The slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock suspended over Mrs. Gilbert's empty desk was nearly drowned out by the murmuring hum of conversation from groups of students clustering together by the desks. It had been nearly 15 minutes since class was supposed to start, and yet no-one seemed to be concerned. There were jokes, there was laughter, and no-one looked twice towards the empty desk, only occasionally shooting a glance at the entrance to make sure they'd avoid getting into trouble.
It wasn't the first time Mrs. Gilbert had been late to her own class, but it was the first time she had been so late without a warning. Usually she would send someone, her TA, a student on break, something to let the class know that her absence wasn't completely unacknowledged.
From where William was slumped over his desk, hood pulled up over his head to muffle the sound of teenage muttering, pencil tap tap tapping against his opened journal and eyes fixed on the clock, there was a rising (though almost ever present,) anxiety. With every fruitless glance between the shifting hands and the large desk there was a growing sense of worry and curiosity, and he had nearly talked himself into going to investigate when the door slammed open with a loud crash.
The room fell silent as a red-headed blur darted over to her desk, wild-eyed and dishevelled. She slammed herself down into her seat, and with a low grinding sound, dragged her chair across the floor to smile at the unmoving clusters of students.
"Good morning, students!" She chirped, as everyone shuffled back to their proper desks. She reached forward to grab at a pile of scattered papers littering the surface of her table, scrounging them into a pile as she addressed the room.
"We're running a bit late today, but that's a-ok! We'll just have to do a bit of curriculum circumvention, let's see..." With a dismissing flick of the wrist, she tossed aside a couple papers, leaflets drifting down as her eyes darted across the pages. With another screech of her chair, she was up, motioning up a nearby student to hand out the revised stack of papers, launching into an impassioned speech about the relationship between magicians and the planets.
William nodded along, scratching a couple cursory notes down in his journal, and the day trickled onward with little issue. The subject matter was interesting, if a little basic, but it had practically no real-life application, to him specifically more than the shifting mass of students around him. Holding back a yawn, he teased the edges of the book with his pencil, propping his head against one of his arms. With half-lidded eyes he watched as Mrs. Gilbert etched a diagram out onto the chalkboard of the five primary planets and the sun.
"This," she called, pointing to the one furthest, "This planet is called Erd, and as you can see, it has the largest orbital cycle!" With a wide sweep of her arm she drew a wide circle piercing the centre of the circle. She took a second to focus on her and divided the solar system into five separate, even, wedges.
William glanced down at his notes, zoning out for a moment as she listed the other planets. He could hear the general murmur of a class not quite paying attention surrounding him, and he quietly flipped to the back of the book, opening it up to his personal project. Now that Mrs. Gilbert was here, he didn't have to worry about people looking over his shoulder. Not as much, anyway. The world almost seemed to fall silent as he pulled the journal closer, leaning over it to shield it from whatever prying eyes there may have been. He could hear as Mrs. Gilbert called on a student, answered a question, but as he focused on his book he found he really didn't care much about re-learning the basic principles of magic.
Turning the back cover of the book, he stared down at the news article he had scanned over and over again, squinting down at it as though the faded picture and off-handed text would reveal something on a 30th, 50th, maybe even 100th read through. Beside the clipping, there was a photo tapped inside. He traced the words with his off-hand, glancing between the paragraph and picture.
It was the only picture he could find even relating to the case, and it wasn't a very good one. The two boys had their backs turned to the camera, and the photo was grainy. While they didn't seem to be talking, the way they leaned into each other's space lent a sense of familiarity. One was taller, and the other was short, though they both had long hair. The photo was in poor condition when he had managed to track it down, and most of the colour had been washed out. There were a few spots of yellow, and the taller one's coat might have been white, but ultimately it wasn't exactly a definitive piece of evidence. It definitely added to the mood of his collection, though, and for William that was reason enough to have it in there. True crime needed some sort of human attachment, and the photo served that purpose.
He tapped the figures, looking over the image again, hoping for some overlooked clue, and finding nothing other than a new crease forming in the corner. Without anything new to go off, he turned his attention to the article itself.
Kovomaka's Concerns About Recent Disappearances At Will-O-Wisp Academy.
It was the first clipping he had collected, but it wasn't the only one. It was the most recent, happening only three years ago. The two students, wind and light magicians respectively completely vanished overnight, leaving no trace of their whereabouts. There were witness accounts of a loud rumbling sound, and the entire school shook, but no-one had seen what happened. It caused a stir in the media for a few months, but with no leads, there was nothing anyone could do to track the two boys down. Nowadays, people seem to have completely forgotten about them, to the point where William couldn't be sure there wasn't any foul-play on the school's behalf.
