Fog snakes along the ground, swallowing the crunch of Yatzir’s footsteps. His eyes shift between blue streetlights that form a route to the Yarbil. Distant whispers spill from the shadows as he passes houses off the path. A pink gleam soars through the mist, then vanishes with the plunking of water.

  His pace quickens toward a pond where a silhouette looms on the water’s surface. Its long blue hair reaches through the fog, grasping at him, then something bumps his shoe. Yatzir kicks, looks down, and sees his turtle lying on his back. He gasps and turns him over. “Sorry, Netil.”

  Yatzir searches the fog for the silhouette, then swallows when he doesn't find it. Netil spits a smooth pink stone at Yatzir’s feet. “What’s this?” He thumbs a faint symbol on the side, then shivers. “Weird.”

  Netil nips at Yatzir’s pantleg. Yatzir smiles. “Oh, right.” He reaches into his blazer, then pulls out a green apple and sets it down. “Here.”

  Netil chomps on the apple and juice smears on his beak. Yatzir grunts, then rises. “See you later.”

  Beyond short, thick, viny bushes and a tall, rusted iron fence waits a black building. The slick surface shimmers as he approaches. Yatzir pauses to peer at the Yarbil. It seems to peer back. He moves to the iron gate, which shrieks as he opens it, then whines as it clangs shut.

  Long, dull robes muffle the sneer of his elders, who tease “Bogenach” at him. A title with two meanings: successor to the leader or offspring of a serpent.

  Yatzir shuffles onward. His gaze fixes on the ground and his fist curls around the pink stone. Through the fog, he sees Setzah pacing and mumbling to himself. Setzah’s white robe drags along the stones. Yatzir hurries past, then stops at the sound of Setzah's voice.

  “Yatzir?” Setzah’s white beard sways over his gut. “You’re back!” He smiles and bows. “It's good to see you, my boy.”

  Yatzir glares at him, then returns a bow and steps forward.

  Setzah pats him on the shoulder. “We have a transfer joining us today.” Setzah's eyes wrinkle in the corners. “He reminds me of you.”

  Yatzir bites the inside of his cheek, then pockets the stone. “Of me?”

  Setzah grins. “He’s quite handsome and doesn't talk much!”

  Yatzir’s fist shakes in his pocket.

  Setzah laughs and strokes his beard. “You two would be excellent friends!” He gestures to the Yarbil. “Please do your best to welcome him.”

  Yatzir huffs, then spins around and marches into the Yarbil. “I didn't sign up to be part of the welcoming committee.”

  Blue candles flicker through the Yarbil's halls. Hand-laid tiles mirror ocean waves. Veins of silver and gold extend up from the floor, sprawling across the walls. Yatzir's fingertips trace the stones, leaving behind a faint oily streak. He catches his reflection on a tile.

  A woman's face replaces his and long blue hair unravels from her head. He swallows, then touches his cheek. She copies his movement.

  Biluh pass, pointing and laughing at him. Yatzir's eyes brim with tears. He glances at the tile where only his reflection remains. Yatzir sighs, then turns a corner—bumping into a tall, muscular man. The man's red uniform nears burgundy in the candlelight. Yatzir's mouth hangs open.

  “Pardon me!” The man's orange eyes snare Yatzir. “I didn't see you there.” He kneels at Yatzir's feet.

  Yatzir grunts and stares down at him. “It's all right.” He offers half a smile. “I wasn't paying attention either.”

  The man rises, towering over Yatzir, and his eyes burn. “Do I…” He chuckles. “Do I know you?”

  Yatzir shakes his head.

  The man smiles. “You look familiar.”

  Yatzir raises a brow. “I think I'd remember someone like you.”

  The man’s red curls bounce around his face as his weight shifts. “I'm Vuhtzev.”

  Yatzir nods. “From the South.”

  Vuhtzev jolts. “You do know me!”

  Yatzir shrugs. “Word travels fast around here.”

  Vuhtzev hums. “I bet it does!”

  Yatzir rubs the stone. “Are you having trouble finding your classroom?”

  Vuhtzev tilts his head. “Consider this a cry for help.”

  Yatzir sighs and points down the corridor. “Follow me.”

