The Eighth

Marisol Reyes had never broken a rule in her life, until the night in the library when she heard her name.

Well, it wasn’t really her name. More like a random thump.

A book had slipped behind a dusty shelf, and when she reached to retrieve it, her fingers grazed something odd…

Cold.

Rectangular.

Not a book, but a brick.

Most students at Harborview Academy were preparing for midterms, or pretending not to panic when they didn’t recall what happened during the War of 1812.

(What even happened in the War of 1812?)

Marisol was cataloging numbers in the library of the basement for extra credit—alone, as usual. Being a scholarship kid had its perks. Like work-study hours. And solitude.

She was the eldest of six kids. And when you grow up in a house like that, filled with sticky fingers and constant tantrums, silence seems like a luxury. Marisol had every intention of building a better life for herself and her siblings, but that brick changed everything.

When Marisol pulled the brick up, she noticed that it was split in half. So, of course, she opened it. Inside was a small envelope, sealed with black wax.

“What on earth…?” She murmured to herself, carefully opening the letter. Inside, it read:

Hello there.

This is a letter from the Order. Every so often, we, seven students here at Harborview, choose an eighth student to possibly join our ranks. We are some of the most successful students here, because we work together to keep ourselves on top students. You are our next recruit.

Laughter left her lips, “Secret society? Please…”

“Laugh all you want, Marisol…” A voice hummed, and Marisol jolted with fear. The voice came from behind the rows of archive cabinets.

“Who’s there?” Marisol asked in a tentative voice, but no one responded to her question. Just the soft ticking of the clock and the hum of old lights.

“Okay,” she continued, her voice sharpening, “This is the part where you get suspended for being a weirdo. Hiding out and stalking a girl in the basement.”

“You can leave,” The voice replied, all too calm, “Forget the letter, forget the brick. But you’ll never get another chance.”

“Chance at what?” Marisol challenged.

A shadow moved behind the cabinets. She took a shaky step backward as a figure emerged—tall, cloaked in black, with a silver mask that covered their face. Not a Halloween mask. Not a prank.

It was bird-like, elegant, and deeply unsettling. Like a plague doctor crossed with a marionette. Its surface caught the light in strange ways.

Marisol’s throat went dry. “If this is hazing, I swear—”

“It’s an invitation,” the figure said. “We’ve been watching you. You’re being offered more than Harborview’s crumbs.”

“Why me?” Her voice cracked. She hated when that happened.

The masked man’s head tilted to the side, “Because you’re clever. And quiet. And hungry to be something better than what you are now. To be better than what you’ve come from.”

She laughed. “I’m not hungry for whatever cult this is.”

The figure laughed at her, “Everyone wants to be us, eventually. You’re just not quite there yet.” His voice was calm and measured, “I am the Vicar, the leader and voice of the Order.”

“The Order of what?”

There was a pause. “It is just called the Order. Seven students that understand that power should not be given. That it should be earned. Protected. Kept sacred.”

Marisol stared at him in silence, trying to figure out what this guy wanted. The mask. The calmness in his voice.

The Vicar extended a gloved hand in her direction, “You’ve already been chosen. It’s just up to you if you’ll light the flame.”

A quizzical expression crossed Marisol’s face, “Light the flame?”

He pointed. When she turned, she saw a door that she was certain had not been there before. It was crafted purely of oak, and carved on it was eight lanterns.

Only seven had a flame.

“You don’t have to accept our offer. But if you open that door, you will never see Harborview the same way again. And that girl from Bisbee, Arizona will be gone.”

—

Marisol didn’t open the door. In fact, she sprinted from the basement, two stairs at a time, and slammed the door behind her once she reached the top.

Her heart hammered in her chest until she was outside in the courtyard that was behind the library. She pressed her body against the ivy-covered bricks, gripping the wall to ground herself.

The Vicar. The seven lit lanterns. What the hell was that?

“Rough night?”

She jumped. A voice, smooth, bright, too casual for the hour of the night.

Theo Greene.

He stepped forward from the shadows like he had been waiting there, dressed in a perfectly pressed blazer. His student council pin gleamed in the moonlight.

Marisol straightened up, “What are you doing out here?”

“Library shift,” he said, tapping his gold watch. “It’s a student council privilege, we get the keys to everything.”

Of course he had the library shift.

Theo was the kind of guy that Marisol hated. He was full of himself, for one thing, and no one likes someone who is full of them self.

“Are you alright?” Theo continued, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Marisol insisted and crossed her arms over her chest.

Theo laughed, “Sure. That’s believable.” His smile was friendly, and it came easily, “You weren’t in the archives, were you?”

She stiffened, “Why would you ask that?”

