Abyssal Arcanist [Chapters 1-2]

Hey peeps!

Here is the start to book 3. Obviously, Mimic Arcanist hasn't hit the shelves YET, but some of you should have received your signed copies by now.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This novel gets to have a lot of fun moments I've been outlining for a while. o.o

Shami

CHAPTER ONE

PEOPLE IN MY DREAMS

I rested in the boys’ dorm at Astra Academy, lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. The full moon hung in the sky beyond the window, the soft white light streaming into the gigantic room. My twin brother, Sorin, slept in the bed next to mine, his breathing heavy and slow.

My time at Astra Academy had been a life-changing one, and not in the way the headmaster probably intended. A bizarre professor had attempted to kill me and open a gate to the abyssal hells—a place where the souls of the dead went to either be destroyed or reincarnated.

And if that had been the only thing to happen, my time here would’ve just been shocking, not life changing. No. Things escalated to a whole new level when the gate to the abyssal hells exploded into a million fragments and started messing with the living world. Creatures from the abyssal hells—including a Death Lord himself—managed to influence my life.

Death Lord Deimos…

Raaza slept on the other side of the room, and occasionally I heard his snores over the dulcet whistle of the wind outside.

The rest of the dorm was empty. Seven other beds, positioned against two walls, were all neatly made up, but one had been in them for a few days. Knovak typically slept in our dorm, but he had been staying in the infirmary recently.

He had fought with Death Lord Deimos and lost.

Whenever I thought about the Death Lord, ice ran through my veins. It was difficult to sleep, despite the fact I was exhausted.

I had just gotten back from the infirmary. Tomorrow, I would resume my classes. It felt like an eternity since I had enrolled in Astra Academy, but in reality, I had only been here for a few months.

At the end of my first year, I was supposed to pick my specialty, and then go into advanced training, but sometimes it felt like I would never get there. I had almost died twice now, and I hadn’t even been looking for trouble.

“Gray?”

I flinched. The quiet voice belonged to my eldrin, Twain. He emerged from the depths of my white blankets, his orange fur practically shone in the moonlight. And it was everywhere. The sheets, my pillow. He shed whenever he moved. But I never mentioned it. Twain’s eyes, one gray, one pink, stared into mine.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Twain was a little house cat kitten, but his ears reminded me of a lynx’s. They were large, and puffy at the tips. He also didn’t have much of a tail—just a little nub.

“I’m fine,” I replied in a quiet voice. “My mind is wandering.”

“You need to stop that. One day it isn’t going to come back.”

He wasn’t really a kitten, but a mimic. He called himself a copycat, and I understood why. His shapeshifting abilities were quite powerful.

With a gentle touch, I patted his head.

“Maybe if you stopped talking to me, I could finally get some rest,” I said.

My little mimic huffed a grunt and then turned away from me. Twain curled into a tight circle and snuggled into my fur-laden sheets. That got me chuckling. He was so cute when he was angry.

I tucked the blankets around both our bodies, content with his company. Then I stared at the ceiling again, my gaze unfocused.

The dark stone bricks of the Academy gave a gloomy appearance, even when the moon was so bright and wondrous. I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything other than the darkness, the abyssal hells, or having my body controlled by a vengeful Death Lord.

It should’ve been easy…

Fortunately, sleep took me before my mind could wander back into dangerous territory…

***

Dreams were significant for me.

I had first met Professor Helmith in a dream, after all.

But they were also the source of some of my greatest fears. From the freakish soul catcher creatures trying to kill me while I slept, to fighting Death Lord Deimos in an ever-shifting dreamscape, it seemed my slumber was no longer safe.

So, when I opened my eyes, and realized I was in a dream, my heart hammered. I wasn’t like a normal person who slept and lived through dreams as though they were reality. I knew when I was dreaming—always. Perhaps my mind had latched onto my dread and painstakingly paid attention to all the details to the point I could no longer experience a dream like a normal person. Or perhaps it was Professor Helmith’s lingering magic. Her dreamweaving abilities had been with me for years.

