Secrets of the First School

Book 5: Edinburgh Nights

by T. L. Huchu

Genres: Contemporary Fantasy; Ghost

Synopsis

One final adventure for Ropa Moyo – orphan, mischief-maker and failed magician. Secrets of the First School is the mystery-filled finale to T. L. Huchu’s USA Today bestselling Edinburgh Nights series.

"I’ve had my arse kicked more times than I can count"

Ropa Moyo is dead, banished to the Other Place by the reanimated spirit of Henry Dundas, 1st Viscount Melville of Scotland. Turns out being on the losing side sucks worse than being skint.

Now, the Cult of Dundas intends to ascend to godhood, spreading their corrupting reach from Edinburgh to all of Scotland’s schools of magic. Ropa must find some way to escape the Other Place, save her sister and gather allies across the country before Edinburgh falls.

A royal plot, a family secret and a stolen body. As Scotland descends into petty in-fighting, Ropa’s only hope lies in her grandmother’s final secret: the first school of magic.

An ancient power is returning . . . and is hungry for revenge.

At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

Release date: December 2, 2025

Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

Print pages: 400

Sample

I

I’m flailing like I’m drowning while fighting giant tentacles pulling me down, only I can’t see shit and I’m swinging at everything. I don’t feel like myself. It’s like there’s too many bits of me, a toe doing its own thing, my arms, nose, every part of me reacting to its own instinct. I’m falling in all dimensions, out of space and time. This is a bad trip. I feel so sick.

‘It’s okay, Ropa,’ someone calls from a distance.

I know that voice. Trying to shout back but I have no voice. If only I can reach out and … I can’t. The vortex drags me across realms I’ve never seen before, shooting me through narrow gaps in the astral plane, which spreads out before me like a cosmic spider’s web. It churns and twists, dragging me with it. An echo of the anguished wailing of the souls who were used to create it follows me. A riot of intense colour giving way to bleakness.

‘Ouch,’ Priya yells. ‘You poked me in the fucking eye!’

I’m gasping for breath, convulsing. I open my eyes and everything is a blur. I see fragments. There’s grey walls around me. Broken clouds and a blue sky above me. I look around wildly, but my eyes don’t see right. I’m only catching glimpses of things. Brief flickers of recognizable objects. It’s as if my eyes are buffering. Weird. I pause. Okay. I’m naked in some kind of copper bathtub filled with ice and crystals and herbs. My ticker’s pounding like … I have a heart.

I hold onto the sides of the tub.

My mind’s all foggy. Feels like bits of me are still rushing in. I’m so weak, my body slumps backwards in the tub. I try to raise my head, but I can’t move.

I have a body.

An anxious face cautiously peers at me. Raven-black hair and a silver fringe. It’s my pal Priya, and I’ve never seen her look so spooked in my life. I try to say ‘Hey’, but I can’t find my voice. Must be doing something funny because her eyes widen and she backs away a bit. Then she turns back and shouts:

‘She’s alive. Ropa’s back!’

I try to answer, but I can’t move. I mean, I can feel my body, my hands gripping the sides of this copper tub, but my limbs won’t respond to my commands. Priya puts her hand on my forehead. She looks elated now, but there’s dark rings around her eyes, like she hasn’t slept in days. I think that’s what I need, a good snooze.

Is this real, or is this what your soul sees as the ether demons devour it? Something soothing as you pass into oblivion.

I passed beyond the everyThere, into the Realms Beyond from which there’s no return. I met my father and an old enemy. Didn’t see my mother, though. There’s no way I’m back on Earth. This has to be an illusion. Gran warned me you could get lost in pockets of the astral plane where you thought you were back in the real world. Everyone you know and love would be there. Perhaps the setting would be a time when you were happy and you’d be caught in a never-ending loop.

Someone’s pulling my eyelids open. A bright torch shines right into my eye.

I wanna shout ‘Cut it out’, but I still ain’t got no voice. Can’t even keep my eyes open. Once again I’m back in darkness. Beyond the veil voices are speaking. I try to catch what they say, but can’t keep up. It’s as though they’re talking in a foreign language. What is happening to me? I’m all numb – no pain – that’s worrying. No more hunger or cold anymore. It’s when you stop feeling that you have to start worrying. You feel, therefore you are. I keep trying to reach out in the darkness, to see if I can touch something or someone.

There’s a calmness here that’s so peaceful. It’s bliss. Maybe that’s what being devoured is. Oblivion. The gift of becoming nothing at all. I’ve been fighting for so long, I wouldn’t mind this at all.

It’s kind of nice.

Warm.

‘Five more minutes,’ I grumble. ‘Just let me sleep.’

Someone’s shaking me. It’s so annoying.

‘You have to get up, Ropa, or we’ll lose you again. You’re not yet properly tethered to this realm. Open your eyes. That’s it.’

I half open my eyes and there’re several faces hovering over me. Clearly there’s no privacy in this bathroom. Where the hell am I? And what are Kebede, Lethington and Priya doing here? I’m hallucinating. Priya slaps me on the cheek again for good measure.

At the foot end of the tub, the Grand Debtera Qozmos and Theodosia Lovell have their hands over me, incanting some strange spell in Amharic and Scottish Cant. The words tumble like a powerful stream washing over me, every syllable striking my soul like a whip.

I catch the word ‘Sheba’, and infer they are invoking magic from The Book of the Shaded Mysteries of Solomon. There was an almighty kerfuffle about that sacred Ethiopian scroll at Dunvegan Castle a while back. It contains the secret to bringing back souls from the Realms Beyond.

‘Tiniša’ē.’

I try to rise, but my limbs are jelly.

Their words hurt. I want them to stop, but nothing comes out of my lips when I try.

A flash of red.

Moonfire.

The images refuse to settle in my sight, the Debtera and Theodosia splintering into multiple selves. Something heavy sits on my chest. I can’t move. A bangled hand presses down atop the crown of my head.

No.

The head of Ethiopian magic is still on these isles and he’s in cahoots with a wandering traveller? Their words lock together harmoniously, the spell shading an ultramarine and charcoal glow across the room. No, we’re not in a room. This is a ruin of some sort. Empty arched windows. The triangular structure of the roofless wall. A horse neighs from somewhere nearby and a donkey brays.

There’s something about this place. A lowered natural resistance to magic which enhances whatever spell Qozmos and Theodosia Lovell are working. Lovell is a small woman wearing a traditional Romani dress, a red necklace and silver bangles, headscarf covering her hair and a colourful pleated skirt. She is short, gnarled like an old yew tree, where the Ethiopian magician is grand in his flowing white robes. A seagull soars across the sky. I try to speak, but gibberish comes out. I can form thoughts, but my mouth won’t let me ask what the hell is going on. Priya wheels herself back from the tub so Kebede and Lethington can lift me out of it. My body’s all floppy and I can’t cover my bits properly. It’s a bit undignified, but no one seems too bothered.

‘Place her on the sleeping rug an’ wrap her in sheepskin,’ Theodosia commands, breaking her spell.

The colour seeps out of the atmosphere.

Priya looks like she’s about to burst into tears or something. She stares at me, jaw sweeping the grass. This is definitely not a dream. I’m lowered back down and something soft, white and fluffier than a cumulus cloud is laid on top of me. At least I ain’t starkers anymore.

‘This is one piece of magic not covered in Scrymgeour’s Codex of Unfamiliar and Exotic Maladies. I should write about it one day,’ Lethington says.

I want to recoil from him, but I can’t move. This is the man whose ineptitude caused my mother’s death. He’s inspecting me with interest, holding up my wrist to time my pulse. I can’t even pull my arm from him.

‘Hello again, my friend,’ Kebede says in his gentle voice.

‘Ggrrgl,’ I reply.

‘You’re alive, you silly sausage.’ Priya laughs hysterically.

Lethington turns my head to the left. I wonder what he’s doing here. I see grass and a broken low wall. The air’s heavy with salt. Near the sea, perhaps.

‘Ca—’ I say.

‘What?’ Priya asks.

‘Cal—’

‘She’s asking for Callander.’

No one says anything for a minute. The last thing I remember in this world is standing atop Calton Hill in Edinburgh. It was just me and my boss, Sir Ian Callander. No, I wasn’t working for him anymore. What were we doing on the hill? It was at night. We must have been in the Library. That’s not it. There were other people there. Lots of people, near naked, playing drums and juggling fire. The Beltane Fire Festival was on. Folks doing the pagan thing to welcome the winter or something like that. I try to shake my head, but I can’t move. My head’s all mixed up.


Copyright © 2025 by Tendai Huchu