Professor Gallowood busied himself with paperwork after dismissing his students. Saahira felt her peers’ stares as she lingered awkwardly in the back of the classroom. Cyprus stayed with her, likely absorbing at least half of the room’s curiosity, though he managed to do it with impressive nonchalance.

  Cyprus smiled and nodded his head toward the door, signaling that it was safe for them to leave. Saahira clutched her books close to her chest and followed him out. A nagging sensation that someone would be outside waiting for them refused to leave the corners of her mind. She was relieved to find it unfounded.

  “What class do you have next?” Saahira asked, tugging her schedule free from her books.

  “Alchemy.” Cyprus procured a map from his bag.

  “Oh! I do, too.” Saahira’s spirits brightened. At least she wouldn’t have to face another room of strangers lifetimes above her station.

  He unrolled the map but then studied Saahira’s face instead. “You don’t seem nervous at all.”

  “Should I be?”

  The first signs of uncertainty crept over his features. “I know who my father is.”

  Saahira smiled. It felt strange after her nerves had nearly driven her from the sanctum’s gates that morning, but it was a welcome change. “Of course you do. But I don’t.”

  Cyprus laughed. “I hadn’t expected anyone to speak to me today.”

  “I… I hadn’t either.” She licked her lips. The nerves were starting to return. “A-anyway, how do we reach alchemy?”

  He refocused his attention on his map. “I think it’s this way.” He turned and led them over the open grounds, passed the water fountain, and down another set of corridors. Dozens of students lined the hallway, and Cyprus raised his hand behind his back with an expectant glance over his shoulder.

  Saahira blushed, shifted her books into one arm, and took it. His magic may have been dark, but his skin was soft and warm.

  At the end of the hallway, he released her hand and stepped aside, revealing a square, wooden…door?

  “I guess we’re going underground?” he wondered aloud. “This is what’s marked on the map.”

  “We may as well look,” Saahira replied.

  Cyprus lifted the hatch door, and the hinges creaked in protest. A stone staircase led down into darkness, and they exchanged curious looks.

  “Let me go first.” Cyprus stepped down to the first stair before she could protest. She watched him travel deeper until a sudden force pushed her aside.

  “Are you going to just stand there all day, trash witch?” Dimitri spat. “These aren’t private lessons for paupers.”

  Now that they were in the sunlight, Saahira had a better look at her tormentor’s face. His hair was a deep blue that bordered on black, pulled back into a thin tail that rested against his neck. The chiseled jaw and high cheekbones were signs of noble heritage, and his silver eyes held nothing but contempt.

  Saahira opened her mouth to stammer a reply, but another voice silenced her.

  “Hey, Dimitri.” Cyprus was at Dimitri’s side with one hand on his shoulder before Saahira realized he’d returned. “What do you know about necromancy?”

  Dimitri’s face blanched, and he tore his arm away from Cyprus’s grasp. “You should have been executed with your father.”

  Cyprus’s flat, emotionless smile sent a chill down Saahira’s spine. “I haven’t done anything to earn that yet.”

  “Fucking k’lotram,” Dimitri hissed, then escaped down the stairs.

  Cyprus watched him go, then sighed. “See now, that’s the most I’d expected from today.” He looked at Saahira. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  Saahira nodded with a half-hearted hum of agreement, but couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “T-thanks.”

  They descended the stairs in silence and found more students already seated behind two rows of eight darkwood tables. Oil lamps on the walls illuminated one moderately sized cauldron resting on each table, shared between two students. The back wall was lined with empty vials and measuring implements, next to shelves upon shelves of hundreds of jars filled with herbs, small animals suspended in liquid, and all manner of colors and shapes of materials that Saahira didn’t recognize. Closed cabinets flanked the shelves, likely filled with more supplies, and a long, narrow table rested below the hanging vials.

  “Back here, then?” Cyprus led them down the rows until they reached the very back table, then took a seat.

  Dimitri looked over his shoulder from the front row, his eyes burning into Cyprus’s face.

