Enchantments class was a short trip to the other side of the same building, but the easy trip would give Saahira time to catch up with Cyprus. However, once they were outside and walking, the hundred questions she had for him jumbled her thoughts and made it impossible to choose where to start. It didn’t help that everything about him felt so…refined.
He didn’t wear the lavish silks and velvets of their classmates. His crisp white top buttoned up at the center, and the long sleeves folded back just past the elbow. A black vest with silver buttons rested over it, embroidered with dark green thread in similar cracked patterns to his earring. Even his tousled white hair seemed styled in defiance of the tight knots and slicked bangs of their peers, but Cyprus carried himself with such confidence that, to Saahira, it made the others seem overdressed.
Cyprus caught her eye and smiled. “So, did you have a little too much fun on your first night in the sanctum? You almost missed hexlations.”
She averted her gaze. “N-no. I…” Would it be sharing too much to tell him about Lillith? But if not, who else would she have to confide in? “I needed to see Lillith this morning.”
Concern replaced his smile. He glanced over his shoulder before lowering his voice. “Is everything alright?”
“I think so. The Six haven’t said anything since.” Saahira struggled to suppress the images they’d forced onto her that morning, and she shivered with the effort. Cyprus still looked worried. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“It’s not that I have to.” He sighed and readjusted the books in his arms. “If I can help, I hope you’ll let me. That includes a friendly ear.”
“Thank you.” She let her hair fall over her shoulders and partially mask her face. “How was your first night?”
“Quiet, but that’s to be expected.” He shrugged. “Did things go well in your dorm?”
“Things were”—Weird? Uncomfortable?— “Complicated.”
“What happened?”
“I…don’t think I’m very good at being a friend.” She tucked her hair behind her left ear, leaving the right as a thin defensive wall.
“I disagree, but what makes you say that?”
“Mm.” I tried to find out more about you from Nia, and I offended her in the process. “Nia is my roommate. She’s nice, I think. But she invited me to dinner, and… I don’t know how to say this.” Saahira toyed with the strap of her satchel.
“As plainly as you wish.”
“Well, everyone here knows so much about the world and about each other. Nia asked me questions that I didn’t have the answers to, and she was surprised every time by my ignorance. It’s like Almaryn may as well not exist.”
“It might not be fair to say, but I envy you a little for that.”
“Why?”
“Because you have a chance to meet friends and teachers here without bias. You get to learn the nine arts without expectations or your family breathing down your neck. Besides, Nia hails from A?ál?, correct? They celebrate first experiences as enthusiastically as Chivarians celebrate name days.”
“See? That’s what I mean.” Saahira raised her arms and flattened her palms. Ink stained the inside curve of her left hand. “All of these notes, all of this ink, and I still know so little. You recognized where Nia’s from, and you already knew about their firsts. I only learned that last night.”
“And you will learn much, much more, Saahira. Just because you haven’t yet does not mean you never will. Give yourself time.”
“I’m trying to see it that way, but… Gods, the surprise on your faces makes me feel so stupid.” She caught her breath and looked at Cyprus. She hadn’t meant for her words to sound so sharp, nor had she meant to group him in with Nia. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Hey, I should be the one apologizing.” They’d arrived outside the door to enchantments, and Cyprus leaned his back against the wall. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel, and it’s not fair to envy what I don’t understand. I’m sorry. I won’t react like that again.”
As students passed behind her and slipped into the classroom, their whispers caught her ears.
“Isn’t that…?”
“Who’s she?”
“Do you think he’ll…?”
She closed her eyes and pushed away their voices. In a way, they were far worse than the choir. “Cyprus, how do you stay so calm?”
“Hm? About what?”
“About everything.” Saahira looked up at him and hugged her cloak closer to her chest. “When I say something silly, when Dimitri and Talia are cruel to me, when Professor Lodovico talked about the horrible effects hexlations can have… Nothing seems to faze you.”
Cyprus smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Saahira chewed her lip as the first warning bell rang. She wanted to press, but Cyprus had already mentioned once that Professor Lawrence hated tardiness. It would have to wait.
“You have necromancy next, right?” Cyprus asked. She nodded. “Go straight across to that building over there. The door is on the left side, parallel to the smaller building beside it. Don’t confuse the two, or you’ll end up in the crypt.” He pointed to each structure in turn.
