Mimic Arcanist [Chapters 11-12]

Hey peeps!

More chapters. Hopefully this will be done and posted to here in a week or two!

Be prepared for the abyssal hells. o.o

Shami

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MANIPULATING RESULTS

As the sun set, the others gradually returned from their ore hunt. The only ones missing were Raaza, Nini, and my brother, Sorin.

Ashlyn, Phila, and Exie all sat together—a group of girls on one log, their eldrin around their feet.

I sat alone on my log, my mimic asleep on my lap.

Knovak also sat alone, most likely because he wanted to avoid the fleas infesting lowborn arcanists. I didn’t know that, I just liked to imagine that was his justification.

Nasbit sat away from us, but I suspected it was so he could get some quiet.

Captain Leon tended the flames in the firepit with his cerberus. If an ember ever escaped, he snuffed it immediately with a wave of his hand. Cerberus arcanists could manipulate flame, and as I watched him expertly use his magic, I was tempted to have Twain transform so I could try the same thing.

Sticks, his cerberus, was much more playful. The massive three-headed dog scooted close to the firepit and sniffed at the flames. Whenever a spark few out, the three heads tried to snap it out of the air.

“Listen up, everyone—every arcanist can manipulate something,” Captain Leon said as he wandered around the stone pit. “Manipulation is the arcanist’s ability to influence something in the world around them. Sea serpents manipulate the tide, cerberus arcanist manipulate fire…”

Nasbit sat the furthest from the firepit, his stone golem standing next to his log bench. He read a book while we waited for the final three students to return.

It was strange. Nasbit was so quiet, he was practically an unmoving golem himself. Under the light of the fire, his brown hair seemed redder, and his dark eyes appeared watery. He sweated a lot, which was odd. He kept wiping his puffy cheeks and forehead, his sweat actually sliding around the grooves of his arcanist mark that were etched into his flesh.

It seemed to irritate him.

“Are you listening?” Leon snapped, turning his attention to Nasbit.

The portly boy just nodded. He never removed his eyes from his book. “You were speaking about magical manipulation. You were telling us arcanists can all do it, and that each is different depending on their eldrin. Elementary information—I learned it years ago.”

Captain Leon frowned. “You’re a first-year student.”

Nasbit hefted his book a bit. “Anyone with the will to read is a student of life. That’s a direct quote from the Scholar King Ovantain, my person hero.” He gave Leon a smug smile before returning his attention to the pages. “I was a first-year student when I was four. Now I’m in my eleventh year of study, and I’m ready for more challenging concepts.”

“Oh, yeah?” Leon straight his belt, his frown deepening. “What do stone golems manipulate?”

“The type of stone their golems originate from,” Nasbit answered matter-of-factly. He motioned to his eldrin, though he kept his attention on his book. “Brak is a sandstone golem. So I can manipulate sandstones as though they were puddy.”

“And do you have any sandstone on you?”

Nasbit hesitated. Then he slowly closed his book and reached into the pocket of his trousers. He held up a bit of golden sandstone. It practically sparkled in the light of the fire.

“This is the perfect time to practice your manipulation.” Leon pointed to the rock. “Go on. Since we’re waiting for the last three anyway. Let’s all go around and see what you brand new arcanists can do.”

Nasbit sighed. He furrowed his brow and concentrated deeply on the palm-sized piece of rock in his hand. It was already a misshapen stone—lumpy and distorted. If I had to guess, I would’ve said that Nasbit already manipulated it.

After a few seconds of deep breathing, Nasbit managed to squish the rock in his hand. True to his word, the hard stone shifted as though crafting puddy. Practically a goo in his magical hands. With a proud smile, Nasbit held it up for everyone to see.

“There,” he said after a long breath. “I did it!”

Captain Leon clapped and nodded his head. “Very good.”

While everyone was paying attention, no one else applauded or heaped praise. I wished my brother were here. Sorin would’ve given Nasbit all the clapping he could ever want.

“This is actually how I gathered my two pieces of occult ore.” Nasbit lowered his hand and cradled his sandstone. “I shaped this rock into a little shovel and dug the ore out of the ground.”