He turned the page.
Prior to that, there was an almost identical incident, over a decade ago. A dark magician who was there one day and simply gone the next. There weren't many witness accounts, she apparently wasn't a very social student, but the strange details of a loud noise and then shaking stayed consistent through both cases. It was too strange to be a coincidence, there had to be a connection there.
He brought the end of his pencil to his lips, tapping the edge of his cheek with his fingers and he tried to come up with a new theory. Several were already scratched into the margins of the page, ranging from blood sacrifices to a strange monster that ate magicians. He took a second to consider the page, and then carefully circled the word 'monster' again.
"Listen up, students!" Mrs. Gilbert called, and despite himself William looked up. She was half-perched on her desk, board a wall of diagrams and circles. He could make out the elemental alignment chart, as well as something about the sun, before his attention was drawn back to Mrs. Gilbert as she rapped her knuckles on the wood.
He dismissed the noise, turning back to the book, but as he started to draw a careful circle, he couldn't hear Mrs. Gilbert speak up again. He glanced up, only to see her standing in front of the class, gaze drifting from person to person. He blinked at the silence in the room, taking a second to look around at the other students. They all seemed to be waiting for Mrs. Gilbert to continue, and as the moment stretched onward, he wondered if she was about to reprimand them, or kneel over and die.
She didn't die, or have a heart attack, or anything like that. She just let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head.
"I'm going to be... going away, for a while," she started, and William couldn't help but stare. Around him the world burst into noise, with students asking any number of questions, and even protesting. Someone shouted something about homework, and Mrs. Gilbert simply raised a hand, shutting it in the 'quiet coyote' motion that they had all been taught. The unusually somber air surrounding her was enough to quiet the room. It was a strange moment to be caught up in, out of character, and bizarrely serious. Everyone seemed to feel it, and looking down at Mrs. Gilbert, he wondered why her declaration sounded so off.
Teachers didn't leave during the school year, sure. But there must have been some sort of reason, right? Maybe a family member got sick, maybe she was going on vacation, maybe any number of things were happening. But Mrs. Gilbert didn't elaborate, and the strange feeling in the air got stronger.
"Think of this as a teaching moment," she said, looking out over all of them. There was a heavy look on her eyes as she glanced at each of them, one that William couldn't place. Something between guilt and... anger, maybe.
"The headmaster will be taking my place, just for a while," she sighed, rolling her shoulders. "I'll be back soon."
And like that, the silence broke.
"Where are you going?" Someone shouted.
"Why are you leaving?" Another person asked.
"Does this mean exams are cancelled?" A third, hopeful voice called, and soon a cacophony of noise was drowning the entire room. William slouched down in his chair, pulling his hood tighter against his ears and wished he was anywhere else. Mrs. Gilbert started to explain where the class would go from here, talking about planned lessons and planned exams, being met with groans and sighs. She wouldn't elaborate on the trip itself, and soon people stopped asking. With the rapid fire questioning well underway, the remainder of their time passed in a whirlwind of curiosity and frustration. Will nearly rose his hand to ask a few questions himself, but his faint voice was easily swept away by the volume of the students around him, so he decided to just ride it out in his chair, waiting for the bell to ring with an eye on the clock and his journal swept back under the desk.
The last chunk of class passed with little incident, with the students eventually running out of questions and Mrs. Gilbert picking back up where she left off, seemingly determined to teach them as much as possible before she had to leave. Will definitely felt a bit bad about being unable to concentrate on the lesson, but he was already trying to come up with theories on why she was leaving. He spent that last class thinking about a hundred different scenarios, ultimately learning nothing and deciding that she must have been visiting someone after all. That, or the principle was sending her away to do something. Maybe terrorise a local neighbourhood in order to lower the real-estate value? When the bell finally rang, he was too busy thinking about the two of them teaming up to escape property tasks to leave the room, not even hearing the bell ring. Students rose from their seats, bickering and chattering as they pushed each other through the door, a couple of them threatening to burn or splash their friends as the too-large group filtered through the small doors.
