Mimic Arcanist [Chapter 30] APRIL FOOLS

Hey peeps!

Hopefully you enjoy the chapter? lol

Shami

CHAPTER THIRTY

A LESSON ON TRUE FORMS

The next day was Professor Helmith’s class. She had yet to arrive, but everyone headed into the room regardless.

Most people arrived in the morning with a groggy expression, including Ashlyn, Nasbit, Raaza, and Phila. It was too early to study, in my humble opinion. I stumbled my way to my seat and exhaled as I sat. The nightmare had drained me. Although Twain had been there, and I had felt safer, I never managed to get back to sleep.

Sorin was clearly not in a great mood. He had been quiet all morning, even through breakfast.

Nini didn’t sit at our table. She went all the way to the back of the classroom and sat with Raaza. I wasn’t sure if she was doing that to be dramatic, or if it was because Raaza smiled and offered her a comforting word. Either way, it obviously bothered Sorin.

“This is all your own fault,” I whispered to him. “If you had just told Exie no, like I said to, this wouldn’t be happening.”

Sorin shot me an icy glare. His gray-blue eyes, same as mine, really conveyed hate when he wanted them to. “Thanks, brother.”

I glanced around. Exie had yet to arrive.

After I petted Twain, I stood from my seat. “I’ll be right back.” And then I walked out of the classroom. I wasn’t going anywhere—I just stood outside the door and waited, my hands in my trouser pockets.

It was quiet. Most arcanists were already in class and hard at work.

Exie was easy to spot.

She sauntered down the Academy halls with her erlking fairy fluttering behind her. She had a radiant beauty that refused to be hidden by her robes, and she strode forward with a confidence that told everyone she knew it.

I stepped forward and intercepted her a few feet from our classroom door. “Exie.”

“Gray.” She went to step around me, but I intentionally moved to block her. “Is there something you want?” she demanded.

“You’re not using my brother, right?” I asked, not even bothering to beat around the bush with pleasant conversation—or even a simple good morning.

Exie and her erlking both crossed their arms at the same time, as though they had rehearsed the very actions. “How dare you? I would never. Your brother is a kind and generous man who just so happens to be helping me. That’s all. We’re good friends. Ask him yourself.”

“Uh-huh.” I met her gaze and didn’t look away as I said, “My brother is also a naïve hopeful who thinks everyone is secretly wonderful, and I would be very upset if someone intentionally shattered that delusion for their own shallow, petty gain. If anyone diddo that, I’d take it upon myself to make sure they regretted it every single day for the rest of their time at Astra Academy. Am I making sense? Because you look like someone who might need things repeated in a slow voice before they truly sink in.”

Her face grew red, and her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move. Rage radiated from her—but it didn’t match mine.

“Is that a threat?” Exie asked in a controlled voice.

I shrugged. “You said you and Sorin are good friends.” I stepped away from her. “So I guess that was more of my own personal daydream—since it’s nowhere close to reality. Right? Right. Well, I’m so glad we had this conversation.” I grabbed the door and held it open for her. “After you.”

Exie flounced past me, not another word to offer. Her erlking stuck his tongue out as he went by, but I didn’t bother to respond to that.

Once we took our seats, the door opened again to reveal Professor Helmith and her father. I had forgotten he was going to teach us a class, and when he stepped into the room, I sat a little straighter.

Nasbit softly gasped. Even his golem pointed and motioned as though this was an amazing event.

The Warlord of Magic, Volke Savan, stepped up to the front of the classroom and smiled. His black clothing, and dark scabbard, gave him an intimidating demeanor, but the look in his eyes reminded me what I already knew. He was a kind man. Strong and confident without being too imposing.

His arcanist mark glowed with a white inner light. Several people in the room pointed.

He seemed under the weather, though… He sweated and rubbed at his wan skin.

“Hello, class,” Volke said. “I’m your professor’s father. You can call me Volke. I’m here to speak to you about true forms. Every mystical creature has one, but not all arcanists will be skilled or virtuous enough to see their eldrin transform.”

He leaned against the desk and took up a casual stance. When he glanced over to me, he offered a slight nod of his head. I returned it, but it felt odd to be acknowledged by him.