“Excellent work. You have a special talent for academic work. Real self-guided, aren’t you?”

Nasbit straightened his posture. “I pride myself on my discipline. My aunt said I’m a little too studious, and that I’m never going to get married unless I stop reading all the time, but I think being true to one’s self is—”

“Okay, okay.” Leon waved away the comment. “We don’t need to hear everything. I get enough of that from a certain rizzel arcanist.” Then Leon turned to Phila. “You there. Lass. You have a coatl, correct? What can you manipulate?”

“Me?” Phila pointed to herself. Her eyes grew large. “Uh. Well. I can evoke wind. I know that. And… I know I can manipulate something.”

Leon ran a hand down his face.

His cerberus snickered.

“Okay,” Leon said, more to himself than anyone else. “So this is how it’s going to be…” After a deep breath, he smiled and increased his volume. “Listen. Coatl arcanists manipulate vegetation. Plants. Vines. Ferns. They can force growth, move them around as though puppets—even rend them apart.”

Her coatl, Tenoch, nodded his snake-like head. “Yes. Yes! My father, Lord Coatl of the Jungle, manipulated the vegetation to hide his nesting grounds. He even became so powerful, he could move the redstone trees deep in the jungle’s heart. They were thought to be impossible to move.”

“You never told me that,” Phila said as she petted her coatl eldrin.

The coatl fluffed the parrot-colored feathers on his majestic wings. “Yes, but dramatically revealing my lineage seemed appropriate.” He spread his wings. “For greatest impact.”

Phila giggled as she smoothed the feathers on the winged snake. “I agree. Dramatic flair is important.”

“Enough,” Leon barked. He motioned to the blue grass on the other side of the log bench. “Why don’t you try manipulating that?”

The area around us was still tainted by the occult ore seeping up through the ground. The strange colors of all the plant life made me wonder if magic would work properly on them. I supposed I was about to find out.

For a long, and painfully awkward, moment, Phila just stared at him. Then she turned her attention to the grass. Her coatl did the same. “Tenoch?” she asked. “Can you manipulate it?”

The coatl slithered over and sniffed at the blue blades of grass. After a few seconds of concentration, the grass grew a few inches taller. And not just a small patch of grass—but the whole patch around the log bench. The grass sprung up, damn near like weeds, threatening to swallow their whole bench.

Exie gagged and leapt away from the log. “Disgusting. I don’t want to sit in grass.”

Her erlking fairy flew away with her. Then they both took a set on my log, of all places. To her credit, she sat at the very opposite end from where I was, but still. This wasn’t an ideal situation.

Ashlyn didn’t move from her seat. She just ran her hand over the grass and nodded. “Good work, Tenoch.” She shot Phila a glower. “If only your arcanist had done that…”

Captain Leon pointed to Phila. “Youmanipulate the vegetation.”

“Ah. I see.” Phila held her hand out. After a short moment, she shook her head. “Perhaps you should return to me after a little bit. I need to warm up.”

Sticks wagged his tail. Then one of the heads turned to face her. “You didn’t bring back any occult ore. Was it because you weren’t confident with your magic?”

“Well, I was practicing my evocation, but creating wind didn’t help with the ore at all.” Phila brushed back some of her strawberry-blonde hair. With a frown, she added, “And wasn’t it more important to practice magic than gather rocks from the ground? I believe that was what Captain Leon said.”

After a long and deep sigh, Leon placed his hands on his hips. “Ya know, back when the Academy started, students were so eager to practice their magic, we had to force them to take breaks.”

“How dreadful,” Phila said.

“Look… Just practice your magic, all right? I’ll get back to you.” Leon glanced over at Ashlyn and grinned. “You already know what you manipulate, don’t you?”

“Water,” Ashlyn replied—quick, precise. She knew he would ask, and she had long prepared her answer.

“And you’ve done it? You’ve manipulated water already?”

“I used it to help put out the fires that Gray started earlier today. That was how I gathered so much ore.”

“Perfect. Just as you were supposed to.” Leon slowly turned his attention to me, once again frowning. “And burning the area to find ore… That was a good idea. I’m surprised you didn’t find any.”

