Priest. (Nevermore Academy/Xavier Thorpe x Reader)

Chapter 9

Nevermore Clock Tower : Dorm
September, 2021

*****

She had been awake for several hours now. It was approximately eleven P.M. when Xavier dropped her back at her dorm, giving her a quick hug goodbye and insisting they should "do this again sometime," which she agreed.

Afterwards, she went to the bathroom to shower and do some skincare before ultimately retiring to bed around midnight.

She woke up no later than five A.M., jolted awake by a vision. It wasn't the first vision she had ever experienced, but unlike so many before which were flashes of images she could barely discern, this one was clear; She stood at the base of the clock tower, and spotted a small, white bird. Perhaps it was a dove, but it seemed to notice her too, perched in a small tree just twenty paces South of where she was standing. Y/N walked to it, studying it's eyes — such a familiar shade of green, as if she was looking into a reflection of her own.

When she was close enough to reach out to the small feathered thing, it began fluttering about, until it took off from the branch and towards the woods off campus. Y/N, sensing its importance, ran after the bird with a sense of increasing desperation. She could tell from where the sun was setting that she was moving South still, almost in a perfect line.

After what seemed like forever, when the sun had managed to go from three quarters in the sky to a sunset which colored the sky an amber, she saw it: a small tower in the woods. The same small tower she had come across in Wednesday's vision, but now, she knew where it was.

So now, at five a.m. on a Sunday morning, Y/N changed rapidly in a frenzy. Her blood was already rushing through her, and the life forces on campus which usually felt like white noise where amped into a constant stream of sensation.

Once the baggy jeans were on, and a black tank top and cardigan, Y/N grabbed the already packed tote bag and bolted down the stairs. She didn't care that it was still dark out, the sun only now beginning to rise. Instead, she pulled her phone out and opened a compass.

She walked South for over an hour before the blood stopped pumping in her veins and she could stop being overwhelmed with the feeling of life from the campus. Now, in the woods, there were only lulls of peaceful sensations, and the southward path she chased after.

Four hours in, just as nine thirty came around, Y/N saw the opening. Her eyes began to water, overwhelmed suddenly as the tower came into focus and it was, in fact, real.

The door, just like in the vision, was old and oak, with dark iron reinforcements. The door was unlocked, slightly ajar and a dent in the metal — and it occurred to her that she did that. She kicked the door down in a vision, and it remained in the real world.

Y/N entered the room, and it was just as she remembered. The photos, the shelves, the rug. She shut the door and sat down in one of the armchairs, then closed her eyes and focused. She could feel her father in this room.

When her eyes fluttered open, she looked at the bookshelf, a series on mythical creatures and divination. Upon pulling a few out, she flipped through pages to find her father's writing in the margins of so many — others were marked up with post it tabs. The room was littered with evidence of her father, and slowly, she felt anger boiling up to the surface.

Why the hell was he here? Why could she still feel him in this room? Why was he at the Metropolitan Museum three years after disappearing?

Where did her father go?

***

Returning to her dormitory, Y/N carried a tote bag full of books. Her father's books.

She was planning on going upstairs into her room and examining every fucking note she could find to try and figure out some kind of answer — a plan that was thwarted as soon as she went up the stairs and saw two adults waiting impatiently outside her door. One of them was clearly Principal Weems, but the other (an older man in a full brown tweed coat, who she sensed was an Englishman) was entirely unfamiliar to her.

"Hello, Miss — can I help you?" Y/N asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Where have you been off to?" Weems asked, a tad annoyed.

"I woke up early to go on a walk through the woods — my family is from Inverness, so I enjoy long hikes through the woods," She turned to the unknown man, smiling through an explanation.

Weems moved to the side, prompting Y/N to reach into her jeans pocket to produce her dorm key and let the two in, and she was thankful the room was clean.

"Please, take a seat," Y/N waved to the couch, "Can I get anyone anything to drink?"

"Water would be wonderful," The old man responded, his voice coarse as he sat down on her couch, followed by Weems who sat beside him. Y/N brought them two glasses of water before sitting in the arm chair across from the couch.

Weems spoke first, "Y/N, I would like you to meet Professor Alvar. He is the foremost expert on outcasts, freaks and monsters. I have been speaking to him for a while now about your situation and he hopes to help you."

Y/N nodded, "Okay... how?"

Alvar spoke now, "I would like to have sessions with you to assess you," His British accent was so soft and pronounced, but she could hear little hints of Indian accented words, determining he was born in a colony. This was supported by his brown skin and grey beard, contrasted by his English clothes. He continued, "And eventually make conclusions about your abilities and how to hopefully control them."

Y/N nodded, looking at him intently, "Would the assessments be invasive or difficult?"

"No, no — half will be physical tasks to test your other skills, the other half will be intellectual assessments. You will explain to me your sensations and past events, as to try and understand your condition more."

"That sounds... good," Y/N nodded with a slight smile. She could use all the help she could get.

"Perfect!" Weems exclaimed, "You will have your first meeting with him on Tuesday, October first, at four P.M., does this work?"

"Yes, of course. Where should I go?"

"I can come here, if you'd be comfortable with that," Professor Alvar answered. His presence was calming.

"That's perfect, thank you," Y/N smiled, bowing her head slightly. She stopped when Weems stood, followed by Alvar, and Y/N politely led them to the door.

As soon as they were gone, she started the coffee pot and got to work on the books.

***

Authors note!

Hello, lovely, lovely readers! It's me, the author (Ateve). I have absolutely loved reading all your comments and never fear, I will continue to update this fic.

I've received a few messages asking if I have a set schedule for releasing chapters. I LOVE that you all think I'm that organized 🤍 I aim to update this once a week, but the day and time will change every week but I SWEAR I am actively updating.

Keep the comments coming!! Also, feel free to post some feedback (stuff you'd like to see or stuff you'd like not to see).