Theo shrugged, the smile disappearing, “Because no one goes down there unless they’re desperate… or invited.”

The words made her skin crawl.

Marisol studied his face for a moment, trying to read past his charm. Theo was the kind of guy that was clean-cut, exactly how Harborview wanted their students to look. Confident, studious… a future Ivy Leaguer. Which made Marisol trust him even less.

“What do you know about the Order?” Marisol asked him slowly.

Theo blinked, “That’s a bold question.”

“Do you have an answer for it?”

He held her gaze for a second too long. Then he laughed. “Look, Marisol. You’re smart. Smarter than they expected. Just… be careful who you ask these questions around. Especially with midterms coming up.”

She didn’t say anything. Just watched as he walked back into the library, whistling like nothing ever happened.

—

Marisol had barely slept.

She kept waking up in a cold sweat, dreaming of bricks that cracked open and that bugs scattered from them. She dreamed of the Vicar and his haunting mask. Marisol had nearly fully convinced herself it was some elaborate prank… until she opened her backpack during class and found a new letter.

Same wax. Same seal. Same invitation.

She didn’t touch it.

By the time lunch rolled around, she had almost convinced herself to burn it. Eat it, even, for all she cared. She just wanted it to disappear.

And then Theo sat down across from her in the dining hall, uninvited. “Mind if I join you?” He asked, setting his lunch tray down.

Marisol looked up from her textbook, “You’re already sitting, Greene.”

He laughed, unbothered by her harsh tone, “You’re sharp today.”

“I’m always sharp.”

He considered this and nodded like her answer pleased him, “Fair point.”

Marisol’s eyes narrowed, considering why he would sit with her, “You’re not the sit-in-the-dining-hall type to me.”

“I’m branching out,” he replied to her with a grin. “Student council’s been talking about reaching out. Community, unity, all of that jazz.”

“And you chose me?”

“I figured you might need someone to talk to. You seemed a little… shaken last night.”

Marisol stiffened. “Did you follow me?”

“No,” he answered instantly, “You just looked pale. Even from across the quad.”

Marisol pushed her tray away, “I’m fine. Really.”

Theo leaned forward, clasping his hands together, “Look. I’m not trying to bother you. I just know that Harborview can be… a lot. Especially when you don’t come from the usual prep school pipeline.”

Marisol laughed, “You mean when you’re not rich?”

He didn’t flinch. “I mean when you’re exceptional. And people don’t like that.”

There was something almost sincere in the way he said it.

Marisol studied him, then at the impeccable slant of his tie, how his blazer folded in the neatest way, and the way the silver pin on his lapel sparkled—Harborview’s crest.

He was too perfect.

“You don’t actually care,” Marisol decided, “you’re just curious on what I’ll do.”

Theo smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I care more than most people.”

Marisol stood up, glaring at him and gathering her things, “I hope your club realizes I’m not interested.”

He didn’t move or argue back. Theo just watched her gather her things and walk away.

—

Later that night, Marisol found a note slipped under her dorm room door. It wasn’t wax-sealed this time, just a plan scrap of paper folded in half, the handwriting rushed and messy.

Not everyone who joins the Order makes it out alive. Be certain this is what you want before you light the lantern.

No name, no symbol, but Marisol could guess who sent it. Who other than Theo?

Her fingers curled around the paper like it might burn her. She turned toward the window, looking out across the campus. The library stood out against the clouds, and below it, the old garden looked like a maze as it twisted around the east wall.

She knew the door was there, even if she couldn’t see it.

She should have told someone. Reported it. Shown someone the letter or the brick or the masked man.

But she hadn’t. And deep down, she knew why.

Part of Marisol wanted it to be real.

She pulled the blanket over her head and forced herself to sleep. But when she woke up again, she wasn’t in her bed.

—

The floor beneath her was stone. She gasped, sitting up instantly. She was in… a circle?

No... a chamber. The walls were dark-stained oak, and once again, there were eight lanterns, only seven lit.

A soft voice echoed through the chamber, the Vicar’s voice again, “You’ve already stepped through, Marisol. You just didn’t realize when.”

Marisol scrambled up to her feet, feeling as though she would throw up, “What did you do to me?”

“You’ve not been harmed. I’m just bringing clarity to our cause.” The Vicar answered.

On the far side of the chamber, Theo stood beside the eighth lantern. His blazer was gone, replaced by a dark cloak. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes when he met Marisol’s gaze.

“Welcome to your trial,” he said numbly.

Marisol looked between them, “What is this? Some kind of freak show ritual?”

The Vicar’s voice was patient, “This is a test. You may walk away, but if you stay, you’ll be asked to prove yourself. We don’t admit cowards.”