I shrugged. “All the flames caused me to panic. Good thing Ashlyn was there with her water manipulation.” I offered her a sly smile. She didn’t respond.

“Yes. Very true.” Leon crossed his arms. “That’s why she came back with four ore. The most so far.”

Knovak scooted to the edge of his log and lifted his hand. His giant hat—pointed and tall—seemed warm, considering he was so close to the fire, but the man refused to remove it. For some reason.

Captain Leon glanced over. “Yes, Knovak?”

“You didn’t ask me about mymanipulation. You basically skipped right over me.” He pointed to Nasbit, then to his log, then to the log with Ashlyn and Phila. “Don’t you want to instruct me on how to use unicorn magic?”

Starling, his unicorn foul, stood and swished his tail. The horn glittered no matter the time of day, or even if there was sunlight, but next to the fire, it practically glowed with inner power.

“Well…” Leon groaned as he walked around the firepit. “Why don’t you just wait until we get back to the Academy? Hm?”

Knovak stood from his seat, his lips pursed. “Is it because my eldrin is the weakest of all the arcanists here? Is that it? You don’t think my manipulation is worthwhile?” His voice got louder with each word, and his face reddened slightly.

“Hmpf!” his unicorn chimed in.

“Quiet down,” Leon barked. He pointed at Knovak. “It has nothing to do with that, boy. It has everything to do with the fact that unicorns manipulate emotions, basically.”

Knovak lifted both his eyebrows. “Really? So I can force people to cower? Or force them to feel guilt for their actions? Or shame them with overwhelming embarrassment?”

“Uh. No. Unicorns are creatures that bolsters good feelings. Confidence. Courage. Determination. It’s not… easy… to teach. Out in the woods.” Captain Leon ended on a weak note, like he wasn’t even sure how to explain the problem.

But I understood.

How was Knovak supposed to practice his magical manipulation if all he did was boost people’s positive feelings? That was pretty weak. And difficult to quantify.

“Oh,” Knovak said. He slowly sat back down on his log. “Yes. I see.”

“Unicorn arcanists make great knights,” Nasbit interjected. He nodded once. “Since they empower themselves to stay the path, no matter the obstacles.”

“Wow. Great.”

Knovak no longer seemed like he wanted to participate. He tugged the brim of his hat to cover most of his face.

Nasbit sheepishly returned to his book, a slight frown on his face. Had he brought up the knights to make Knovak feel better? That was kind of him, even if it didn’t work.

Everyone was quiet after that.

The crackle of our camp fire was our only entertainment. In moments like this, I missed Sorin’s poetry. I almost laughed at the thought.

The universe had won.

I missed Sorin’s terrible rhymes.

What was next? I’d start missing the smell of my father’s candles?

“I already know what Imanipulate,” Exie proclaimed, shattering the silence with her haughty tone. She stood, and her erlking fairy fluttered up to fly around her head. “Erlkings manipulate and evoke the same thing, basically. Light. That’s how we create illusions. We change the light around.”

Exie waved her delicate hand.

The log we now shared shimmered and then became a proper stone bench. It wasn’t stone, but now it lookedlike stone. It even had arm rests and a back rest. None of that would work, since it wasn’t real, but it looked convincing enough.

“See?” she said. Then she tossed some of her chestnut hair over her shoulder. “Brilliant, I would say.”

“How many pieces of ore did you bring back?” Sticks asked. The cerberus huffed out some fire. “Did you use your magic to help?”

“I brought back two pieces, thank you very much.” Exie crossed her arms over her chest and then carefully sat down on the “stone” log. After tucking one ankle behind the other, she added, “This whole area is confusing, and dirty, and I didn’t want to stomp around the mud. After I found two lying around in the grass, I practiced my magic away from the others. I don’t want to win the competition—I just want this whole camping trip to be over as quickly as possible.”

“Finding two pieces is impressive.”

Exie smiled. “Thank you.”

Very impressive—for someone who didn’t want to get dirty. It made me wonder how she found the ore. And whether or not she had help.

