“Blimey!” Sal’s voice echoed through the darkness. “You really did come back!” 

Sal waved at me as I carefully descended the creaky stairs (not falling down them this time, mind you), and entered the boiler room nestled deep within the catacombs of the School for Magical Arts.

The rattling and hissing of the ancient boiler filled the space, its old pipes crisscrossing the room like the veins of some massive, mechanical beast. Steam curled up from various leaks, swirling in the dim light, giving the room a foggy, dream-like quality.

“We just had dinner,” I said, cradling a napkin heavy with stolen food. “So I brought this for you.”

There was a small slit at the bottom of the cage surrounding Sal that I assumed was for meals, so I slid the napkin beneath it. Sal’s eyes lit up as he unwrapped the napkin, revealing an assortment of soft cheeses, flaky white fish, and tender steamed vegetables.

“I know they shaved down your teeth,” I said. “So I tried to find soft foods.”

Sal stared back at me with wide, rounded eyes. “You’re the sweetest little thing! Proper lovely, you are! What a stroke o’ luck it was when you went arse over tit down me stairs! Even if I still feasted on human young'uns, I wouldn't so much as sneak a nibble off you.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said. “I… think?”

“Well,” Sal said, rubbing his spindly fingers together. “Bone-appa-tit.”

“I don’t think that’s how that saying—”

My jaw dropped as Sal brought the napkin to his cracked lips and practically inhaled the food. Watching him eat was somehow worse than the Denethor tomato scene in Lord of the Rings. 

The soft cheeses squished and oozed out from between his teeth. Flakes of fish and vegetables flew in all directions, splattering across to the bars of the cage. The boiler room was filled with the sound of smacking lips and rabid growling noises, like a ravenous beast devouring a carcass. 

At last, Sal let out a loud, resonating burp that echoed through the room. 

Then he wiped mouth with his hand, resuming the conversation casually. “So, ‘ow’ve you been, munchkin?”

“Uh…” I shook my head, trying to clear it of the horrific sight. “Okay, I guess. Though I kinda got punched in the face.”

Sal’s gaze flared, his hands clenched into fists. “I’ll bash the bleedin' bugger to a pulp that done it!” he roared, surging forward only to smash into the bars. “Well… if it weren’t for this nasty cage, is all. If they ever let me out… it’s curtains for ‘em.””

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I said with a laugh. “But it’s all perfectly fine. He didn’t mean to hit me. Honestly, it was more like I was acting as a human meat shield for someone else.”

“Well,” Sal said, finally calming down, “I reckon gettin’ punched is a rite of passage for every young'un. Blimey, I’ve had me fair share o’ wallops in me time. Fightin’ is a big part o’ goblin life. Shows how brave ye are, and not to toot me own horn, but I was proper respected as one of the bravest. Why, if I had a gold piece for every fight I got into at the goblin market, I’d have enough to fill a whole bleedin' lake.”

Right, the goblin market! I remembered that! Owen, Ferula, and Wesley had gone there in book two!

Sal’s gaze filled with nostalgia. “Daemons, I proper miss that place. It was a right treasure trove, it was. Ye could get anything there—griffon pups, dragon claws, mermaid tails—”

“Did you say mermaid tails?” a third voice chimed in.

Sal and I both whipped around to find Lucian standing at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, his gaze intense. His presence seemed to suck all the warmth out of the room, a serious feat considering we were next to a boiler. 

“How long have you been listening to us?” I gasped. 

Lucian took a step forward. “Only a few minutes.”

“What the actual fuck, dude?” I snapped. “Did you follow me here?”

“Yes,” Lucian stated bluntly. “Obviously.”

I dramatically threw up my hands. “And why the hell would you do that?”

Lucian met my outburst with an equally dramatic sweep of his arm. “Because you just got punched. So when I saw you wandering off, I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a concussion!”

“You hit me in the jaw, not the head, asshole.”

“Ugh, why are you being so difficult?” Lucian muttered. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“By stalking me?” I said. “Yeah, that’s not exactly my idea of support.”

“You know what,” Lucian snapped, raising his arm in a ‘talk to the hand’ gesture that was so infuriating I wanted to surge forward and bite his fingers off, “I’m not dealing with your piss-poor attitude right now.”

Then the fucker had the absolute nerve to turn his back on me, facing Sal instead. I flipped off his back. I know, very mature. 