  Cyprus grinned and waved.

  Saahira chewed her lip as she watched the exchange. “Do you know what he called you?”

  He shook his head. “I never bothered to learn Elvish. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. My knowing wouldn’t improve the situation, unfortunately.”

  Saahira hummed and retrieved her paper and quill.

  Cyprus watched her intently.

  The longer he did so, the more Saahira felt her skin burn. “Did I upset you?”

  “No. I’m sorry. Here.” He emptied his satchel beside the cauldron and held it out toward her. “Take this and give me your bag.”

  “W-what?” Saahira’s stammered, and she shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Really. I couldn’t pay you for it.”

  “I didn’t ask for payment. Consider it a gift. Or an apology for knocking you over this morning.” Cyprus reached for her books and filled the satchel one by one. “This way, you’ll have a free hand to knock Dimitri down the stairs if he continues acting like an idiot.”

  “Cyprus—”

  The hatch door slammed closed, silencing all conversations in the room. Cyprus quickly finished moving Saahira’s books to his pack, then swung the strap around her chair. She mouthed his name in protest, but he ignored her.

  “Good afternoon, students.” Saahira’s attention snapped to the voice on the staircase. A petite young woman with short black hair that curled around her chin strode down the stairs, her deep blue skirts swaying around her ankles. A black corset cinched her waist, and gold embellishments framed her hips. “I am Vivianne Cardaimont, your professor of alchemy.”

  Professor Cardaimont paused in front of her desk and smiled. Twin fangs glittered in the lamp light, and Saahira’s eyebrows raised.

  “A question? Already?” Cardaimont mused. “Alright. State your name and your query, then.”

  “Lily Osekai.” Saahira penned Lily’s last name on her demonology notes. Lily had chosen to share a table with Dimitri for this class as well. “I’ve read about you before, Professor Cardaimont. Is it true? Have you found the cure for vampirism?”

  Cardaimont clasped her hands and rested them in her lap. Her sigh was the same sound that came after Saahira asked her father the same question one too many times. “No. I have not. I fear texts often employ embellishment a little too freely.”

  “O-oh. My apologies.” Lily fumbled with her hands beneath the table.

  “No need, Miss Osekai. Better to answer now for those who might have read the same literature. Any other questions regarding my research before we proceed?”

  Cardaimont looked over the class, and her eyes caught Saahira off guard. They were a brilliant blue, and they were glowing. While Saahira had never met a vampire in person, she’d always pictured their eyes as red and their countenance more imposing.

  “Very well. Many of you are familiar with alchemy as a curative. Every continent, city, and hamlet in Faylon has apothecaries with ready-made tinctures, elixirs, and salves for all manner of ailments and illnesses. Here at the sanctum, however, you will discover that alchemy is so much more.

  “In your studies, I will teach you to capture hearts, befuddle minds, and cheat death. Those of you who advance in your class will learn ancient poisons and how to hold the last threads of a life between your fingertips.” Cardaimont smiled. “Alchemy is a practice of cunning. In this art, your dreams are your limitation. New concoctions are discovered every day. Ones that may save a kingdom, or bring it to its knees.”

  Saahira’s hand trembled around her quill. In demonology and spellcraft, she felt equally matched to her peers. In alchemy, however, she was years behind. She could count the salves and potions she knew on one hand; all created with readily made ingredients found in her village.

  “Yes? Name and question, please.”

  “Kaylee Eriksen. Can our elemental affinities affect our alchemy?” Saahira recognized the name from demonology.

  “Excellent question, Miss Eriksen. Yes, they can. Infusing an element into many recipes can change, alter, enhance, or destroy them. This must be done carefully and with a practiced hand. I will teach you more as the year progresses, and as your training with Professor Gallowood continues.” Cardaimont surveyed the room. “Today, we will begin with a simple recipe. Bottled light.”

  We’re already brewing? Anxiety beat in Saahira’s ears as she copied down ‘Bottled light’ into her notes.