The rustling of grass and the snap of twigs drew everyone’s attention. Leon walked around the fire until he had a clear view of the people approaching. Fortunately, it was just Nini and Sorin. The two of them hurried over, my brother offering me a wave as they approached.

I half-waved back, wondering why he was so boisterous, even when he wasn’t making any noise.

My brother was just larger than most, and it was painfully obvious when he entered camp. He hopped over Knovak’s log and then took a seat next to him. Sorin took up way more space than Knovak. I suspected, if Sorin focused on his physical training, he’d be twice the size of the others.

Sorin patted the log next to him, and Nini hurried to take a seat at his side.

Nini was half-human, half-laundry-basket. She had so many layers of clothing.

So many.

Was she wearing more than when I last saw her? Had she come back to camp and put on another coat? Her long coat was dirty and covered in sap and leaves, but she wore a smile brighter than I had seen before, so I figured everything must’ve gone well for them. Her reaper floated over to the firepit without making a sound. Even the small chain that hung from its cloak didn’t rattle as much.

Waste’s scythe was creepy, but he kept it behind his cloak, out of view. Nice of him.

“Hey, everyone,” Sorin said, all smiles and grins. He reached into his pocket and withdrew two silvery ore. They glittered in the campfire light. “Look what I have!” He offered them to Captain Leon. “So, do I have the most?”

The captain shook his head. “Ashlyn is the one to beat, currently. She gathered four pieces of ore.”

“Not Gray? Really?”

“No.” Leon glanced over at Nini. “Did you find any?”

Nini adjusted her glasses on her nose before reaching into her coat and pulling out three additional ore. “I found some. S-Sorry it wasn’t the most. I think we got lost.” She smoothed her red hair and even removed a broken twig from her locks.

“You don’t need to worry.” Captain Leon softened his words. “You and Sorin have been doing an excellent job. Unlike most here, I’ve seen your magic manipulation at work, and I know you’ve been practicing hard.”

“I’m a natural at manipulating the shadows.” Sorin waved his hand and the darkness around his log reached upward, little shadow tendrils grasping for the air. “Thurin says I’m going to make a great knightmare arcanist.”

His knightmare, Thurin, shifted through the shadows at his feet. He was just a puddle of darkness unless he lifted from the shadows, even when he spoke. “You’ve made great progress already, my arcanist.”

When Leon glanced at Nini, the two of them just shared a short stare.

Reaper arcanists manipulated blood.

No one wanted to see that happen. Not here, anyway. Not on a camping trip.

When another set of footfalls caught everyone’s attention, I stiffened. Raaza returned to the group alone, his expression hard and his gaze distant. He just stared at his boots the whole time he walked over to us. His kitsune trotted by his side, her feet flashing with fake flames. Nightfall was almost upon us, and her steps blazed like stars.

As Raaza approached the firepit, he reached into his pocket and hesitated. “Who has the most ore?” he asked. He looked up and glanced between us all.

Sorin chuckled. “It’s Ashlyn.”

“How many does she have?”

“Four.”

After a short moment of hesitation, Raaza withdrew a pile of ore from his pocket. “Lucky me. I gathered five.” He presenting the shimmering ore to Leon. In the light of the camp fire, it practically glistened. “That makes me the winner.”

His kitsune fox danced around his feet, her red fur lustrous. “Hurray for my arcanist! Celebrations all around.”

Captain Leon took the ore and shoved it into his pouch, alongside all the other ore we had all gathered. “Congratulations, young man. I’m glad to see you took my task seriously. Your prize.” He handed over a small bracelet made of small gold chains. It was delicate and thin, but beautiful.

“What is it?”

“A trinket imbued with salamander magic. You can’t be burned by non-magical means, and you’ll always be warm, even in the coldest of storms. You’ve earned it young man.”

Raaza slipped the bracelet onto his left wrist. Then he shoved the sleeves of his robe over it. “Thank you.”

Leon clapped his hands together and pointed to the fire. “Whelp, I’m starved. It’s time to teach you all how you eat while camping.”

Several groans were his only answer.

