16th of Sifdras - 3rd Isharil

  In the morning after breakfast, I head back to the 6th floor in the main building, high above the Great Hall, to meet with Professor E. Marblebrook. Not to be confused with Professor K. Marblebrook, whom I found out through Vesa the other day, is actually the other Marblebrook’s wife. Her maiden name used to be Silverson, apparently, but no one calls her that. Vesa relayed to me that the difference is in the title. E. Marblebrook tends to be called Professor Marblebrook by the general scribe population, whereas K. Marblebrook tends to go by Mistress Kelyn. Vesa adds that she is very sweet, sickeningly so, as she has experienced Mistress Kelyn’s tutelage in her Introduction to Divination class earlier in the week.

  Our meeting today is to discuss my self study hours, which is just what Mistress Yevvena describes as a “gap” in my schedule. I’m not surprised by this, really, as I was indecisive when it came to picking classes to begin with. Since I have two classes on Ivora, which I found is actually quite rare, it just so happened that there are no classes on my schedule for Isharil. I shrug as I knock on the heavy wooden door, thinking that there isn’t anything to be done about it at this point.

  “Enter.” I hear muffled from behind the thick, ancient timbers and enter her office.

  The space is a decent size, comparable to Mistress Yevvena’s, but there are wall to wall bookshelves on either side of a large bay window that appears much smaller than the Magistrate’s office. I assume that is due to just the sheer amount of things that fill all the shelves around it with books tomes, scrolls, artifacts, bottles filled with various potions, tinctures, and other unknown fluids, as well as a plethora of other unknown, unnamed things. The celestial maps hanging on the only free wall space doesn’t help to make the room feel any bigger either. The space has a familiarity to it as I walk toward the desk, and I realize with a start that it is oddly similar to the Sanctum. Whether the Professor had a hand in the decor of the Vodalysa common room or the common room had a distinct impression on her office, it is difficult to say.

  The Prof. is sitting in a stately, high-backed chair at a desk likewise piled high with a variety of the aforementioned items. Before her is one particular tome; open, as well as an ink well, parchment, and quill. Her head is down as she jots down something, and she pauses just long enough to look at me in the doorway through her rose-tinted spectacles. “Ah, Crowfoot, is it not? Close the door and have a seat. I will be with you in a moment.”

  I do as she instructs, closing the door behind me and wandering over to a rather plain looking chair that she gestured to in front of her desk. I sit quietly, a restless energy causing me to fidget with my nails while I wait for her to finish her scribbling.

  “So,” She abruptly breaks the silence that stretched for far too long, setting her quill in the inkwell lazily as her focus pivots to me. I think I like it better when she isn’t staring me like she knows every time I have ever misbehaved. “You have some self study time this term. This is excellent news for you, Crowfoot.” Her voice is just as bold and confident as when she accepted me into her Coven. “While you can use this time to work on your other classes, there is perhaps a more exciting alternative, if that sort of thing interests you.”

  Curiosity piqued by this information, I am not ashamed to admit that it does, in fact, interest me. “What kind of an alternative?”

  A bold smile spreads across her face, “What Vodalysa could resist this kind of offer, am I right?” She shifts her posture, steepling her hands before continuing, “You have the option to research your own topic for this time, guided and approved by me, of course, as an extra class for the term.”

  “I can research anything?”

  The professor shrugs, pushing her long, dark tawny braid behind her. “Within reason. Is there a topic you have in mind?” She presses gently. “Something your heart has been dying to explore?”

  I bite my bottom lip as there is only one thing that really comes to mind. Do I dare try to research why magic acts so strangely around me, why these strange events, these mishaps, keep happening to me? Immediately, I know this is the wrong question. The real question is: do I dare to let someone like Professor Marblebrook in on the most guarded of my secrets? Although, I did all but admit to them with Mistress Yevvena. Even she told me to dig deeper, eluding to the idea that there is more to my mishaps than just mana. Did she think I was cursed too?