The crypt… The thought sent a chill down her spine.
“Oh. And take this with you. You’ll need it.” He reached into his pack and pulled a thin glass vial free, corked and filled with a hazy liquid.
Saahira accepted it with a furrowed brow. “What’s this?”
“You’ll know soon enough.” Cyprus reached for the door to Professor Moborí’s classroom. “See you in fate and arcana?”
“Mhm. I’ll see you then.” She slid the vial into her satchel, turned, and marched across the grass and stone, past the fountain, until she reached the larger building Cyprus had pointed out. His final note on perspective warred with the chill of passing by a crypt as she opened the door and stepped into darkness.
The flash of light behind her as the door closed was the only glimpse she had of the lines of desks with uneasy faces. Once the sunlight was gone, she was trapped until her eyes could adjust.
It was dark, and it was cold. Saahira shivered beneath her cloak and pulled it tighter around her shoulders. Murmurs of her classmates kept her company as she focused on the dim flames dancing on candles, melted down to their wicks, that sat on a cluttered desk on the opposite side of the room.
“Here. Come this way,” Nia’s voice cut through the gloom, and a warm hand touched Saahira’s arm.
“Thanks, Nia,” Saahira whispered as she was led to an empty desk in the back left corner.
“At least we’re not late this time.” There was a smile in Nia’s voice, though it was impossible to see it.
“Or standing at the top of a staircase.” Professor Lodovico’s classroom had made her feel as if she were moments away from being burned at the stake. Saahira settled into her desk, removing her papers and necromancy book while Nia sat in the desk beside her. “Nia…about last night—”
The final bell rang, interrupting Saahira’s thought.
“We can discuss it later, Saahira. Do not worry.” This time, Saahira did catch the reflection of Nia’s grin in the dim lighting. “We must share a room after all.”
The class quieted with the last dying chime of the bell. Saahira squinted at her brilight paper, quickly scrawling her name across the top. She couldn’t see anything.
Click… Click-click…
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An eerie, hollow clicking sound called the attention of the class to the front of the room. Pale white limbs crept forward into the candlelight. With each inch that they took, another series of ominous clicks followed.
Saahira blinked. Then blinked again. The limbs were too thin to be a mortal’s legs or arms. Horror seeped under her skin as she swallowed her disbelief. Her gasp joined at least a few others when the skull finally came into view.
Bones. Walking, moving, bones.
There were very few threads of “necromancy” to discover in Almaryn. Fantastic stories of sorcerers raising bodies and bidding them to do their will. Even if she hadn’t wanted to believe it, the crypt on the sanctum grounds was likely for student use.
But to see it with her own eyes. Hear it moving with her own ears…
The skull’s jaw fell open. “Welcome to necromancy, flesh-walkers,” a hoarse, gravelly voice announced. “Which of you will we add to the crypt this year, I wonder?” Skeletal hands rested on the desk as the holes in its skull surveyed the class. “Will you join me?”
Saahira’s breaths were ice in her throat, chilled by the air and impossible to swallow.
“Professor Lawrence?” a familiar voice asked at the front. Saahira couldn’t make out details beyond the girl’s silhouette.
“Yes, it is I! Professor Nicolau Lawrence!” The skeleton brought an arm over his rib cage and bowed. “Cursed to teach necromancy at the Sanctum of the Nine Arts long after death!”
Saahira’s hand trembled. Hex words lay dormant in my skin, my bones can be used from beyond the grave, a choir of demons haunts my body…
-Steady, Saahira.-
Warmth trickled down her spine, and a sensation like drinking warm tea filled her mouth.
-There are means of protection.-
A soft pressure surrounded her arms like an embrace. The choir was…helping.
…Thank you.
“Enough, Professor. My father says you do this little routine to scare the new students every year,” Dimitri’s voice called from the right. “Does it never grow tiresome?”
The skeleton straightened and snapped its head in Dimitri’s direction. “No. It doesn’t.” The jaw dropped from its face and tumbled to the floor, followed by its hands and arms. A girl in front shrieked, but the sound was muffled beneath the crashing bones until, at last, they rested in a pile at the foot of the desk.