Raaza took a seat next to me on the illusioned log. As though she wanted nothing to do with us, Exie shifted slightly, giving us her back. That was fine. We didn’t need to talk to her.

“Congrats,” I said to Raaza.

Twain yawned in my lap. “Yeah. Woo. You did it.”

Miku hopped on the log and swished her fox tail. She giggled.

“I should thank you, Gray,” Raaza whispered. He smirked as he said, “I only found enough ore to win because I took your advice.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “What advice?”

“The advice you gave me on the boat. I practiced a bit more with my fox fire. I used it to trick the captain. I only found three ore. But now he thinks there’s five.” Raaza held his hand out, and a puff of fox fight appeared. Then it transformed into a round little piece of ore. He had learned to create something other than coins, it seemed.

I narrowed my gaze. “Why are you telling me this? A good con artist doesn’t reveal his secrets. Aren’t you worried I’ll say something to Leon?”

Raaza met my gaze with a cold stare. “Are you?”

“Heh.” I laced my fingers together and placed both my hands on top of my head. “Just seems bond of you to tell me without knowing whether I would or not. Is bold the right word? Maybe I’m thinking of foolish.”

“Or maybe… you’re the type of man who likes to keep his options open.” Raaza closed his hand, and the fake ore vanished. His fox fire wasn’t real, even if the object seemed real for short while. “I think you value having me indebted to you more than the praise you would receive for turning me in.”

He wasn’t wrong…

But I hated it when people guessed my motives or actions. It bothered me on a deeper level that was difficult to explain. I was tempted to snitch on him—explain everything to Leon—just to prove Raaza wrong.

“Who wants meat?” Leon practically sang as he walked back over to the fire. He carried a platter piled high with chicken, beef, goat, and pig. Probably some rabbit, too, but it was difficult to see under the mess of flesh.

I’d deal with the Raaza situation later.

First, I would eat. Then I would talk to Sorin about the gate fragment. If I had any more time—or giving a damn—I’d contemplate Raaza and his deception.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE FIVE LAYERS OF THE ABYSSAL HELLS

Congratulations to Captain Leon.

I had never consumed so much meat that I regretted not having vegetables. Tonight was the first. My belly threatened to burst at any moment. There was so much food in my gut, my lungs struggled to find their place in my torso.

Captain Leon said this was “camping food,” but it felt more like an old-fashioned street feast to me. On the Isle of Haylin, we sometimes celebrated minor events with a street feast. Everyone brought raw food, and fires and spits were set up to cook it all for those who attended. Those days were filled with merriment.

I supposed camping was filled with merriment as well.

Sorin held a drumstick aloft as he said, in poetic fashion, “From the spit and to the grill, roasting meat is quite the thrill.”

Nini clapped in time with words, almost creating a song. And while I had missed his rhymes before, I quickly remembered why I thought Sorin should stop. The others gave him sideways glances and muttered things under their breath too quiet to hear.

“Cooking and camping, a perfect pair!” Sorin gestured to everyone. “Memories made that we’ll always share.”

No one said anything. Nini clapped louder once my brother was finished. The only other person to react was Captain Leon, of all people. He stood and also offered a bit of applause. “Excellent! Sorin, you’re a natural. Back in my day, we would tell stories and sing songs. This is even better. Fire-side entertainment.”

Sticks wagged his tail and all three of his heads nodded along with the statement.

Sorin bowed and then took a seat back on the log. “I’ve been practicing a lot. You can thank my brother for my performance.”

When the others all turned to stare at me, I shielding my gaze by rubbing at my eyes. I didn’t want to be associated with this. Why did Sorin always rope me into his childish antics?

Twain rolled around on my lap, his belly distended. He burped and then twitched his long ears. “Oh. Carry me, Gray. I’ll never make it back to our tent in my condition.”

For some reason, his statements caught Exie’s attention. She shifted on our log, finally turning to face me. With a sneer, she stared down at Twain. “You know, you would be a cute eldrin if you tried even a little bit.”

Twain twitched his whiskers. “Hey! What’re you trying to say?” He belched a second time, punctuating his questioning with a waft of foul-smelling meat.