  “Many of you seem concerned. Worry not, this recipe will simply tell me your current skill in alchemy. Your cauldrons will not be required, you will find every tool you need in the chests at each end of the table, and I would request no talking during this exercise.” Cardaimont moved to the board and lifted a length of chalk. “Here is the recipe.”

  Saahira copied down the ingredients as the professor wrote them in perfect script. Five hairs of spineling, three drops of liesma, five pods of grasping willow, Abel’s Solution. She blinked. The only ingredient she recognized was Abel’s Solution. Her mother had often used it as a base in tonics for coughing and sore throats.

  “You will find all ingredients available in the stores at the back of the room.” Cardaimont turned to face the class and smiled. “Please begin.”

  No instructions? Saahira’s nerves compounded. There were always specific ways to prepare each ingredient so that it would react correctly with the others. She watched the others rush to the back wall and waited.

  Cyprus lingered with her. He pulled a sheet of paper free from his stack of notes and swiftly penned a few words before passing it to Saahira.

  ‘Have you done alchemy before?’

  ‘Not like this,’ she wrote back.

  “Allow me to define ‘No talking’ for those of you who enjoy bending the rules.” Professor Cardaimont appeared behind them and seized the note from Saahira’s hand just as she was passing it back to Cyprus. Saahira hissed in a breath as she felt the blood rush to her face. “There will be no speaking. No trading of notes. No copying one another as you work. Do I make myself clear? Or do we need to reassign your seats?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “P-perfectly clear, Professor,” Saahira stammered.

  Cyprus shook his head. “Moving us won’t be necessary.”

  “Consider this your first and only warning.” Cardaimont blinked back to the front of the room before either of them could say another word.

  Saahira exchanged an embarrassed glance with Cyprus, then rose from her seat and made her way toward the back wall.

  “Filthy cheater,” Dimitri breathed as he passed.

  Sweat beaded on Saahira’s forehead, and she dropped her eyes to the ground. She twined her trembling fingers together and shuffled to the ingredients, not daring to meet anyone else’s gaze.

  I don’t suppose you’d like to assist me now? Saahira’s thought held the weight of a prayer.

  The choir was silent.

  Of course not.

  The other students returned to their tables, and Saahira found the courage to lift her chin and study the agglomeration of supplies that awaited her. The jars and vials were each labeled and grouped together on shelves, tabletops, and resting inside cupboards that also bore designations across their center.

  For anyone familiar with advanced alchemy, Saahira assumed the categorizations made sense. But as she glanced over her shoulder at the board to review the ingredients once more, her nerves worsened.

  Was ‘liesma’ a binding agent? A secretion? And was the spineling a creature? Or was it a plant?

  Her eyes flicked to Cyprus, whose expression was consolatory, but he remained in his seat. Doubtless to ensure that Professor Cardaimont didn’t assume either one was copying off the other, and separate them. Just the thought of sitting with Dimitri made Saahira’s stomach twist into knots.

  She turned back to the ingredients and sucked in a breath.

  This is just a simple test… She repeated the thought three times, then exhaled. Start with what you know.

  She was familiar with Abel’s Solution, as well as two other common bases used in many healing potions and salves, Buriti Oil and Crescent Moon Wine. The wine was a milky white that held an ethereal glow, and the shine caught Saahira’s eye when she opened one of the larger cabinets. Six additional bases rested around the three she recognized, but she ignored them and pulled a fresh bottle of Abel’s Solution free.

  Every potion she’d ever made with her mother had needed no more than a single vial-full of the solution. Hoping the bottled light would be the same, Saahira took an empty vial from the wall, popped the cork free, and poured the crystal-clear solution inside until it was three-quarters full.

  Now for everything else.

  Perusing through a three-tiered shelf stacked with leaves, vines, nuts, and extracts that had the color and viscosity of syrup, Saahira found the grasping willow pods with a series of dried blooms and seeds. They looked like ashen grey twisted teardrops, and were about the length of her thumb. After spilling five out on the counter, she returned the filled jar and began her search for the final two ingredients.

