《The Library of Bones series Book 1: Theurgi's Wish》


 Prologue: Dum Spira, Spera. While one breathes, one hopes.

    Flickering shadows danced across lidded eyes and eyelashes fluttered as particles clung to the ends. A warm light emanating from a heat source close by, warmed the young girl¡¯s bones as she was reluctant to open her eyes. Her mind swam with disorientation as she struggled to remember what happened.


    ¡°Breathe¡± A deeply familiar, but unrecognized voice commanded in her head, reminding her to gasp in much-needed air into her lungs. However, the particles that clung to her lashes were immediately sucked into her mouth and coughs racked her small body violently. Her blonde hair was braided tightly behind her but was so covered in dirt that the color was barely recognizable.


    Memories flashed across her mind like the visions her mother used to talk about, but this time, truth rang like a bell throughout each passing scene.


    Her name was ...


    What was her name?


    Was that.. ash around her? Was something on fire?


    Her small eyelids bound open as she recognized the harsh flickering of the light as the familiar shadow dance of flames. The heavy air slogged through her lungs like molasses with smoke and wound around her throat as if it wanted to squeeze out her breath. The warm sensation of sitting by a fireplace that used to bring comfort, to signify she was safe, was now a threat to her life.


    Fire.


    The house was on fire.


    Understanding her situation finally hit her like a physical blow and it was all she could do not to stumble backward. Tears welled up in her eyes, both with emotion as she watched flames lick along the cottage¡¯s wooden frames as well as the sting of the smoke. Where was her mother? Hadn¡¯t this .. happened before? Confusion muddled her senses.


    She stumbled over the uneven boards of the common room, catching herself on the wooden table in the middle, causing the steel silverware to clank ominously against their partners. Along the far side of the room, bright orange flames kissed almost reverently against the door¡¯s length, as if the fire had love for the old cottage, her home.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Baba? Momma?¡± Her voice was small and frightened and the inferno¡¯s roar swallowed up her cry. It quavered as she frantically looked for her family. ¡°Ari? Where are you?¡±


    A rug with a beautiful winding blue and purple pattern settled in the center and small wooden chairs her father had made adorned the edges. The beds were little more than piles of furs on the ground with quilts hand-sewn on each one lined up along the wall to her right, three in total. One large one resided behind a divider made of wood and fur to keep out prying eyes, another smaller one that shared on the left side of the room, and one along the far wall. A sense of familiarity gripped her chest, but she could not place why.


    Need to get out..I need air, she thought as her mind finally cleared enough to look for a way out. The fire roared threateningly to her right, so she veered quickly away to the left, hunched over so she could stay as low as possible, the ceiling already engulfed in black smoke. Her loose-fitting nightgown covered her young wiry frame and her bare feet slapped against the charred wooden floor as she tried to hurry along. Her foot caught on the side of the fur bed and she crashed down on her knees with a resounding *crack*. Rubble underneath her sliced into her skin and her hands came away black with soot.


    Her lips parted in a desperate cry and it morphed into a whimper of pain. She had no time to examine the damage to her knees, so in the midst of the throbbing pain, she began to crawl forward to stay low where the air was cleaner and continued creeping forward toward the back door. Her nightgown clung to her body as sweat dampened her skin from the heat, her hair half drenched and slicked to her forehead.


    Before she could reach the oddly leaning backdoor, an inhuman-like creaking and groaning sound could be heard and her eyes flicked upward in silent horror. The roof began to collapse and she threw herself forward to reach the door. Wincing as more pain wracked her fragile body as she crashed to the floor, she coughed again, violently shaking with fear.


    She glanced behind her and the inferno was growing to impossible heights, devouring her home as if it was its last meal. Turning, she pushed against the door helplessly to open to the night air ... but it did not budge. She threw her weakened body against the frame, but her efforts slowed down as her energy waned.


    ¡°Help!¡± She screamed with little energy she had out of the cracks in the wood, but her voice was carried away in the night that cared not for the plight of a young girl. Her body slumped against the aged lumber as her vision swam with the smoke inhalation and heat that stole the energy from her muscles.


    There was none.


    She was going to die and there was no one left to save her.

 Chapter 1 : Tot homines, quot sententiae, So many men, so many opinions

    She heard the shuffling movement around her room and smelled the familiar scent of signature lavender candles before she opened her eyes. The fog of the smoke from her dream still tickled her throat as if she was back in the fire, reliving every detail. The annoying whine of her alarm clock elicited a groan as she rolled over to hit the button, burying her face in her blue pillow. She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.


    ¡°Ashhh!¡± A twinkling, singing voice echoing from the bathroom she shared with her roommate finally got her to crack her eyes open, ¡°It¡¯s time to get up, lazybones. Breakfast starts in 20 minutes!¡±


    Ash groaned at the prospect of leaving her comfortable and warm blanket cocoon but she hauled herself upward. The mirror on the opposite side of the room showed dark circles under her blue and gold-flecked eyes and a wild mane of platinum blonde hair she would be lucky to tame with a brush.


    A voluptuous, pearl-colored curly-haired girl stepped out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth dressed in a crisp slate-colored uniform with a blue necktie. Amysa was a tan-skinned beauty with platinum hair half pulled up into a ponytail with delicate ringlets framing her gently angled face. Her striking violet eyes were the color of morning glories as were with most Siren-blooded Theurgi or magic-users and she wore matching golden wristlets and earrings.


    ¡°Come, come now! I¡¯m done using the bathroom so get in here and get ready! We have the opening ceremony for the Melding today. So you better look your best or else.¡± Amysa¡¯s voice dropped to a playful threat and Ash smiled knowingly. The siren-blooded girl was her roommate but also her best friend and always had a high enough appearance standard for the both of them.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting ready, don¡¯t get your curls in a fluff¡± Ash shot back with a grin as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and trudged into the bathroom.


    Their shared room was a bit cramped with two twin beds along either wall with small identical dressers next to each other. Two desks lined the foot of each bed frame with dressers symmetrically placed on either side. Amysa had taken the liberty of decorating with planters and herb gardens set on almost every surface and twinkling fairy lights hanging from the ceiling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll save you a seat in the Commons!¡± The girl¡¯s high-pitched voice barely flitted through the doorway as she disappeared with her backpack and books in hand.


    Ash dragged a brush through her unruly hair, wrangled it into two silver braids, and slipped into her school uniform. The gray skirt reached about mid-thigh and she hated how exposed she felt in it despite wearing skin-colored stockings underneath. She wore a stark white button-up shirt with a brown necktie, unlike Amysa¡¯s blue one, and the same color gray jacket over the top.


    Pausing by the mirror, she rotated her hips to look at her side profile. She wouldn¡¯t consider her figure to be particularly attractive, but she was proud of the flatter belly she had worked hard for. She would be called ¡°top-heavy¡± with generous breasts and narrow hips and she was frequently teased about her slender legs and small feet.


    She hastily stuffed her books in her creme-colored backpack that had seen better days and rushed out the door, almost running into a crowd of students lingering at the top of the grand staircase. The paintings along the ornately decorated hallway stared in judgment at the group gathered there and large light fixtures hung from the ceiling a few meters apart in either direction. The voice caught her attention and she slowly glided her way through the gathering crowd to the front to see what was happening.