  My nostrils flare as the sharp, predatory gaze of Calas Duskwood comes to mind. How he called me cursed for falling unconscious in the Void of Reflection and once again I feel an irrational focus narrow my vision; showing me the path. I stare back into rose colored eyes through rose tinted glass, a resolve in me I had not felt a moment ago. “I do.” My voice sounds cold even to my ears.

  The professor tilts her head curiously, her elbows planted firmly on her desk. “Well, don’t keep me in such suspense, Crowfoot.” She urges, only half-joking I can tell.

  “I want to prove that I am not cursed and to find the cause, the real cause, behind all the stupid things that happen to me.”

  She straightens in her chair and leans back, folding her arms across her chest. With an unreadable gaze, she studies me again in that too perceptive way, the same as before. This time, I don’t flinch away from it. She breathes deep once, breaking our eye contact and says smoothly, “Approved.”

  I blink. “That’s it?”

  She shrugs, leaning in to retrieve her saturated quill from the ink pot. “Bring me a thesis next week with as much detail about this supposed curse as possible. We will start there.” She begins to switch her focus back to the work our meeting interrupted and I stand to leave.

  “Oh, and Miss Crowfoot,” she adds to me, looking up from cleaning off the nib of the quill. “I don’t think for a second that there is any chance in all the heavens and hells that you are cursed. Proving it might be a challenge, though. So I hope you are prepared to jump in and stick with it, no matter how uncomfortable this topic might become.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I nod slowly at first, then more vigorously, hearing her warning; there is no hiding or holding back once we have begun, she is telling me. And I wholeheartedly agree.

  On the other side of Prof. Marblebrook’s door, I take a moment to let the conversation sink in, especially all the things she didn’t say. I all but admitted, out loud, that there is something very wrong with me. Even though I would like to blame everything on the midnight birds circling each other on my neck, all of my mishaps started much, much before they appeared. Why had she not asked for any details? Had she spoken with Mistress Yevvena to whom I confided my longest standing flaw?

  Unfortunately, those questions seem quite silly now. The damage has been done after all, and I might as well get used to the fact that all of my oddities will likely be put on display for at least my Coven Leader this term. No use cracking an egg over spilled milk, right? Isn’t that what Mother says?

  Thinking of Mother, I try to approach this like she would, shifting my perception of the problem to something tangible. The professor wants me to make a thesis about not being cursed, but from everything Mother has taught me, a thesis already has an outcome in mind. How am I supposed to make a statement about what I am going to find if I haven’t found it yet?

  Since there are hours left this morning, and most others will be in class, I decide to make my way to the library to try and figure out this new project. The Midnight Stacks are located to the south west of the main building, but instead of being housed in a similarly grand building like the Great Hall, the library entrance is a grand stairwell leading down; into the heart of the mountain atop which the Court sits.

  I run my fingers along the cold stones as I descend, a thin layer of mana shimmering on their surface. It thrums with a familiar resonance that I have come to know from the Sanctum. Unlike the Sanctum though, these stones are not marred at all by symbols that control the flow of mana. Looking closer at the patterns within the enchantment, I can tell it is enhancing the stone by the traces of earthen threads that course through it. Indeed, the surface of the stone is smooth and a bit weathered, but completely whole as the earthen element fills in any gaps that would threaten to form in it.

  What a clever application, I muse, thinking that these building, this Court, is able to persist indefinitely through time and weather due to this simple weave on a massive scale. My fingers delicately brush the mana like a lattice over the stones, my gesture of admiration as I reach the bottom, my focus shifting to my purpose here. An odd tingle runs up my arm upon releasing from the mana on the stones and I recoil sharply.

  Before I have a chance to wonder what happened, a bright line of mana travels down the wall and to the floor beneath my feet. Strangely, the lattice of the enchantment is undisturbed as the line seems to be traveling through it, with the individual strands, rather than carving a path of destruction. It zips from my feet into the Stacks and I feel that familiar pull of instinct telling me to follow.