  They walk through the Yarbil in silence. Vuhtzev’s eyes chase Yatzir’s gaze. A row of arches appear on their left, revealing an open courtyard where a willow tree leans over a small pond. Feet hang from a branch and smoke sails between leaves. They approach the tree, then a small yellow ball of fluff leaps onto Yatzir’s face.

  Yatzir falls backwards and groans. A rough tongue scrapes his nose. Yatzir opens his eyes. “Seol?”

  Seol dances on Yatzir’s chest. “You’re finally back!” His round green eyes illuminate the fog. “I missed you!”

  Yatzir pets his head. “Missed you too.”

  Vuhtzev scoffs. “Erm… Do all cats talk here?”

  Seol’s eyes narrow and his fur puffs. “Who’re you?”

  Vuhtzev squats. “I’m Vuhtzev.”

  Yatzir grins. “From the South.”

  Seol points his chin up. “I’ll let you know if I have a bellyache.”

  Vuhtzev snorts and clenches his fists.

  Yatzir pokes Seol. “Play nice!” His eyes trail up the willow tree and land on a young woman, puffing from a long pipe. Her green skin nears blue in the shade. She cuts him a glance, then turns away with a smirk tugging at her lips.

  Seol meows. “Irāvah, did you hear?”

  Irāvah blows smoke in the shape of a turtle. “A southerner, huh?” She snickers. “The Chitzah must be depressed!”

  Yatzir looks at Vuhtzev and opens his mouth, then Setzah appears. “Irāvah? Seol?” His muddy brown eyes flick between them. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  Irāvah rolls her eyes and drops from the branch. Dark purple dreads hang at her shoulders. She holds out her long pipe, tapping it empty on the ground, and struts off. Seol nudges Yatzir’s chin, then chases after her.

  Setzah eyes Yatzir. “Don’t dawdle.”

  Yatzir grumbles, stands, and marches Vuhtzev through the Yarbil. They pass a patio where long robes whisper. Vuhtzev tugs on Yatzir’s sleeve and listens.

  "Without a Bognunrach we're doomed."

  "Who do we turn to?"

  "Not him!"

  "Shhh..."

  The long robes scatter.

  Vuhtzev holds his chin. “My father told me… People here are judgemental.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Yatzir snorts. “More like cynical!”

  Vuhtzev turns to him and hums.

  Yatzir adjusts his collar. “Nevermind.” He checks the halls. “What class are you looking for?”

  Vuhtzev purses his lips and shrugs. “They said someone would show me around.”

  Yatzir drops his head. “Great.”

  They continue moving through the Yarbil.

  Vuhtzev stuffs his hands into his pockets. “That man back there, is he the Bognunrach?”

  Yatzir trips over his shoe and catches himself on his hands.

  Vuhtzev reaches down. “You okay?”

  Yatzir flinches, then stands. “I’m fine.” He glares at Vuhtzev. “How do you know about the Bognunrach?”

  Vuhtzev tilts his head. “Everyone does!” He searches Yatzir's eyes, then looks away. “There was one who often visited Etirvet.” He brushes a curl from his face. “They were from here.”

  Yatzir stares at a tattoo on the bottom of Vuhtzev’s eyelid. “You’re talking about my mother, Imazet.”

  Vuhtzev jumps back. “What?” He searches Yatzir's eyes again, then smiles. “It’s… It’s really you!” He laughs. “Imazet never shut up about you!”

  Yatzir furrows his brow. “Huh? You knew her?”

  Vuhtzev bounces in place. “Oh yeah! She taught me all kinds of rem!”

  Yatzir’s nostrils flare. “Is that so?” He bites the inside of his cheek, then walks ahead.

  Vuhtzev follows. “Are you… Did I say something wrong?”

  Yatzir’s face twitches. “Doesn’t matter. Drop it.”

  Vuhtzev clenches his jaw and nods.

  They shuffle to a classroom where cool air gushes under the door. Yatzir brushes the icy handle and pushes, but it doesn't budge. He looks at Vuhtzev. “A little help?”

  Vuhtzev braces himself, then slams into the door. A frigid wind spills into the hall. Snowflakes flurry through the air. Yatzir covers his face. Vuhtzev waves his hand and a dark pink tome appears. It cracks open, flips to a blank spot, then symbols scribble across the page.

