For several long moments, none of the boys moved.
The hidden stone doorway stood open beneath the roots of the great cedar tree.
Cold air drifted up from the darkness below, carrying with it the smell of damp stone and earth that had not been disturbed for many years.
David held the brass compass tightly.
“It still points down there,” he whispered.
Peter looked at the narrow staircase.
“I think we’re supposed to go.”
Andrew peered into the darkness.
“Or perhaps we’re supposed to know it’s here.”
Simon smiled nervously.
“We’ve never been very good at walking away from mysteries.”
The others laughed quietly.
He was right.
Peter reached into his satchel and removed a powerful torch.
“My father gave me this before term started.”
“I thought it might come in useful.”
“It certainly will now,” David replied.
The beam cut through the darkness.
The stone steps disappeared deep beneath the chapel.
One by one, the four boys began to descend.
Behind them the hidden doorway slowly closed.
The grinding sound echoed through the tunnel.
Andrew turned sharply.
“We’re locked in.”
David remained calm.
“There’ll be another way out.”
“I hope.”
The staircase seemed endless.
Down…
Down…
Down…
Until at last it opened into a huge underground chamber.
The boys stopped in amazement.
The room was unlike anything they had ever imagined.
Great stone pillars supported the ceiling.
Ancient carvings covered every wall.
Owls.
Oak leaves.
Ravens.
Stars.
The symbols looked older than the school itself.
Far older than the chapel.
Peter slowly turned in a circle.
“This place is incredible.”
Simon knelt beside one of the carvings.
“These aren’t Christian symbols.”
“No,” David agreed.
“They’re much older.”
At the centre of the chamber stood a single stone table.
Upon it rested an old brass lantern.
Its gentle golden flame burned steadily.
Yet there was no oil.
No candle.
No smoke.
It simply glowed.
Peter stared.
“It must have been burning for years.”
Andrew shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
A familiar voice quietly spoke behind them.
“Not impossible.”
“Only forgotten.”
The boys spun around.
Standing beside one of the great pillars was a lady dressed in dark green robes.
She appeared almost transparent.
Her silver hair was neatly tied back.
Her face looked kind rather than frightening.
She smiled gently.
“I’ve been waiting.”
Nobody spoke.
Finally David found his voice.
“Who are you?”
The lady gave a small bow.
“I am Eleanor Ashcombe.”
Peter’s eyes widened.
“The first Headmistress?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
“Although many years have passed since anyone called me that.”
Andrew stared.
“You…you’re a ghost.”
Miss Ashcombe laughed softly.
“I prefer…”
“…Guardian.”
She walked towards the lantern.
Although her feet never quite touched the floor.
“This light has burned since before Highdon was built.”
“It protects the hill.”
“It protects the school.”
“It protects everyone who learns here.”
Simon looked around the chamber.
“So why are we here?”
Miss Ashcombe’s smile faded.
“Because the protection is weakening.”
The lantern flickered for a moment.
Just a moment.
But all four boys noticed.
She pointed towards one wall.
There, carved into the ancient stone, was a map.
Not of England.
Not even of Sussex.
It showed the grounds of Highdon.
Yet something was missing.
Peter stepped closer.
“The cedar tree isn’t there.”
“It was planted later,” Miss Ashcombe explained.
“The tree became part of the protection.”
David looked puzzled.
“Protection from what?”
For the first time the ghost hesitated.
“Long ago…”
“There were people who sought knowledge only for power.”
“They cared nothing for wisdom.”
“They wished to control what should remain hidden.”
“The lantern prevented them.”
Andrew looked towards the glowing flame.
“So if the lantern goes out…”
Miss Ashcombe slowly nodded.
“They will find the hill again.”
A low rumble echoed through the chamber.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
The lantern flickered once more.
This time for longer.
Peter noticed something.
“It’s getting dimmer.”
“It is,” said Miss Ashcombe quietly.
“Which is why the diary called you back.”
Simon pointed towards an old wooden chest standing beside the wall.
“What’s in there?”
Miss Ashcombe smiled once again.
“Every generation leaves something behind.”
David carefully lifted the lid.
Inside were dozens of journals.
Leather-bound.
Each carefully labelled.
1908
1926
1949
1968
Peter gently lifted one.
“They’re all diaries.”
“The Keepers’ journals,” Miss Ashcombe explained.
“Every four pupils chosen by the diary recorded what happened during their years at Highdon.”
Andrew looked amazed.
“So we’re not the first?”
“Oh no.”
“Far from it.”
“You are simply the newest.”
Peter opened the most recent journal.
The final page contained only one sentence.
Written in neat blue ink.
When the ravens gather before Michaelmas, the Lantern Keeper must be found again.
David frowned.
“Who’s the Lantern Keeper?”
Miss Ashcombe looked towards the glowing lantern.
“I hoped…”
“…it would be one of you.”
Before anyone could reply…
The lantern suddenly flashed bright white.
Then almost went out.
The whole chamber trembled.
A deep booming sound echoed somewhere beneath the earth.
Far below them…
Something enormous had awakened.
Miss Ashcombe’s calm expression vanished.
“You must leave.”
“Now.”
“The hill remembers.”
“And this time…”
“It has awakened before we were ready.”
The stone floor began to shake beneath their feet as the golden flame shrank to the size of a single candle.