Theo stepped closer, “You think that Harborview runs on test scores alone, Marisol? It’s about power and who has the biggest advantage.”

“And if I were to decline the offer?”

“Then someone else will take your place, and you’ll always wonder what would have happened if you’d had the courage.”

“I’m not playing your game,” Marisol scoffs, “I’m done with this shit-show.”

The Vicar gave no reaction. Theo grimaced a bit.

Only the shadows stirred as more figures emerged from the edges of the chamber.

One wore a wooden mask that was scorched around the edges. The eye sockets were hollowed out and glowed with a crimson light.

He moved smoothly, the way he did so elegant and fluid-like. “I am the Pilgrim,” He hummed, “And you misunderstand. Refusal is not disobedience. It is cowardice. And cowardice must be burned away.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” Marisol protested, her words sharp and biting.

“You opened the brick,” the Pilgrim retorted, “You read the letter. You listened to the Vicar’s words. You stepped into the threshold.”

“I want out.”

“Then prove you deserve it.”

The eighth lantern blazed to life, casting a pale golden glow.

Five more figures emerged from the darkness.

The Almoner, with a pale cream mask and gold painted tears.

“If she refuses,” the Almoner spoke, her voice sweet and gentle as honey, “she must be recorded.” The Almoner held a feather quill in one hand, and a book in the other.

The Widow, who wore a black mourning veil made of intricate lace, stood beside the Almoner.

“Let her refuse,” she cooed softly, “Then let her see what happens when we turn to her siblings instead.”

Marisol’s stomach dropped, “What did you say?”

The Widow’s head turned into Marisol’s direction, “Well, you’re not the only Reyes, are you, now?”

A cold wind chilled Marisol, and she shivered.

“You wouldn’t—”

“She’ll take the trial.” Theo interrupted.

Marisol whirled to face him, “You don’t get to decide what I will and won’t do!”

Theo crossed to Marisol, the expression on his face more serious than she had ever seen him, “No, I don’t. But I know how this ends if you don’t take it.”

—

Marisol stood before the eighth lantern.

She had finally completed the trial, which was directed by one of the Order, the Magistrate. It was a test of her intelligence, and Marisol had passed with flying colors.

Now, she held a candle in her hand, looking around at the seven on their thrones. The Vicar. The Almoner. The Pilgrim. The Magistrate. The Widow. The Hound. The Fool. And Theo stood close by.

Seven leaders of a cult, waiting for her to light the eighth and join their ranks.

Marisol didn’t move, and only watched the flame flicker.

The Almoner tilted her head, her quill waving back and forth, “Do you accept the Order, Marisol?”

“I do.” She replied, raising the candle to light the lantern.

The Widow smiled, slow and like a serpent.

Then Marisol turned to meet the gaze of the Vicar, “And what would happen if I were to break it instead?”

Utter silence. The smile was wiped off of the Widow’s face.

Marisol slammed her hand into the glass lantern, and it hit the floor and shattered with a resounding crack.

Gasps left the lips of each person in the Order.

The Pilgrim jumped to his feet, “You insolent—”

Marisol was already running.

Theo was faster than her.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her down a nearby corridor as the Hound lunged at the two, snarling.

“This way!” Theo hissed.

“Where are we going?”

“The Widow keeps a backup key that opens all exits. We can cut through the— duck!”

The Fool’s laughter rang out from behind them, “Well, this is exciting! Will you burn it all down, Reyes?”

Marisol ignored him. She and Theo ducked into a passage behind one of the curtains, and Theo grabbed a key from a hole in the wall.

Lanterns swung above them, adding to the rather creepy effect of the tunnel.

“I can’t believe you actually broke the lantern,” Theo whispered to her, eyes wide.

“She threatened by siblings.”

“You’ve made them furious.”

“I want them furious.”

They continued to run in silence down the tunnel until they reached a staircase that had a door at the top. Once they reached it, Theo unlocked the door with the key and flung it open.

It led them to the garden outside the library.

Moonlight. Fresh air. Freedom.

Theo gasped for air, breathless, “We’re not safe, you know.”

“We’re not,” Marisol agreed, “But we’re out.”

He handed her something—a folded paper. Inside there were names and locations. The Order’s future recruits.

“You were never loyal, were you?” Marisol half-smiles at him.

Theo shrugged in reply, “I was loyal enough to keep myself alive.”

Marisol studied the names.

“So, what now?” Theo asked her.

Marisol didn’t smile, “Now we save the rest. I’ve started something I intend to finish.”

“That being?”

“Taking down the Order.”

The wind rustled the leaves softly as the two walked back to their dorms, knowing that they had a long ways to go before they would ever be truly free from the Order.