  Saahira took one final look at the labels on the other two shelves, hoping to spy the spineling or liesma among the plants. Neither name jumped out at her, so she continued her search.

  She moved to the far left of the wall, and Cyprus joined her at last on the far right. She could feel Professor Cardaimont’s shining eyes burning into the back of her neck, and so she kept her head straight and her gaze focused.

  Jars of teeth, bones, tails, and eyeballs occupied the cabinets nearest Saahira, and she followed them to a collection of hair and fur shavings. Every color of the rainbow filled the jars on the shelf—from purple tufts of wool to bright pink locks of hair.

  Spineling. Here we are. Saahira lifted the jar and uncapped it. The spineling’s hairs were the same vibrant green as the first grasses in spring. They were already grouped and banded into bundles of five, making it simple to procure the amount she needed. She set the bundle beside her grasping willow pods, then put the jar back where she’d found it.

  “Where are you, liesma?” Saahira whispered, glancing through the liquids sorted with the other creature materials. She found tears, spittle, excretions, and blood, but nothing labeled ‘liesma.’

  There were just three more cabinets she hadn’t checked before the unfortunate reality that she missed it set in. She swallowed the likely possibility and opened the first cabinet labeled “Taste and Aroma.” Scents of fruits and spices that Saahira couldn’t pronounce the names of wafted over her. There were a handful of liquids neatly lined to one side, but none of them were the liesma.

  The second cabinet she opened, labeled “Mortal,” sent a shiver down her back. The classroom’s dim light reflected against human skulls, bones, blood, hair, and tears in a macabre display. She closed the door before her mind could settle on unnerving questions about their collection.

  The third and final cabinet’s designation was “Caustic and Explosive.” It was higher up than the rest, and Saahira had to roll to the balls of her feet to carefully sift through the ingredients inside. Unlike the other collections, these dangerous substances were kept in small, corked vials, each resting inside its own four-pronged stand in alphabetical order. She found two bottles of liesma and lifted one by the stand, carrying it to her other gathered ingredients.

  But then she hesitated. Should she add the liesma to the Abel’s Solution now? Or would that render it inert? Just as there was a specific way to prepare each ingredient, alchemy required steps to be performed in an exact order.

  She erred on the side of caution and slowly poured three drops into an empty vial. She could make her best guess about how it would react and what ingredients it needed later.

  Collecting one final empty vial, Saahira picked up her ingredients from the counter and returned to her table. She gingerly laid them out across the surface and looked to her right. The chest Cardaimont had mentioned awaited her on the far end of the table, and its twin rested on Cyprus’s side.

  Saahira unfastened the metal latch and lifted the chest’s lid. A selection of scalpels, pliers, and shears rested in a metal tray. When she pulled the tray free from the box, she found a mortar and pestle crafted of stone beside tools she didn’t recognize on the second tier. A circular plate with a few dozen bumps and ridges, wooden sticks the length of her pointer finger of varying colors, and a metal hammer with spikes on one side of its face.

  She removed the second tray and set it beside the first. A glass cutting board and a folded cloth remained on the very bottom of the chest. She stacked her notes to the side, placed the cutting board in the center of the table, and set the pods and hairs on top.

  And there she sat. And stared.

  Really? You’ll haunt me in every class but this one?

  Still no reply.

  With a sigh, she took a scalpel from the tray. The pods wouldn’t fit inside the vial, which likely meant she needed the seeds from inside. She took one of the pods and turned it in her fingers. Tiny tendrils of vines twisted around from base to tip, and it was smooth to the touch. Considering its size, it was remarkably lightweight.

  Pinning the pod to the cutting board, she pierced its shell with the scalpel and pushed down. The tendrils split in half, and she cracked the pod open the rest of the way with her thumbs. Inside was a cluster of tiny white seeds, each with a black dot at its center. Like eyes. The way they quivered from just her breath made them feel alive.

  She cut them free of the pods and pushed them aside. She repeated the process with the four remaining seed pods and collected the seeds in a pile.

  There were so many—at least a hundred. Would they all fit into the vial?

