Academy Arcanist [Chps 16-18]

Hey peeps!

I hope you enjoy! (There is a single spoiler in chapter 17, but it is minor).

Shami

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TO ORIENTATION

I cracked open the infirmary door and glanced outside.

The door led to a wide hallway. The dark stone walls were imposing at first, but then I caught sight of the many framed pictures. Paintings of dazzling landscapes, famous mystical creatures, and regal palaces were everywhere. I didn’t recognize most of the images, but I didn’t need to. Silver plaques hung underneath each painting, providing the name of the artist, and the reason the image was placed on the wall of the Academy.

I was too far away to see them all, but the closest painting was plenty interesting all on its own. The image was the sun and moon hanging in the sky at the same time. Underneath them, the land and ocean were a mix of sunlight and daylight.

It was surreal. Like a dream.

The details on the plaque read:

Artist: Danivin Kal

A depiction of the world before the gates to the abyssal hells were closed. The sun and the moon together in the same sky is an omen of death and passing.

An omen?

My father would’ve loved this painting.

“What’re you waiting for?” Twain whispered. He squirmed in my arms. “I thought you said we were in a hurry?”

Embarrassment filled me as I stepped out into the hallway. I had pants. Nothing else. I wasn’t indecent, but it seemed pathic and unprofessional to wander around the Academy like a vagabond.

Where were my belongings? I assumed the Academy staff had something with them, but I wasn’t sure what. Before I ventured anywhere else, I took a moment to glance up and down the hallway.

The lush blue carpets complemented the silver silk drapes that hung between the paintings. Vases filled with blue and silver flowers were also present next to each door. A plaque that read: Astra Academy Infirmary hung on the wall next to me, its metal practically sparkling in the midmorning light.

I hated to think this, but it reminded me of my home.

I gritted my teeth and frowned. Why did everything always remind me of things I wanted to move beyond? My father, my rinky-dink island… I was in a amazing Academy, finally free of my old life, yet here I was reminiscing.

What was wrong with me?

“What’s wrong with you?” Twain hissed, his ears back. “We’re just standing around in a hallway! We look like weirdos.”

“Gray?”

The feminine voice caught me off guard. I straightened my posture as I whipped around. Twain also froze, his fur on end. I held him close, trying to hide the fact I was barely dressed, but it wasn’t really working.

Piper came storming down the hallway. She wore an ivory dress that was fancy enough for a coronation celebration. It was layered with delicate feathers on the shoulders and near the hems. She practically fluttered as she rushed to my side.

Her rizzel—his white and silver fur matching her outfit—had wrapped himself behind her neck, like a scarf. He just hung there, limper than I would’ve expected from a creature. He was channeling the attitude of clothing, for certain.

Piper’s black hair was tied up in a beautiful, braided bun.

She was much more composed than when I saw her in the Menagerie. Perhaps she wasn’t hungover today.

“Good stars, give me strength,” her rizzel, Reevy, said with a groan. “The boy isn’t even dressed. This is gonna be a long day.”

Piper ran a hand down her face. Then she gently slapped her cheek. “I can’t believe this. The orientation will start any minute.” She grabbed my upper arm and turned me around. “We need to get you dressed, and then we need to head to the central courtyard.”

I glanced over my shoulder at her, my brow furrowed. “Is everyone in the courtyard?”

“Yes. The headmaster will be delivering a speech to all the first years.”

“Where’re you taking me?”

I hoped it wasn’t the courtyard. I couldn’t go out there like this.

“To the laundry room,” Piper said as she picked up her pace. “Come, come. Faster.”

She wore heels, but that didn’t stop the woman from hustling like a sailor prepping for a storm. She practically carried me down the hall, her hand gripped around my bicep, panic fueling her actions.

Reevy stared down at me, his little blue eyes narrowed. His ferret-like face was adorable, but his glare didn’t put me at ease.

Piper guided me to the end of the hallway and then took a left. There were more doors, and several other hallways, but we didn’t take any of those. We hurried to the far spiral staircase. Then we took the steps down, but Piper couldn’t hurry through this. Her heels made everything difficult. When she tried to take the steps two at a time, she wobbled.

“Oh, never mind,” she said with a sigh. Then she tightened her grip on me. “We’re close enough. Hold your breath.”

“What?”

Her rizzel magic caused us to teleport. It was the same jarring sensation I had experienced before, like my insides were being messed with. I stumbled out of her grip a moment later, in a completely different area of the Academy.

I had no clue where we were.

Silver sparkers and glitter wafted in the air around us.

“My stomach,” Twain muttered.

We stood in front of a massive set of wooden double doors. Behind me, there was another long hall, but this one had no windows. Were we underground? The paintings on the wall were of fairies this time around. Small fairies, pixies, some fairies the size of an adult…

Piper shook my shoulder and pointed to the door. “This way.”

She pushed opened one side of the double doors and then led me into a massive laundry room. There were wooden bins filled with clothing, and pipes protruding from the walls. Iron pipes. They gushed water into the bins, filling them to the top. Then soap was added—beautiful lye soap, colored a bright purple.

Then the bins twisted and shook.

There were no people doing any of this. It was as if all the objects in the room had a mind of their own.

The soap threw itself into the bins. The clothing rolled around the water, rubbing up against the wood on the edges, cleaning itself with the bubbly water. When the bins shook and span around, they were practically floating in the air—nothing of them were touching the stone floors.

And the room was massive. Twenty bins, each large enough to fit four cows, all whirled around without touching one another.

The pipes…

They were made of iron? Perhaps steel?

Water gushed out of them until the bins were full, and then the pipes stopped all on their own. No more waterflow.

My island didn’t have these kinds of pipes, but I had heard of them. Plumbing pipes? Wasn’t that what they were called? It made for easier baths and restrooms. Normally, I had to go outside to collect water for bathing or eating or washing up, but Astra Academy wasn’t an antiquated at my hometown.

It was modern and sophisticated.

I loved it.

“Gray?” Twain asked. “Are you paying attention?” He extended his claws and dug them into my arm.

I sucked in air through my teeth and shot him a glare. “What was that for?”

“You’re just staring! Pay attention.”

Piper hurried into the laundry room and frantically glanced around. Her rizzel lifted his head and joined her. What were they looking for? Dry clothes?

“Oh! Visitors!”

The shocked declaration echoed throughout the room, even while the bins sloshed about.

Then a woman walked out from between two piles of soap and laundry. She wore overalls and puffy white shirt so voluminous that it threatened to break away from the straps of the overalls. It was amusing, only because of how short and thin the woman was—her clothing made up fifty percent of her volume.

She made her way over to us, her dazzling golden hair in a ponytail. It made it easy to catch sight of her forehead.

This woman was an arcanist!

And the creature twisted among the seven points of the star was humanoid. A fairy? No. It was an engkanto. They were elves.

And just as I had that thought, an elf walked out from behind the pile of laundry as well. Although the elf was a mystical creature, it had the appearance of a gorgeous human woman. The elf’s skin was golden—just as vibrant as her arcanist’s hair—and her ears were pointed enough to be seen from across a gigantic field. And the engkanto wore a simple dress of white and lace, so elegant it was almost enchanting.

The engkanto’s hair…

It was just as silver as the metal plaques in the hallway.

“Hello! I’m Maryanne Beets, the Engkanto Arcanist and Head of Housekeeping.” The woman with the overalls bowed once she reached us. When she stood, she couldn’t contain her smile. “Let me give you a tour of the facilities. It’s been so long since someone came to visit. We have—”

Piper stepped between me and Maryanne. “We’re busy, Mary. I just need some clothing.”

“But—”

“Orientation is about to begin, and this first year needs some clothing. We don’t have time.”

Maryanne frowned. Then she fidgeted with her ponytail, twisting the golden strands of hair around one finger. Although she was dressed for cleaning, it didn’t detract from her youthful beauty and happiness. From what Professor Helmith said, engkanto only bonded with those who were vivacious.

“But I don’t get many visitors,” Maryanne muttered. “And I have a whole speech prepared…”

Piper sighed. So did her rizzel. The two were so in sync, they could probably finish each other’s sentences while sleeping.

“Fine,” Piper said. “But please keep it short. No. Tour.” She glared at me. “Stay right here and listen to the speech. I’m going to grab you an outfit.”

I wanted to object, but she gave me no time.

Piper teleported with a pop.

She just vanished. Gone. Leaving me with Maryanne and her wonderous elf eldrin.

Maryanne fluttered her hands around with excitement. Then she took a deep breath, calmed herself, and smiled wide. Her eldrin did the same, though it didn’t speak or try to butt into the conversation.

“Let’s try this again,” she said. “I’m Maryanne Beets, the Engkanto Arcanist and Head of Housekeeping!” She spoke in a grandiose manner, her volume much louder than necessary, given we were a mere three feet apart. “Welcome to unseen world of administration! I manage the staff responsible for all manner of daily necessities. You might not realize it, but a tidy environment is crucial for learning!”

“Crucial for learning,” the engkanto dramatically whispered, creating an artificial echo.

“I’ve always wanted to guide a tour of the Academy, but since we can’t, I’ll just regale you with information!”

“With information,” the engkanto whispered again.

“It’ll be so exciting!”

Twain twitched his whiskers. “Can you lower your voice just a little bit? You’re hurting my ears.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Maryanne tugged at the collar of her puffy shirt before whispering, “My magic, and my staff, focus on keeping everything running smoothly so that you don’t have to. Engkanto are elves with powerful telekinesis.” She waved her hands around, as if trying to demonstrate something, but I failed to see the purpose. “I won’t even be touching your belongings!” Her volume went straight back to where it had been before. “I will simply clean them and return them to you while you sleep.”

“Thank you?” I said, my voice hiking up at the end in a confused question.

But her comment about telekinesis made me realize what was happening in the laundry room. The soap and bins weren’t moving on their own. It was Maryanne’s magic. Her and her eldrin were washing everything from afar.

Maryanne opened her mouth to continue, but then her gaze landed on my arcanist mark. She caught her breath and stared. A few seconds passed in silence. Even her eldrin turned to her, confused.

“Are you a mimic arcanist?” Maryanne finally asked.

Twain proudly lifted his head.

I scratched him behind his large ear. “Yeah. I am.”

“I’ve never met a mimic arcanist before.” Maryanne crossed her arms. “I don’t think we’ve ever had one at Astra Academy. They’re so rare.”

“I am super special, yes,” Twain said as he licked his paw and smoothed the fur on his head. “It’s okay if you want our autographs. Since you’re one of the staff, it’ll only be a small fee.”

With a nervous chuckle, I covered Twain’s face with my hand. “Never mind him. He’s incorrigible.” Twain wormed his way out of my hand and just glowered up at me.

Maryanne beamed as though I had scored top of my class on a difficult test. “Oh, you remind me of Professor Zahn. Which is great—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. He’s so bright! And clever! I think you’re going to do amazingly in his classes.”

Piper popped back into existence next to me. Silvery glitter went everywhere again. She waved it away and then shook her head at Maryanne.

“Leave the teaching to me, Mary. I’ll make sure he learns enough.” Piper turned her attention to me. With her tongue held between her lips, she threw a shirt over my head and then wrapped a leather belt around my waist.

I barely had time to straighten everything before she shoved a pair of shoes against my chest.

“Perfect,” Piper said as she stepped back to examine me. “No one will be able to tell we did this last minute.”

I examined my outfit, surprised by the quality of the fabric. The silky shirt matched my flowing pants. It did seem like they were a coordinated outfit. And the belt and shoes matched—I wasn’t half bad looking.

Twain shook his head. “I prefer the color orange over white. You’re too dull. More color. Don’t you see what peacocks do? You need more of that.”

“There are white peacocks, ya know,” I said.

“What? No. Impossible.” Twain squinted at me. “Right?”

“We don’t have time to change,” Piper said matter-of-factly. “Actually, we don’t even have time for this conversation.” She halfheartedly waved to Maryanne. “Thank you. We’ll speak later.”

Before anyone could mutter goodbyes or even protest to the series of events, Piper grabbed me and teleported. There was a half second where her magic tugged on my, and I felt as though I could resist. It was fleeting, and I acquiesced to her ability, but if wanted, I could’ve fought against her, and stayed in the laundry room.

Instead, I was ripped from my current location and jerked through space until I stumbled forward into a courtyard.

And not just any courtyard.

It was a courtyard fit for a palace.

The gargantuan square yard was positioned smack dab in the middle of the main castle-like building of Astra Academy. There were stone walls on all four sides, with windows and balconies overlooking the greenery and decorations. A brook ran through the courtyard, with several footbridges over the running water. Small fields of white sand were positioned throughout, each one with colorful rocks laid out like a mosaic.

In one corner of the courtyard stood a gold and silver globe the size of a small shed. It showed all of Vardin, our world as we knew it.

In another corner, there was a sundial equal in size to the globe. It was an old-fashioned clock, but it was beautifully crafted out of brass and marble.

In the third corner, there was a statue of a seven-pointed star, equal to the other two in terms of prominence. The star was the symbol for magic, as every arcanist carried one on their forehead.

And in the last corner, probably the most glorious of all, was a statue of twisted gates. They were upside down, which meant they were the gates to the abyssal hells, the location all souls went after people died.

Sunlight drifted into the courtyard at an angle. The sun had yet to fully travel into the sky. It was enough light to enjoy the beautiful flowers and vibrant greens of the shrubs, though.

I would’ve loved to walk around, but there were hundreds of individuals on the many paths and standing on the footbridges.

Piper and I stood at the edge of the courtyard. Everyone was facing away from us. They stared at a balcony across the way. The doors to the balcony were open, but no one was there.

The whispered irritations of the crowd were the first thing I noticed. I thought these were all students of Astra Academy, but it quickly became apparently that most people here were much older than me.

An arcanist’s eldrin aged once bonded, after all. That was how you could actuallytell the age of the arcanist. They could appear twenty, but if their eldrin seemed ancient, large, and powerful, the arcanist was likely older. There were exceptions, but only a few. It was typically a good indicator.

And there were several older eldrin around. A large yeti, a snow beast I had never seen, only heard of. And a fat pixie fluttering through the air with dragonfly wings. She was the size of my fist, but her flowing hair was the length of my arm.

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

Piper grabbed my shoulder and kept my close. “Orientation. Just wait for the headmaster to give his speech. Then you’re coming with me.”

“Why?”

“Headmaster Venrover wishes to speak with you about what happened in the Menagerie.”

Ah. I understood.

I wanted to tell him everything. Especially about Professor Helmith and whoever was trying to hurt me during the bonding process.

“I like the headmaster,” Twain said as he snuggled against my arms. “You’ll like him, too.”

“Hm.”

I barely heard Twain. I stood on my tiptoes in an attempt to look for Sorin. My brother was tall. Shouldn’t he be visible? If he had bonded with a mystical creature, wouldn’t he be here? If he wasn’t here… that meant he failed to find an eldrin.

My heart beat wildly as I scanned the tops of everyone’s heads. Some wore hats, other bandanas. It was irritating.

But then I caught my breath.

I spotted Sorin!

It had to be him. He was taller than everyone around him, and his dark hair fluttered in the morning breeze. He stood with his back to me, so I couldn’t see his arcanist mark, but if he was here, that meant he had bonded!

“We did it,” I whispered to myself. My whole body relaxed after I finished saying the last word. “Excellent.”

Twain twitched one ear to face me. “Excellent? Huh. Yes. Definitely.”

I wanted to wade through the crowd and speak to my brother, but the moment I stepped forward, Piper gripped my shoulder hard and held me back.

“Stay here,” she hissed under her breath. “I need to bring you to the headmaster afterward.”

Before I managed to protest, Captain Leon marched through the crowd to our position. I recognized him because of his distinctive white hair. No one else around us had that color of hair—not even the old man, Doc Tomas, had hair as glistening ivory as Leon.

His cerberus eldrin was also so large, and so fearsome, that most people leapt out of the way. Two of the three head dog heads flashed their fangs or narrowed their eyes, but the last head…

The last head had its tongue hanging out to the side, panting as though it had gone for a pleasant run and now it was time for a gallon of water. That head had enough cheer for a whole schoolhouse of children with bouncy balls.

Captain Leon went straight to Piper. “Where have you been?” he asked the instant he was close enough to whisper his demand. “You were supposed to have the boy ready and here ages ago!”

“We’ve been here for a while,” Piper replied in a calm tone. “Just waiting for the headmaster.”

“No, you haven’t. Giving your performance lately, I suspect you nearly lost the boy and barely made it here.”

“Piper wasn’t lying,” I chimed in. “When is the headmaster arriving? We’ve been waiting for a while.”

Both Piper and Leon glanced over at me. Piper offered a coy smile. Captain Leon frowned deepened into something uncomfortable. I thought he would yell, but then his anger bled away.

“You’ve been here a while?” Leon muttered in an apologetic tone. “I didn’t see you.”

“She woke me up and provided me fine clothes for the orientation.” I motioned to my outfit. “I’m really impressed with the dedication of the Academy’s faculty. Top notch.”

Piper dug her fingernails into my shoulder. Through gritted teeth, she whispered, “Stop hammin’ in up.”

Sticks, the cerberus eldrin, stepped close to me. All three of his heads crowded in close and sniffed my face, hair, and shoulders. One head poked me in the face with his cold, wet nose. Twain puffed up in my arms and then hissed loud enough that several people nearby turned around to face us, their eyes wide.

I shielded Twain from the drooling heads of the massive cerberus. “Okay. Back up. I’m not hiding treats in my pockets, fellas.”

Leon motioned once, and his cerberus instantly leapt away from me. Then Sticks happily bounded over to his arcanist and took a seat by Leon’s side. His long, slender tail wagged a million miles a minute.

The crowd went silent all at once as though they had collectively held their breath.

Leon whirled on his heel and stared at the prominent balcony. Piper did the same. So did Reevy and Sticks.

I lifted my arm off Twain’s head and then motioned to the balcony. We both glanced up to catch sight of an elegant individual. I assumed, given his official robes, and his striking demeanor, that it was, in fact, Headmaster Venrover.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HEADMASTER VENROVER

The headmaster wore an expression as interesting as his clothing.

He smiled down at the crowd, his lips pursed, as though he were forcing a cheerful demeanor. The man’s long hair, as black as midnight, was tied back in a mass of locks that flared in every direction. It reminded me of an inky sun.

And his features were so smooth and slender, he had almost otherworldly complexion. It was a mix of feminine and masculine.

Headmaster Venrover had a black vest, white shirt, and a long blue and silver robe he wore over everything else. The sash around his neck—and hung down his side—was marked with four symbols: a globe, a sundial, a star, and upside-down gates.

A mystical creature walked out onto the balcony with him.

A sphinx.

They were elegant creatures—a lioness’s body, the wings of an eagle, and the head of a woman. Her golden fur had the quality of honey, and the feathers on her wings glistened with inner health. Her hair was brown, like a lion’s mane, and her eyes…

She had two human eyes, and a third eye on her forehead. It was closed.

The arcanist mark on Headmaster Venrover’s forehead was too small for me to see. Was he the sphinx arcanist? He had to be.

“Greetings, first years,” the headmaster said, his voice articulate and loud enough to hear from across the courtyard. Yet it was calm, almost reassured.

Headmaster Venrover stepped close to the balcony railing. He grazed his fingers along the top, his robes fluttering a bit when the morning winds flowed into the courtyard. They were colder than before.

“Welcome to Astra Academy.” The headmaster motioned to our surroundings. “It gives me great pleasure to see so many of you here. This will be your home for the next five years, so think of all your fellow students as your extended family.”

I glanced around, one eyebrow raised. For some reason, the thought of treating them like family almost made me laugh. I didn’t even enjoy my real family, except Sorin. Why would I enjoy this new one?

“I have one piece of advice for you all. The future you’ll create is paid for by your actions today. Use your newfound abilities wisely, and you’ll go on to do great things.”

The many arcanists, and their actual families, applauded the statement. I joined the rest of them, wondering if the headmaster gave the same speech at every first-year orientation.

The headmaster’s sphinx stepped close to the balcony.

Everyone ended their clapping. Silence blanketed the courtyard.

The sphinx stared down at us with dark eyes. “This year we have twenty-seven new arcanists,” she said, her voice deep and regal. “Twelve became arcanists in our very own Menagerie, while fifteen were already arcanists before they traveled her through the Gates of Crossing. These twenty-seven arcanists have been evenly divided into three classes, completely at random.”

Nine arcanists per class.

Hushed murmurs rose from the crowd. The older arcanists muttered statements of disapproval.

A woman close to me said, “They shouldn’t mix the students.”

“Aren’t the arcanists from the Menagerie just islander children?” a man whispered, his voice loud enough to be heard by many. “What kind of education did they even have before coming here? Counting fish with their fingers and toes?”

“My daughter better not be harassed by some boorish islanders.”

A man huffed and then said in a haughty tone, “I am a duke. To think my child will mingle with riffraff is quite irritating.”

Headmaster Venrover held up a hand.

Again, silence spread between everyone, ending their complaining.

“Astra Academy has no control over where individuals started in life,” the headmaster said, his smile gone. “And while the students are here, it won’t ever matter.”

The sphinx spread her eagle wings. They were so large, and I suspected she had a ten-foot wingspan.

“Everyone,” she said, “please head to the dining hall for your welcoming feast. From there, we will tour the facilities, and end at your dorms for the evening.”

The applause that followed was weaker than before. I clapped harder, though—I even accidently jostled Twain a bit. I just wanted to show my appreciation for the headmaster’s decision. Despite my life as a candlemaker’s son, I’d show everyone here that I belonged just as much as the child of some random duke.

The headmaster and his sphinx eldrin left the balcony.

My attention went straight for Sorin. He followed the crowd of arcanists and their families to the main dining hall. They all funneled into a grand double doorway, entering a northern hall that was as large as a sailing ship.

I stepped forward, but Piper grabbed my shoulder and jerked me back.

“Hey,” I muttered.

“Did you forget?” She shot me a frown. “We’re going to speak with the headmaster.”

Ah. Right.

With Twain held tightly in my arms, I just waited for her to teleport us. Pipe took a moment to whisper something in Captain Leon’s ear. Her rizzel glowered at me the entire time, like he was watching to make sure I didn’t sneak off. He even brought his paw up to his eyes, pointed at them, and then pointed at me.

I almost asked Twain to transform into a rizzel just so we could teleport off and speak to my brother while we waited.

Once Piper was finished, she placed her hand back on my shoulder and activated her magic. We were jerked out of the courtyard, my insides knotting in the split second it took to stumble into a well-furnished room.

There was a desk, and multiple bookshelves, a couch the size of a small pier, a low table for refreshments, a tower of trays adorned with tiny cakes, and even a clock built into the wall. Light streamed in through an open door that led to a balcony.

This was the room the headmaster had disappeared into after his speech.

It was so cold.

I rubbed at my stomach as I grappled with the information, trying to visualize everything in my mind’s eye. Piper had teleported us to the second story of the main Academy building in the blink of an eye. What was her distance limitation? I knew she had one, but this was impressive. We had been on the other side of the courtyard, after all.

Piper fixed her white dress, even fluffing the feathers on the sleeves.

Headmaster Venrover and his sphinx stood next to the gigantic desk, despite the fact there were several seats all around us.

Up close, the headmaster was much thinner than he appeared to be from afar. His robes practically wore him.

On the other hand, his sphinx must’ve weighed over three hundred pounds. She had all the muscle and grace of a lioness, and her human-face, though a little disturbing, was regal and held high.

The sphinx said nothing. She just watched our conversation unfold.

When the headmaster turned his attention to me, it was his sharp eyes that took me by surprise. Headmaster Venrover stared for a half second, at the most, but it was like he understood so much more about me than even some members of my family. When the headmaster smiled this time, it was genuine.

“Gray Lexly,” he said. “Gray… like your eyes.”

His comment startled me. For a long moment, I had no words. When I did find my voice, I replied with, “Y-Yeah. Exactly.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Then the headmaster glanced down at my eldrin. “And Twain. I told you that your arcanist would arrive someday, didn’t I?”

Twain huffed and then turned his head to face the wall. I held him close to my chest, hoping he understood that I wouldn’t let anyone bother him.

Piper smoothed her hair and then motioned to me. “Doc Tomas said he’s all healed and able to attend class. And I got him ready for the orientation. Everything was taken care of.” She had an almost breathlessness to her speech. Was she anxious?

“I do have two functioning eyes,” Headmaster Venrover said, a slight chuckle at the end of his words. “But I appreciate your report nonetheless.” When he returned his attention to me, he said, “Gray—let me be the first to apologize on behalf of the Academy. I was unaware there was anyone in the Menagerie besides Piper and the hopeful arcanists.”

His statement caused me think back to my time in the Menagerie. There had been a woman stomping on Twain. And she had said I was supposed to be dead. Was she the source of the nightmares?

“Professor Jenkins has assured me that whoever attacked you was killed in the Menagerie,” the headmaster said.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Who is Professor Jenkins?”

Headmaster Venrover pointed to Piper. “Piper Jenkins is a professor of imbuing and history. Did she not introduce herself?”

“Oh. Captain Leon just kept calling her Piper.”

Her face grew red as she frowned. “Well, now you know. I’m officially known as Professor Jenkins.”

Before I could make any sort of quip about Piper’s casual demeanor, the headmaster said, “In the forty-five years I’ve been headmaster, there has never been an attack in the Menagerie. I was unprepared for such a circumstance, and for that, I want to personally apologize.”

There wasn’t much for me to say, so I remained quiet. What would the headmaster think if I told him that someone had been trying to kill me for years? Would he blame me for the mysterious woman’s presence and then subsequently pin all the damage on me? I didn’t want to risk it.

That woman had clearly been after me. I didn’t know why, but perhaps she had been the one creating all my nightmares, even the ones I had back on my home island.

I wanted to speak to Professor Helmith about the matter. She would figure out the woman’s identity and motives.

Hopefully.

The chill in the room intensified. How was it colder in here than outside? It baffled me.

“Astra Academy is a fortified structure,” Headmaster Venrover said, refocusing my scattered thoughts. With a half-smile, he added, “And we have dozens of talented arcanists all around us. You can rest easy—we’ll protect you from those who would do you harm.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Twain finally glanced back to the headmaster. “Well, I can vouch for the Academy. They’ve taken care of me for a long time.” He purred in my arms. “And they have tasty chickens they fed us from time to time.”

“Good to know.” I patted his head. “I wasn’t worried about the attack, though. You don’t need to apologize. I’d rather just get back to—”

The door to the headmaster’s office burst inward.

A large man stormed into the room, his long robes billowing behind him. His hair was coppery and thin—except for his tangled mass of a beard. The man could hide a fist in that beard, and no one would ever know.

And he also had an arcanist symbol on his forehead. The seven-pointed star was laced with a fat cyclops. The one-eyed monster was supposedly related to trolls. They were physically strong but magically weak, according to Professor Helmith.

And cyclopes were so large, they typically couldn’t fit into buildings. The man’s eldrin was probably out by the docks.

The cyclops arcanist stomped straight over to Headmaster Venrover.

The headmaster’s sphinx stepped close to her arcanist, her golden fur raised between her shoulder blades. When the cyclops arcanist drew close, she growled with the fierceness of a lion. The man hesitated, his lip turned down in a sneer.

Then he glared at the headmaster. “You listen here! My son said there was an attack in the Menagerie? He said a boy was sent to the infirmary. You knew this, didn’t you? You’re the headmaster! But you didn’t say anything during your speech!”

“Everyone involved in the incident, or related to the incident, has been tended to,” Headmaster Venrover stated, no emotion in his tone. “And everyone who entered the Menagerie—adults, I’ll remind you—knew there were risks.”

“That’s your answer?”

The room grew colder in an instant. Twain shivered in my arms, his two-colored eyes wide, as though he were searching for the source of the frigid temperature. Was this the work of magic?

“Someone’s nearby,” Twain whispered. “I can sense… their magic.”

I wanted to ask him for more details, but the cyclops arcanist stepped close to the headmaster.

“My boy is clever, and I won’t leave him here if you’re just gonna throw him to the abyssal hells!” The cyclops arcanist grabbed the headmaster’s robes, and with superhuman strength, jerked Venrover forward. “What kinda protections are you—”

A man appeared out of thin air.

He just… appeared.

Had he been invisible?

This new man—dressed in black from head to toe, including a hood that obstructed my view of his face—grabbed the cyclops arcanist by the wrist. Ice formed over the man’s arm. Then the floor. Then the walls, Then the furniture.

Rime as thick as my fingernails coated everything but the people. I nearly slipped and fell when I tried to move away.

The sphinx roared and spread her wings.

Even Piper and her rizzel leapt to the side of the headmaster. Reevy’s little ferret body was twice the size it was before, his blue eyes glaring.

The cyclops arcanist gasped. He yanked his hand away and stumbled back, his gaze flicking between each of the Academy arcanists.

“That’s enough,” Headmaster Venrover said as he patted down his wrinkled robes. He didn’t even seem perturbed or bothered. Which was bizarre. He wasn’t upset? I would’ve been furious.

Venrover straightened himself. “Piper, Reevy—please.”

The two moved away.

“Nubia,” the headmaster said as he eyed his sphinx.

Nubia eased up a bit. She folded her wings close to her lioness body and then took a seat. She flinched—the ice on the floor was a shock—but then she circled once and took a seat again, this time prepared for the chill. Her lion-like tail swished back and forth in blatant irritation.

At least his eldrin showed some sort of emotion.

Headmaster Venrover glanced to his once-invisible bodyguard. “Fain. You, too. I’m fine.”

The man dressed in black—Fain, I supposed—said nothing.

Then he shrouded himself in invisibility and disappeared from sight. The ice in the room—both the chill on the air, and the rime on the floor—slowly dissipated. Had that been his magics? I wished I had seen his arcanist mark. What kind of mystical creature had he bonded with?

Could Twain transform into it?

The possibility of sneaking around with invisibility intrigued me.

As a mimic arcanist, I could have anymagical ability, so long as I could mimic an arcanist’s eldrin. In theory, anyway.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Venrover said to the cyclops arcanist. He smiled as he added, “As you can see, we have plenty of talented arcanists in the Academy. No one will get far attacking this place.”

The man stroked his giant beard with a shaky hand. Then he nodded once. “I-I see. Yes, well, my boy will probably be safe here. I didn’t realize… you had so many defenses.”

“Captain Leon and his knights are also more than capable of fighting off any threats.”

Reevy waggled his paw back and forth as though it was a fifty-fifty chance Leon could handle anything.

“Were there any otherconcerns you had?” Venrover asked as though this were a casual conversation and none of the animosity from a few seconds ago ever occurred. “Otherwise, you’re missing the feast in the dining hall. This will be the last time to see you son for some time.”

“Yes. You’re right, of course.” The man inched his way over to the door of the headmaster’s office. “Have a nice stay. Er, I mean day. Have a nice day.”

He opened the door and left in one quick motion.

Once gone, everyone seemingly held their breath. No one said anything. The stillness bothered me.

“Can I go to the feast?” I finally asked.

Piper flinched. She whirled on her heel and stared at me as if she had forgotten I was even in the room. “Oh. Right. Yes. I’ll take you there.” She stepped close and put a hand on my shoulder. Before we teleported, she turned back to the headmaster. “Unless there’s anything else you wanted to say to Gray?”

Headmaster Venrover slowly shook his head. “Oh, no. I think I’ve made my point. The safety of everyone in the Academy is my top priority. Please enjoy your time here, Gray Lexly.” With a smile, he added, “And you, too, Twain.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE NEW REARER ARCANIST

Piper teleported us to another set of double doors. I caught myself this time before I stumbled. The sensation of teleporting wasn’t bothering as much as it had. Instead, I held my breath, remained calm, and reassessed my surroundings as soon as we arrived.

The stone walls and floors of Astra Academy were imposing, but warm. The many paintings—of cheerful landscapes and wondrous mystical creatures—livened the place up. Without the images, the whole Academy would’ve felt like a crypt.

The soft blue rugs, and many vases, also added a bit of much needed color.

“This is the dining hall,” Piper said with an exhale. She motioned to the door with a quick flick of her hand.

“You know he has no idea where he is, right?” Reevy asked. He sarcastically whispered in her ear, “We teleported him here. The boy will still get lost if he just walks around.”

“Shh.”

Piper patted her eldrin and then shoved one of the double doors open.

The inside of the dining hall was massive. It was oval in shape—long, and with curved walls—which allowed for one central table loaded with food, and a bunch of tables around the walls for people to sit. It was a serve yourself style buffet. The moment I glanced at the food, my stomach approved of the situation.

When was the last time I ate?

Twain must’ve felt the same way. He squirmed in my arms and made grabby hands for the meat dishes.

“What a beautiful sight!” Twain purred.

But his voice was drowned out by the sea of conversations swirling all around us.

Not only were all the first years here, but so were their arcanist families and some important figures. Additionally, the second-, third-, fourth-, and fifth-year students were also in attendance. The dining hall was packed.

Each wooden table was circular, with a small stone fire pit in the middle. The stones of the pit glowed with inner magic, and I wondered if they were holding the flames in place so that no embers could leap out and catch the table on fire.

I wasn’t sure, though. I wasn’t an expert on magical items. Professor Helmith hadn’t told me much about them.

“Grab your food and take a seat right here,” Piper whispered as she led me to the nearest table with a single open chair. “Eat up, and then there’s the tour. I’ll see you then.”

I wanted to protest. Where was Sorin? Shouldn’t we be sitting together?

An odd thought struck me.

What if we weren’t in the same class?

We would be. I hoped. But I wasn’t certain. Would they split up twins? That seemed cruel. Although I wouldn’t quit the Academy if we were separated, I would be disappointed. Maybe even depressed. Sorin and I had traveled here together—I didn’t want class assignments to be the thing that pulled us apart.

Piper disappeared with a pop.

Leaving me and Twain all alone.

The nearby table had ten seats. Nine of them were filled with individuals who clearly knew each other. They talked amongst themselves at loud volumes. That was necessary. It was difficult thinkingwhile inside the dining hall.

I followed Piper’s instructions and headed to the mountain of food in the middle of the room. Twain wiggled around, happily pointing and bouncing, as though energized by simply smelling the cooked meats of several varieties.

The serving table had stacks of empty plates around the sides. People walked up, grabbed an empty plate, and then shoveled food onto the plate until they were satisfied. Then they returned to their seats.

I did the same. I grabbed a plate and then approached the food.

The plate was made of fine earthenware. They all had the same designs—a globe, a sundial, a star, and the upside down gates.

My father had once told me that if I saw a symbol once, it was random. If I saw the same symbol a second time, it was just a coincidence. But if I saw the same symbol three times, it was a pattern. A definite omen.

These four symbols had to be the iconography for the Academy.

“What’re you doing?” Twain hissed. “You can’t eat the plate! Get the food. Right there.” He pointed with his little kitten paw.

With a nod, I grabbed a few things at random. The meat selection included smoked fish, glazed ham, sauteed beef, braised lamb, and grilled shrimp. The vegetables, stacked higher than the meat, included corn, bok choy, peas, beans, and sprouts. The many sauces were in large bowls, and a selection of grains were on the far side.

Once my plate was full, I headed back to the one empty seat.

I glanced around the dining hall.

Sorin eluded me.

It was beginning to cause me anxiety. I was tempted to get up and look for him, but my hunger demanded I stay seated and eat. I barely tasted anything as I shoved some beef and shrimp into my mouth and swallowed.

Twain ate right off my plate. I thought it would garner me strange glances, but no one seemed to mind. All the arcanists in the room, from the pixie arcanist to a griffin arcanist a few tables over, seemed to share everything with their eldrin.

Most people had grabbed two plates, though. One for them, and one specifically for their eldrin. Obviously, I hadn’t learned my lesson yet. I didn’t instinctively take Twain’s needs into account yet. I should’ve made him a plate solely of fish.

Twain woofed down the last of my beef and then inhaled some of my beans. He gagged and hacked, spitting them up onto the plate.

That garnered some strange looks.

One woman, dressed in a dark blue robe and wearing a matching ribbon through her hair, glowered at Twain, and then at me. “What’re you? A domestic housecat arcanist?”

She laughed at her own joke.

What a charmer.

But it dawned on me—mimics really wererare. Even the head of housekeeping had been surprised by my eldrin.

“That’s right,” I replied to the woman. “My powers include the ability to hack up hairballs and fall asleep in any beam of sunlight.”

“Hey,” Twain hissed.

“It’s all right. I didn’t tell her about our best abilities.”

Twain twitched his long ears and gave me a coy smile. “That we have nine lives?”

“That’s exactly right.”

The woman stared at me as though my brain were flying out my ears. She clearly wasn’t a fan of our humor. With a sneer, she returned to her plate of food.

“We should get more shrimp!” Twain said, pawing at my silky shirt. “Please?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As soon as we were fed, I’d search for Sorin. It wouldn’t be too hard to find him. I hoped.

***

Halfway through my third plate of food, the first-year students and their chaperons stood from their tables. I recognized a few of them from the courtyard. A couple of them had even complained about the headmaster’s rules.

They gathered near a far door. I got up from my seat and joined them, constantly on the lookout for my brother. We all headed out into a hallway that overlooked the courtyard. Captain Leon was already there, calling for everyone’s attention.

“And now for the tour,” he said.

Sticks, his enthusiastic cerberus, bounded around his arcanist, one head happy and barking, his tongue flopping out to the side. The other two heads sniffed the air and kept an eye on the large grouping of individuals.

“Please keep up,” Leon called out, his voice booming. “Our first stop is the library. An important location! All students are encouraged to use the library regularly for their betterment.”

The crowd followed after Leon and his cerberus. I stayed with them, lingering in the far back, trying to keep track of everyone by examining the backs of their heads. Twain stayed in my arms, content to have me carry him everywhere.

Most arcanists had their eldrin walk alongside them.

In our group, I caught sight of a stone golem. It was a child—what was a baby stone golem called?—and barely three feet tall, but its boulder shoulders and rock body were hard to mistake. The creature looked as though it was several tan rocks slammed together and held together with faint magical threads.

I knew next to nothing about stone golems. What kind of magics did it have?

A coatl was also in the crowd!

Coatl’s were large snakes with feather wings. This coatl was a corn snake—its scales orange and white—and its wings resembled a colorful parrot’s. It had a rainbow design, and I assumed, once it was fully grown, it would gigantic. For right now, it was five feet long, and its wings were the size of a raven’s.

Captain Leon led our group into the Astra Academy’s library.

The two-story library had a balcony for the upper level. The shelves of books went on forever, stretching up from the first floor, all the way to the ceiling of the second floor. Attached ladders were fixed to most shelves, and several cushioned chairs and desks were scattered around.

Twain snorted. “What’s so great about this place? Who even reads books?”

I patted his head and said nothing. The books I read as a kid had broadened my view of the world. And they had fueled my imagination. If I hadn’t read, I probably would’ve become a candlemaker, just like my father, because what else would’ve I done?

Captain Leon led us through the library. He shouted facts and gestured to things, but I ignored most of his statements.

I paid attention to the librarians.

They weren’t arcanists. They were mortals. They organized the books, dusted the shelves, and a few of them were taking notes on book damage. When we walked by, they nodded and waved, and a few even greeted us on behalf of Astra Academy.

I had been hoping Professor Helmith would’ve been among them.

That wasn’t the case.

“Next we will see our training field,” Captain Leon said in a showman’s voice.

When the crowd exited the library, we entered another hallway with tall windows. Everyone gathered near the sills, glancing outside. The hall overlooked an impressive field covered in various training grounds.

There was a track for running, a pool for swimming, a circular sparring ring, and weights for throwing or lifting. A tall series of stands were positioned on the opposite side of the field, and it made me wonder if Astra Academy held competitions from time to time.

Someone else had the same thought.

“Are there tournaments held at the Academy?” a man asked.

“We have several clubs that organize tournaments,” Leon replied matter-of-factly. “We’re very proud of our arcanists here, and they’re dedicated to becoming the best they can be. Competition helps them stay at the top of their game.”

“The field is also where we test out powerful destructive abilities,” Sticks said, his voice a deep rumble, almost a growl. “It’s a lot of fun,” his happy head added.

Captain Leon motioned for us to continue.

I glanced at the training field. No one was there.

And I doubted Professor Helmith would be out there, anyway. She seemed more academic and intellectual than someone interested in playing hoop-n-stick. Or whatever sports they played here. I didn’t know.

I hurried to catch up with the crowd. We went the length of the hallway, and then turned down another until we came to a large ballroom. Captain Leon gestured to the high ceilings and grand chandeliers.

“This is our dance hall,” he said. “It’s decorated for all holidays, and occasionally used to house larger visiting eldrin.”

The hall was large enough to house a dragon, that was certain.

Twain tilted his head back to get a better look as we walked across the massive wooden floors. The murmuring of everyone else swirled together into an incomprehensible echo that filled the room.

Captain Leon led us out a door and down one more hallway. He pointed to the windows—to a tunnel in the mountains. Other parts of the Astra Academy were far from us.

“Astra Academy uses a locomotive to keep all of its campuses connected,” Leon said. “The locomotive is one of the headmaster’s favorite new features. It uses steam technology developed all the way across the western ocean to move at great speeds.”

A locomotive?

I had never seen that.

Or even heard of it.

Captain Leon straightened his belt and then pointed onward. “Those other buildings are for specific training. Long-term training, or nature-related training. We don’t need to visit them. Come. This way.”

Everyone followed the captain and his cerberus until we reached the front of a grand spiral staircase. Leon turned, stopped, and held up a hand.

“The lower levels are used for research,” he said. “We have several artificers and imbuing students working on magnificent trinkets and artifacts as we speak.”

A few people clapped.

Then Captain Leon motioned to the upper floors. “The first-year dorms are this way. All new arcanists share their dorms upstairs. There is space for their eldrin in the neighboring treehouse.”

“Treehouse?” someone shouted with a gasp.

“Y-Yes,” Leon said, obviously flustered by the outburst. “There is a treehouse attached outside. The treehouse has been designed for a variety of eldrin. Large open spaces, beds to accommodate their unique shapes, and plenty of grooming facilities so that they don’t need to join any arcanists in the showers or baths.”

I glanced down at Twain just as he turned to stare up at me.

He was so small.

Did Twain have to go to the treehouse?

Surely not.

I’d rather he stayed close to me. And Twain silently nodded, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, and agreed.

“Where do the second-year students stay?” someone asked.

Captain Leon smiled as he smoothed back his white hair. “Ah. Good question. You see, once students complete their first year, they must choose a specialization. The students then head to the dorm of their specialization so that they may spend their free time with like-minded arcanists.”

The whispering in the crowd grew louder.

“What kind of specializations?” someone asked.

“You’ll learn more about it from your professors.” Leon cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll follow me upstairs, I’ll show you the dorms, and we can conclude the tour.”

He took the stairs two at a time. Sticks bounded up after him, huffing the entire time. Embers flew from all three mouths of the cerberus, heating the staircase with his excitement.

Since I was at the back of the group, I waited for my turn to climb the staircase.

The rattle of a chain caught my attention. I straightened my posture, and Twain tensed in my arms. A floating cloak, tattered at the ends, also lingered near the back of the group. It carried a scythe with a wooden handle—old and rusted, and rather weak looking.

It was Waste. The reaper I had met in the Menagerie.

I held my breath as the creepy mystical creature floated over to me.

Everyone else pushed their way into the steps, trying to get upstairs as fast as possible, but I didn’t mind waiting if it meant I got to speak with the reaper. Had it bonded with Sorin? Was he now a reaper arcanist?

“We meet again,” Waste said as he floated over to me.

His hood hung forward, but he still had no face or anything to stare at, so I just turned my attention to the inside of his cloak. “You bonded with someone?” I asked, not bothering for pleasantries.

“I’m surprised,” Twain muttered, his ears back. “You made it sound as though you’d never bond if you stayed in the Menagerie.”

Waste’s cloaked fluttered in nonexistent wind. “I was pleasantly mistaken. Two individuals were worthy of my magic this year.”

Two?

“Waste? Where did you go?”

The small, feminine voice emerged from the crowd of people. Nini, the girl from the boat ride to the Academy, forced her way between two individuals and then hurried over to Waste’s side.

Nini fussed with her dark red hair. She smoothed it out, making sure the strands went straight for her shoulders. Then she glanced over at me, her eyes wide, her glasses smudged with fingerprints.

“Oh, Gray,” Nini said. “We were worried about you. A-Are you okay? Your brother was the most concerned…”

“I almost died, but I got better,” I said as I shrugged.

Her eyes went straight to my arcanist mark. “You… Your star is empty?”

“He’s a mimic arcanist,” Waste said, his voice hollow and dark.

“Oh, wow! That’s so amazing.”

My attention went to her forehead in turn.

Nini was, in fact, an arcanist. Her seven-pointed star was laced together with… a cloak and a scythe. There was no mistaking it.

She was a reaper arcanist.

Nini must’ve seen my realization, because she practically sank into her clothing until the collar was up over her chin. Before I could ask her any questions, she blurted out, “I bonded with Waste.”

But Waste’s Trial of Worth…

My mouth went dry.

Nini fidgeted with her coat sleeve. “I passed his Trial of Worth. It was difficult. Because… Because it involved killing an animal! I, uh, had to find something in the Menagerie and kill it myself. And I did.”

Nini recounted the bonding with the speed and shakiness of a convict cobbling together a terrible alibi. I knew she was lying—Waste had already told me the real Trial of Worth that reapers had—but I would’ve guessed Nini was spinning a lie simply from her demeanor and speech.

She was a bad liar.

“So what animal did you end up killing?” I asked, feigning interest, and playing along with her farce.

Twain whipped his head back to glance up at me. He glared, like he knew she was lying, too. But he didn’t say anything.

“A bunny,” Nini said as she fixed her glasses. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Silence settled between us. Waste didn’t correct her or offer any extra details. He just floated there with a menacing aura.

Nini had killed someone.

And she didn’t want to admit it.

Those facts shocked me. Nini was so small. And unassuming. She barely spoke to me and Sorin on the ride over here, and even now, she seemed frightened to speak to me. What was she hiding?

If her mother had died in childbirth, like with Sorin, why wouldn’t she just tell me? It made me think, whatever Nini had done, it was worse than Sorin’s circumstance.

“Did any of your family show up for the orientation?” I asked, wondering if I could speak to them before they left. Maybe they would tell me who Nini had harmed.

Nini quickly shook her head. “N-No. They’re busy. You know how it is.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

My family wasn’t here. My father wouldn’t want to leave our island, and I doubted he had the coin to pay a ship captain to make the trek. I’d write to him about my bonding—he’d know what took place—but he would never visit. I’d bet my life on it.

And I supposed I’d never be able to ask Nini’s family about what happened in her past. If I wanted to find out, I’d have to ask her.

Now didn’t seem like a good time.

“We should join everyone else,” Nini muttered.

Waste floated close to her. “As you wish, my arcanist.”

Nini turned to me. Then she pointed to the grand spiral staircase. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

“Let’s go,” I said with a forced smile.

I’d figure everything out after I spoke with Sorin.