I looked around. The classroom surrounding me was completely empty. All the seats were vacant. Hemlock sat at the front of the room behind her desk, appearing concerned.
Fuck. I must’ve phased out again. Who knew how long I’d been sitting here, completely gone while Hemlock lectured? Class had probably been dismissed a while ago. The last thing I recalled was Hemlock talking about the gods giving supernaturals intuition. The rest of the hour had passed in a blur.
Hemlock raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to ask me a question, but you haven’t spoken in some time. Is there something wrong?”
I dug my fingernails into my palms, to wake myself up. “Actually, I did want to ask you a question. Do you have time?”
“My next class is in another hour,” Hemlock said. “What is it you wish to ask?”
I scampered up from my desk and dug in my bag. I’d been planning to talk to Hemlock all week about the Elven gate. I didn’t want to tell her about the prophecy— didn’t know if I could trust her that far— but I was sure if anyone knew something about that gate, it was Professor Hemlock. I’d looked up her teacher’s biography, and she’d been on Darke Island for over twenty years, longer than any other teacher. Maybe she knew what it meant.
I took out the journal Aunt Maddie had given me on the prophecy, as well as Charlie’s recorder. I had borrowed it because I wanted Hemlock’s words on tape. I didn’t trust my bipolar brain to remember anything she said to me right now, and if we found out something crucial, it would be best to have a recording of it we could review later.
“Do you mind being recorded?” I asked. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
Hemlock cleared her throat. “Miss Mitoh, I noticed you didn’t turn anything in today. I know you are more than capable of doing your homework. Please don’t ask me for a pass, because I know you don’t need one. You could answer those questions in your sleep.”
“It’s not about that, actually,” I said. “I’m doing research for a private project, and I thought you might be able to help.”
Hemlock raised an eyebrow. “Was this… research so engrossing that you forgot to do your work?”
“Yes,” I lied. “I’m sorry, I won’t forget next time.”
Hemlock sighed, then gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Take a seat.”
I sat in front of her, then pressedrecordon the machine. I began shuffling through the pages of the journal, careful to hide the contents from Hemlock as I spoke. “When I was in the Darke Games, Charlie and I came across a strange doorway in the middle of the woods. I was wondering if you could tell me what it means.”
I opened the journal to a page where I’d drawn the gate from memory. It wasn’t fantastic like Marcus’ drawings, but it was enough to know what I was referring to.
Hemlock adjusted her square spectacles as she observed the drawing. “I’ve been there many times. It is a relic, from when the Elves were still living on Darke Island.”
“So itisan Elven artifact,” I insisted.
“Yes. Most likely a portal from long ago, though I’m certain it no longer works,” Hemlock said. “It is a curious thing. I’m not surprised you’re obsessed with it.”
“But why would the Elves make it?” I asked. “A door that has seven keyholes— why would the Elves want to keep something locked up so tightly?”
“You’re not asking the right questions,” Hemlock stated. “Don’t ask why it’s there. Ask where it mightgo.”
My heart pounded several times. “But you said if it’s a portal, it probably doesn’t work.”
“For us, yes. But if it’s an Elven door, it could possibly work for an Elf,” Hemlock pointed out. “Provided they had the seven keys to open it.”
My mouth went dry. “But all the Elves are dead.”
“Unfortunately.” Hemlock sighed. “And there lies the tragedy. We will never know what is behind it, because we destroyed our only chance of solving the mystery. But one does have to wonder… why would the Elves need to build something like that in the first place?”
Hemlock was silent for a moment, and I said, “This is something you’ve investigated.”
“Many times, yes,” Hemlock said. “I am a bit of an expert on Elven lore. It was a fascination for me when I attended Arcanea University.”
Excitement climbed in my belly, but I forced it to stay put. “So, might you be able to tell me what these mean?”
I turned the page of the journal, one where I’d written down a couple of Elven runes from memory. A few were from the door, and others were from the Elven shipwreck in Kinpago. I’d gone back over break and copied down what I could.
Hemlock’s fingers skimmed the page. “I know a few of these, but this one I understand the most. It’s on the center of the gate.”
Hemlock pointed to the biggest rune I’d written down.