  She reached for the vial of Abel’s Solution and uncorked it. Then, she pinched a small grouping of seeds and dropped them inside. They harmlessly floated on the top of the solution. No reaction at all.

  Saahira recalled from the limited number of potions she’d crafted with her mother that Abel’s Solution was composed mostly of spring water, and a few trace chemicals that Bastion Abel himself had discovered. However, each time they’d added the first ingredient, the solution had turned a new color, or fizzled, or something.

  She ushered another cluster of seeds out of the pile with the edge of her scalpel, then cut them in half. On the larger ones, she poked them with the tip of her knife to cut them into quarters before adding them to the mixture. These fragments sank to the bottom of the vial, but still didn’t create a reaction.

  Maybe it’s supposed to be this way?

  For the hairs, she cut them into tiny pieces and added them to the vial with the seeds. Then she dribbled the liesma on top.

  There was a gentle bubbling when the liesma touched the seeds floating on top, and the faintest spark of light. It lasted barely a heartbeat as the liquids blended together and returned to a muddled appearance.

  Saahira held onto her bottle while the last few students worked on their potions. Professor Cardaimont lifted a notebook and quill from her desk, surveyed the room, then nodded.

  “It seems everyone’s finished. Let’s review your concoctions.” Cardaimont began at the table at the front of the room and gestured to Kaylee. “Miss Eriksen, please shake your potion.”

  Kaylee furrowed her brow and pinched her vial between her forefinger and thumb. Then she rocked it from side to side with her wrist. Nothing happened.

  “You added the liesma directly to the solution without first adding the other ingredients, correct?” Cardiamont asked.

  “A-ah. Yes,” Kaylee replied, looking at her bottle as if it had betrayed her.

  Saahira breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t as behind as she’d feared.

  Cardaimont looked up at the class. “How many of you did the same?”

  Three other hands raised, including Kaylee’s tablemate, Nia.

  The professor’s quill danced across the page of her notebook. “Thank you. You may lower your hands.” She moved to the next table on the right side of the classroom. “Your name, please?”

  “Dimitri Centofanti. You should know me well, Professor.” Dimitri sneered.

  Cardaimont made a note in her book, then continued speaking as if he hadn’t said anything. “Please shake your potion, Mr. Centofanti.”

  Dimitri’s sneer melted into a cold frown, and he shook the vial. The liquid glowed a brilliant orange, and a murmur washed over the room.

  “Did you imbue your potion with fire, Mr. Centofanti?”

  “So what if I did? It’s bottled light. It’s supposed to glow.”

  Professor Cardaimont wrote another line in her book before she continued. “Bottled light is a simple, powerful, and effective means of illumination. When correctly brewed, its glow can last up to seven hours in complete darkness.” As she spoke, the orange light in Dimitri’s bottle receded, then sputtered out. “The amount of energy and stamina it would take to continuously infuse a potion or produce an aura for seven hours would likely kill you.”

  Dimitri rolled his eyes and set the vial on the table. “Who’s dumb enough to get stuck in the dark for seven hours?”

  “I’m not speaking of just our day and night cycle, Mr. Centofanti. Bottled light also works inside darkness created by magic. Not many other potions or spells do.”

  Dimitri murmured something under his breath as Cardaimont looked up at the class. “Did anyone else imbue their potions with an element?”

  Two more people reluctantly raised their hands. One was Lily.

  “Unless the instructions call for it or I specifically guide you to do so, please refrain from imbuing your mixtures with elements in the future,” Cardaimont spoke as she scrawled down more notes. Lily and the second student lowered their hands and their eyes as their cheeks pinked. The professor moved to the next row of tables. “Name, please?”

  “Arthur Karstensen,” replied a boy with red hair that fell into his eyes and short, pointed ears. Saahira wondered if he was also a half-elf like Theodred. He raised his bottle before Cardaimont could ask and shook it between his fingers. A warm, perfect glow encompassed the bottle and lit his face.