    ¡°You are nothing, you useless Null. You don¡¯t belong here if you can¡¯t make it through the Melding.¡± The boy motioned with his hand to the rest of the crowd with a triumphant grin, ¡°We all know you won¡¯t and know where you come from, and if the Headmaster had any sense, he would expel you and send you right back.¡±


    A murmuring chorus of agreement rumbled through the hall and a sea of blood-thirsty faces were huddled in a semi-circle facing a girl on her knees with her arms clenched tightly to her side and tears streaking down her face. Her books were littered in front of her and her backpack was torn open on the carpet. Ash recognized her as Salien, a quiet girl that had excelled in studies but had not displayed any magical prowess yet.


    Standing in front of her was a tall, muscular boy who radiated an aura of contempt with the side of his lip curled up in a taunting expression. His raven hair was long and half covering his scarlet irises and his tie was pulled loose and lopsided. He was flanked by two slight framed shadows, a girl and a boy, dressed in all black with a similar air of disgust and malice.


    ¡°Ah, just where a Null whore like you belongs, on her knees.¡±


    He stepped towards the girl and motioned suggestively toward himself suggestively, ¡°you ready to do your duty and serve your betters?¡± The word dripped like acid off of his tongue and he ran it over his pointed canines, his eyes both condescending and hungry for the poor lamb in front of him.


    Zayin. Cypress Academy¡¯s supposed best and brightest, though how he fit into classrooms with how big his ego was, Ash didn¡¯t know. She only knew a majority of the school was either in love with him or terrified of him and his entourage, the demonic Mirror Twin shadows named Moira and Ariom. Their backup muscle stood behind them in the half-giant named Rujiin and between their bloodline, powers, and his strength, they were untouchable by students and teachers alike. On top of this, Zayin¡¯s psychic abilities kept this girl trapped for as long as he concentrated on her, even though the use of it was forbidden on campus.


    ¡°Come on Zayin, needing an ego stroke this early in the morning? Must be losing your edge if that¡¯s the only thing that will get it up.¡± She drawled in feigned boredom. She must have a death sentence and murmurs of surprise rippled through the crowd.


    Despite his shriveled, black heart, she had to admit that Zayin was strikingly handsome when his eyes whipped to her. His jawline was sharply defined and his features were in perfect symmetry. His elongated canines could just be seen over his thin lips and his muscles flexed under his tighter button-up. He wore the same uniform as every other male; a black jacket paired with black slacks, a white button-up, and his jet-black tie, a color given only to the school¡¯s Elite.


    The group of onlookers all slowly shifted to gaze at Ash with abject horror, stepping back in textbook fashion to create a rowed gauntlet between them. The color of his eyes shifted to a dark, rich red and the tension thickened the air surrounding them.


    He straightened and slowly sauntered forward, the sea of students stepping back in reverence as if he was their god. Girls fawned as he strode past them and a few flushed a deep scarlet when he brushed his thumb across their cheek, stroking the fire of their adoration. Her eyes rolled and she crossed her arms waiting for him to finish his display. He was charismatic and how she hated to admit that.


    ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t our up-and-coming Null-to-be, Soot, or was that just your childhood home?¡± He sneered at her as he approached with apathetic steps. The twins continued to flank him on either side and hissed their allegiance with forked tongues. Their pointed teeth came into vision and snake-like irises that burned a similar deep crimson.


    ¡°It¡¯s Ash.¡± She ground her teeth and lifted her chin in defiance. With his attention fully on her, his power weakened enough for the traumatized girl to scramble for her books and bolt away before the group noticed their target escaping. Ash breathed in relief as her distraction worked, but how much heat did she just bring down on herself?


    No one ever accused me of having a good sense of self-preservation.


    ¡°Glutton for punishment already, Null-to-be?¡±


    The insult stung as it was what those without magic or very little magical ability were called and her mind echoed in agreeance with its fears and doubts regarding her enrollment.


    A boy, obviously emboldened by the taunts, shoved her forward but she caught herself on her tiptoes before it could send her sprawling. She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth and shot daggers at the spindly boy named Owen in her History of Ithaeris class who did it. He looked almost sheepishly at her, but she knew the mob mentality was strong.


    His footsteps brought him face to face with her and his potent aura made her stomach flip, but she held her ground. Bullies were only tough until someone called their bluff...right?


    He stood about a foot taller than her and loomed menacingly over as he hooked a finger underneath her necktie and pulled her close to his face, his breath hot on her face. The onlookers gaped and slowly reformed their circle of anticipatory support, like hyenas surrounding their prey.


    ¡°You want to take her place on your knees? Are you that desperate for it?¡± His sultry voice dripped with venom and his breath licked over her face. Her body froze in fear, yet began to shake with rage. Her heart thundered in her chest causing blood to roar through her ears. A normal mage would reach for their magic to defend themselves against this humiliation, but where she would reach ... was nothing. She couldn¡¯t let him know that, so she tensed to fight if she needed. She did terribly in her Physical Defense class, but she had a fighting heart and would go out swinging regardless.


    ¡°You come from no one and you don¡¯t have the blood, Soot. Your parents were nobodies and the Mending will identify the useless baggage. The Academy shouldn¡¯t waste its time with the likes of you.¡±


    He tugged on her necktie and brought her cheek to his lips, dragging his thin tongue up the side of her face before facing her again. She reared back in disgust as his gaze turned predatory and his eyes sparkled with an unnatural hunger.


    A booming voice of authority sliced the tension into ribbons and scattered all the students like roaches. The twins and Rujiin remained watchful but retreated to lean against the pillared stairwell. Zayin maintained his hold on the front of her shirt and his eyes roamed the features on her face.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡±


    The man who spoke stood in a doorway opposite the staircase with his hands clasped behind his back and strolled towards them. He was so large that Ash had to crane her neck to see his expression, towering over them both. His skin had a grayish hue and his body and face were dully angled. His hair looked gelled back, but as he got closer, she could see the waves were actually made of stone.


    Gargoyle thought Ash in relief. Someone immune to Zayin¡¯s ¡°suggestions¡±.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Zayin released her necktie and retreated backward but held her gaze with furrowed brows and a promise that they would continue this altercation later. She rubbed the spit off of her cheek with the sleeve of her jacket with a quiet huff of annoyance.


    ¡°Ah, cool it, Rennox. Just giving the first-years a pep talk before the Melding. Ya know, from the one who will get a perfect score¡± He turned with a toothy grin toward the vice principal and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.


    ¡°That¡¯s Mr. Rennox to you, Mr. Faeris. Now, get to your class before the bell rings and your perfect score ends up in detention¡± The giant man approached and stared down with his hands on his hips, waiting for the boy to leave. Zayin scoffed but strode away down the stairs with the twins and muscle boy in tow.


    ¡°Are you alright, Miss Grim?¡± After ensuring the boy was out of hearing range and sight, the vice principal¡¯s voice softened towards her and she straightened herself before looking up at him. His smile was comforting and she nodded with a shrug.


    ¡°Bullies will be bullies, Mr. Rennox.¡± She signed in resignation, adjusted her backpack, and smoothed her skirt before turning to make her trek down the stairs to the Commons. ¡°I¡¯m to face far worse in the Melding, I assume anyway, so might as well take this as training.¡±


    He nodded solemnly and the corner of his lips tilted up slightly in support before he turned away to stride down the hallway. Gargoyles weren¡¯t known for their sentimentality, but this one had a heart of gold. She would question if he truly was a gargoyle, but she had seen him transform in front of her class before.