The shadows in the classroom, from the far corners to the ceiling, moved and fluttered with new life. Was it Volke’s knightmare? It had to be.

Sorin sat up, his attention squarely on Volke. “Do you have a true form knightmare?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

Professor Helmith went to the chalkboard and wrote a few words.

Geas

Virtue

Volke motioned to the board. “Just as there are two ways mystical creatures can be born—through progeny or through fable—there are two ways mystical creatures can achieve their true form. The first way is through a geas.”

“What in the abyssal hells is a geas?” Raaza asked.

Volke responded with a nervous chuckle and then coughed into his hand. “That’s a great question. A geasis a quest or obligation. Think of it as a task you need to complete in order to get your mystical creature all the power it needs to achieve its true form.”

Nasbit shot his hand into the air.

“Yes?” Volke pointed to him.

“When a creature achieves their true form, do they transform right away? Or gradually? Or what happens with that?”

Again, Volke chuckled. He rubbed at the back of his neck and mulled over the question. “So, why don’t we look at the difference between the normal creature and a true form creature, hm?” He motioned to Sorin. “Would you mind calling out your knightmare?”

Sorin stood from his seat, and the shadows around his feet expanded outward. Thurin stepped up out of the darkness, the empty suit of armor only partially complete. Parts of Thurin were missing, like one of his bracers and a portion of the shoulder guard. Otherwise, he was hollow, and his black cape twirled in a nonexistent wind.

Before anyone could comment, the shadows around Volke’s feet stretched out across the classroom floor.

A knightmare stepped out of the darkness, one far more imposing than Thurin. It was a hollow suit of plate armor, but it was complete. It also had a cape, but its cape was lined with a night sky. The majesty of the twinkling stars caused most of the class to ooh and aah.

And then the cape ripped itself in half, each side becoming a bat-like wing. The knightmare flapped them, the inner star lining twinkling brighter than before. The creature had a wingspan of over fifteen feet. It was impressive.

Volke’s knightmare was also covered in spikes—especially on the left shoulder, like some sort of defensive measure, though it seemed sinister. The gauntlets and boots were clawed, and every inch of the knightmare had a deadly appearance.

“This is Luthair,” Volke said. “My eldrin.”

When Thurin and Luthair stood next to each other, the differences were plain to see.

Luthair was slightly taller, more armored, he had wings, and every inch of his shadowy body moved with power. While Thurin was impressive—he was still a knightmare—he was plainer, a little shorter, and his cape was just a cape.

A true form knightmare…

It made me wonder what a true form mimic would look like.

A bigger cat? Or maybe something else…

“As you can see,” Volke said as he stepped around his eldrin, “there are notable changes. First, true form knightmares gain these wings fashioned from their capes.” He pointed to his knightmare.

Again, the knightmare flapped his mystical wings.

“They also become stronger.” Volke glanced back at the class. “All mystical creatures can evoke something, manipulate something, augment something—but they also have a true form ability. You see, true form knightmares, and their arcanists, can tell when someone is lying to them. It’s just an innate power that comes along with the true form.”

“And true form phoenixes can revive people,” Nasbit chimed in.

Volke nodded once. “That’s true. Normal phoenixes can’t, but true form phoenixes have a limited number of revives.” He pointed to Raaza. “And you asked if the change is sudden or all at once? With geas true forms, the change is gradual. The more you complete the mystical creature’s quest, the more they transform.”

“Can you give us an example?” Ashlyn asked.

“Uh, sure. I can.” Volke rubbed at his chin. He had no stubble or beard, which gave him a youthful appearance, even though he had to be over a hundred years old. “So, manticores have a geas requirement. They need to eat the eyes of children in order to achieve their true form.”

Everyone in the classroom balked or gagged.

“Why are so many mystical creatures gross?” Exie asked with a frown.

“The other way a creature can achieve their true form is through a virtue.” Volke held up a finger. “Unlike the geas, which requires a task to be completed, a virtue true form happens the moment you embody the virtue of the mystical creature. For example, sovereign dragons value autocratic power above all else. And if the arcanist also values power more than anything else, the dragon will transform. Right there on the spot. It could happen the moment they bond, or years afterward—the arcanist just needs to share the same virtue.”