“So,” Lucian said to the goblin, “you mentioned they sell mermaid tails at the goblin market? Does that mean they sell mermaid eyes as well?”

“Yep.” Sal grinned at him. “Mermaid eyes, mermaid scales, mermaid hair—the whole caboodle. Any rare bit o’ kit can be found there if ye have the right coin.”

“Interesting,” Lucian drawled. 

I did not like the way he said the word, not one bit. And I especially didn’t like the way he was now stroking his chin in the most stereotypical ‘evil villain plotting’ way imaginable. 

Excitement flooded in gaze as he turned back to me, already abandoning the whole ‘not dealing with me’ thing. “Nibo, we need to go to the goblin market!”

My jaw dropped. “Absolutely-fucking-not!”

“Why?” Lucian argued with a fervor that boarded on manic. “You love new learning experiences!”

“Yeah,” I said. “unless it will be my last learning experience. Y’know, because I’ll be dead.”

“But I need to get that mermaid eye,” Lucian pressed on. “Remember the idea for the class project I had? I want to use animation spells to get a mermaid eye fully functional again, even without it being attached to the mermaid. The only issue is that finding a mermaid eye is nearly impossible. If we could get our hands on one, it would make the best school project ever!”

My heart pounded, the thought alone of the goblin market sending a shiver down my spine. “Are you out of your mind!? The goblin market is a place where they literally eat kids. We are not risking getting spitroasted (and not in a fun, fanfiction way, in a literal one) for a homework assignment.”

“Just give it a chance.” Lucian desperately grabbed hold of my arm. “C’mon!”

“For the last time,” I said, ripping myself from his grip, “if you really wanted me to be your friend, you’d stop expecting me to just say yes to everything! I am not your fucking sidekick!”

My stomps echoed off the stone walls as I stormed toward the stairwell. I paused in the doorway, throwing one last glare over my shoulder. “And don’t follow me this time!”

Upon angrily departing the school of Magical Arts, I went to the one place I knew would calm me down. The campus library’s warm, golden light greeted me as I stepped through its doors. 

The glow of the willowisps floating above the shelves illuminated rows of books and students engrossed in their study sessions. The Comforting scent of old leather, parchment, and a hint of dust filled the air, a mix that slowly soothed my racing heart. I snatched a random encyclopedia from a shelf, settled down at a table, and lost myself in the pages of the book. I stayed there for hours until night settled. When I finally didn’t feel like kicking my roommate in the teeth the moment I laid eyes on him, I figured it was safe to head back to the dorms. 

Arriving at my room, I was relieved to find it merfully Lucian-free. The silence was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day considering I still had a whole list of grievances to stew over, from Lucian following me, to his attempt to punch Owen, not to mention the ridiculous plan to drag me to the goblin market.

It would be one thing if he apologized or even acknowledged his mistake. But of course, Lucian being Lucian meant he would do nothing of the sort.

Asshole. 

With a sigh, I flopped onto my bed, the mattress sinking beneath me with a soft sigh of its own. I groaned, filing my arms over my eyes as I cursed the very concept that was Lucian Darkona.

That’s when a pebble hit my window with a clunk. 

I shot up, nearly toppling off the bed. Heart pounding, I tiptoed to the window. As I went to peer outside, a soft crackling sounded.

Frost crept over the windowpane, spider webbing across the surface in delicate, intricate patterns. The glass fogged over, the outside world disappearing behind a thick, icy veil. I couldn’t see a thing beyond it—including whoever was casting the spell.

Then, as if an invisible finger were dragging its way across the glass, words began to form. The frost etched them into the surface, one letter at a time, each appearing agonizingly slow. But after a minute, the full message lay before me.

‘Tomorrow. Meet me at midnight. Thunder Gardens. Don’t tell L.’

The instant the 'L' was written, the frost melted away, droplets sliding down the pane in long, meandering trails that took the message with them. 

I stood there, wide-eyed, staring at the now-clear window. Whoever had written the message had vanished into the night along with it. The room was quiet again, but the questions swirling in my head were anything but.

The only part of the mystery I seemed able to figure out was who L was. It had to be Lucian, that much was obvious. But the answer only spawned more questions. 

Why the hell did someone want to meet with me? Why did they not want Lucian to know? And most importantly, if I really did go, just who the hell would be waiting for me when I got there?