“I’m saying you should act cuter.” Exie narrowed her eyes into a glower. Somehow, she was still beautiful, even when irritated—even when bothering my eldrin. “Perhaps say adorable phrases, and stop burping. More people will like you. They’ll pay more attention.”

Twain batted his little kitten eyelashes. “I’m sworry! All the itty-bitty pieces of meat make me want to poopsie-doopsie.”

I snorted back a laugh.

Exie didn’t find it funny. At all.

She huffed as she stood from the log. Without another word, she stormed over to Ashlyn and Phila. Despite the fact their log was covered in blue grass, she took a seat with them, her cheeks red.

“Hehe,” Twain said as he curled up in my lap.

“I hear people get sent to the deepest layers of the abyssal hells for things less than that,” I muttered, equally sarcastic.

“Eh. It was funny.” Twain opened one cat-like eye and stared up at me. “Write that on my tombstone, okay? That’s my motto from now on.”

“I’m not writing anything on your tombstone because if you’re dead, I’m also dead.” I scooped Twain up into my arms and then stood from the log. “C’mon. You’ve had enough to eat, we’ve definitely not made any friends, and I need to tell Sorin all about what we saw.”

Raaza shot me an odd glance after the last part of my statement. He didn’t ask what I meant, though. Which was good—because I wasn’t going to tell him.

I walked around the firepit and headed for Sorin. My brother spotted me right away. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet and smiling. He motioned to his spot on the log—right between Knovak and Nini. “Did you want to sit here, Gray? I can always sit on the dirt.”

“Actually, I’m full.” I motioned to one of the tents with a tilt of my head. “I was hoping I could speak with you before I hit the sack. It’ll be quick.”

Sorin leaned in closer to me. In a whisper, he said, “I know you think I should stop with the rhymes and stuff. Do we really need to talk about it again?”

“That’s not what I want to talk about,” I replied, my voice equally as quiet. “Please. It’s important.”

Although I hadn’t told him the topic, Sorin hardened his expression and nodded once. Together, we turned away from the campfire.

Captain Leon spotted us going. He whirled on his heel and then gestured to the dark brown tents. “Those ones over there are for the boys. Your belongings are already inside. Get plenty of sleep. Tomorrow we’ll start construction and we further your magical knowledge.”

We waved to acknowledge his statements and then quickly headed for the tents. It was dark, and once we were away from the fire, it felt as though we had stepped into a shadowy void.

“I can see the dark,” Sorin whispered.

“Good ol’ knightmare magic.” I held Twain close. I wished mimic arcanists had more abilities other than the ones I stole from others.

“The stronger the mystical creature, the more innate abilities they grant their arcanist. That’s what I’ve learned, anyway. Knightmares are fairly strong, so one of my innate abilities is to see through shadows.” Sorin flared his hands out when he said the last word.

“Uh-huh. I know. We’re in the same classes, remember?”

Sorin exhaled and then shrugged. “It’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I’m very jealous. As soon as Twain isn’t a bloated meat wagon, I’m going to have him transform into a knightmare.”

We entered the tent together, laughing as we threw back the flap. Sorin always made me feel at ease. The benefit of being twins, I supposed. Nothing was ever really wrong between us. We argued sometimes, and disagreed on a lot, but no one had my back like Sorin did.

Our tents were impressive on the inside. They were rectangular and spacious.

Five feet by six feet with cloth walls there were at least five feet high themselves—and a pole in the center that held the roof up even higher than that, so we didn’t have to duck to move around. We had three cots in the tent, with a rug across the grass and dirt. Everything was elevated off the ground, including a little table that held our backpack and supplies.

A single glowstone, placed inside of a glass bottle and tied to the pole of the tent, kept the inside illuminated.

It felt cozy.

The moment Sorin closed the tent flap, I grabbed his bicep.

“Remember the Gate of Crossing that Professor Zahn made?” I asked, my voice low but my words fast. “The one that teleported people to the abyssal hells? The one I exploded?”

Sorin’s eyes widened. “Is this… a serious question? Because I’ll never forget that. A Death Lord walked out of that gate.”

