Mimic Arcanist [Chapters 13-14]

Hey peeps!

More Mimic, for your reading pleasure!

Shami

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE FIFTH ABYSS

“What’s in the fifth abyss?” I asked, my mouth dry.

Nasbit nervously chuckled as he said, “They say magic comes from the soul. Well, according to this book, the fifth abyss is a place where souls are destroyed—it’s the source of all corrupted magic. The book describes it as an oblivion. Anyone or anything that goes there is gone forever.”

I didn’t like that at all.

If I heard this a few months ago, I would’ve ignored it as fantasy and superstition. Younger me didn’t believe the abyssal hells was a real place, so why would I pay attention to all the childish fairy tales surrounding it? Now that I knew the truth, I cursed under my breath.

I should’ve paid more attention to those tales.

An icy chill crept over me. I shivered and rubbed my arms.

“They describe the fifth abyss like a unique location.” Nasbit patted me shoulder and forced an awkward half-smile. “Like a whirlpool in the ocean. You don’t need to be afraid of it. And no one can teleport it anywhere. You need to go to it, if that makes sense.”

“But Death Lords can still be teleported places,” I growled. I jerked away from Nasbit’s touch. He was trying to cheer me up, but he was doing a poor job of it. “Just don’t tell anyone about this, all right? Not until Professor Helmith tells everyone.”

“Uh, all right.”

Then Nasbit went quiet. My brother glanced between us, his brow furrowing. The dark puddle around his feet moved across the rug like only a shadow could. Sorin’s knightmare spoke in a deep and worrisome tone. “My arcanist—perhaps it would be best to scour the library for stories about the abyssal hells being sealed? We can learn more about combating the threat. Once we return to Astra Academy, of course.”

Sorin glanced down at the darkness. “Yeah, Thurin. That’s a good idea.”

“My idea, technically,” Nasbit whispered.

“Once the camping trip is over, that’s what we’ll do.” I glanced over at my cot and frowned. “Until then… I’m going to get some sleep. We can talk more about everything tomorrow. Once we’re all rested.”

***

Captain Leon stayed up with the others long into the evening.

Tent walls didn’t do much to block out the sounds of talking and laughing. I tried not to think about anything—I wanted to drift off into a quiet slumber—but sleep never came.

Twain didn’t have any trouble. All that meat in his belly was like sleeping draught. Even if shook him, Twain wouldn’t wake.

But what was I to do?

Professor Helmith was an ethereal whelk arcanist. She could put people to sleep with her augmentation. I was tempted to ask her to help me, but I also didn’t want to venture out of the tent. Instead, I held my blankets close and stared at the tent wall, hoping fatigue would eventually get me.

Our glowstone had been wrapped in cloth, shrouding the inside of the tent in the thick darkness of night.

Once it grew quieter, Nasbit and Sorin returned to the tent to sleep. They settled into their cots and within a few minutes, Nasbit’s breathing was shallow and even. But not Sorin’s. As the minutes passed, I knew he was just as awake as I was.

“Brother?” I whispered.

“Hm?” Sorin replied.

“What’re you thinking about?”

The stillness of the night brought an eerie silence. I thought I would hear more insects and owls and wilderness, but the world around us seemed dead.

“What layer of the abyssal hells do you think Mom went to?” Sorin asked, his voice soft and slow.

The question caught me off guard. A lump formed in my throat like a ball of wet dough. Despite my anxiety, I forced myself to speak. “The first abyss, obviously.”

Our mother had died giving birth to us, and Sorin blamed himself specifically for her dead.

I couldn’t let him think she was suffering. He didn’t deserve to drag this weight around.

“What if she went deeper than that?” Sorin rolled to his side, his cot straining under his size. “What if she went to the fifth abyss?”

“She didn’t. Trust me. All the stories of our mother were bright and positive. She was kind.”

“Everyone talks about the dead as though they were great.”

That was true. But still. “Just drop it, okay? It’s stupid to think about. You’re just making yourself sad for absolutely no reason.”

“Hm.” Sorin shifted his weight and sighed.  “Hey, Gray… What do you think would happen if a soul was taken out of the abyssal hells? Would that person come back to life?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “But I don’t think you should worry about it. The goal is to keep all gates closed, remember?”

“Right…”

I wanted to change the subject. Anything was better than this. It was like having a splinter in my heart. Most times, I felt no pain, but whenever Sorin mentioned our mother, a sharp pain shot through my chest.

“Did you have fun finding occult ore?” I asked.