Either way, I was aware of my dream location, even before I glanced around.

This dream was odd.

I stood in a grand dining hall—something straight out of a history book. It was a castle, or a palace, and the room was so vast, pillars were positioned every twenty feet to keep the roof from collapsing. Those pillars betrayed the age of the building. Who used pillars anymore? Most modern construction used archways and other tricks to keep the roof from collapsing. It made rooms more open and spacious.

This place felt like a luxurious prison.

People were gathered in large groups, but the dream was vague, I couldn’t make out their faces. Large mystical creatures hung around in the far corners, their shapes and colors also obscured. Classic dream logic: I knew they were there, but I couldn’t really see them.

In the middle of this glorious dining hall was a bronze statue of a dragon. The statue, bizarrely, had a hatch on top of it, and the statue itself seemed hollow.

I walked through the crowds, my legs shaky. The air smelled of smoke and bloodlust.

And while I considered myself tall—almost six feet, though I never measured—the people around me were giant. Not only were they taller, but they were thicker with muscle, and clad in armor that shined.

Candles lit the dining room.

They were made of tallow—a type of animal fat. It was a bizarre fact to notice, but my father was my home island’s only candlemaker. He made candles with all sorts of ingredients, but animal fat was the cheapest and easiest. I would recognize it anywhere.

But tallow candles were old fashioned and cheap. No palace or castle would use them, not when they could use the most expensive beeswax candles. Tallow candles let off a weird odor, and sometimes smoked or caught fire. Beeswax always burned cleanly. It was preferred, so long as you had an apiarist to harvest it for you.

How old-fashioned was this place?

As I wondered where I was, something strange happened. The people in the room clustered around the hollow dragon statue. They smiled and laughed, though I still couldn’t make out their faces or identities.

A couple of them dragged a man to the statue. The man was bound at the ankles and wrists with chains, but he still tried to escape. He couldn’t, no matter how hard he struggled.

Then he was placed inside the statue, and the bronze hatch was closed and locked.

When the man screamed, his voice echoed through the throat of the dragon and exited through the mouth. Again, because this was a dream that operated on surreal logic, I somehow knew the throat of the statue had been designed with a system of tubes and stops so that the man’s screams were converted into sounds that resembled the roar of a dragon.

Then the crowd of people built a fire under the statue.

The flames heated the metal.

I stumbled backward, away from the crowd, and away from the statue. Were they roasting a man alive inside of it? What kind of nightmare was this?

I turned, my breath shallow, and then I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a cage made of rock at the far side of the room. A prison cell. The rocks had jutted up out of the ground and crossed to form an X shape. Most of the rocks were so close, they formed a wall, but on one side they were bars, allowing anyone to peer inside.

The bars were so thick, and so close together, that I wouldn’t be able to fit my hand between, yet still I could see.

The prison cell…

Professor Helmith had made that. Gossamer threads of magic held the whole cell together, the power of the structure so vast, I felt it from twenty feet away. It felt like the heat from a bonfire.

And inside…

The dragon roared. I jumped and spun around on my heel. The eerie thunder of the statue filled the room with a noise that caused my blood to curdle.

“Mimic arcanist,” someone said from within the cell. Their voice was rough and gravelly, with a slow a deliberate cadence. “Release me.” An icy command that sent a chill down my spine.

The crowd in the room laughed and cheered as the dragon’s roars grew louder and more frequent.

“Release me or suffer the consequences.”

That voice—it belonged to Death Lord Deimos.

A fragment of his soul was trapped within me, locked away by Professor’s Helmith’s true form magic. But despite his confinement, he still spoke.

It was almost too difficult to hear him, though. The roaring of the dragon… It hurt my ears.

“Gray? Wake up.”

That wasn’t Deimos. Who was it?

Someone wrapped their arms around me.

“Wake up.”

