious of it, too.
Hades drank some more of her sloe gin, though she did not look at the hourglass mechanism. After a little while, some of the Jazz Club looked up and exclaimed:
“Headmistress! We didn’t see you there!”
“Sorry, did we disturb you?” another asked.
This was followed by a chorus of similarly cheery but apologetic greetings. It was enough to soften her envy a little. Just a little.
“Not at all. Seriously, don’t mind me at all.” She told them.
Most of them went back to chatting, but two of the students got up and ambled over to her.
“Hey, headmistress, do you want some of our drink?” one of the students said.
“No, that’s alright, I have enough here.”
The two students stared at the glass, and the one who’d spoken to her first leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening. She looked to the other student, who looked contemplative. So, some awareness is there, Hades thought. But she wouldn’t indicate to them that they were in a different time to their own unless they themselves asked the question. As she thought though, they didn’t. Instead, the first student came to sit on the bench next to her, while the other stood behind them, leaning their arms against the back of the bench.
“What are you drinking then-ohh, it’s our sloe gin, right? So, you like it?” the first student exclaimed.
“I do like it very much, yes. It’s a good drink for this weather.” Hades said.
“It is, isn’t it? We’re trying to come up with something new for the Winterlight festivities, but it’s proving tricky.”
“Mulled wine is a staple, and we’ll make some variation on that, but it’s very overdone. So, we thought of throwing a bit of a curveball, with sangria.” The other student said.
“Sangria?” Hades raised an eyebrow.
“I know, I know,” the other student continued, pulling a face. “Even that lot there, they keep going ‘oh, Hira, but sangria is a summer drink’. Like yeah, but hello, remember its most significant property? Celebration. So, why not adapt it for Winterlight?”
The other student pulled a face at some of the students still sitting on the other benches, and a couple grinned, one making a rude gesture in a manner Hades understood to be (mostly) affectionate.
“We’re thinking apple cider sangria, or using winter berries, or something along those lines.” The first student said. “What do you think, Headmistress?”
Hades didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked down at her glass, noticing that quite a bit of the sand had run through the mechanism. She then looked up into the expectant faces of the students, the honey-gold glow flickering over their expressions.
“I’m sure that you will be able to work something out. I have faith in you.”
“Oho, that’s high praise!” the first student said. “Hear that? Hey, guys, hear that?”
This was yelled across the pavilion, before the two students with Hades grinned at each other. They then began to debate flavours and recipes for their Winterlight sangria, as if they’d momentarily forgotten that she was there at all. But then, the first student got up from the bench, and Hades noticed that she had become a little more transparent, staring to fade away from the feet upwards, the honey-gold glow around her intensifying. It appeared to be the same for the student standing behind the bench, and the rest of the Jazz Club across from them. They all looked at her. Something seemed to have shifted behind their eyes, their memories stretched between past and present, making them seem hazier. Hades swallowed. The first student tilted her head, cat-like with curiosity, and asked:
“Say…where’s the Headmaster, then?”
I was hoping you could tell me that. Hades swallowed again, gripped the drinking glass tighter. The sand in its’ hourglass mechanism continued to slip downwards. Instead of the cold, smooth surface of the glass, she thought she could feel those grains, slipping away from her. Her fingers curled tighter, tighter, as if she could keep time itself from slipping away.
But who was she fooling? She hadn’t even been able to keep a hold of his hands, on that day.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
The first student pouted adorably, while her friend looked around and the rest watched. Eventually, the friend said:
“Maybe he’s gone to bed. I guess we should too, huh?”
As if on cue, the first student yawned, before covering her mouth and muttering an apology, blushing furiously. Hades had to bite back a smile, despite herself.
“Yes,” she told them. “I think you should.”
“Come on then,” the friend said. “Let’s find the others.”
The first student nodded. She and her friend bounded over to the rest of the Jazz Club, who then got up and started to race away. The transparency and the increasing glow continued to creep up their bodies, swallowing them up, turning them into trails of fireflies. But as they turned a corner, the light almost up to their shoulders, the first student turned and blinked at Hades, eyes still hazy. But then, she beamed and called out:
“Goodnight, headmistress!”