Sorin sighed. “It was fine. I gave some of my ore to Exie, since she didn’t want to look around in the mud.”

All of my sadness vanished. Instead, it was replaced with mild disgust and disappointment. “Seriously?” I asked, probably louder than I should’ve been. “Why?”

“She asked for some. I wanted to help her.”

“Exie is just taking advantage of you. Sorin—you can’t let people do that.” I rolled all the way over and glared at him through the darkness. “You should’ve focused on finding the most ore and winning.”

“Really? I figured you were going to win.” Sorin stretched, his cot once again protesting. “You and Ashlyn were so energized to go out and find ore. I mean, I thought trying to compete against you two was impossible.”

I didn’t say anything.

My brother must’ve sensed my reticence. “Why didn’t you find any ore, Gray? That’s not like you.”

“I…” The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. I almost laughed at myself. “I gave it to Ashlyn.”

Sorin snorted and chuckled. The irony wasn’t lost on him, either.

“My uncles say boys do stupid things for girls all the time,” Nasbit whispered from the darkness, his voice startling me. I hadn’t realized Nasbit had woken up. How long had he been listening?

“I was thanking Ashlyn,” I stated. “My situation is different. She helped me out, so I helped her back. It was a chain of reciprocity.”

Sorin rolled to his other side, still chuckling. “Uh-huh. Well, think of this way. Someone always has to starthelping someone for a chain to begin.”

“That’s a fair point,” Nasbit whispered, just interjecting himself into the conversation.

I sighed. “If Exie never helps you out, how will that make your feel? Going out of your way for people who don’t care about you makes you a dullard.”

Sorin stopped his chortling and went silent for a long moment. Then he whispered, “It was my choice to help Exie. I’ll never feel ashamed of that, no matter what you say. I think she’ll return the favor, and we can be good friends—and only her choices can prove me wrong.”

“Maybe,” I replied.

Nasbit rustled his blankets. “Sorin makes lots of good points, really.”

“Honestly, Gray, you’re afraid a lot, lately.” Sorin exhaled. “I wish you’d stop thinking everyone it out to get us.”

I didn’t say anything in response. Perhaps he was right.

***

In the morning, we woke with the sun, got dressed in our tents, and then wandered out into the sunlight. Unlike at the Academy, where we had glorious pipes and water, our camping spot had a cold river. And that was about it.

I had bathed in icy water many times, but some of the others weren’t having it. Over half our class opted not to bathe in the river and it smelled like it.

Professor Helmith waited for us by the cold firepit. Her long black hair waved through the morning winds like a fluttering raven’s wing. Her long white dress imitated a dove, and all I could think of were the feathery graze of birds.

“Good morning,” Helmith said as we gathered near the log benches. She was chipper and smiled wide. “You’ll be happy to know that the people of Red Cape have brought gifts for the arcanists who will be helping build them a school.”

“What kind of gifts?” Exie asked.

She was one of the arcanists who refused to touch the river. Despite that, her long chestnut hair was pulled back into an intricate ponytail and braid combo. I wondered how long she had spent on it.

Professor Helmith delicately laced her fingers together. “You can have the gifts until the school is complete, I’m afraid.” She motioned to the ground.

The grass was green.

No longer blue or strange. Just vibrant emerald.

“Once the occult ore is taken from an area, it returns to its normal luster.” Helmith smiled brought enough to rival the sun. “Now that you’ve all helped clear the area, we’ll be going up the hill over there and constructing a school. Captain Leon and Professor Jenkins are already at the hill with all the wood and fastenings you’ll need.”

Nasbit gestured to his stone golem. “Brak can do most of the heavy lifting,” Nasbit said.

Out of all the eldrin, it was the biggest and sturdiest. That wouldn’t last forever. Ashlyn typhoon dragon would one day be large enough to capsize a whole three-masted ship, but since everyone had little baby eldrin, the golem won out on size.

His stone golem lifted his rock arms as though flexing. Brak said nothing.

“I appreciate his willingness,” Helmith said. “But there are two things I want to focus on today. The first if the reason we’re doing this. Headmaster Venrover wants to instill a sense of community and growth within you all. It’s important, as arcanists, that we help the people and the land. It’s a sacred duty that those with power all share.”

I nodded with her words, though I wondered to what extent we needed to help.

Sorin listened with all his focus. He seemed utterly transfixed by the idea. Nini stood between me and him, and she glanced between us, as though noting our responses. When she caught me staring, she half-chuckled.