I recognized the voice. It was Sorin. In my dream, I reached for him, and then I woke up, my body drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. As soon as my eyes focused, I realized I was back in the dorm, the moonlight illuminating the room with a gentle glow.

Sorin knelt next to my bed. He had his arms around my chest. He kept me close, even while I gulped down air and calmed myself.

“I’m here,” Sorin whispered. “Everything is okay.”

I nodded once and then pushed him away. “I’m fine,” I said, curt. “I’m fine,” I repeated, softer and slower.

I wore a sleeping tunic and a pair of soft trousers, but under my clothes was a gold piece of jewelry that wrapped around my neck, my shoulders, and upper arms. It was actually a weapon from the abyssal hells—and anyone who touched it but me would be hurt.

Not only that, but bandages covered my forearms and legs. I had been burned, and while arcanists naturally healed faster than mortals, I still needed time to recover. It hurt whenever someone applied too much force to my injuries.

So I couldn’t allow Sorin to hug me for too long. I had to keep him at arm’s length.

Sorin stared at me. He had the same blue-gray eyes and black hair as I did. But he was larger than me. He reminded me of the people in my dreams. Muscular. Imposing. Where did he get all his bulk? Sorin didn’t eat more than me, and he didn’t exercise to excess. It was like he supped from the universe, gaining nutrients from nothing.

I ran a hand down my face and cleared away the sweat.

Twain stretched and blinked his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Thurin heard Gray moving around,” my brother said. “So he woke me.”

Sorin rubbed at the arcanist mark on his forehead. It was a seven-pointed star with a cape and a shield. He was a knightmare arcanist, and Sorin’s eldrin roamed the darkness like a fish roamed the water. Knightmares were hollow suits of armor that didn’t need to eat or sleep. No wonder Thurin was watching me—what else was there to do in the still of night?

“Were monsters attacking you?” Sorin asked.

I shook my head. “No. It was just… a normal nightmare.”

Twain yawned. Then he tilted his kitten head. “Maybe every night I should transform into an ethereal whelk, and I’ll create nice dreams for you.”

I patted his head. “Nah. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” I rested back on my bed. “No one needs to worry about me, okay? You’re all too paranoid.”

Sorin didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he muttered, “It seems like you’ve gone through a lot of traumatic events in a short period of time.”

“Hm.”

“I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Sorin stood and loomed over me. In the dim lighting of moonlight, he almost looked like a shadow warrior. With an oddly dramatic poetic rhythm, he said, “Loyalty is a promise kept, a commitment that’s met. I’ll be there for you, Gray. You don’t have to worry. We’ll make sure the nightmares leave you for good.”

I nodded once. “All right. But first, we should get some sleep. I want to at least pretend like a normal student at Astra Academy.”

After a short chuckle, Sorin took a seat on his bed. It groaned under his weight, practically begging to be put out of its misery. I imagined the bedframe would shatter at some point before the year was over.

“All right,” Sorin said. “Good night, Gray. See you in the morning.”

As long as I kept Death Lord Deimos out of my nightmares, I was sure I would see my brother again at dawn.

That wouldn’t be too difficult. I hoped.

CHAPTER TWO

DEFIANT DRAGON

My class for the day was History and Imbuing with Professor Jenkins, though everyone just called her Piper.

Since I hadn’t slept well, a fog lingered over my thoughts.

Our classroom was relatively large, with four long tables and a large window at the back that was kept open to allow for larger eldrin to enter without damaging the doors within the Academy. Not everyone’s eldrin was as cute and small as Twain. Some people had dragons or yetis or leviathans, and those mystical creatures were way too big for even a hallway.

A gigantic treehouse, which grew along the outside of the Academy, wrapped around the dark bricks of the Academy’s walls, acted as a pathway for mystical creatures. They traversed the branches and lived in rooms within the trunk of the massive redwood tree.

The open window allowed the autumn breezy to waft into the classroom, and I enjoyed the smell of crisp leaves.

I wondered what it was like to sleep in that tree. That sounded amazing.