Will only snapped out of it when he heard a faint sigh, and realised it was the only sound he could hear in the room at all. He shot up in his seat, scrambling to collect his things, when he looked down and realised he couldn't see his hand. Biting back a groan, he shut his eyes, trying to find the thread of magic that must've formed while he was thinking about trickery, and dare he say, tomfoolery. His impromptu meditation session was foiled by the sound of footsteps, and the realisation that Mrs. Gilbert was moving. She was shuffling a small stack of papers in her hands as she paced in a small circle, walking first towards the doors then away. She seemed to be talking to herself, though from where he was sitting in the far corner of the room he couldn't quite make it out. He weighed the pros and cons for a moment, glancing down at his invisible hand and then back up at his homeroom teacher, who had just announced that she would be leaving the school for undisclosed reasons.
Slowly, William slid out of his seat, carefully nudging his bag under the desk with his foot to keep it from her view. Walking like this was always disconcerting, so he just slid his feet forward, wincing at the faint dragging sound but ultimately being glad for it as he nearly toppled down the stairs, catching himself just in time to stay as quiet as possible. He froze for a few seconds, but Mrs. Gilbert didn't seem to notice as she kept bearing a trench into the ground, an intense, unfamiliar look on her face that had William wondering if there was actually something untoward going on.
Interest fully peaked, he slid closer and closer, hands itching to take notes as he started to catch half-sentences and jumbled words. He ended up at the base of the room, head tilted towards his (ex?) teacher, straining his ears to hear as mush as possible as he waited just in front of the raised floor her desk was centred in.
"...responsibility," was the first thing he heard, as he stood by trying to hold his breath. She shook her head, looking for all the world like she was talking to someone else. A frown marred her face, and with the intense expression she seemed almost unrecognisable. He waited for her to say something else, and as she turned on her heel he could see her head bob like she was listening to someone else.
"I know," she sighed, and for the first time William saw the faint strands of colour weaved between her fingers. He watched as she twisted a thread of magic and took another few steps, maintaining the spell with practised ease. It wasn't a spell he was familiar with, but then again, his affinity was her opposite. She nodded again, and then seemed to realise that whoever she was talking to couldn't hear her, repeating her affirmative- "And I'll be there, I promise."
Will crept to the side of the platform, keeping a close eye and ear on his teacher. She seemed to be lost in thought- or just listening to whoever she had contacted. Either way, he wasn't hearing anything. Slowly, he stepped up, wincing at the faint sound of creaking wood. Mrs. Gilbert didn't seem to notice, and she started moving forward, holding his breath as he made his way over to the door. He could feel the magic keeping him invisible weakening- the inadvertent spell no where near strong enough to keep him cloaked for long, especially during the day. Lingering by the exit, a large part of him wanted to stay behind, to try and eavesdrop. But he had other classes to attend to, and he didn't want to stick around and get caught.
The doors slid open with a slight shove, and he slipped through while her back was turned. Letting out a sigh of relief, he hesitated, leaning up against the wood as the spell finally faded and he could see himself again. It seemed like his window to listen had closed, as he couldn't hear anything through the thick wood. Disappointed, he stepped back, glancing around to make sure no-one had seen him, but the hallways were completely empty.
With one last look, he started to walk, turning the corner and taking the stairs up to his arithmetic lesson, breaking into as much of a run as he was capable of as the low chime of the bells signified that he was going to be late. Ducking into the room, he put the incident out of his mind, deciding not to focus too much on the personal life of his teacher, not until he had a way of finding out more.
As the low drone of their teacher began, he thought over each and every aspect of the one-sided dialogue, turning it over and over in his head until he felt like he could recite it by heart. It took up half his brain, only leaving his thoughts when he was called on to solve a problem.
Later, long after class ended, and after he had made his way to his room, he would bring out his journal, writing down a few broad theories and the conversation as he remembered it. Though he tried to put it out of his mind, there was something about it that nagged at him, something that pulled the strings of his intuition. There was something there; he knew it. But whatever it was, he thought, it could wait until the morning.
It didn't.
By the time morning came, Mrs. Gilbert was long gone, having vanished in the night. No-one had seen her leave, but as the headmaster entered their class to take over for her, there was a hunch to his back they hadn't seen a day ago. A sorrow in his eyes. There were a few other people in the classroom who seemed to pick up on it, sharing uncomfortable glances between each other as he went through the motions, picking up where she had left off teaching them about elemental affinities. The entire classroom was quiet, on that first day, but as the weeks passed, they slowly came back to their usual rowdiness. But William couldn't let it go. Not fully at least. This was a mystery, a real one he could solve, happening right before his eyes. At the end of the first month she had been gone, he wallowed down his nerves to approach the headmaster, armed with questions and determined not to leave until he answered them.
But when he asked, when he finally mustered the courage, all the headmaster did was hand his head low, and mutter.
"It should have been me."
And he wouldn't say anything more.