    Turning left at the bottom of the stairs after waving her greeting to Mrs. Ilinorin, the Light Fae secretary whose bright demeanor was always a welcome sight. Her quickened footsteps reverberated down the hallway as she made her way toward the Commons, their meeting area, and subsequent breakfast hall. Pausing at the swinging double doors, she tightened the straps on her backpack and nudged one side open.


    Rows of elongated tables with columns of chairs lined the Commons room filled with students of all shapes, sizes, and affinities. The rumbling conversations rolled off of the walls like thunder and intertwined with the clinking of silverware against plates. Large floor-to-ceiling windows along the south side allowed soft sunlight to naturally illuminate the space through enormous drapes between flags and photos of times past. At the pinnacle of the room, a large podium stood tall waiting to enunciate the words of its speaker of choice.


    She skirted along the wall, passing cases of photos and cases of trophies with students¡¯ achievements, and slipped into line behind three girls almost vibrating with excitement. They paused when she approached and continued their conversation in hushed whispers. Before she could roll her eyes at their antics, she was interrupted.


    ¡°Ashy, you ready for today?¡±


    The deep and rich voice was familiar and a smile split her face before turning around to address them. Her chest tightened with dread-filled unease at the question, but she feigned confidence.


    ¡°Eione only knows how ready I am, Kieran¡± It came out more an exasperated sigh than a reassuring notion, but she at least hoped her smile was convincing. The moment he raised his eyebrows at her to give an incredulous look told her it in fact was not.


    Kieran stood only slightly taller than Ash did with a lanky athlete¡¯s build. Light brown, well-groomed hair clumsily hangs over a sculpted, tense face. Rich brown eyes set buried gently within their sockets and they traveled lightly over her facial features with a worried expression. A scar reached from just under his left eyebrow, running towards the left side of his lips and ending on the left side of his chin, a reminder of pleasant memories of his former life.


    ¡°We will see if the Goddess of Fate smiles on us pleasantly today, won¡¯t we?¡± As he approached her, he wrapped his arms around the back of her head and squished her face into his chest despite her playful protests. When he released her, he ruffled her hair with a hand in a gesture of an older sibling and she pouted.


    ¡°Kieran, my hair!¡± She mockingly crossed her arms, fighting a smile, ¡°It took me a whole five minutes to do!¡±


    He grinned at her and motioned forward with his head, a flick of water from his palm smoothing down her hair again. She shook her head in mock disbelief, they weren¡¯t supposed to use their magic outside of class, but if you weren¡¯t seen, what could happen? A pang of sudden jealousy squeezed her chest as she glanced down at her fingertips, wishing that she could reciprocate. Maybe she really was a Null with no aspirations and the professor¡¯s hopes for her future potential were misplaced.


    They inched forward with the line until they reached the breakfast line and Ash pushed a plate through the line of cooks of all species, although all strictly non-magical by the Headmaster¡¯s decree. She barely was able to take her seat before the lights dimmed and a spotlight fixed on the podium for an uncomfortable amount of time before a figure stepped into the light. She poked at her plate of pancakes and eggs, unable to truly eat from her stomach roiling with uncertainty.


    Headmaster Trawyn was an aged, silver-haired night elf who stood at least a foot and a half taller than Ash and held himself with an air of authority. His ears flared out along the side of his head and his skin was tinged a bluish shade like the majority of the members of his race. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for elven races to run a government or be the lead voice of reason in groups even full of dissension. They were known to be wise beyond their years and their magic ran deep in their blood, passed down through royal bloodlines, and diluted as the tree branched out and crossed itself in places.


    ¡°First-year Theurgi, welcome. Welcome to the beginning of Cypress Academy¡¯s Mending. This is the test of your abilities that you have been preparing for since you arrived on these hallowed grounds not that long ago.¡± His voice was rich and orotund, seemingly to clearly reach even the corners of the room. Ash stole a glance around and spotted Amysa whose eyes were wide with wonder and were locked on the Headmaster, barely contained excitement on her face. Her eyes whipped to motion directly close behind her and she rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day and it was barely past breakfast.


    Zayin. Great.


    ¡°The Mending will push you to your breaking point, make no mistake. It is designed to separate the wheat from the chaff and will decide if you continue at the highest Academy level or you are better suited to pursue a different line of work¡±


    Murmurs rose between the students and she heard snickering behind her. She was considered an outcast or a ¡°wildling¡± with no known parents or specific magical bloodline. It was already against the rules technically to allow her into the school without a known heritage, but her circumstances required an exemption.


    ¡°Better get your mop and bucket ready, Null¡± His breath was hot on her neck, the words whispered threateningly into her ear and she shuddered at his proximity. ¡°After this week, your next test will be how clean can you get my suite¡± More muffled giggling from his entourage of popular girls and chuckles from the boys.


    Ash narrowed her eyes and ground her teeth at his incessant belittling, but kept a tight rein on her temper. Everyone knew his disgusting lack of respect for women, his raging promiscuity, and knew that almost every girl or a new flavor of the week would spend several nights in his private dorm room every week. Against the rules of course, but who was going to touch the son of the Blood King, the fiercest Vampire Lord since before the Theurgian War? Definitely not the Headmaster.


    She closed her hands in tight fists determined that she would not be his next course and would not give him the satisfaction of an answer.


    ¡°For those of you that do not know, though I imagine our professors have been briefing you for the last few months, the Mending is a magically adaptive exam designed to test your personal aptitude. It will determine what classes you are placed in for the remainder of your time here and assess how strong your magic potential is or what it could become.¡±


    He paused momentarily, then motioned with his hand towards a line of eight cloaked figures along the south wall seated at a long table adorned with silver placements and large candelabras. Even she could tell from this distance that each one had a different affinity for the arts indicated by the symbols on their cloaks and the variety of races and sizes from Dragon-kin and Fae-Folk to Gargoyles and Elven nobility.


    ¡°It will be scored in three categories which will each be respectively scored out of 10. First is your Thaumaturgy which measures your capability for magic. This determines your mental and physical limits to your magic. The second category is your willpower. This measures your drive to succeed and your capability of leadership. The third and last category is your sorcery. This score indicates how strong the magic is in your blood.¡±


    The dull hum of anxious murmuring rose in volume in disbelief in how a test could measure such things.


    ¡°These here are your appointed representatives from all across Ithaeris to assess your abilities and decide your fate!¡± He looked around the room for amusement at his attempt to make light of the seriousness and anxiety of the students, but the room fell silent.


    He cleared his throat, gathering the papers in front of him on the podium and shifting his weight on his feet before continuing.


    ¡°Today is the commencement of the Mending and over the next three days each first-year student will be called upon and taken to the East Wing to demonstrate your powers and receive a rating.¡± Headmaster Trawyn¡¯s gaze turned solemn, ¡°Based on your rating you will be placed in the appropriate class level and be afforded opportunities relative to your score. High-scoring students will be elevated to our advanced classes while lower-scoring students will be placed in classes specifically tailored to prepare them for jobs more ... suited for their abilities¡± The inflection in his voice turned sour as if the last sentence was distasteful.