“And that’s why most guilds closed down operations,” Piper said. She tapped the chalkboard. “You see, the construction of several arcanist academies allowed for new arcanists to gain a broad education before picking their vocation.”

Our classroom was quieter today, but that was due to the fact that several students were absent. I sat at my usual table and stared at the chalkboard without seeing.

Sorin sat next to me.

A little too close.

He scooted his chair over so we stayed within inches of each other. I would’ve rolled my eyes, but I was too tired for any of that. Instead, I allowed my brother to hover like a fussy hen over her chicks.

He wore his robes over a simple white shirt and black pants. The symbol for Astra Academy consisted of four images in a square shape. A seven-pointed star, a globe, a sundial, and a set of upside-down gates. In life, through time, with magic, till death—Astra Academy’s motto—rung in my ears as I stared at the symbol for longer than any sane person should.

It would be ironic if I died at the Academy.

I would probably be the first one.

Sorin elbowed me. I glanced over at him. He silently motioned to the chalkboard with a tilt of his head.

I returned my attention to the front of the room.

“Some guilds are still operating.” Piper half-shrugged. “But they’re the oldest of the guilds, and typically funded by a specific nation. Newer arcanists consider joining a guild at fifteen to be antiquated.”

Piper walked to the side of her desk, and it only occurred to me then that she wasn’t wearing her robes. She wore a white dress made of flowing fabric that moved with the wind. A simple silver rope kept her slender waist apparent, but everything else was ethereal as it fluttered with a feather-like consistency.

It drew my attention.

Everyone’s attention, really.

When I glanced around, I realized the other students were staring at her with wide eyes—some of them a little too intently.

“Is everyone taking notes?” Piper asked. Her long black hair, silky in appearance, was neatly tied up in an elegant bun.

Which was unusual. Normally, she showed up to class late, her hair a mess, her eyes dragged down by black bags. Today was the exact opposite. Her tanned skin practically glowed with health, and she looked more put together than a dolled-up debutant.

The arcanist mark on Piper’s forehead was a seven-pointed star with a rizzel wrapped around the points. The ferret-like rizzels were masters of teleportation, and her eldrin popped into the classroom with a puff of a glitter. He landed on the front desk, his white fur—striped with silver—glittered in the morning light.

“Reevy?” Piper asked.

The little rizzel twitched his nose. “Nothing to report yet.”

Reevy was about the size of my arm, perhaps a little smaller. His dark eyes shone with intelligence as he scanned the room.

“Then what’re you doing here?” Piper whispered. She waved her rizzel away. “I need you to keep watch. This is important.”

Reevy replied with a sarcastic salute before disappearing in another puff of glitter and a pop of air.

After a deep breath, Piper straightened her dress, glanced at the door, and then returned her attention to the class. “Okay. Where was I? The guilds…”

A collective yawn echoed throughout the room. There were normally nine arcanists in class, but today, there were only five, and that included me.

Nini Wanderlin sat on the other side of my brother. She had to lean onto the table in order to get a better look at the chalkboard. Her glasses slid down her little button nose, and she pushed them up to keep them from falling off.

Her bloodred hair…

It matched the cape of her reaper eldrin.

Nasbit Dodger and Raaza Luin sat at different tables which they had all to themselves. The two of them were easy to spot, even in a large crowd, but especially in a half-empty classroom. Nasbit was, after all, the heaviest-set man I had seen in the Academy. Perhaps calling him portly was a better term… He wore his robes well, and he kept his brown hair slicked back.

Nasbit’s eldrin, a massive stone golem, lumbered around the back of the classroom. The beast had no eyes or mouth—it was just a collection of boulders held together by invisible magic. Whenever it stepped, the stone of its “foot” slammed hard against the stone of the floor.

Raaza the exact opposite of Nasbit in all ways. Raaza’s eldrin was even tiny and silent. He had bonded to a kitsune, a trickster fox with fake flames that sparked from her paws.