  Vuhtzev reads the inscription. "Category: Zomir." The current halts mid-gust.

  Yatzir lowers his hands. “How did you…”

  Vuhtzev puffs his chest. “Impressed?”

  Yatzir murmurs, then leans into the classroom. The biluh scan the snowflakes with wide eyes and open mouths. The elder, Revah, shakes her auburn hair which is layered in frost, then stands on her toes. "Bogenach is here!"

  Heads turn, forcing Yatzir into the hall. Vuhtzev steps forward with his tome hovering alongside him. "I'm Vuhtzev of the South."

  Revah waves him over. "Please, join us."

  Vuhtzev sways, then looks back at Yatzir. “Come on.”

  Yatzir hides behind him with his gaze locked on the floor. Biluh stare at Yatzir and whisper. Revah unzips the current. Yatzir shuts his eyes and hugs his arms. Something warm embraces his shoulders. Vuhtzev smiles as he fixes his blazer around Yatzir. Yatzir stares up at Vuhtzev as the warmth rushes to his cheeks.

  Revah's voice carries through the wind. "Pay attention!" She makes a triangle with her fingers, then a hot beam of light cuts through the center of the blizzard. “Tzirem is not drawn from the environment! It comes from inside you!” The snowflakes melt and the atmosphere stabilizes. “If your intentions are pure, then your remit will be true.”

  The biluh applaud her as she moves around the room. Revah brushes the frost off her black robe. "All of you will practice a variation of this rem." Her gaze stalls on Yatzir.

  The roof morphs into a blue sky with a sun and clouds. Revah makes a triangle with her fingers again. “Strong intent! Feel the change within yourselves.” The sky darkens as a moon eclipses the sun. “You aren't forcing the environment to change for you. You are changing what's inside you and the environment will match your tzirem.”

  Each of his peers copies Revah's movements and their rem works without fault. They congratulate one another, yet sneer at Yatzir. Revah nods to Vuhtzev.

  Vuhtzev's tome flutters and a new inscription spreads across a blank page. He reads it. "Category: Yetenev." The sun collapses inward, peeling daylight into night, and a pale moon grows between the clouds.

  Everyone stares at the sky in silence. Vuhtzev smirks and looks at Yatzir, who is inching towards the door. Revah moves around Vuhtzev. "How unusual." She keeps her distance, then looks at Yatzir. “It's your turn.”

  Yatzir's hands tremble at his sides. Vuhtzev nods. Yatzir lifts his hands and forms a triangle… Nothing happens. The room erupts with laughter. Yatzir buries his face into his palms. Vuhtzev squeezes his shoulder.

  Revah’s gaze swallows the biluh. "In nature, a blocked stream allows for the surrounding flora to drink.” She paces. “While the Bogenach’s tzirem may not flow outward, he is filled with the same substance that makes each of you special.”

  Sefox brushes his greasy black hair. "Or maybe he's not gifted!” Laughter follows.

  Vuhtzev's fingers tense around Yatzir's shoulder, then he opens his mouth and Yatzir grabs his hand. Vuhtzev clenches his jaw.

  Revah rolls her eyes. “That's enough for now.”

  The biluh chat about finals. Some give Yatzir a dirty look. Others swoon over Vuhtzev.

  Revah saunters toward Yatzir. "I'm certain Merketz can help you understand why your gifts aren't flourishing."

  Yatzir wipes his eyes, then nods.

  Her pale green eyes shift to Vuhtzev. "As for you, a tome is used for transcribing a rem. Not for casting."

  Vuhtzev chuckles, then releases Yatzir's shoulder.

  Revah raises a brow. “I suggest the two of you get to where you need to be.” Her eyes follow them out the door.

  Vuhtzev's stride is rigid. "You shouldn't have stopped me."

  Yatzir taps the stone in his pocket. "Welcome to my life!"

  Vuhtzev punches a wall, cracking the stone, and leaving behind a splotch of blood.

  Yatzir jerks and watches the blood drip from Vuhtzev's fist. "It's not a big deal!”

  Vuhtzev spins around, then marches down the hall. "I'll make him apologize."