    ¡°In the meantime, you will continue your classes as normal, but please remember, no using magic or dueling on the grounds outside of instruction, please. You will want to be at your best for the exam.¡± The Headmaster looked pleased with himself for giving the warning, but everyone knew that was only a rule of convenience and nothing more.


    He began to drone on about the week¡¯s activities and announcements, but Ash¡¯s mind stayed firmly on the exam, and intrusively the doubts whispered. They raged against her strength and caused such a commotion in her mind that she didn¡¯t hear someone take the seat beside her and call her name. So many voices overlapped in her head and all spoke of the possibilities if she failed. It took the person nudging her with their elbow to break her trance.


    ¡°Ashaera? You okay there?¡± A blue-tinged female elf with wide, round glasses, a soft smile, and wide braids with the same hue came into view when Ash focused her eyes again. She was short and stocky, unlike other tall and wiry elves, and always carried at least 2 books in her arms at all times. A headband of blue and yellow flowers adorned her hair and the light from the windows made her look almost angelic.


    ¡°Yeah, just worried about the exam, Amvri.¡± She exhaled a sigh and slumped towards the table, ¡°You know they all expect me to fail. Gods, I even expect me to fail at this point.¡±


    Her bright smile faded slightly and she adjusted the books clutched to her chest, pushing up her glasses with a knuckle. She spoke with the gentle, melodic voice of the Moon Fae with a tilt of her head, ¡°since when have you adhered to their expectations, Ash? Since you were taken in by Mr. Greymoon at least.¡±


    The room was buzzing with low conversations and chairs scraping on the wooden floor as students got up to leave. Apparently, the Headmaster had finished speaking and dismissed the room. She rolled her eyes with an amused huff and elbowed the elf. She hated when her friend was right, but she did have a point this time.


    ¡°Come on, Ms. Wisdom, Practical Magic class is waiting,¡± Ash linked her elbow with hers after they rose from the table and dodged through the waves of dissipating students towards the classrooms. However, the doubt still lingered like a shadow in her heart and she almost felt as if she glanced behind her, she could see a manifestation stalking her.


    * * * * * * * * * * * *


    He cursed under his breath a foul, low-born insult and ran his tongue over his pointed canines until he felt his mouth pool with blood. He paced back and forth in the darkened cavern, kicking out at the gothic-styled room decor as he passed. Muttering to himself and pacing, his dark brown hair was secured to his head in an intricately braided pattern, and his brightly colored cloak was a stark contrast to his demeanor.


    ¡°Sir?¡± A mild voice stammered from the doorway. A mouse-like female servant wearing rags that had muddied, dirtied hair that hung past her breasts hid behind the wooden door like a shield.


    He whirled to face her, fury etched into his amber-colored eyes that seemed to glow with the power that was drawn to the surface from his core, and strode purposefully towards her, ¡°What do you want, and why are you disturbing me? Speak quickly.¡±


    ¡°T-th-the.. The....¡± The girl¡¯s knees visibly trembled and her voice was stolen by her fear. She was little more than the palace¡¯s slave and he could not even recall her name to distinguish her from the others.  He snarled at her in disgust at her lack of words and bared his fangs close to her face. The blood that had pooled dripped from the corner of his lips.


    ¡°T-the Oracle w-wants to see you-u, sir.¡±

 Chapter 2: Veritas numquam perit Truth never dies

    A clicking pencil roused Ash from her mid-class daydream and she looked down at a circular criss-cross pattern in the margin of her notebook. The professor was a very short, wispy fairy with wide-spread glistening green wings that had to fly up to write on the chalkboard. Mr. Greymoon was a forest fairy and had leaves fashioned around him in a robe. His skin was the color of ferns and his wings mirrored it with glimmered tips that shone like rainbows. He enjoyed talking about using herbal magic in the kitchen and would often go on long-winded lectures about food and tending gardens.


    Much like the one he was going on about now, though she quickly caught on the subject was which herbs and plants have protective qualities that helped ward off evil and those that invited misfortune. Her Herbology class was the fourth and final class of the day and her mind had much to occupy it, although it was not focused on magical studies.


    She tuned out again, her mind wandering to the upcoming exam.


    Magically adaptive, huh? I wonder what skill it will test me on. It¡¯s not like I have water magic like Kieran or musical abilities like Amysa.


    Chances are they were to be called in alphabetical order so she would not have to wait long to figure it out. Amysa likely would go before her and she could sate her anxiety by bombarding her friend with questions about what to expect. Her knee jiggled under the table, bouncing on the tip of her toe, and her pen whirled around between her fingers.


    ¡°Miss Grim?¡± The high-pitched, falsetto voice of Mr. Greymoon called from the front of the room.


    Her head snapped up and darted around the room of empty desks, realizing she missed the dismissal and was the only one left there. She scrambled up and fumbled to get her supplies in her backpack, muttering apologies and profuse acknowledgments that she was still there. She slung her backpack on her back, a breath exhaling as the weight settled, and headed with quick steps up the rows of desks.


    ¡°Hold on there, Miss Grim.¡± Mr. Greymoon flitted in front of her before she could dart out of the door with a tiny fistful of herbs wrapped in a silver ribbon, ¡°You¡¯re worried about the Mending, hmm? Is that what has your brilliant mind in a tangle today? Normally, you are my most involved student and I didn¡¯t see you raise your hand once today.¡±


    Her cheeks stained red with embarrassment at the direct chastisement and she ducked her face. She did not need teachers on her case right now, especially not the one who basically raised her. After a moment of silence, her eyes flicked up to the fairy and she saw a soft smile.


    ¡°I knew you would be worried, so I made you this gift.¡± He held out the tiny bunch of herbs and laid it on her outstretched palm. It looked like a small charm and was no larger than a bottlecap. ¡°It¡¯s a mixture of chamomile for anxiety, mugwort to open your eyes magically, and rosemary to,¡± He glanced at her knowingly, ¡°stave off the nightmares.¡± His small emerald eyes almost looked sympathetic and he patted her fingertip.


    A normal person would hesitate to take gifts from any sort of Fae, even the faeries or the sprites who can be mischievous and oftentimes misleading in their dealings. They often crafted their conversations and would take advantage of naive humans who would accept their gifts without knowing the contract they entered by thanking them. Ash, however, had grown up around the Little Folk and the Fae in the woods surrounding the schoolyard.


    ¡°Your gift is much appreciated, Mr. Greymoon. Eione only knows how much help I will need going into this.¡± She responded expertly with a bittersweet smile and he clasped his hands in approval. After all , he was the one who taught her proper etiquette as a budding mage.


    His face was stoic as most of his kind remained and he tilted his head at her, hovering close to her hand. His wings fluttered rapidly to keep him in the air and the thin membranes reflected the light into rainbows almost like the sunlight reflecting off a pool of water.


    ¡°No matter the score they give you, only you can diminish your value by allowing others to bring it down or your own mind making excuses not to try.¡± With the strange words of wisdom, he spun and flitted out of the doorway, leaving her to her own mental crisis.


    It was Amysa¡¯s turn first at the Mending just like Ash predicted and she practically ambushed her friend after dinner when she returned to their room for information. The half-siren was uncharacteristically sitting very still on the edge of her bed staring at the purple rug.


    ¡°What was it like? What was your test? How well did you do? Did they tell you your ratin-¡± She froze when she saw the ashen look on her friend''s face and asked quietly as she sat down with her, ¡°are you okay?¡± Ash wrapped a concerned arm around her shoulders and searched her face for any clue. It took several moments of deep breaths and wide-eyed staring in a state of shock before the girl could speak.


