the seven devils [completed]

prologue

Polished black shoes sounded against the gravel floor, their echo bouncing against the bleak walls of Scholomance Dark Arts Academy. As Varya Petrov paced the crudely lit corridors of the castle, her shadow trailed closely behind, gradually slinking around the edges of her vision. The armors swirled their heads as she moved past them, querying what a student was doing out so late past bedtime.

Her raven hair cascaded behind, catching the moonshine waves that slithered through the curtains. She kept her eyes forward, knowing better than to try to intercept the gazes of the creatures that peeked through the openings. Varya had learned that in her first year, when one of the ten apprentices of her age had sneaked out in the hallways, only to be found decapitated and impaled on one of the school's crosses. While at Scholomance, you do not look through the windows at twilight, when the külmkings wander the forests looking for the next child that they will claw the eyes out of.

"As long as you are inside those walls, you are safe" the Dark Priest had said as they gathered around the body in the morning. "But I cannot speak for whatever may tempt you to step outside."

Scholomance was anything but safe, the students would soon realize. Although only ten apprentices were picked each year, the dark arts that were performed inside the walls were enough to attract the wickedest of creatures. They sauntered the edges of the school's premise, looking for a wandering soul to trick.

Varya stopped in front of the Dark Church's entrance, looking at the big cross that hung upside down on one of the doors. She once wondered if the devil truly had doomed this school with his knowledge, if all magic families were truly descendants of his own as the townfolks said. Why was their practice so different from other schools? Varya did not know much of magic outside of Transylvania and the territory of Wallachia, but her books spoke with disgust of the western society, who had been watered down to nothing but tricks and schemes. No longer did they use talismans, sacrifices, or practiced the language of creatures, they were all chained down by their dainty wands and brooms.

Her small hand knocked against the door, announcing her presence. She opened it slowly, then stepped inside, making sure to close the door behind her. Best not to leave an open way to the strigois that walked at night. The Dark Church stood before her, just as intimidating as it had been on her first day.

The room was only lit by the few chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling, giving her surroundings an eery atmosphere. The rows of tables stood before her, made of dark wood and polished. This had once been a proper church before the Dark Priest took over the castle, chasing away any holy spirit that might have still resided the ruins. The only reminiscence of better times were the few portraits that hung on the cracked walls, the faces of the members of The Dragon Order watching the students with undoubted agony.

Varya walked between the tables towards the main altar, where two males stood facing each other. One of them was unknown to her, but she realized he carried himself with the arrogance of a westerner. His clothes comprised of dark pants that had been carefully stitched, a dress shirt that was the purest white Varya had ever seen, and a brown vest. She noticed his robes and, in one of the pockets, a carefully crafted wand.