A suspiciously high number of people passed Corabelle’s door in recent days. Foot traffic patterns wouldn’t have changed this much unless they were less frightened.

  Which was certainly a good thing, but it didn’t come without its discomforts.

  Though few were brazen enough to stare directly, the glances from the corner of eyes still made Corabelle feel as though she were a caged animal under observation.

  The mages assigned to her were, shockingly, far more social than the guards had been.

  They actually talked with her. Though their questions often found their way to her powers. Some were subtler than others, but they always came back to the same idea. Judgement.

  Though disheartening, it was markedly better than the silent fear the rest of the camp harboured.

  Since his attack, Zaramir hadn’t stirred. While his breathing remained steady and his scars slowly vanished, he didn’t awaken.

  As the days stretched on, a not-so-quiet voice in her head began to shout that he may never awaken.

  Each passing hour, it became harder and harder to silence. He’d been kept in an extended stasis, that was for certain, but what kind she couldn’t seem to figure out.

  By all accounts he should be awake by now, for good this time.

  If it were a ritual tied to that gods’ forsaken tube, he would have woken immediately. If it were a spell, it would have worn off by now. If it were a potion, he would have remained conscious after his awakening. If it was a drain on his Spark, he would be long recovered.

  Which left only one, far more sinister, answer.

  Fae curses were strong and they certainly didn’t hesitate to dole them out, but she knew little of curses. Humans seldom studied them, and the only info she had were very minor ones taught to her by higher ranked Demons at the request of the Fae.

  This had to be a curse.

  But without knowing what sort of curse, she couldn’t even begin to break it. If he woke up again, while still under its influence, she might not be the only one hurt.

  Whatever it was that was infiltrating his mind, he was convinced he was surrounded by enemies. If he fought, he’d win.

  This camp would become nothing. He was dangerous. Corabelle knew it, Ella knew it. Though thankfully at least for the moment, few others did.

  But she had to break this curse, before he woke up again. To do that she needed more

  information about whatever this could possibly be

  So the next time one of her guard mages began their subtle interrogation, she began her own.

  “So what was your House?” Corabelle was the first to speak this shift.

  The mage leaned against the cavern wall, giving disappointed eyes to the whispering teenagers who’d passed her door no less than five times within the hour, “House Veritan,” He replied somewhat indifferently.

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  They were Conjuration. Powerful too.

  “I got tested there, and rejected. Though that was about 60 years ago, when Master Mita was presiding.”

  His interest piqued enough for him to bother looking in her direction, “Doesn’t surprise me you were rejected. She was harsh. My grandfather didn’t get in either under her reign. She couldn’t sense power if it slapped her in her upturned face.” There was a bitterness spanning generations in his tone.

  “She told her assistant to send me away. Said she could tell I was Sparkless without even seeing me.” She confessed.

  He snorted, a smile of dry humor spread across his face, “That sounds like her.”

  His attention had stayed on her longer than it ever had before, good.

  “I wasn’t in the area for a long time, had their teachings gotten with the times yet?” She questioned jokingly.

  If Veritan had evolved, there was a chance he might know something that could help. Curses fell under no school of magic but, after Divination, Conjuration were most likely to study cross discipline texts.

  He shrugged, “Since Mita died, they did their best to catch up. Slow going when the curriculum was as ‘traditional’ as her.”

  “Anything fun you could teach me?” She questioned.

  A sharp laugh escaped him, loud enough it drew the teenagers back to the doorway, “You’re surprisingly funny.”

  “I’m not as old or as strong as you think,” She told him.

  Hopefully honestly would help her get what she needed.

  “I’ve been alive a good while, but I was only turned not long before the war, and I had no formal magical training. I only learned a few simple spells when I was still human. Almost everything else was self-taught or Runebound.”

  His laughter died down, “I always assumed the older Faedemons were carefully chosen for their power and skill. You’re all so strong…”

  Corabelle shook her head, “No. I’m not supposed to exist, but from what I've gathered, before the war Fae were nothing more than scavengers, taking whatever fresh bodies they could get. Yes, we’re strong, but even if we had formal training, most of us wouldn’t even remember it.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” He murmured. “So, you were never a master?”

  “When I was young, there was nothing I wanted more than to be a powerful mage, I guess I should have been more careful about what I wished for,” She chuckled. “But no, I never did get a proper rank.”

  He suppressed a humorous smile as though he wasn’t sure if it was a joke he should laugh at, “I was an Apprentice, so I suppose that would make me stronger than you.” He returned the humor.

  “By Mita’s standards, certainly.” She laughed.

  “So was all this some round about way of asking for formal training?” He pushed himself off the wall. “Becasue I truly don’t think there’s much I could teach you.”

  “In a way,” She answered. “I was hoping maybe you might know something about Curses.”

  He stood up straight, every muscle tensing, “Why would you want to know about Curses?" Suspicion clouded his casual tone.

  “Not for myself,” She had to be careful with what she said, but she’d sworn she wouldn’t lie to them. “For him. I’m beginning to think he might be under a Curse of some sort, though I don’t know much about them.”

  He didn’t reply, instead stayed still, awaiting further explanation.

  “Faedemons don’t sleep, not the way Humans do. The only things that can bring about unconsciousness like this are potions, spells, or a significant drain on their Spark. And those he should have recovered from by now, so part of me thinks that the Fae placed a Curse. It wouldn’t be the first time.” She felt her voice crack as said it.

  The tension in his shoulder released ever so slightly, “I don’t know anything about Curses.” He seemed genuine as he said it.

  Corabelle nodded.

  She knew it was a longshot. Only higher ranked mages might be educated enough, and they were more or less extinct.

  “Though,” he added in a low voice. “Ella might. But please don’t tell her I told you that. No one here’s supposed to know.”

  “Thank you,” Corabelle smiled, “But I won't lie to her.”

  A look of worry crossed his face.

  “But I won’t bring it up unless she asks.”