Her reaper silently floated around us, his robes rustling like ghost.

“The second thing we should focus on is cultivating the land.” Professor Helmith motioned to the area around us, and then pointed to the far hill where we would set up the school. “The occult ore can be used to create runes on arcanists, permanently adding to their magic and power. The ore can also do that to the land.”

Nasbit energetically nodded along with her words. “This is the kind of lesson I’ve been waiting for,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

“Arcanists can enchant the ground, the vegetation, and even the currents in the air.” Helmith closed her eyes as a slight breeze rushed by. Her inky hair flowed behind her like silk. When she opened her eyes, she glanced between us. “My father spoke at great lengths how arcanists should build toward something. A home. A community. A nation. Today, we’re going to show you how to do that.”

“Her father?” Raaza asked under his breath.

Nasbit practically twirled around to face him. “You don’t know? Professor Helmith’s father is the Warlord of Magic! He fought in the God-Arcanists War and even helped built Astra Academy.”

Raaza crossed his arms. “Interesting.”

“And Professor Helmith’s husband, Kristof Helmith, is a mystic guardian—one of the first to graduate the Academy—and even helped establish some of the farthest Gates of Crossing!”

Sorin leaned over to me and frowned. “Uh-no, Gray. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I snapped.

“It’s just sad that you would have to compete with all these amazing men for the attention of your honeysuckle.”

I wanted to punch my brother in the throat. My face went red both from embarrassment and frustration. A few others—only the ones nearby and could hear—snickered. Why did Sorin insist on calling Professor Helmith my honeysuckle?

She wasn’t!

I just admired her. Nothing more.

“Please quiet down,” Professor Helmith said. She reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew the glittering silver gate fragment. With her bare hand!

“P-Professor?” I asked as I half-stepped forward.

She smiled. “It’s all right, Gray. Last night, I spoke with the headmaster. This piece is okay to touch.” Professor Helmith held it up to show everyone. “However, I have reason to believe there might be more pieces like this one nearby. Can everyone see?”

“What is it?” Raaza asked, his tone all business.

“A fragment from a broken Gate of Crossing. It’s imperative we retrieve them, so anyone who finds one needs to bring it to me straight away, understood? They might be dangerous, and we can’t leave them near a mortal village.”

Everyone nodded.

I calmed down a bit as she tucked the fragment back into her pocket. She hadn’t told the class where the gate led to, which I found interesting, but perhaps they didn’t need to know. Nasbit, Sorin, and Ashlyn all casually glanced over at me, since we were all in on the secret.

Hopefully any other fragments we stumbled across wouldn’t have any monsters around them, but I had a terrible feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CULTIVATING THE LAND

The new schoolhouse would sit atop the tallest hill in the area. From the peak of the hill, it was easy to spot Red Cape. The small collection of houses sat next to the ocean, their small docks poking out into the water.

A small forest surrounded the hill, but paths were littered throughout the area. One path led to a logging operation. One led to distant waterfalls. Another led to a small shack. Clearly, Red Cape wanted to expand, but they were taking their sweet time about it.

We just had to build this school for them.

Unfortunately, building a school wasn’t really in my wheelhouse.

Thankfully, Captain Leon and Professor Jenkins made this much easier. Although, it was odd calling her Professor Jenkins. She was just Piper to me, ever since the first day I arrived at the Academy.

Piper stood around the construction site, her weight mostly on her backfoot, one hand on her waist. She had dark rings under her eyes, as though she hadn’t slept in days. Her long black hair reminded me of Professor Helmith, but Piper’s always had some element of bedheadgoing on.

Her eldrin, the rizzel named Reevy, stood by her feet, his white ferret body hard to miss. He had little silver stripes across his fur that practically glistened. He, too, appeared tired. His eyes didn’t blink in time with one another, and sometimes they weren’t open at all.

The little rizzel swayed on his feet until he eventually curled up into a ball to sleep.

Piper used her magic to teleport the heaviest objects into place. The support beam for the school, the bricks for the outer wall—everything that would’ve taken hours to haul, it was just poofedinto place with a puff of glitter.

Captain Leon and his cerberus had fire under control. We would lay bricks, and he would use his magic to heat the sealants into place. I wasn’t sure what it was called. Mortar? Cement? Something similar to those. Like I said, constructing a school wasn’t in my wheelhouse. I just did whatever they told me.

As everyone set down wooden beams, or helped hammer in nails or cut slots for windows, Professor Helmith would take individuals one by one and instruct them on how to use their magic to cultivate the land.