  Yatzir pushes against Vuhtzev's large chest. "If you threaten him, then he'll hate me more."

  Vuhtzev sucks his teeth. "They wouldn't walk all over you if you fought back."

  Yatzir rubs Vuhtzev's blazer between his fingers. "I won't stoop to their level."

  Vuhtzev unclenches his fists. "You deserve better."

  Yatzir swallows, then returns his blazer and walks him to the next class in silence. Biluh sit at their desks and write on parchment. Elder Nechev's purple eyes flick to the duo. “You must be Vuhtzev.” His long black hair sits on his shoulders, blending into the fabric of his robe.

  Vuhtzev bows. “Yes.”

  Nechev nods to an empty seat. “Sit.” He lays a piece of parchment out. “Write something about yourself and what you hope to learn while you're here.”

  Vuhtzev turns to Yatzir. “You coming?”

  Yatzir shakes his head. “Not this time.”

  Vuhtzev smiles, then ruffles Yatzir's hair and takes his seat.

  Heat swells on Yatzir's cheek as he pats his curls.

  Nechev bows. “Thank you, Bogenach. You may go.”

  Yatzir bows, then wanders through the Yarbil. His fingertips brush the walls and his eyes follow the metallic veins. He stops to look at his reflection.

  The woman appears again, staring back and smiling. Yatzir’s nails dig into his palms. “Why him and not me?” He watches her smile widen, then punches the wall and leaves a faint print from his fist. “Can't do anything right.” He stomps away.

  A thick curtain dampens the Avportzet's hiss. Red light wanes along the walls and fizzles into blue on the floor. Yatzir trips over a tile which flattens itself when he looks down. Towering wooden shelves groan under the weight of their collection. Pages flutter. He turns. Blue hair rushes around a corner.

  Seol rubs against his leg. “Hey.”

  Yatzir jumps. "Seol!” He tugs on his collar. “What're you doing?"

  Seol struts to a table piled with books. "Studying." He leaps onto the table, then bites a page and drags it from the pile. “Watch this!” A chain of symbols burns into the wood around him. The circle detaches from the table, then lifts him into the air and vanishes. He falls through the hole, clawing at the edge, and pulls himself up. “Pretty neat, huh?”

  Yatzir rubs his fist. “Yeah.”

  Seol's ears twitch. "You can do it, too."

  Yatzir scrunches his face. "It's pretty advanced."

  Seol moves closer. "What are you working on?"

  Yatzir scans the shelves. "Not sure."

  Seol's ears perk up. “Have you heard of Lagoon Niruchah?”

  Yatzir shakes his head.

  Seol tugs on a book. Yatzir reaches out, then the book comes loose and the pile falls onto the floor. Seol nudges the book toward Yatzir. “It's a retreat near our village!”

  Yatzir picks up the book and turns it over. The cover is brown, worn, and dull. He looks at Seol. “What's a retreat?”

  Seol scratches his ear. “A place where people go to heal.”

  Yatzir sets the book down. “But I'm not injured.”

  Seol stares at him. “But you are unable to cast rem.”

  Yatzir swallows and crosses his arms. “So?”

  Seol’s tail flickers. “So this might be the place to understand why.”

  Yatzir hums.

  Seol points his chin up. “If you aren't going to prepare for finals, then you could at least spend some time learning about yourself.”

  Yatzir drops his arms. “That sounds awful.” He slouches. “Can't I just read a book instead?”

  Seol leaps off the table and struts past him. “Books are for people who want to learn something new.” He faces Yatzir. “You've learned all you can here.”

  Yatzir glances at the shelves. “What if I find a book I haven't read yet?”

  Seol's tail swats through the air. “Nonsense!” He continues strutting. “We're going to Niruchah!”

  Yatzir drags his feet. “How do we get there?”

  Seol trots with a smile. “We’ll need a chaperone!”

  Yatzir pulls the curtain of the Avportzet open. “Revah said Merketz might be able to help.”

  Seol's fur puffs and he halts. “Her?” He trembles. “You're joking, right? Right?”

  Yatzir shakes his head.

  Seol’s ears drop and his fur flattens. “If we must.”

  Oletsef...Substance of the mind