    ¡°I-I .. saw my mom die,¡± Her voice was strangled and barely audible. ¡°Right in front of me.¡± Amysa raised her hands up from her lap to chest level and looked down at them. Her palms were violently shaking and a cold sweat dotted her forehead. ¡°T-they said the - the results were ... I¡¯m not supposed to tell you, Ashy, but you have to know. You just have to.¡° Her voice trailed off as her eyes brimmed with tears, unable to continue her account as her chest heaved with rapid breaths.


    Ash wrapped her arms around her head and pulled her close to her chest like a mother embracing a hurt child, stroking her hair. She hummed a soft familiar tune that rumbled in her chest, a soothing melody that she had heard the siren use before to calm herself. After several minutes of quiet, shaky breathing, Amysa straightened and smoothed back her hair behind her ears, and wiped her eyes.


    ¡°My exam ... ¡° She inhaled deeply and began again, her eyes still misty with tears that threatened to pour like a flood down her face, ¡°We .. we were on the coast of Padstow. You know the one known for the otters and the whales off the coast.¡± She tilted her head and nodded at Ash, ¡°We were there for Maol¡¯s birthday, I remember the day so .. so well.¡± Her voice trailed and she dropped her head to focus on the wooden floor. ¡°My brother and I were playing in the waves with my mom, but the otters weren¡¯t supposed to come out until later that evening so we were spending time on the beach. Out of nowhere, there was this huge wave that came up behind me and crashed over our heads, dragging us all underwater. I could hardly see, let alone get my head above water to breathe. I didn¡¯t know which way was up or down and I couldn¡¯t find the surface. I didn¡¯t .. didn¡¯t see where they went.¡± She spoke quickly and hiccuped, raising and lowering her eyes to try and hold back the torrent.


    She took a deep, shaky breath and tucked a hand across her stomach in a protective hold on herself. ¡°I felt this ... this searing pain in the side of my neck and couldn¡¯t feel anything below my legs.¡± Her other hand rose to rub the side of her neck underneath her jaw where they had likely torn through but she felt only unbroken smooth skin.


    ¡°I thought I had hit a rock or something and been paralyzed and c-couldn¡¯t swim. But I tried to kick and shot forward like I had been propelled by something. I looked down and my legs had fused together with scales into some sort of tail like the skin fused together and a fin sprouted from my feet. At the time, I didn¡¯t know what was going on. I do now obviously, but this was then. It was the saltwater that pulled it from my blood, little did I know. That¡¯s where the real memory stopped. That was the first time my power had manifested. Mom had told me it was likely the salt water that brought it out of my blood. I don¡¯t know why I hadn¡¯t gone swimming in the ocean before. ¡± Her words flowed quickly through the quavering as if she believed she would break before she relayed her thoughts and needed to explain herself.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Amysa¡¯s ice blue eyes locked with Ash¡¯s, freezing momentarily, and her voice dropped an octave, ¡°Then I saw it. And Ashy, I saw her. I saw my mom...¡± The dam had broken behind her eyes and she made such a heart-breaking sound of grief and pain that Ash had to tighten her grip on the girl to keep her from slipping away into her despair. Ash reached over across the girl to her desk, snatched her shirt, and dabbed at her cheek.


    ¡°She, she was wrapped in a tentacle of one of the biggest leviathans I had ever seen. Its jaws were huge and its teeth..¡± She inhaled hiccuping without finishing the thought and quivered with a small shudder of fear as if the monster was in front of her again. ¡°It had spikes all over it and it was huge. It brought my mom to its mouth and before I could .. before I could,¡± She sobbed openly as she recalled it her words coming out broken and unsteady as if it was all her strength to recall it.


    ¡°It b-bit her. I could hear a voice that echoed in the water ¡®Death... Pain .. Torment¡¯ ... It wasn¡¯t hungry.¡±


    Amysa shook her head slowly, any color that remained drained away and a nauseous look crossed her face. ¡°It just wanted to inflict pain, it sounded so, so angry. Her- her blood clouded the water before the thing let her go to focus on me. She .. her body was batted away like a fly by the creature like she just meant nothing. Like she meant nothing to it. Nothing at all.¡± Her red puffy eyes turned to Ash in disbelief before continuing, tears streaming down her face. ¡°I felt it reach for me and wrap around my waist, bringing me towards its horrible mouth with its rows and rows of teeth. I did the only action my heart was telling me to do... I-I screamed.¡±


    She paused before continuing, a semblance of strength returning to her face ¡°It created a sonic wave that caused the creature to make this horrible, agonized sound and released me, retreating away from us both. I went directly for my mother and dragged her to the beach... She-she wasn¡¯t breathing Ash and I couldn¡¯t feel her heartbeat. There was so much .. so much blood everywhere. Maol was screaming at her to wake up and I tried to stop it with my hands, but it wasn¡¯t -- enough.¡± She buried her face in her hands and her breath hitched with emotion. ¡°I remembered the song my grandma used to sing at the funerals and memorials to our fallen and before I could really think about it, I was, I was singing it. There was a glow around my fingertips and I could feel the sinews and tendons and skin come back together. Straightening and mending underneath my fingers -- then she gasped a breath.¡± She glanced up at Ash again in disbelief. ¡°I brought her back, Ash. I healed her.¡±


    Ash was dumbfounded at the power of her friend and shook her head in wonder. ¡°That¡¯s,¡± the words escaped her to describe it. ¡°That¡¯s some power Ams. I¡¯m so, so sorry that it came at the cost of having to see that, but they had to of scored you high for that, yeah?¡±


    ¡°They gave me Flame, the highest of the three categories. They told me I had one of the greatest potentials as a healer they had ever seen in this century. My mom didn¡¯t even have this level and I still can¡¯t believe it.¡± She sniffled and wiped her nose and eyes with her sleeve.


    It had been some time since Amysa had seen her mother and brother Maol after she was admitted to the Academy. Families and relations weren¡¯t allowed on the grounds and while Ash believed this rule was steeped in secrecy and the ability to avoid oversight. However, it was justified by protecting the student¡¯s focus and not perpetuating homesickness. She always thought for a school that placed so much importance on blood, it was odd they didn¡¯t allow blood relations on the grounds.


    ¡°I scored ten on my Thaumaturgy, eight on my willpower, and a six on my bloodline because we don¡¯t know who my father is.¡± Though her eyes were red and puffy from crying and stray tears still periodically tracked down her face, the siren gave a small, but proud smile.


    Ash tugged her friend into an embrace again and squeezed her shoulders in admiration. The deep gnawing hunger of dread coiled around her stomach and she glanced at the clock on the wall. ¡°We should probably get ready for bed, it¡¯ll be my turn tomorrow most likely and we will see what these veins hold.¡±


    She didn¡¯t ask her friend what to expect in the room to not bring up the flashback again and it would only serve to feed the demons of doubt that shadowed her mind.


    It would be unlikely she would get any sleep tonight.


    The sunlight streamed through the curtains and had slowly risen over the windowsill to pour over Ash¡¯s still-open eyes. As her alarm pierced through her sleep haze, she groaned and rolled onto her back. She was sure today was her Mending day and she wished beyond hope that she could just roll over and forget the day.