And Raaza was a man lean with muscle. Not only that, but he carried himself like he would mug people in a back alley if they weren’t careful. The scars on his face didn’t help. They were small, but numerous, like a monster had gone for his eye and just barely missed. Unlike Nasbit, Raaza didn’t do anything with his dark hair. It was windswept and some of it hung onto his face.

Everyone in the room took notes about old guilds with the enthusiasm of a corpse.

“Gray?”

I straightened my posture.

Piper glowered at me, her red lips turned down in a frown. “Are you paying attention?”

I wasn’t, so in order to quickly change the subject, I hardened my expression and asked, “Professor? You know a lot about history, right? Do you… happen to know about ancient torture methods?”

My question must have caught the entire class by surprise, because even my brother stared at me with wide eyes. They were probably wondering why I would ever ask something so morbid.

Piper fluffed her bun. “Uh, yes. I do know a thing or two about torture methods.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

And just like that, she had forgotten I wasn’t paying attention.

My brother waited with bated breath. He clearly wanted to know.

“I was wondering if you’ve ever heard about a bronze statue shaped like a dragon,” I said. “The statue is hollow, and someone is placed inside.” I tried to gesture with my hands to better describe the shape. “There’s a hatch on top, so you can lock the person within. And then you start a fire under the statue…”

Nini gasped. She pulled both hands up to her mouth.

Unlike the other students, Nini wore enough clothing for three people. Her long sleeves provided her plenty of cloth to hide most of her face.

“Is there a reason you read up about old-world torture devices?” Piper asked. “Because I’m beginning to worry about your mental health.”

With a chuckle, I replied, “Well, after all the nightmares I’ve had, I figured I should give my subconscious more fuel to work with. The same old I’m going to die at any second to a weird puppet is getting boring.”

I meant it as a joke, but absolutely no one laughed.

Twain even lifted his head and stared at me with big, glassy eyes.

“That was a jest,” I said, loud enough to make sure everyone heard. “We should all be chuckling.”

Piper forced an awkward laugh. “Yes, well, the torture device you described is known as a defiant dragon. It’s a special type of statue meant to kill someone in a slow and painful manner. Mostly enemy generals who were captured after a battle.”

“They don’t use them anymore, right?” I asked.

For some reason, the whole room was silent again.

“Are you okay?” Sorin whispered.

I shrugged and shook my head. “Yes. Definitely. I’m just… curious. That’s all.”

“Defiant dragons are considered inhumane,” Piper stated. “They haven’t been seen in hundreds of years. Maybe even longer.” She waved away my question. “You really shouldn’t be focusing any of your time or attention on learning about them.”

Raaza raised his hand.

With a raised eyebrow, Piper motioned to him.

“I’ve seen defiant dragons.” Raaza rubbed at some of the shallow scars on his face. “There’s at least two in Lord Oto’s compound. He keeps them in his garden.”

Nasbit fully turned around in his seat to frown at Raaza. The look of utter disgust was hard to ignore. “Lord Oto? Really? My uncles say he’s a lowborn thug who just started claiming he was a lord with no authority to do so.”

“Well, when everyone is too afraid to tell him he’s not a lord, I guess he just gets to be one by default, huh?” Raaza huffed and rolled his eyes. He leaned his elbow onto the table and poked his notebook with his charcoal pencil. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. All I wanted to say was that defiant dragons weren’t as archaic as the professor seems to think they are.”

I almost turned around to ask him if this Lord Oto person had used his dragons recently, but I kept that question to myself. Apparently, I was starting to worry everyone. Even Nini glanced in my direction several times, her eyebrows knitted.

But I wasn’t depressed—just concerned.

Had my dream been something related to Death Lord Deimos? A memory or a thought? Or was it something else? I didn’t have any magical abilities related to dreams, so perhaps something else was going on.

I rubbed at my chin.

Professor Helmith was still recovering, just like Knovak. I couldn’t ask her opinion on the matter, at least, not yet. So I would wait. I could focus on classes until then.

Or perhaps even find a way to contact Ashlyn.