I worried about my lesson.

It was obvious what everyone else would do. They all had specific magics. Ashlyn would obviously use her typhoon dragon magic to alter the water. Phila could make it so plants could grow faster in the area.

Even Sorin could make it so that the darkness was less intense and Exie could make light even brighter.

But I was a mimic arcanist. I had no magic my own. I just borrowed abilities from others. What was I going to do?

The half-formed schoolhouse would eventually be two stories and twenty feet long. It seemed rather large for the small town of Red Cape. But what did I know?

Phila stood next to a long plank of wood. She held a hammer in one hand, and a nail in the other. Her coatl slithered around her feet, glancing at the wood and then up at his arcanist. They both wore confusion across their faces blatant enough to see from the sky.

“Piper?” Phila called out. “I thought this was board was being used for the eastern wall? But it’s not the same size as the others.”

Piper ran a hand down her face. Her tanned skin seemed healthy in the sunlight, but she squinted as though it hurt her. “Just use a difficult board. I’m sure we’ll find out what that one is for once we near the end.”

“Captain Leon said if we don’t do everything in the proper order, we could cause a cascade of problems.”

“Listen. Just use another board. It’s too early in the morning to be fretting about this.”

Phila gazed upward at the sun hanging overhead. “But… it’s well past noon?”

Piper shot her a glare. “Who’s the professor here? You or me? Just use another board.”

“Yeah,” Reevy chimed in, his cute voice a bit groggy since he just woke up. “Whatever my arcanist said.” He jutted his little rizzel thumb up at Piper and then crossed his forearms.

While they discussed which board was best, I walked around the south side of the school. Twain kept pace, hoping along with kitten spunk. Some of our class—mostly Exie and Ashlyn—were focused on constructing furniture. They made desks, benches, and tables. Ecrib made most of the heavy lifting easy, since he was a powerful dragon, even as a hatchling.

To my fascination, Exie used her illusions to make “marks” on the wood for where to place the nails. She stood next to the latest desk they were working on, and carefully measured all the points for nails before creating little marks. Ashlyn then hammered the nails in one at a time. She took a moment to wipe sweat from her brow as I wandered by.

“Where are you going?” Ashlyn asked.

“To help Sorin,” I replied.

She eyed me for a second before holding up a hand. “Gray, wait.”

Twain and I stopped.

Exie glanced up from her work and frowned. “Uh, really? You said we could take a break once this was done. And in case you didn’t notice, it’s not done.”

“It’ll take only a minute,” Ashlyn said to her. Then she hurried to my side. “Gray. Listen. I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For the ore you gave me. I didn’t want you to help me, but after I thought it over, I realized you were just being nice because I helped your injury.” She motioned to my shoulder. “Is it feeling better, by the way?”

I grabbed my shoulder and then rotated it. “Yeah. It’s just healing slower than I’d like.” And slower than normal. It wasn’t a regular wound. But I didn’t want to bother her with my concerns.

“Well… That’s all.” Ashlyn shrugged. “Thank you. But don’t help me again.”

“Sure. I’ve learned my lesson,” I sarcastically added. Then I tipped an imaginary hat and started to turn, but Ashlyn once again held up her hand.

“I won’t improve my magic or skills if you help me like that,” she quickly stated. “That’s all. I don’t want to win by relying on others. That’s not how my family does things, okay? My brother never relied on anyone’s help when he went through the Academy.”

Her brother?

I had heard about him before from Nasbit. Apparently, Ashlyn was in some sort of competition with her sibling. Although, her brother had already gone through the Academy, it seemed. Which meant she was just trying to beat his school record, like some sort of scoreboard.

“Okay,” I said. “Calm down. I won’t do anything to ruin all your skill and magic growth.” I couldn’t keep my sardonic tone from my words. “But don’t complain when I start being extramotivated at these classes. I have to keep you on your toes, apparently. That’s the only form of thank you that you’ll accept.”

“Ya know, if that corpse hadn’t jumped out of nowhere, Gray and I probably could’ve found a bunch more ore,” Twain chimed in. He rubbed against the side of my leg as he added, “The fire method worked the best. You saw. You got lucky when Gray didn’t win immediately.”

“Yeah, and if I hadn’t been busy putting out your flames, maybe I could’ve found a bunch myself,” Ashlyn snapped.

Twain twitched his whispers. “Hm. I acknowledge your point.”