    Excitement and apprehension fought for control of the nausea that threatened to send her running for the bathroom. Amysa was an early riser so she was already in front of the mirror humming a beautifully soft melody to herself and twisting her locks of hair


    Ash rolled over to hit her alarm clock and sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Her dreams had been bits and flashes, but no one solid scene she could conjure up in her mind. A face cast in shadow, crimson braided ropes of liquid, the smell of dusty tomes, and a light buzzing sound like fireflies. It was uncommon she couldn¡¯t recall her dreams because she usually had crafted them before she fell asleep, one of the techniques she had developed to combat her nightmares.


    Though her bloodline was unknown, she had grown up around the Academy since she was rescued and taken in by Mr. Greymoon. The professors had always been cagey about her past, how they knew she was from a magical bloodline and how they would even know if she had the capability despite having a magical resonance. All she knew was that there was an accident and her family home was lost in the fire. Every time she would ask about her family, they would go quiet and quickly change the subject with a placating band-aid and a pat on her head.


    Though her previous life was not one she remembered all that well, her toes wiggled underneath her blanket in remembrance of the dirt and soil between her toes when she ran through the gardens behind the Academy. The tree boughs brushed her face as she raced after one of the brightly colored woodland pixies as a child. The song of the birds that had long since flown away to more friendly environments. How she missed the days when nothing was expected of her and a small sigh of melancholy escaped her lips.


    Her teeth clicked together anxiously and the nervous energy in her muscles made it uncomfortable to stay still. She paced while brushing her teeth, her eyes unfocusing and running over possible scenarios in her head. Her roommate had already readied and left, Ash barely hearing her leave in her dissonance, and she had not the chance to ask any more questions now that she was calmed. What if she didn¡¯t even have enough magic to make it into the Null category? Would they force her to leave? She didn¡¯t even know her heritage let alone what people she could seek refuge with. Maybe they would allow her to stay with Mr. Greymoon and continue to learn to see if her magic would manifest, but there was a nagging voice inside her head that debated the possibility with logic.


    After wrestling her hair into another messy bun with ringlets on either side of her cheekbones and flattening down her uniform from the day before, she trudged out of the room and started down towards the Common Room for breakfast. Her eyes stole to the portraits of professors, Headmasters, and key figures in history that lined the hallway at the base of the stairs. Their names were in fancy golden script on a plaque at the bottom of each frame, but there were only a few she could name off the top of her head.


    She was able to get into the line for breakfast and grab an apple from before the conveyor line of cooks and servers before an announcement came booming through the high-ceiling of the room.


    ¡°Will Ms. Ashaera Grim please report to the East Wing?¡±


    Normally, the professors were given the names who were scheduled to take the test during their period and they were excused before class started. The student¡¯s heads whipped this way and that, leaning and looking for her. Once a majority of them found her, all eyes focused on her and she gulped, tucking the apple into her pocket and stepping out of line.


    It was time.

 Chapter 3: Atrox melior dulcissima veritas mendaciis, Bitter truth is better than the sweetest lies

    Ashaera hesitated at the threshold, taking what seemed like a deep breath for eternity to try and calm her trembling heart. She traced her fingers along the intricately carved double doors that led into the gathering hall where she was summoned and marveled at the beautiful colors. She scuffed her boots against the doorframe and the sound reverberated down the hallway louder than she intended.


    ¡°Miss Grim? Come in please and take a seat¡± The voice was rich and deep and settled buried in her bones.


    She grimaced at her announced arrival and shouldered the massive doors open to see a wide open room with a circle of various symbols drawn on the floor in the middle. Four of the Theurgi from yesterday morning¡¯s introduction stood at the four corners dressed in floor-length yellow, blue, red, and green robes respective to their direction and element. Her feet slowed as her eyes roamed over the room for any hint as to what was going to happen, but the mural on the ceiling¡¯s lips stayed sealed. The wind from a cracked open window caused the thick purple and black drapes to scrape against the glass causing an eerie screeching noise that made goosebumps rise up on her skin. Her eyes finally fell on the towering chair that was upholstered as if it would seat royalty and the silver offering bowl on a wooden table in front of it.


    ¡°Please be careful not to smudge the zikai.¡± A massive broad-chested, middle-aged man with thick, almost leathery skin and striking icy green eyes with vertical, wide slits for pupils motioned to the circular chalk symbols. He had long black hair half tied back behind his ears and the remainder resting on his shoulders.


    Only one word came to mind when she saw this man, Dragon.


    ¡°I am Zaikos, son of Radenth the Protector of the Sky, and the liaison for the Mending personnel that are qualified to administer this test.¡± His voice rumbled like thunder to every corner of the enormous room and likely spilled into the hallway, though no students were allowed in the East Wing to hear him. ¡°You are Miss Ashaera Grim of ... unknown blood to undertake the Mending, correct?¡±


    It took her an embarrassingly long moment to get the wheel in her head turning enough to respond with a quick nod and she clasped her hand in front of her, ¡°Yes, yes - er - sir. Yes, sir, that¡¯s me, but I go by Ash with my friends, not that - you sir - are a friend, but it¡¯s a good name.¡± She winced at the unnecessary babbling and smushed her lips together to keep her infernal nerves from spilling her guts on the floor. This was no ordinary dragon shifter, this was the heir to the Aukian throne and the next leader of Ithaeris after his father passed into the Aether, which who knows when that would be. Dragons measured their life in decades, not years.


    The giant man strode toward her and loomed over her causing the air to dampen with a sense of respect and high status that almost made it difficult to breathe. He looked more like a berserker of old with his muscles straining the fabric of his leather armor and fur-lined cloak across his shoulders. His jawline likely could be used to mine the mountain itself and she caught sight of his pointed canines as he opened his mouth to speak again to her.


    ¡°What is your magical affinity, Miss Grim? Are you a water shaper, a healer -- a mind mage perhaps?¡± His emerald eyes peered over his nose with expectation and a human seated behind the dragon held an elaborate quill pen ready to dictate the record.


    Ash swallowed her nerves, looking up at the towering man, ¡°My powers have not shown themselves, not yet at least.¡± She felt a squeeze in her heart of inadequacy and a rumbling urgency to run far from shifter royalty roiled in her stomach. She was trained from the moment she stepped onto Academy grounds that your worth came from the magic in your blood or the deeds you have done. If you had neither, you were nothing.


    The dragon puffed a ring of smoke from the corner of his mouth with a contemplative expression, ¡°Your parents or familial associations are not known? What are the circumstances of your enrollment here, Miss Grim?¡±


    Ash had anticipated this question of her magical legitimacy, but couldn¡¯t help looking at her feet in shame as she spoke, ¡°I was found as a child in the burning remains of my village and my home. My parents were nowhere to be found and I was on death¡¯s door.¡± She recounted the story just like Mr. Greymoon had repeated a million times since she came to the Academy though she remembered only in dreams, ¡°I was rescued and brought here due to my blue blood and the Herbology professor here Mr. Greymoon sponsored me through my studies.¡±


    Blue blood was the standard identifier of a magic wielder. Those without a drop of magic in their body had Ironblood or the regular crimson you¡¯d expect to see when the skin is split. Magic itself was passed down through the lineage and blood of the gods and manifested itself in the hue of blue that one possessed.