“What kind are knightmares?” Nasbit asked.

“Virtue,” Volke replied without hesitation. “As soon as I embodied the ideals of a knight, Luthair transformed.”

“The ideals of a knight?”

Once again, Volke nervously chuckled and coughed, his overall complexion worsening. His arcanist mark sparked with red between the glow of white. “Well, to be honest, a lot about mystical creatures’ true forms are still a mystery,” he said in a forced tone. “I’ve gone out of my way to classify the two types, and to compile all the information I can on them. When I say the ideals of a knight, I mean the selflessness that knights are supposed to embody. Being willing to die for others, or to uphold a cause at your own detriment. If you hold their ideals in your heart, a bonded knightmare will transform.”

Twain and I glanced at each other at the exact same time.

“So which are you?” I whispered. “Do I need to embody a virtue? Or do I have to do some sort of epic quest?”

“I don’t know,” Twain replied, his voice hushed. “I didn’t even know what kind of Trial of Worth I was supposed to have, remember? I’m broken.”

I patted his little orange head. “Heh. You’re not broken. Don’t say things like that.”

“What about stone golems?” Nasbit asked. “Do they require a virtue or a geas?”

Volke held up both his hands. His knightmare strode around the room, its shadow metal armor clanking across the floor.

“I don’t know every mystical creature,” Volke said. “But I do know that stone golems have a geas. From what I’ve gathered, it has to do with a special kind of metal that can only be found underground. The golem must absorb it.”

Nasbit furiously wrote in his notebook. He didn’t even bother looking up when Raaza raised his hand.

“Yes?”

Raaza motioned to his kitsune. “What about my eldrin?”

“I’m not sure about kitsune,” Volke admitted. “But there’s no need to ask me for every creature, either. Your textbooks on mystical creatures should have a section dedicated to true forms, and everything we have documented on them.”

Phila raised her hand. Volke motioned to her, and she asked, “Is that why your arcanist mark is glowing? That’s the real sign you achieved a true form?”

Volke nodded and then rubbed at his forehead. “That’s correct.” He coughed again, his shoulders shaking. “But…”

“Dad?” Helmith asked in a quiet voice. “Are you well?”

“I…”

The classroom went silent, everyone holding their breath. Volke’s knightmare flapped his wings, and it wasn’t until then that I realized how sinister Luthair appeared. The shadows in the corner of the room darkened. Even the light from the window seemed to wane, as though the sun outside was being blotted out by Volke’s shadows.

“Is everything okay?” Exie whispered, her eyes wide.

Professor Helmith stepped around the desk and placed a hand on her father’s shoulder. “Dad?”

“I…” Volke grabbed his head and gritted his teeth so loud I could hear it from my seat. “I think it would be best if… you all left. Right now.”

The classroom was still and quiet. He wanted us to leave? In the middle of the lesson?

Luthair melted into the floor and became a lake of darkness. Then he rose up around Volke, slow and precise, forming each piece of menacing armor, from the cape, to the spiked shoulder guards, to the razor-sharp gauntlets. Once fully armored, the knightmare arcanist reached for his blade and pulled it from its sheath.

The magic-eating weapon I had seen before…

It crackled with deadly imagery, the green and white stars on the blade practically pulsing with hunger.

Sorin shot up from his seat. Thurin dove into the shadows and formed around him in an instant. The darkness protected him but only sightly. “Run!” he and Thurin shouted as one.

But it was too late.

The darkness in the room swelled. It filled every corner and inch of the room in an instant, as though we were plunged into a lake of shadows so deep, it was impossible to see the light. The darkness had form—it became solid—and the tendrils wrapped around my body before I could reach.

Spikes, claws, and deadly appendages lashed out. I couldn’t see them… I could only feel their deadly lash as they tore everyone in the room limb from limb.

Good thing it was April Fools, or else this would’ve been a terrible way to die.

Happy April Fools Day! The real chapter will be out soon!