  I do so at a run, struggling to keep up with the lightning fast, lightning white spindle of mana until it crashes into a different kind of barrier. I pull up short, watching the remnants of the darting mana cascade up a doorway, the ripples of energy like lightning spreading through clouds over the sign above the door. “The Silent Archives” It reads in a bold, rigid script not unlike the placards on the faculty doors.

  Peering through to the room beyond is more easily said than done; however, as I can tell immediately that an enchantment like a film covers the otherwise empty doorway. The thin veneer of mana is a sickly yellow color, with odd bits of aether floating in the air like plankton in water. It differs greatly from the enchantment that I followed to get here, but its purpose and composition is completely foreign to me.

  I frown at the tiny voice in my heart telling me to enter, the instinct becoming a strong urge within me before I finally step through the curtain of yellow mana. I wince as I do so, the taste of the jelly-like film is nearly as bad as the sight and texture of it. My hand covers my mouth first as I watch the enchantment reform seamlessly across the threshold in my wake. Wincing again, my hand rub at my temples, my ears feel a constant pressure as if the very air here were as viscous as ocean waters. Once the shock of this new, discomfort passes, I now understand why the aether here behaves so strangely. It’s not floating in here, all of the pieces of mana are swimming in this space.

  The stacks are lower in this section, which isn’t saying much for me as the tallest shelf is still a good foot above my head, but at least I don’t have to use a ladder to get to them when a step stool will get me there instead. As I wander the stacks, looking for a section on curses, it is plain that the books in here are not to leave this place of thick yellow air as most of them are chained to the shelves, lecterns, or long tables. I find many smaller, wooden stands like desks in the stacks so that scribes can still take notes.

  This is exactly what I do for the rest of the morning once my feet lead me to the correct section.

  17th of Sifdras - 3rd Kaldros

  Today was my first class for Practical Medica with Prof. Featherspeaker. I can see why other students have nicknamed him Prof. Peacock. First, it is much easier to say. Also, he is quite good looking with his smooth face, long dark hair, and dashing smile. Young too, apparently the youngest person to ever become a teacher within these hallowed halls. I suppose he is charming from what I witnessed in the clinic, though I don’t personally see the appeal other than he is extremely knowledgeable regarding the healing arts.

  The older girls in class, and even a few of the boys, tend to stare at him all doe-eyed during class, which is a bit distracting, even for me. Cira and the other girls in the Sanctum sometimes talk about boys. When they ask me for my opinion on this guy or that one though, I can only shrug my indifference. They always tell me the same thing though, “Just you wait. It will happen to you soon enough.” They are less clear about what, exactly, will happen.

  During the lecture, one of the girls notes that one of the medicinal herbs that Prof. Peacock is talking about is supposed to be used in love potions. He smiles and gives a nervous laugh and replies that it can be used as an aphrodisiac, though he would not call it a love potion. He goes on to say that using this kind of concoction on others without their knowledge or consent would be extremely unethical and in some nations illegal. He poses the question to the class about why would doing such a thing be considered this way.

  I stop to think about it as the entire class seems taken aback by this shift in the discourse of the lecture. I am only vaguely familiar with the term he used and I check for its meaning in the index of the text we are using. My eyes go wide when I find it and I cannot help the blush on my cheeks. This must be why the class is so quiet. My mind goes back to the scenario he laid out for us in which someone is basically poisoned with this plant for… that intended purpose.

  A chill runs down my spine and I suddenly understand the greater implication the Professor is trying to make. Using magic to force others to do something against their will in which they cannot resist, is a terrifying thought.

  At this point another girl has spoken up in a harsh voice. “Because it is wrong to try and control people with magic.”

  The professor nods appreciatively. “Yes, indeed. Using magic with the intent to control or supplant another’s will for your own ends is the core of magical ethics. We will touch on these subjects this semester, but if you are interested in the full breadth and depth of this kind of topic, I would encourage you to take the Magical Ethics course next term, taught by our very own Headmaster, Dean Windraven.”

  There are no more doe-eyes for the rest of the lecture.