Page 12 of Bone Year

A girl with pale-pink hair and startling blue eyes catches sight of me as we pass, and her steps slow. Her stare lingers, curiosity flickering across her face.

I swallow.

“Ashwell accepts a hundred students a year when taking new students. Sometimes there are….gaps,” she says.

I find myself wishing I knew more about the other bloodlines so I could tell them apart. I know angels have wings. Fae have pointed ears. Beyond that, everything blurs together into unfamiliar possibilities.

“A hundred students a year seems like a lot,” I say, but I don’t know how many gap years there are. “I didn’t realize there were so many Veilguards.”

We follow a narrow path lined with trees, their branches bare and sheathed in ice. From the frozen limbs hang delicate blue trumpet-shaped flowers, translucent and glowing faintly, as if grown from frost rather than soil.

“There aren’t that many Veilguards,” she says. “Bone year starts with roughly a hundred students. Blood year usually begins with fifty to sixty. Breath year has around thirty, and not all of them graduate.”

I snap my head toward her. “What the hell happens to all the other students?”

She glances at me, and for the first time since barging into my room, her expression isn’t playful or amused. It’s almost pitying.

“Let’s hope you don’t find out.”

That’s reassuring.

Of course being the only human here is going to put a target on my back. And most of them are going to expect me to fail. But I am not going to make it easy for them.

We reach the end of the path between the two dormitories, and the campus opens up in front of us.

Ashwell is enormous, a sprawling complex of dark stone towers, interlocking buildings, and high walls stretches across the mountainside. The structures rise at different heights, some only a few stories tall, others climbing so high their upper spires disappear into drifting clouds. Narrow bridges span the gaps between towers. Arched walkways cut through lower levels. Staircases cling to outer walls, winding upward in tight spirals.

The stone is almost black, mottled with deep browns and charcoal tones, dusted with snow that clings to ledges and window frames. Hundreds of tall, narrow windows line the buildings, many glowing with dim amber light. Others remain dark, creating an uneven pattern that makes the school feel awake in some places and asleep in others.

At the heart of the grounds stands a massive central structure wider and taller than the rest with a broad stairway leading up to enormous iron doors. Beyond it, more buildings branch outward in layered tiers, forming a rough semicircle around an open courtyard of packed snow and stone.

Elizabeth keeps leading us down different paths, and I barely manage to process anything she says. My attention keeps snagging on the scenery, the buildings, and the steady flow of students moving between them. We pass directly by the largest structure near the center of the grounds, and carved above its doors are three words, “Bone. Blood. Breath.”

A wolf stands etched beside “Bone.” A snake weaves through the letters of “Blood.” A bat clings to the curve of the H in “Breath.”

What is it with this place and animals?

We continue toward the front of the campus, where a gigantic iron gate looms in the distance, closed and blocking the main road. Near it is a much smaller building compared to everything else around it, though people constantly move in and out.

“This is where we’ll pick up your class schedule,” Elizabeth says.

I follow her inside and fall into line behind two girls.

“So what other bloodlines go here?” I ask quietly as we wait for the girl in front of us to finish checking in. “Are there a lot of other shifters like you?”

“Oh, Ashwell accepts all bloodlines other than humans.” She glances at me, lips twitching. “Well, until now.”

I lift a hand in a small circular motion. “Like…”

“There are shifters, fae, vampires, angels, demons.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “Oh, and mages ,though they’re rare. I only know of five here at the school.”

“Five?” I echo.

“Other than the headmaster,” she adds casually.

That makes me blink. I had not even considered the headmaster.

“Who’s the headmaster?” I ask.