“I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Centofanti.” A man with as many wrinkles as there were silver hairs on his head approached the light. He walked with a slight bend in his back and held a cane in one hand. The black robes he wore cradled him like an extension of the darkness, making his pale skin and hair stand out even more.
“T-the skeleton wasn’t t-talking?” A girl asked near the middle of the classroom.
“Did you see lungs on it, girl? Vocal cords? A tongue?” He pointed to various bones in the skeleton pile with his cane, his mouth curled in an expression between a smile and disappointment. “The dead can’t use what they don’t have.”
“Using a skeleton for a simple joke is tasteless,” Dimitri continued. “How could you disgrace a mortal in such a way?”
“This is the only year we must suffer together, Centofanti. Stop wasting my time.”
“A student can choose their specialties—” Dimitri began.
“With the approval of their instructor, boy.” Lawrence lifted his cane and struck it against the ground with a strident crack! “Are there any further pointless musings you wish to share?”
“…No, Professor.”
“Good.” Professor Lawrence knelt and picked up the skull, letting it rest in the palm of his hand. A section of the bones vibrated before the jaw loosened itself free, finding its place on the skull and reattaching itself.
As the professor stood, a dull, green light filled the sockets where the eyes should be, and the jaw opened and closed in tandem with his words. “My friend here is Ligach. His final request was to be useful, and he’s done a better job than most.”
It was strange, even though Professor Lawrence was using his voice with the skeleton’s movements, Saahira could hear the undercurrents of a deeper tone layered beneath it. Like a demon was speaking the same words in tandem.
“Necromancers have more reverence for the dead than any other specialty of magic.” Professor Lawrence set Ligach’s skull on his desk, where the green light remained inside the eye sockets. “Everything I say from here on will behoove you to write down.”
“Um, Professor?” Nia raised her arm but continued talking without his permission. “We can’t see our notes.”
“You’re students of magic. Figure it out.” Lawrence waved a dismissive hand at Nia.
“You won’t give us any light?” Dimitri asked, disgusted. “Surely you have enough funding for sconces, candles, and lamps.”
“And how will you fare, boy, when your future assignments are in the dead of night? Or if you journey to Noctia during the Naucthemeral? Your funding will contribute nothing to your ingenuity.”
Noctia! Saahira suddenly realized what the vial Cyprus had given her was for. She tugged it from a small pocket inside her satchel and shook it in her fist. He’d used a smaller vial than they had in alchemy the day before, giving her notes a gentle illumination without spreading to the desks beside her.
“See? One of you has more brains than Ligach,” Lawrence said.
“She didn’t make that herself,” Dimitri sneered.
“You’ve lost half your marks for the day, Centofanti. Another word, and you can explain to your father why you lost them all.” Ligach’s jaw clattered against the desk with Lawrence’s harsh words. “Find your silence and find yourself more intelligent companions.”
Dimitri murmured a curse beneath his breath as a second bottle flickered to light in a young man’s fist, outlining Arthur’s angular face and red hair.
“Excellent. Anyone else? No? Well, I trust the rest of you will be prepared by next class.” Lawrence waved a hand, and the light vanished from the skull’s eyes. “The heart of necromancy goes beyond raising skeletons and dead bodies to do your bidding. It is about understanding the very components that shape us, knowing what makes us tick. What binds us together are complexities that have puzzled scholars of philosophy, medicine, and science for time immemorial…”
Nia tugged on Saahira’s cloak. Saahira glanced her way to see a small, empty vial glint in her dim light. Nia tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Please?” she mouthed.
Saahira accepted the bottle and quickly removed the cork from hers, pouring half of the bottled light Cyprus had given her into Nia’s vial before handing it back.
“Thank you,” Nia whispered.
Saahira nodded and turned back to her notes. There was still plenty of light to write by.
Professor Lawrence’s strangely white irises flicked to their exchange, but he continued his lecture unperturbed. “In order to grasp the nature of necromancy, you must first understand the power behind it. As you may have learned already, spells, enchantments, and hexes draw upon a source beyond the Wall that our forebears referred to as ‘the energy of gods.’ We’ve cut that down to simply ‘energy.’ In the interest of not trampling on the toes of my colleagues, all you need to understand for now is that other classes of magic utilize this energy.