“I found a fragment of that very gate out in the woods.” I pulled Sorin closer. “Ashlyn and I fought a… a corpse. Or something. Water from the deepest part of the ocean was everywhere around the gate fragment. Ashlyn thinks the piece of gate was somehow teleporting thingsfrom the abyssal hells and throwing them around the nearby area.”

Professor Helmith asked me not to start a panic, so I had waited to tell Sorin, but now that I was voicing everything, my fear seeped into my tone. What if things really were being teleported here? What were we going to do about it? Helmith hadn’t been frightened, and she had sounded confidant that the headmaster would know what to do, but I wasn’t convinced.

The headmaster hadn’t known about Professor Zahn’s plan, after all. That man had worked on the gate in secret for years without anyone suspecting anything. Would the headmaster really know what was best here if he couldn’t figure out the gate’s true purpose when it was right in front of him?

Sorin placed a hand on my shoulder. “Hey. We’re becoming arcanists now, right? We have magic and power. We can solve this. And I’ll be with you every step of way. There’s no need to worry.”

He had a calming tone, but my dread was as constant as my heartbeat nowadays.

Twain shifted in my arms. Then his ears twitched. He turned his attention to the tent flap. “Someone’s here,” he whispered.

Without saying a word, Sorin grabbed the flap and threw it open.

Nasbit stood on the other side, all color draining from his face the moment he realized he had been caught. Had he been spying on us? He was clearly leaning close to the tent.

With giant circular eyes, he mumbled out, “O-Oh, well, uh, you see, I couldn’t find my things in the other tent, so I thought, um, maybe they were here?”

I snapped my attention to the backpacks on the little table. One was mine. The other… It wasn’t Sorin’s, and it was stuffed to the brim with tomes and paper. Nasbit’s.

“Did you hear anything?” I asked I returned my attention to him.

Nasbit stared at me for a prolonged moment. Somehow, despite the fact he was silent, he admitted everything. He had heard all about the gate fragment and my theories on the manner.

I grabbed his robes and pulled him into the tent. Sorin shut the flap, and we all huddled close to the wooden pole in the middle of the tent. It was already getting crowded with just three people and a kitten. Good thing Brak wasn’t here. We couldn’t handle the stone golem’s presence no matter how we arranged ourselves.

“Don’t tell anyone what you just heard,” I stated. “We’re trying to avoid causing a panic.”

Nasbit nodded. Then he slowed his nodding and started shaking his head. “Wouldn’t it reassure people to know what’s going on?”

“What is going on?” I asked him.

He just shrugged. “Um. You think things are coming out of the abyssal hells?”

“But I don’t know that. It’s just a guess. And even if I did know that for sure, I don’t know what’s in the abyssal hells others than freakish monsters, Death Lords, and souls, so I wouldn’t be able to explain what the danger level is here.”

“You… don’t know what’s in the abyssal hells?” Nasbit nervously chuckled. “Uh. I can help you with your, um… lack of knowledge.”

“You can?” Sorin asked.

I let go of Nasbit’s robes. “How?”

Nasbit point to his backpack. “Well, after I heard that Professor Zahn had made a gate into the abyssal hells, I went to the Academy’s library and searched for books on the matter. I figured it would be interesting reading, and there was a chance it would come in handy.”

I mulled over his words for a bit. “Huh. That’s clever.”

“Clever?” Nasbit frowned. “I thought it was basic due diligence. I mean, if I had been the one to see a Death Lord, I would’ve read every scrap of information that had in the Academy about the man. I find it mildly disturbing you haven’t investigated yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sorin muttered. “We get it. You don’t have to be a sass-hole to my brother.”

“All right.”

Nasbit tried to step around me and Sorin. His larger body, and gut, made it awkward, but he eventually moved around the wooden pole and reached his pack. He rummaged through it until he withdrew a small tome.

“You might not know this, but centuries ago, there was a wide-spread church dedicated to teaching about the abyssal hells. This was one of their books, written by a scribe.” Nasbit opened up to the first chapter. “You can tell by all the fancy penmanship.”