“Let’s calm down.” I held up my hands and shrugged. “Everything is fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. We understand each other—I accept your thanks—and we can go on with our lives.” I scooped up Twain and cradled him against my chest, his paws in the air. “Have fun making furniture.”

Then I left.

Ashlyn watched me the entire trek over to my brother. Her scrunched eyebrows told me she wanted to say something else, but couldn’t manage to get the words out. I wondered why. But perhaps we’d discuss it later, when she wasn’t worried about failing behind the shadow of her brother’s progress.

I thanked the good stars Sorin was so agreeable.

With a smile, I headed over to his portion of the wall. He was cutting a few boards to allow for window slots. His knightmare, the empty suit of plate armor, stood next to him, holding the sawing table steady. Tendrils made of darkness secured everything in place as well, as though black ropes had tied this portion of the school down.

Nini stood nearby.

She held the measurements of the window in hand, her red hair swirling in the bluster of the afternoon wind. Her reaper, Waste, was also bothered by the breeze. His cloak fluttered to the side, revealing his gold chains. That clattered louder than normal.

Their empty eldrins were an interesting sight. The suit of amor devoid of a human, and the cloak and scythe, just floating around, as though worn by an invisible person.

It was like they were ghosts.

Nini pushed her glasses up further onto her nose as I approached. “Oh. Hello, Gray.”

“Hello.” I motioned to the half-constructed window. “Need help?”

She nodded. “Oh. Maybe you can have Twain transform into Brak so we can have the strength of a stone golem to help.”

I patted Twain’s head. “He can’t hold the shape for very long, actually. He’s already tired.”

Twain yawned. “I’ll be back to full strength after a little catnap.” He closed his two-toned eyes and purred in my arms.

“You could help me decipher these instructions,” Sorin pointed to the book on the ground. The pages flipped over at a rapid rate each time the window blew by. Whatever page he was on was long gone.

I knelt and picked up the book. “Sure.” I wasn’t entirely sure how this would help us become better arcanists, but the faster we built the schoolhouse, the faster we could get on with everything else.

***

It took us thirteen days to construct the building. Everything went so much faster with teleportation and large mystical creatures to do the hauling. I thought it would’ve taken us more than a month, but by the seventh day, the whole building had taken shape. After that, we focused on all the details.

Captain Leon said the biggest struggle with new construction was exposure to the elements. No one wanted the structural wood and material pelted with wind and rain, so constructing the building as fast as possible was always the goal.

At night, we cooked meat and vegetables over a camp fire. Captain Leon taught us a few songs—that Sorin then improved upon—and occasionally fireflies danced around the sky with the stars.

Then we slept in our cramped tents.

It wasn’t bad, actually. We got to practice our magic every day, and life seemed simpler—even easier. It was like this trip had specifically been designed to help everyone recover after what happened with professor Zahn.

I appreciated that.

In the morning, we did it all over again. And while some people got used to the cold river water baths, Exie refused. Absolutely. I thought she would’ve started to smell, but each day she just stank of perfume. Apparently, she had dragged along a whole bottle of the stuff.

It smelled of dried flowers. Especially lilac.

At one point, Raaza called her Ex-Lac, but that didn’t go well.

I avoided her. My nose demanded it.

During the entire time we built the schoolhouse, however, Professor Helmith never called me or Nini out to learn about cultivating the land.

On the last day of construction, while Captain Leon and Raaza were finishing the roof, the rest of us painted the inside and outside of the building. It was relaxing work, but boring. My mind wondered as I walked around the inside of the newly constructed building.

Sorin and Nini worked with me. Nini’s layers of outfit made her work more difficult than it needed to be. Her long sleeves kept accidentally getting dunked into the white paint, which then dripped everywhere, including onto Nini’s front. Flustered, she stopped her work to clean everything up.

I thought this would repeat forever, but Waste floated over to her, the empty cloak and scythe, and slowly wrapped himself around her. Reaper arcanists could merge to become a single being, and once Waste was on her shoulders, the scythe at her back, Nini had all of his strength and skill added to her own.

Waste helped her dexterity and fine motor control. Together, they picked up the brush and worked in clean and efficient patterns.

“Oh, wow,” Sorin said, watching from afar. “Thurin, you think we can do that?”

“I doubt it, my arcanist,” Thurin muttered from the shadows.

“Why not?”

“My armor is thicker and more intrusive than a reaper’s cloak. I suggest you manipulate the darkness to help you paint if you want to use magic to make this work better.”