  “Excellent work, Mr. Karstensen.” Professor Cardaimont smiled. “A relative of Victor Karstensen, I presume?”

  “My grandfather.” Arthur set the vial on the table, his expression neutral.

  “I expect great things from you.”

  A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Everyone does.”

  Saahira cringed. She could hear the pressure he carried in his words. It seemed the professor felt it, too, as she silently moved on to the next table, skipping a student who had imbued her potion with magic.

  “Celeste Anahid,” a girl with an ebony complexion and amber eyes, said. She shook her bottle when prompted. The liquid flickered as it sloshed inside, emitted one single burst of light, and then it dimmed.

  “Did you leave the seeds whole instead of crushing them?” Professor Cardaimont asked.

  “Yes, Professor.”

  “Who did not crush their grasping willow seeds? Whether you left them whole or minced them?”

  Saahira raised her hand. Shame and discomfort stirred in her chest, but they were mitigated by the five other hands that joined hers. Three of them lifted their hands for the second time.

  “Thank you. Finally, please raise your hand if you cut the hairs instead of keeping them whole?”

  Saahira kept her arm in the air. Eight students did the same. Apart from Arthur, the only other person who hadn’t raised their hand yet was Cyprus.

  “Hm. Our class scribe.” Cardaimont stood over the table, her eyes narrowed.

  “Cyprus Reyner.”

  A flash of something like fear passed over her features, and her lips pulled into a thin line. Saahira watched as the discomfort in Cardaimont’s gaze shifted to a frigid fury.

  He shook the bottle, and the same light that enveloped Arthur’s vial appeared around Cyprus’s.

  “As you said, Professor. It’s best to know how to move through the dark.” He set the glowing vial on the table and met her eyes unflinching. “Especially one summoned by magic.”

  “You would certainly know, Mr. Reyner.” Cardaimont looked at Saahira, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something more. After a moment, she shook her head and closed her mouth, returning her attention to Cyprus. “Well done.” The compliment sounded flat.

  “Thank you.” Cyprus maintained his stare as Cardaimont returned to the front of the classroom.

  “I appreciate the earnest effort to fulfill this recipe from most of you.” Cardaimont set her journal on her desk and reached for a piece of chalk. “There is something to be learned about each of the ingredients you utilized today. First, pods of the grasping willow must be crushed to a fine powder for their effects.” She wrote the instructions on the board, and Saahira scrambled to clear a place for her notes.

  “Second, spineling hairs are an excellent conduit for recipes that require a consistent movement of energy. While they do not react as well to magic, a substance like liesma will cling to them for an extended duration. Cutting the hairs into pieces creates short bursts of light, as you may have witnessed when mixing, but will not grant the steady glow required from a bottled light.”

  Saahira wrote as quickly as she could and sketched the ingredients beside the instructions. She wanted the ability to identify them outside of her classroom, should the need ever arise.

  “Finally, Abel’s Solution will nullify combustible sources should it be the only ingredient in your potion.” Cardaimont set the chalk down and turned to the class. “As you learn and master more recipes, you will begin to understand how each ingredient interacts with one another, and we’ll speak more on their sources, options, and their underlying natures.”

  The bells chimed far above the ground, signaling the end of their class and the beginning of their afternoon lunch.

  “Your assignment this evening and the next is to study the falcon’s eye recipe,” Cardaimont announced as everyone collected their things. “You will not be allowed to copy from your books, or each other, while you brew when we meet next.” She looked pointedly at Saahira, who avoided her stare.

  As Saahira picked up her bag— …Cyprus’s bag. “Cyprus—”

  “All of your things should be in here,” he interrupted, lifting the satchel and laying the strap over Saahira’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Saahira chewed her lip and slid her notes, quill, and ink inside the lovely leather satchel. She’d never owned something of such fine quality in her life. “Thank you, Cyprus.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “It’s nothing, really. Let’s head up.”

  Cyprus skipped up the stairs with complete nonchalance, but Saahira felt the chill of Professor Cardaimont’s glare slide down her back.

  What was it that scared a vampire?

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