2026-09-20 18:20:36“Any update on tracing the animal or person that unalived and dismembered Magister Paul?” the Grand Magister asked, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the council chamber.
He leaned forward at the head of the massive table, staring intensely at the Lead Tracker.
The tracker shook his head, “There is nothing, sir. No residual mana signature to read, no physical tracks leaving the dining hall. Whoever—or whatever—did this must've been incredibly skilled because they left absolutely no trace.”
“But that makes no sense,” another Magister chimed in, “What human would be able to be so horrific? To show such primal, animalistic brutality? The fingers were chopped and sorted, for gods' sake!”
The Grand Magister remained silent, his eyes fixed on the center of the table. Around him, the other groups of Magisters began arguing, speaking over one another, but as they debated back and forth, a dangerous, dark, yet entirely logical idea began to brew in the Grand Magister's head as everything suddenly started connecting.
“The students,” he blurted and the room instantly fell silent, all of them turning to stare at him in confusion. The Grand Magister cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair, and interlocked his long fingers together on the table.
“Look out the windows,” the Grand Magister started, “The sky fracture is worsening by the hour. Our defensive barriers are bleeding out, and above all else, we need mana. Massive amounts of it.”
“With all due respect, Grand Magister,” a senior faculty member interrupted, “how does the fracturing of our sky relate to Magister Paul's death and the human-animal that killed him?”
“Think about it,” the Grand Magister said, his voice dropping, “It has been ages since anyone heard of the release of an entity, or an entity actively attacking Vaelenor…not since the fall of Aethelgard. What if that fracturing in the sky isn't a natural anomaly but the direct result of an entity escaping from its hell gates?”
An agreeing silence fell over the Magisters, as they looked at one another, the pieces suddenly fitting together in an unsettling way.
“Consider the timeline,” the Grand Magister pressed, leaning forward. “Suddenly, the Aethelgard descendants are at our gates, demanding the Mage of Ruin dwell within our walls. Then, the fracturing of the sky. And now, suddenly, such a gruesome, targeted death of a high-ranking master. Everything is clearly passing a message to us. We are under siege from the inside out.”
He paused, letting the fear settle in the room before he continued. “But I have a solution. It is the most effective choice among all others available to us. As I said, we need mana…lots of it. A combination of mages, sorcerers, and elites. To seal a tear of that magnitude, we need more than just a dozen casting circles... which is why the students will play a good role.”
“Grand Magister, no!” one woman exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror as she realized what he was implying. “A siphon of that magnitude would completely drain them! If taken too far, it will burn the children when they over-channel their mana!”
The Grand Magister immediately raised his hands, trying to stir down the rising protests, “We will not take it too far, then. We will monitor the feedback loops tightly and will take just enough to seal the fractured sky and secure our perimeter. It is a sacrifice for the survival of the academy.”
The room fell quiet again, though the air remained heavy with dread. Finally, a Magister at the far end of the table asked, “And how do you propose we make the children channel that much energy simultaneously?”
The Grand Magister looked at him, his expression flat. “We will make them do it through the blood ritual channels we introduced.”
“They will all bleed for the titles.”
×××
The next day arrived almost immediately as the brass bells shattered the pre-dawn silence. But instead of being forced onto the freezing morning for sprints, the exhausted students were marched straight into the depths of the training arena.
Once everyone was there, the Magisters stepped forward to announce a mandatory academy-wide ritual, explaining the mechanics of the spell, how it would siphon their energy to reinforce the Academy's defenses.
Fear rippled amongst the students, seeing the panic the Grand Magister decided to take the stand on the podium.
“It is merely a collective tap,” he assured them, “A minor contribution from each of you to guarantee our safety. You will feel a slight fatigue, nothing more.”
The students were ordered to divide themselves into casting circles of seven. “Find your partners quickly!” an instructor barked.
Lexi’s eyes darted, instinctively searching for Chadwick. When she finally spotted him, she pushed past the others and walked straight to him. “Chadwick…hi,” she said breathlessly with a shaky smile. “Need a partner?”
As he stepped toward her, she noticed he was still limping and his skin ghostly pale. He clearly hadn't recovered from the violent explosion of the ritual he had performed with Clovis the night before. Looking at his battered, weak form, Lexi’s face contorted into worry as she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You don't look okay at all.”
“Because I’m not,” Chadwick muttered, “If I channel even a drop of mana right now, I just might die. I wasn't prepared for this.”
“We can slip through the back before they start.”
“We can't,” Chadwick hissed back, shaking his head. “I already tried before the bells but was caught by the perimeter guards and almost punished again.”
Lexi looked at his sunken eyes and made a sudden decision. “Then I'll channel for both of us. Connect your flow to mine. I'll bear the brunt of it.”
Before he could argue, other students joined them, and their circle of seven was complete.
“Now slice your palms and hold hands,” the Grand Magister commanded from the central dais.
A collective wince echoed through the arena as blades drew blood. Lexi gripped Chadwick’s hand tightly and immediately, glowing blood runes appeared on the floor, snaking rapidly through the cobblestones and up the walls, then the Magisters raised their staffs and began chanting in a foreign dialect.
At first, the sensation was subtle. Lexi felt a gentle tug at her core as her mana began to flow into the circuit. But within seconds, the pull gradually grew strong.
It started to feel as though the ritual was actively sucking away their literal lifeforce, tightly squeezing their hearts.
“Ah! Stop! It hurts!” a younger student screamed from a neighboring circle.
Panic erupted across the arena as several students tried to yank their hands away, but their palms were magnetically locked together by the runes making them unable to break the bond.
“Do not attempt to break the connection until it is over!” The Grand Magister yelled over the din as students began falling to their knees, screaming in agony as tears streamed down their faces.