Someone opened the front door of the school. I stopped my painting and glanced over. Exie walked in, her hair pulled back in a loose braid, her blue dress spotless, even though everyone else had paint or mud stains. Somehow, despite not even bathing, she had the radiance of a princess attending a gala.

If Exie put half as much effort into life as she did her appearance, she would’ve solved world hunger. I was almost in awe of her sheer dedication.

With a smile, and her erlking fairy fluttering behind her, Exie strode straight over to my brother. Her dress swayed with each step, somehow thin enough to see her figure, but long enough to be considered extremely modest.

But her perfume was noticeable, even from across the room, ruining her sultry entrance. Twain made a silent gagging gesture and then mock-dunked his own head into the bucket of paint. I tried not to laugh, which just resulted in me snickering under my breath.

Sorin shot me a glare.

He knew what I was doing. With a sigh, I stopped.

“Sorin?” Exie asked once she reached his side. “Do you have a moment, darling?”

Did she just call him darling?This was getting weird. Or interesting? It piqued my interest, to say the least.

Sorin hesitantly lowered his paint brush and lifted his eyebrows. “Uh, yeah, I have a moment. Something wrong?”

Exie’s erlking, Rex, flapped his beautiful feathered wings. “Nothing’s wrong, you’re just tall enough to help with certain finishing touches.” The fairy flew circles around my Sorin’s tall frame. “Help us! We definitely need someone like you.”

Rex tugged at the sleeve of Sorin’s shirt. He was so small, his pulling barely moved Sorin’s outfit.

“Yes, please,” Exie said with a smile. “It would help out so much.”

Sorin set his brush down into the paint can. “Uh, sure.” He gave me and Nini a half-shrug before following Exie to the front door. “This won’t take too long, right? I want to help finish what we started here.”

“It won’t take too long at all. I promise.”

Then they left. I had to admit, she wasn’t impolite to my brother. Exie had been perfectly reasonable and respectful. I supposed it could’ve gone worse.

It was late in the day, the sun setting in the far distance. The orange of the sky had a calming presence. The air smelled fresh and crisp. I returned to painting, wondering when Sorin would return.

Nini and Waste unmerged. The tattered cloak slid off of Nini’s shoulders, and the rusted scythe twirled around.

But they didn’t say anything. Nini worked in utter silence, and her eldrin just “watched,” though it was difficult to tell since the reaper didn’t have a face. Or eyes. Just an empty piece of clothing.

The door opened again.

“Finally,” I said, turning on my heel. “Let me guess, Exie needed—” I stopped myself short.

Professor Helmith stood at the door.

She wore a dress as black as her hair. And she was barefoot. A small anklet clinked softly whenever she walked. I was surprised she would opt to leave her boots behind, considering all the twigs and rocks around, but she didn’t care.

“Gray, Nini,” Professor Helmith said. “Care to join me for your cultivating lesson? We’ll be done before its time to gather round the campfire.”

Nini didn’t voice an acceptance. She merely nodded, fixed her paint-stained coat, and then hurried toward the professor. Her reaper floated silently behind her, like a second shadow.

I grabbed Twain and went as well. “All right.”

Even if I couldn’t cultivate like the others, I wanted to spend more time with Professor Helmith. She had taught me so much when I was younger, and I missed those lessons. Perhaps I could ask her a few questions about the abyssal hells we well.

Professor Helmith smiled as Nini and I approached. Helmith’s purple eyes were more prominent in the sunset. They practically glowed, matching the tattoos on her arms that sparkled with inner power.

“I’m sorry the two of you had to wait so long for your lesson,” Professor Helmith said. She walked out of the school and then motioned to the shabby road down the hill. “But the two of you have magics that make this process difficult.”

Nini tucked some of her thin hair behind her ear. “Uh, do you think a reaper arcanist can even do this? Cultivate the land, I mean. None of my magics… are helpful.”

Helmith shook her head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Building and improving can come from anywhere, even a reaper.”

“We are born from death,” Waste said, his rusty voice ominous.

“I’m aware.” The professor walked with us across the dirt, and then the grass, and toward the small forest where I found the gate fragment. “But magic itself is a creation. You’ll see.”

“But how are we going to help the people of Red Cape?” Nini asked.

Professor Helmith pointed to a worn path shrouded in shadows. The trail was thin, and mostly hidden behind shrubs and weeds. “I’ve found a place where your magic will benefit the residents the most.”

“Where?” I asked.

The professor smiled at me. In a singsong voice, she replied, “The graveyard.”