“Necromancy, however, calls on an essence cultivated from the deaths of organic matter.” Lawrence rested his cane against his desk and held up his hands, illustrating his words with his gestures. “When someone dies, they release two components: a soul and an essence. The soul travels beyond the Wall, cultivating more energy until its rebirth, while the essence remains on our plane to mold and reuse as we see fit. Combining and forcing enough of that essence into a dead organism will animate it as though it once again lives, though the soul is still departed.”
Energy, soul, essence, Saahira noted down. Rebirth…
“I see hands,” Lawrence said. Which was quite a feat, since Saahira could hardly see in front of her own desk. But he didn’t sound particularly happy about it. “Yes. You. The golden-haired girl.”
“Um, Lily Osekai, sir.”
“Sure.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your question?”
“In Nagatoshi, we are taught that our souls receive final judgement from Hisame Kurai—”
“And in Réimse na Sleachta, your soul joins your ancestors in the eternal forest. In Eichh?rn, your soul ascends into the sea of clouds. Whatever your beliefs, necromancy uses the essence that remains. If this is a class that offends your religion, philosophies, or”—he looked at Dimitri—“your precious wallet, save us both time and request removal without penalty from the headmaster’s office. This is a study best approached without bias. I need open minds to teach. Good, two hands went down. Alright, you, boy with the bottled light.”
Arthur lowered his hand and cleared his throat. “With your descriptions of souls, essence, and death… Where does that leave vampires?”
A silhouette beside Arthur shifted uncomfortably in their chair.
“What’s your real question, boy?” Professor Lawrence grinned. “Out with it. Let’s clear the air.”
Arthur winced in the dim light of his potion. “How did Micahel Reyner control vampires with necromancy?”
Saahira’s ears perked at the name, though she had to repeat Arthur’s question to herself twice. He… he did what?
“An interesting question, isn’t it? A philosophical one, really. Do vampires have souls? Or do they release it and their essence on death?” Lawrence chuckled. “Micahel Reyner was a genius. No one has ever replicated what he did. I don’t believe they ever will.”
“He was a monster!” the silhouette next to Arthur cried. Eland, Saahira realized. “How can you speak of him that way?”
“Because it’s the truth. In the eyes of a necromancer, vampires are just as much a blatant contradiction of nature as our manipulation of essence. We’re two sides of the same coin.”
“Are you saying that we deserved it?” Eland snapped.
“You’re putting words in my mouth. No one deserved what he did. But to bury his research, his methods, and his reasoning is dangerous. Ignorance is dangerous. Many who’ve turned a blind eye to the dark arts were consumed by them…”
Professor Lawrence continued into a long-winded monologue with analogies and anecdotes that required more knowledge of Faylon than Saahira could have gathered in a year. She let her imagination wander, trying to put the pieces of Cyprus’s father together. A necromancer who learned how to control vampires. That explained Professor Cardaimont’s discomfort. And then they’d…what? Had the vampires killed people for him? Had Micahel killed the vampires?
Either thought was chilling, but Saahira yearned to understand the shadow cast over her friend. She rolled the glass vial between her fingers, watching the glowing liquid flow back and forth. Twice now, he’d helped her avoid discomfort. She wanted to do the same for him.
The bell rang, pulling Saahira out of her thoughts and Professor Lawrence out of his tirade.
“There will be no assignments until next class, as I imagine at least half of you will submit your requests to excuse yourself.” Lawrence lowered his hand toward the pile of bones and murmured a spell beneath his lips. The bones lifted from the floor, realigning themselves to one another to recreate Ligach’s skeleton. His skull rose from the desk, aligning itself with the top of its spine. “Say goodbye, Ligach.”
The skeleton waved, then shuffled out of the candlelight and into the darkness.
Nia wiggled the vial between her fingers and smiled at Saahira. “Thank you for this.”
“I’ll thank Cyprus for us both,” Saahira said as she packed her things.
“You have fate and arcana next, yes?”
Saahira paused. “We have every class together, don’t we?”
“We do.”
“Do you…want to walk together?”
“Yes.” Nia slid her parchment into her satchel and shivered. “And let us walk slowly, please. I need the sun’s touch on my skin.”
Saahira caught Eland leaving out of the corner of her eye. The flash of sunlight betrayed tear streaks on his cheeks. Saahira chewed her lip. “So do I.”
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