Suddenly, a boy in Lexi and Chadwick’s own circle coughed up a spray of blood, collapsing onto his knees.
Lexi began to violently struggle. Because she was shielding Chadwick, she was actively channeling twice the amount of her normal mana source, her veins feeling like they were filled with liquid fire.
Chadwick held her hand with all the strength he had left, his eyes wide as he looked down at her. “Hold on!”
Slowly, Lexi’s legs gave out, and she dropped to one knee, her chest heaving as she suffocated under the pressure. “I'm... I'm trying…” she gasped out, her vision blurring.
“Stop! Please!” Chadwick yelled at the instructors, his voice cracking with rage.
“Silence, boy!” a Magister yelled back from above. “This is your purpose! As elites of Vaelenor, you shall all bleed and live up to your titles! Bleed for the academy! Bleed for our survival!”
Chadwick looked up at the ceiling where the swirling massive pillar of mana was being funneled towards the sky, watching as the energy went up into the fracture overhead.
But as he stared at the collision, the realization hit him even harder than the pressure around him.
The mana they were ripping out of the students wasn't even fixing the sky because the fracture was way too massive, so all this stolen power was barely making a dent in the tear.
He leaned down to Lexi's ear while she cried out in pain. “The mana isn't enough to seal that fracture.
Lexi looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, her body trembling. “What...?”
“There are only two options here,” Chadwick whispered, his face turning entirely pale as he stared at the Grand Magister on the podium.
“Either the Grand Magister is hiding something about how broken this world is... or he intends to use all this excess mana for a completely different purpose, and isn't telling us.”
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CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: Lexi’s Resolve.
She worked the plate at her own hour, came up the back passage, and went along the reading floor with a book held up against her, and her hands started somewhere around the second range end.She let them. She did not look down at them and she did not put them away in her sleeves, and by the time the study room door was shut behind her they had quit on their own.One window, and nothing in it at that hour but the sky going out over the eastern spires.There was a chalk line across the boards near the door, standing at sixteen feet and stopping dead. She stepped over it, the way you step over a thing somebody else is in the middle of, and sat down past the end of the table with the repair bench between her and the wall.On the far side of that bench, face in, was the board with the pins in it and the red thread run between them. She could have said every item on it without turning round. S
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: Clovis Prepares For The Hunt.
The north door had been unbarred since the last bell, and the boy came in at it at the hour he comes in at, and there was nothing in that to read.What there was to read was that he did not go to the trolley.He came up the floor, took the register off the end of the desk, opened it, and turned it round to face the chair.Clovis did not put a hand on it.The hand in it is the boy’s. He backfilled the whole term in one sitting, in ink, and nobody asked him for the hours. They were his own, because he does not leave a column short.A boy does not carry a man a book he has been keeping all term unless somebody else has read it first.It lay open at a night in the second week, with his thumb down the fore edge in three more places. He took the thumb away, left the three proud of the block, and stepped back.Four lines with
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: The Prominent Magister’s Move.
The chit had four words on it in a clerk’s hand and a crest pressed into the corner, and going up the slope he worked out what they had on him, and the answer was that he had written it himself.The register. Dates put in from the start of term forward, in ink, because the old man had let it stand and said he should not have.He had offered it on the way down the floor, the two of them a yard apart and both looking straight ahead.The old man was turning a cloth over on his own wrist and folding the clean side out while he said what wanted doing, and it was out of Chadwick’s mouth before he had decided to say it.There was the smallest pause after. Then he was told he would do it in ink, and he said he would do it in ink, and he did.Nobody made him put the hours in. The hours were his own idea, and he put them in because he is a boy who counts and a colu
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: Clovis Doesn’t Tell Her.
He had the velvet book out on the desk before she came in, because a thing you mean to give back should be the first thing in the room.It has been shut in the drawer with the rest of what he keeps since the night he took it, and getting it out he could not put it anywhere on that wood that did not look arranged.So he stopped moving it and put his hands either side of it and waited.She came up the north aisle at her hour and stopped two feet short of the desk, further out than she used to stand.She looked at the book. Then at his hands either side of it. Then at the shut drawer that has her notebook in it, and she said nothing about that.“Take it,” Clovis said.She did not reach for it.“You’re going to answer them,” she said.“I am.”&ldq
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: The Secondary Anchor.
She gave him the length of time a person gives, and when it had gone by she put the pencil in the satchel and got up.He had her notebook under his own hand. He had stood up and gone round the corner of his desk for it an hour ago, in front of her, and she had not asked for it.So he got up as well, and took the lamp, and walked her down to the north door.He set the lamp down and got the bar up out of its brackets, four feet of iron that wants both his arms now.She waited while he did it, and did not offer.“You can keep the notebook,” she said. “I’ll ask you for the other one again. I’m not in a hurry about it.”He had nothing ready for either half. A man can refuse a thing asked of him and cannot refuse a thing handed over, and she had done both in a breath.“Go to your wing,” he said.“Yes, sir.”Then she went out past him into the colonnade, and the cold came off the grass for as long as the door stood open.Clovis got the bar back across its brackets and kept a hand on it a whi
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: The Second Reading.
The notebook lay at the length of the desk from his hands, and to get it he was going to have to stand up out of that chair in front of her.He had already looked at it, so the price had been set by somebody else.A chair taking a girl’s weight back is a small sound. That one had arrived like a thing presented for signature.Nothing since. No page turned up at the cold table, no foot on the boards, no shifting about by a girl who wanted it heard.The chair was still round on its legs where he had turned it an hour ago, so he was facing up his own floor, and he could not undo that without the undoing being counted.The lamp had burned past the hour it had in it.The sub-vault volume sat squared to the edge with its seal unbroken, and beside it the ruled sheet, still one row.The notebook lay past the pair of them.
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