    ¡°Approach please and perform your offering.¡± Zaikos seemed to accept her reasoning and motioned to the chair. He assumed his place in the line of Theurgi ready to assess her. As he lowered himself to sit, the rest knelt at the same time across the zikai in practiced unison.


    Ash shuddered as a wave of uncertainty and anxiety fired through her nerves, making her hair stand on end. One foot after the other and one breath after another, she reached the bowl and wrapped her hand around the delicate ritual knife that lay beside it. Her eyes darted to each of the proctors, wondering if her breakfast would make a second appearance in front of the most powerfully blooded mages in Ithaeris.


    A cerulean drop welled on her palm, followed by another until they melded together and pooled in her palm as she slowly dragged the metal across her hand. She curled her fingers into a fist and watched as the drop fell into the offering bowl and spiraled into the water. The blue ribbons swirled and danced as they dissipated and she clenched her teeth not to hiss from the pain.


    ¡°Kenav ni daeresa, sirae ni beget¡± Ash murmured what she was instructed to say to tie whatever magic she possessed in her blood to the runes in the circle, ¡°Gesen ve finivae da hesvenete beren¡±


    Search my blood, judge my heart, let the flow of my magic be strong.


    ¡°Take your seat and we will begin¡±


    Setting the knife down, she watched as her skin knit back together over the cut and moved to settle into the large chair. Her heart raced and her hands grew clammy with anxiety as the Theurgi¡¯s cut their own palms and pressed them into the zikai in equal positions across the circle and began to chant in Eidharian. At first, she couldn¡¯t feel anything and she wondered if it would even work on someone without magic, but before she could even finish the thought, a tingling sensation began in her fingers and worked its way up her arms. A rush of fresh panic gripped her chest, but the magic wrapped around her voice before she could call a stop to the spell.


    ¡°Casarae daeresa acknovi¡± Their voices melded into waves of shifting exhaustion that latched onto her body and fought her control to pull her beneath its surface.


    Ash fought the waves with a panicked sense of survival, but her vision started to flicker and fade into a golden light that broke into a blackened river that stretched before her. The connection she felt with her body started to fade and her consciousness floated in the aimless darkened space, wild magic frothing the waves. Magic that felt like the ocean''s current flowed around her and entwined between her fingers and wrapped around her waist before moving on down the river. Was this the edge of the Aether?


    After what seemed like an eternity, her feet bumped into solid ground, though everything around her was still darkened and she could see little. A light slowly brightened above her and illuminated a dark space centered around her. She lifted her fingers to her face and saw a vague shimmering on the edge of her hands in an almost corporeal way. Glancing around, her eyes landed on a podium on the edge of the visible area with a large book perched on it with a quill in a bottle of ink to the right. Tilting her head in curious confusion and shuffling forward carefully, she peered forward until she could make out the name of the book.


    ¡°Viniae ba Saresh,¡± Ash read aloud to herself, ¡°The Book of Blood.¡± The spine of the book was decorated with golden inscriptions that she could not understand and the cover was a thick leather that held ancient pages. This was not a book she had seen before and she was almost afraid to open it should it crumble into dust. What would happen with her test then?


    Wait, when could she read the ancient script?


    The letters were written in beautifully penned Eidharian, an old language that used to be the way to harness wild magic, but the gods had since restricted its use due to the Blood Mage of old. His ability to use the old language to pull power from the books fueled his magic and wrought destruction with it. After his defeat, only the leaders and soothsayers of the time who proved themselves could petition the gods to be given the words and their meaning.


    Her fingers danced along the ridges of the ornate gold-plated corners while she wrestled her thundering heart back under control. She felt a tug on her heart and her mind that only intensified as she inched the book open. Several times she tested the connection and wondered as the pull weakened when she closed it and strengthened the further she lifted the cover open. Taking a deep breath, her fingers nudged the book all the way open and as she did, ghostly hands reached out to envelop her consciousness and drew her into its pages.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    She blinked her eyes open and a scene unfolded before her as she did. An elongated table fit for royalty with a wild boar in the very center and roasts of all kinds arranged in a line. There were more fruits and melons than she could name and various goblets of wine, juice, and milk next to two placemats on opposite ends of the table. A golden chandelier twisted and proudly hung above the table illuminating the great hall. The walls were covered in busts, war trophies, and achievements of the like with banners of conquered nations. There were no windows which she found odd, but not as odd as the hulking man sitting at the opposite end of the spread.


    ¡°I have long awaited you, child¡±


    His voice sparked an odd recognition within her mind and she struggled to recall where she had heard it before. His face was obscured by a hood and all she could make out was the strong profile of his jawline and a curved, almost smug smile. The memory was so slippery and elusive that she couldn¡¯t hold onto it.


    ¡°And you are .. who exactly?¡± Nerves shook her voice, but she did the best she could to steady them as she approached the table. The food was enticing and the smell assaulted her senses with gorgeous aromas, but the training of her Faerie patron Mr. Greymoon rang in her ears. Touch nothing and eat nothing in the realm of the Fae, we wouldn¡¯t want you to accidentally become a Fae¡¯s servant or be bound to one without meaning to.


    ¡°Names mean little, but in a show of trust, I will offer you my titles given by the thrones of old long ago. I am the Poet and the Bringer of Rain to the Aukian Throne, the controller of Thunder to Zaeshen I am the Commander of the Orias Scholars, and the Lord of Ambition to each. Each of these titles gives not a name, but deeds that were done that offer my sincerity in my dealings.¡± The Poet¡¯s hand reached forward and grasped an apple in front of him and in the light she could see gnarled aged skin as if the man had lived long beyond his time. ¡°Though I do not offer this knowledge for free. I offer you information and expect information in return, young one.¡±


    ¡°What is your price?¡± Her voice finding strength though she glanced around the room in uncertainty.


    ¡°Your name, child.¡±


    She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the patronizing nicknames aimed at her age, but she obliged the man her name. He dipped his head in thanks and laced his fingers together.


    So much for her Fae training.


    ¡°Is it not your own name that would hold the most meaning and demonstrate the most amount of trust to a stranger?¡± Ash stood fast and didn¡¯t move another step towards the table, ¡°Titles don¡¯t tell me what your business is in this place and if you are part of my Mending¡±


    The man tilted his head in contemplation and sat hard against the backing of his chair, the light from the chandelier illuminating more of his face. He was an aged man with white curled hair sprouting from his chin and jaw and his nose was low set and pointed. He was dressed in dark robes that hung heavily on his frail frame. Ash¡¯s mind spun with confusion as when she came in she could have sworn his profile was much larger and stronger then this old mage in front of her just moments before. His eyes were the color of blue ice and his gaze sent goosebumps racing up and down her arms.


    He did not answer her for some moments as his eyes seemed to size her up. ¡°Do you know the story of Rhazien the Powerful?¡± He inquired in a gentle voice as he looked at her expectantly, ¡°Does Cypress Academy teach his story or even speak his name?¡±


    Ash hesitantly shook her head. She knew the name from whispers in the hallway and that he was a large part of the Theurgian War, but she knew nothing of the man himself.


    ¡°This story I offer without a price as it is one that should be known.¡± He cleared his throat and sipped the wine glass before continuing, ¡°Rhazien was the brother of the first Aukian King, Khaseros. He was not born a dragon, but his mother had an affair with a local blacksmith who she truly loved, but since she did not possess much magic of her own, her son with him was powerless. A Null he would now be called. Rhazien grew jealous of his brother as the King was a cruel one who frequently used his brother as a joke and an example of weakness in front of his court.¡±


    ¡°He was able to learn how to siphon magic from the blood of the prisoners in the palace and hold an essence of the god¡¯s magic in his hand. His power grew as he learned to siphon more and more from them, until he accidentally drained a man of his blood and gained the affinity of the prisoner for three days. It took a heavy toll on his soul and he wavered between the land of the living and the dead as it was forbidden by the gods, but somehow he escaped their notice.¡±


    Ashaera had started to shuffle forward to the table while she listened without realizing it and had sat down at the opposite end of the table. The silver fork was in her hand and she was bewildered when she tried to remember when she picked it up.


    ¡°Years passed and he perfected his craft, keeping the effects of the Theurgi¡¯s magic for up to two full moon cycles after siphoning their blood. It was kept a well-hidden secret, but he was to present his findings to the King as a weapon to use against Zaeshen in the war,¡± The Poet continued, ¡°However, he fell in love with a siren named Faera who disapproved greatly of his craft, but loved him regardless. However, King Khaseros was tipped off of his brother¡¯s dealings and while Rhazien was away, the King ransacked his home to find him and when he did not, he had his wife kidnapped.¡±


    Ash inhaled deeply in shock and was so engrossed in the story, she did not realize she had begun eating the potatoes, roast, and vegetables on her plate. A servant to her left materialized out of the shadows to refill her glass as she finished it. ¡°What happened to the wife?¡±


    ¡°She did not survive the torture session the King had commanded his Generals to do to get information about her husband out of her.¡± The man¡¯s eyes misted as he spoke of her and had a faraway look to them. ¡°However, they were able to get the location of Rhazien¡¯s ritual space before she passed on and destroyed everything within. Rhazien was not there as his wife had left a geshen flower on the windowsill which signaled danger. He flew into a rage when he learned of his wife¡¯s death from a guard who was loyal to him and slaughtered close to a quarter of the guards that the King had sent to retrieve him.¡±


    Ash nodded along to the story as if she knew the details intimately and leaned forward to catch his next words. She wondered where the test lie in his words, but the story was painted so beautifully, she could want nothing more than to hear the continuation.


    ¡°The death of his wife broke Rhazien¡¯s spirit and he wasted away in caves along the coast of Hedraes. The diety Tolmereth took pity on him and offered him a portion of his power to fulfill his vengeance for Faera. He was given the ability to draw on the magic well within books and he became the first Book Mage.¡±


    ¡°Book Mage?¡± She crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. These were not phrases she had ever heard being associated with magic or her studies living at the Academy, ¡°Magic well?¡±


    The Poet smiled softly and instructed her to look within herself, to follow the lines of magic through her body and to the well of magic that was within everyone. She felt silly closing her eyes and focused on following the veins of magic that flowed through her. However, every time she tried to find the well, the lines would blur and scatter to where she could not follow them. She gave a huff of annoyance and focused her gaze back on the old man.


    ¡°It takes time to figure it out, young one. Some wells are overflowing with magic and it is easier for the wielder to access which makes them more powerful. However, some are low on the amount given to them through their blood which makes their magic more difficult to use.¡± He gave her a knowing look and tapped his fingers on the table. ¡°A Book Mage can access the well within a book to power their spells depending on the text that is read. Rhazien tried to utilize this power to overthrow his brother and get vengeance for his wife, but he was imprisoned and destroyed when he revealed the source of his bloodborne power.¡± The Poet explained with a hint of sadness in his voice.


    ¡°Why would the King destroy him because of his power?¡± The girl wondered aloud, now idly picking at the food on her plate with her fork. The course seemed to have reappeared fully in front of her when she was not paying attention and she blinked a few times in wonder before returning her attention to the man.


    ¡°Fear,¡± He murmured bitterly, his eyes cast to a crack in the stone floor. ¡°They killed him too because they feared his unlimited ability to utilize any pool of magic attainable in specific books if he got his hand on them. If you wanted fire magic, use the Book of Flame. Wind? The Book of the Sky. As the prince, he had access to the Royal Library and they feared what he could do especially with as strong an emotion as vengeance.¡±


    Ash breathed for a moment and remarked incredulously, ¡°but the King is the one who should pay! He had Faera murdered when he could have just spoken to his brother.¡±


    The old man did not reply for several moments and she began to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but when he spoke again, his voice was sorrowful.


    ¡°One would think that would be the conclusion drawn, but the King was not a Dragon to be questioned.¡± A similar pause to the one previously before he whispered loud enough that it carried to her ears with an eager expression, ¡°Rhazien was not permanently destroyed, there is a way for Him to return.¡± He leaned forward in his chair and gripped the edge of the table with bony knuckles, his eyes alight with anticipatory hunger.


    Alarm bells sounded in her mind louder than her thoughts and she stiffened. Awareness of her surroundings caused goosebumps to race up and down her skin and her breathing to turn ragged. Something about this situation wasn¡¯t right.


    The Poet¡¯s eyebrows crinkled and the wrinkles in his face deepened as he leaned back in his chair and scrutinized her with a long look. ¡°Something the matter, child?¡±


    ¡°If ... If Rhazien was defeated, why would I want to bring him back? Wouldn¡¯t he just take out his vengeance on the world since Khaseros is already dead? He killed so many people, isn¡¯t he better off not around and compelled to get vengeance?¡±


    The old man chuckled and nodded his head to no one in particular. ¡°Zorais, our beloved Lady Mother, has chosen well with you, little mageling. Your mind is sharp and your instincts are true. That would be the case if the Throne had not proven itself to be as corrupt as Khasero¡¯s age.¡±


    Mumbling a few words in Eidharian, the Poet waved his hand, and the center of the table rippled like the surface of the water and images began to materialize. Ash rose to her feet and peered at the flashing images of gore and horror that forced the contents of her stomach to rise up in her throat. An army of men bearing the silver crest of Aukian royalty cut down men, women, and children alike and burned villages to ash. Her hand crept to her mouth and tears welled on the edges of her lashes and her chest burned with grief as the images continued until she could no longer bear the carnage.


    ¡°What is this? Why would you show me this?¡± She gasped with her head still turned away and held the back of her knuckles to her mouth.


    ¡°It¡¯s the last living record of years of Aukian cruelty that the Throne has painstakingly erased from memory and record. They were searching for the one born with the power to harness a book¡¯s magic who was prophesied to bring about the return of Rhazien.¡±


    ¡°They ... murdered an entire village to prevent this book mage from being born? To stop his brother from coming back?¡± Her head swayed back and forth in disbelief. None of her history books or research in the Academy¡¯s vast library even mentioned book mages, let alone countless slaughters in the name of the King. ¡°We were taught that those villages were killed by Rhazien in his quest for power.¡±


    The Poet curled his lip in disgust, ¡°Liars every one of them.¡±


    Ash¡¯s mind was spinning at the information, but there was one question she couldn¡¯t answer, ¡°Why is this something you would tell me? Why not reveal it to all of Ithaeris?¡±


    The ancient man tilted his head back and locked eyes with her. The next words he uttered shattered Ashaera¡¯s carefully guarded facade into pieces even she couldn¡¯t repair.


    ¡°One of those villages ... was yours.¡±