Sorin actually leaned in to get a better look at the loop on the letters. “Oh. I’m impressed.”

I snatched the tome from Nasbit’s hands and shot my brother a glare. “What’s with the both of you? This is important.” Twain flailed around in my other arm, so I set him down on the cot. “I want to know about everything in the abyssal hells, starting with the most dangerous stuff.”

Nasbit glanced at the tent flap and then back to me. “I can give you a quick summary.”

“Good—do it.”

He held up his hand, his five fingers spread out. “There are five layers to the abyssal hells. According to the scribe who penned that book, all souls go to the hells once they’ve shed their mortal coil. The more dastardly you were in life, the deeper your soul goes.”

Sorin crossed his arms over his wide chest, his expression grim.

Nasbit pointed to his pointer finger. “The first layer of the abyssal hells is where souls go to, uh, be reborn, I guess. They somehow return to the world. I read stories they return as star shards, and other stories say they’re reborn as babes. Lots of speculation, but safe to say, the first abyss is the kind one. If you were great and gentle and amazing while alive, your soul would go here and somehow return to the world.”

“Okay,” I muttered.

“The second abyss is the next layer, and they say it’s a labyrinth built from bone and meant to keep people from gaining access to the scariest parts of the abyssal hells. It’s also a place where mystical creatures are born. Scary creatures. The kind born from tortured souls and anguish.” Nasbit frowned as he motioned to his middle finger. “I skimmed most of that chapter.”

Sorin and I exchanged a quick glance, but otherwise said nothing.

“The third abyss is where all the Death Lords dwell,” Nasbit stated as he pointed to his third finger. “Lost souls gather here. Lost in the metaphorical sense. The souls of blackhearts and scum descended to this layer, and then the Death Lords greet them and graft their souls to the abyssal dragons to empower their eldrin.”

“Those were the stories I heard when I was younger,” Sorin said. “Death Lords would torture souls by flaying them. Or something.” He glanced over at me. “I always thought it was weird, because how do you flay a soul? They don’t have flesh.”

I didn’t reply.

I could still picture the abyssal dragon stepping out of the gate. The dragon’s wings… They had been translucent and wicked, and made of a hundred faces and ghostly bodies—like souls had been stitched together to create a limb for the monster.

I supposed that part of the story was true, then.

“According to the book,” Nasbit continued, oblivious to my anxiousness, “the Death Lords want to control every layer of the abyssal hells, but once the hells were sealed, they couldn’t seem to travel between them.”

“The Death Lords don’t want to enter the land of the living?” Sorin asked.

“Oh, they do.” Nasbit frowned. “But, uh, back thousands of years ago, they couldn’t take over the land because not only were the gates sealed, but there were arcanists around who could stop them. God-arcanists. And other such things… that no longer exist. Because they all died.”

“Perfect,” I quipped. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

“The fourth abyss,” Nasbit said, ignoring my comment and pointing to his pinkie, “is where the elder-creatures dwell.” He narrowed his eyes. “You two know how mystical creatures grow, right?”

Twain rolled around on the cot, his ears twitching. “Everyone knows that, rock boy. Mystical creatures bond with humans so that we can nibble on their soul.”

“It sounds creepy when you say it that way,” I said.

Twain frowned. “It doesn’t kill the human—just like a little paper cut wouldn’t kill someone. We only take tiny bits of the soul! Similar to droplets of blood.”

“It still sounds creepy.”

“That’s not my fault. I didn’t make the rules.”

Nasbit waved his hand, interrupting us. “Okay. Yes. That’s right.” He sighed. “And that’s important to keep in mind when you learn about the fourth abyss. You see, the elder-creatures in the down there eat the souls that descend to their level. And because they’re consuming whole souls—”

“They grow big and powerful without ever needing to bond with anyone,” I interjected, my words soaked in realization and awe.

Sorin rubbed at the back of his neck. “We don’t want to hear about the fifth abyss, do we?”

Deafening silence was our only answer. Nasbit paled even further. Would he tell us? Part of me didn’t want to know.

Nasbit pointed to his thumb.

“The fifth abyss… is something far worse than the others.”