Finding her way back to the dormitory was simple enough. No one looked at her for more than a few seconds. Well, the ones who bothered looking anyway. Most people were either too preoccupied with conversation, caught in their own thoughts, or looked straight through her as if she weren’t there.

  As Saahira walked, the regret of leaving Nia and the Final Bar’s warm atmosphere overshadowed her mood. She really should study, but alone? In an unfamiliar room? Many of the sanctum’s students seemed to be pairing off, enjoying their first night in the city. And despite the efforts of others to the contrary, she was alone.

  The last flickers of the sun bled a purple hue into the remaining clouds. Right about now, Mother would have Isa practicing her letters while Father finished his work at the shop. Saahira would begin her evening shift at The Laughing Bull, where Barclay would be three cups deep, recounting a tale of his talking horse that changed a little bit every time, while Natalie continued pouring and laughing as if she’d never heard it before.

  “I miss you all,” Saahira whispered to the sky. Almaryn may share a continent with Odalric, but it felt like an entirely different world.

  Inside the common room of her dormitory, the girls previously lounging beside the fire were gone, leaving only the white-haired student amongst her piles of books, gaze buried in the depths of her notes. Saahira looked at her, then at the stairway. All that awaited her upstairs were thoughts of home. She licked her lips and slowly approached the table.

  “Hi, there.” The dark circles were still there when the girl looked up from her parchment, and her brilliant blue eyes pierced through Saahira’s. “Would you like a study partner?”

  “You’re a first year, right?” Her voice was breathy and hurried, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

  “I am.”

  “Then you can’t help me study.”

  “Oh. Um, I just meant I could study here beside you.” Saahira shook her head. “I’m sorry to bother you.” Lonely bedroom it is. She hastened away from the table.

  “That would be fine!” the girl called. She cleared her throat and added quickly, “I mean, the table’s for anyone to use.”

  Saahira smiled. Despite the girl’s fashionable clothes, she carried a thread of the awkwardness Saahira had felt since she stepped inside the sanctum. “Let me go get my books.”

  The second floor was as empty as the first, making the trip to her room a quick one. Though with how crowded the streets of Odalric had been, most of her peers seemed to prefer celebrating their first night in the sanctum instead of studying.

  Saahira retrieved her books on enchantments and alchemy from her trunk, set them on her bed, and then slid her cloak from her shoulders. The fireplace in the common room warmed the entire first floor, and the long sleeves of her blouse would ward off any remaining chill. Sliding her fingers along the edge of her bodice, she noticed a few threads of the hand stitching coming loose. There was a sewing kit in her trunk, but she didn’t want to keep her study partner waiting.

  She smoothed her hands over her black skirt, fingering a tear she’d had to whipstitch on the carriage ride to the city. Without her cloak, it was very easy to point out.

  Forget it. Everyone will see it eventually, anyway. With a quick brush of her fingers through her hair, she collected her books, fresh brilight paper, and the ink and quill from her desk, then stepped back into the hallway. In doing so, she very nearly collided with a tall young woman standing inches away from the door, her fist raised as if she were about to knock.

  Saahira leaped back, shuffling her materials in her arms before they tumbled to the ground.

  “You must be Saahira! I’m Lemae F??ra?nmi.” Her smile was warm and bright, much like the dozens of orange braids that made up her hair.

  “Oh, right. The block mentor. Nia told me about you.” Saahira nervously returned her smile.

  “Only the nice bits, I hope?” Lemae sported the same wry expression as her cousin. However, unlike Nia, Lemae’s sonorous voice held a similar A?áline inflection to Professor Moborí’s.

  “Of course. Well, mostly the nanny bits,” Saahira replied. Lemae’s laugh eased her nerves. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is mine.” Her sea green eyes were striking against her umber skin, and a small golden hoop hung from her septum. Something dark stirred between her braids, and a large pair of round, glistening eyes peered over her head. Triangular ears raised high above each eye, and a single horn poked out between them.

  “Another new student?” A light, raspy voice emerged from the bat-like face, and it yawned, bearing two rows of sharp, tiny teeth.

  “Moon’s greetings, Cama.” Lemae reached up and scratched it behind the back. A serpent’s tail dropped to her shoulder and coiled around her neck. “Saahira, this is my demon, Camazotz. You may catch him flying around the building from time to time.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “He likes to eat the bugs.”

  Cama sighed. “Because you’ve asked it of me, Lemae. Must you lie to every student?” He prodded Lemae’s cheek with the end of his tail.

  Lemae chuckled and nodded toward Saahira’s books. “Anyway, I see you’re on your way out, so I won’t keep you. I’m in room twelve, just down the way. If furniture breaks, or you need more supplies like soap or ink, just knock on my door and yell for Nanny Lemae. I will do what I can.” Lemae swept an arm towards her room, calling attention to the exquisitely tailored dress that hugged her curves. The long sleeves belled at her wrists, and embroidered flowers and leaves wrapped around her hips and waist.

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” Saahira shifted her posture so that the tears in her skirt would fall beneath the shadows of her books.

  “Good. That just leaves the boring stuff.” Lemae lowered her arm and rattled off the same rules that were listed in Saahira’s welcome information, “Curfew is at ten, which means students from other dorms need to be gone before then. Lights out by eleven. No practicing spells on other students or entering their rooms uninvited. Do not speak to another student’s demon without their express permission, and don’t enchant the furniture.”

  Saahira nodded. “Understood.”

  “Excellent. By the way, speaking of my darling cousin, is she around right now?”

  A renewed wave of guilt swept over Saahira as she shook her head. “No. She went to the Final Bar.”

  “Ha! I knew she couldn’t resist stopping in on her first night here. Very well. I’ll find her later.” