“That’s INSANE!” yelled Seraphine.

  Aurelius stayed silent, still dumbfounded.

  “Very much so,” Dr. Varian replied calmly. “True creation requires manipulating absurd amounts of mana at the very least. And without the correct shape, like any magic, it will ultimately fail.”

  “Mana is everything. It is the source of magic, yes, but also the soul, the fabric of the spirit world… and most importantly, it is matter.”

  “Only the Archangels are capable of transmuting mana into matter,” lectured Dr. Varian.

  “I was born witness once to the divine descent of an angel. I saw them as they crafted their vessel of descent with mana. It was beautiful… I did not even know that mana could look so… so complex…” The man’s tone grew wistful, almost tender.

  Seraphine and Aurelius were speechless. This lame, rat faced middle aged man had actually seen divine descent in person? Not only that, it had been a spirit equivalent to the rank of an Archangel? The number of such beings numbered less than ten! They were even worshipped as gods in Seraphine’s church, the Church of the Holy Soul!

  At the same time, both wondered: what was a guy like this doing in such a crappy academy? Did he really enjoy tormenting high schoolers? Or was he some kind of… creep?

  That particular, rather disturbing train of thought made them shift in their seats, sliding subtly away from the suspicious man.

  “I am in this academy because I am dedicated to cultivating discipline in the future generation of mages. What exactly were you thinking, Mr. Vennor, Ms. Dwayne?” Dr. Varian snapped at once, catching their movement.

  The pair immediately stared back with feigned innocence.

  “Anyway,” the man continued with surprising nonchalance, “this leads me to believe that what happened today may have been a little… fluke.”

  “My personal theory is that Mr. Vennor here accidentally summoned a lesser spirit who had crossed an angel. And consequently, you both were dragged into witnessing their smiting.”

  Aurelius froze once more. Was that even possible? How unlucky! Or perhaps… not. Had Quetzalcoatl smited that poor spirit?

  While angelic conflicts were almost non-existent in the current age, there had been a terrifying period during the first age of magic, also known as the Chaos Age. The first angels, the Draconic Archangels, fought endlessly for territory during this time, clearing out the primordial spirits, formidable divine beings in their own right, who had been born into existence, filled with madness.

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  The records of those battles had been passed down through generations of spirits who had come after their fall and became scripture in every orthodox church. Shockwaves from the conflicts had scarred even the material plane, weakening the boundaries between worlds in several places across Teotlcan.

  Dr. Varian’s deep, grating voice cut back through Aurelius’s thoughts. “Of course, it is also possible that one of you had garnered the attention of an angelic entity.”

  The words stabbed at Aurelius’s heart, making it pound faster.

  His mind raced. Had he been discovered? He would never be able to lie to this man. An archmage, apprenticed by the Southern Continent’s Valverde family, a dual elemental mage who undoubtedly had a few mind-magic up his sleeve…

  Aurelius nearly broke then and there, confessions trembling on his tongue, until his gaze drifted toward the tattered sling bag hanging off his chest. The spirit warding charm! Surely it would dull the man’s mind magic, if only a little! As long as he skirted the truth, maybe he would avoid being shipped off to an execution chamber for a little longer!

  Bolstered by that faint hope, Aurelius risked a glance at the dean to gauge his expression. His confidence collapsed instantly. Goosebumps prickled across his arms when he realized the archmage was already staring directly at him, eyes boring straight through his skin.

  Fuck. He was definitely not getting away with this.

  Dr. Varian rubbed his forehead, then set his coffee cup onto the small marble table beside his sofa. Shifting in his seat, he stroked the dragon at his side almost absentmindedly, falling into deep thought.

  To the utter shock of both students, he then uttered words they never expected.

  Sighing exasperatedly, he turned deadly serious and spoke. “You both may go. Please do take care of yourselves over the next few days, and inform me if there is ANYTHING– and I mean ANYTHING abnormal about yourselves.”

  They froze. This man was infamous for being inconsiderate. He would drone on for hours, lecturing students about discipline, nitpicking every trivial offense, wasting absurd amounts of time on nonsense.

  And now he was letting them go? After less than ten minutes?

  “Are… are you sure?” Seraphine stammered, still wary of his reputation.

  The dean smiled kindly, an expression so unnatural on his usually frowning face that it sent a shiver through both of them. He replied, forced and sharp:

  “Get out of my office.”

  Ah, there was the grumpy middle aged mage they knew, trapped in a mediocre academy filled with teenagers.

  Groaning as their battered muscles protested, Seraphine and Aurelius twisted themselves upright and began hobbling toward the door.

  “Take a few days off class,” Varian called after them, summoning a quill and a small stack of paper. “I will let your teachers know of this incident and excuse you both from lessons for the next three days.”

  The two exchanged a look of disbelief. Had all the stories been mere rumours? Of course not. Both had suffered his discipline before. Aurelius had once been lectured for two hours over a single overdue library book, while Seraphine had been chided for burning through school potion supplies for three.

  Had the man drunk something strange? Maybe he had finally gotten himself a wife after all these years!

  Whatever the truth, neither of them was foolish enough to test it. They were not about to prod the archmage into snapping back into his usual self.

  The door swung open automatically as they limped toward the exit, then shut firmly behind them the moment they were gone.

  ???

  The office fell silent. The hearth burned brightly. The dragon lay curled and watchful at the archmage’s feet.

  Varian’s expression twisted, his false kindness melting into something darker. His smile warped into pure malice.

  As he tugged at his mustache, he muttered under his breath, the words mixed with curses.

  “Quetzalcoatl?”

  The name lingered in the air long after, heavy and poisonous.