The light drowned out the student’s cheery smile and wave, before dissipating into countless fireflies, spiralling upwards. Hades followed their ascent with her gaze and noticed that edges of the sky were getting lighter. Her breath caught in her chest, and she looked at the glass. The last grains of sand were trickling away, but not all of them remained, and still some sloe gin at the bottom of her glass. She got up and started to walk back the way she had come, knocking back the last of the gin.
She watched the other students of the other clubs as they, too, began to glow and fade away. There was the Astronomy Club, having paused by the door of the Old Dorm, pointing up at the sky, expressions so clearly full of wonder even as they themselves became clouds of stars. Ah, it must be third semester then. There was a shooting star that night, Hades remembered absently. Nearby, some members of the Influencers’ Club, taking pictures of the shooting star that they saw while rose-gold dust motes of light glittered around them and swallowed them up.
Then, there were the Elite Chess Club, strolling languidly behind the scampering Studies of the Darkness club members towards the New Dorm, blinding white dancing around the inky black as both rose up into the sky like smoke. Some of the Kagami Fan Club teased the Adventuring Guild as they, too, walked across the grounds, scattering fire-red and moonlight-silver sparks everywhere. All of them, fading into brightness. But she still saw no sign of him. But when she strained to listen, she heard his laughter on the breeze.
Cher? Are you here? Do you see me, searching and searching and searching for you?
Struggling to pinpoint where she heard his laughter, she sped up and broke out into a run, catching sight of a few straggling Influencers and the rest of the Fan Club, taking a last selfie together. She pretended not to notice them, though she was sure that back then, she would have ordered them back to their dorm buildings. Instead, she kept going, looking this way and that as the air filled with all the different glowing colours, spinning in every direction, looking for even the vaguest glimpse. The sky became hazier as it lightened, and her hands began to tremble, struggling to keep a hold of the glass as the sand finally ran out and the hourglass mechanism began to slow. Once more, she heard Cher’s laughter on the wind and she spun around, but it was at that moment her fingers loosened and the glass slipped away, its glowing blinding her. She could have easily stopped it in her tracks without moving a muscle, but desperation blinded her as much as the light did, and so she swooped down to try and grab it before it crashed to the ground-
-only for a pair of hands to reach out and grab the glass before she could.
And those hands….she knew those hands. She knew them, because they were his hands, and she knew every last inch of him.
“Ch-Cher?” she whispered.
She squinted into the light, but she couldn’t see anything. Not his familiar silhouette, with the set of his shoulders, the swoosh of his cloak, the fluttering of his hair-always tied in a thin ponytail. Certainly not his face, with the smile that quirked up on one side and the sleepy eyes that nonetheless always sparkled. She couldn’t see anything. Still, she squinted, shielding her eyes as she searched the light for something, anything. She stretched her hand out, hoping that this time, she’d be able to grasp his-
-but then the light faded, and her hand only clutched at the empty air.
Were you ever even there? She wondered. She looked down to see if the glass was still there, and saw it was not, and she started to laugh. What a fool I am. But halfway through, the laugh morphed into something more painful, and she covered her mouth, curling into herself. She couldn’t cry, especially not here. The students would still be asleep, given they had the morning off of lessons. But the others would be around, and there were the day staff to think of, too. She could not cry. She would not cry.
Still, she had to press her hand to her mouth extra hard, blink rapidly, stare up at the mild early-morning sky, the soft clouds dotted here and there, the sun hiding shyly behind one of them but still managing to shine. So much light, but never enough. Never the light I’m looking for. How much longer could she continue on like this? She didn’t know, but one way or another, she had to. She had things to make right. To-do lists to tick off. People she still cherished. A school to protect.
With one final deep breath, she slowly stood up and dusted down her skirts. She held herself carefully-back straight, chin lifted, and she looked up at the window that she had been standing at just hours before. She half expected to see him at the window, an inversion of how it had always been. Or perhaps the version of herself from the night, looking down. Of course, there was nobody there, from the past or the present, but all the same she lifted her hand to wave, then shook her head as if to say to her past self: you still won’t find him.
And then, she headed back inside.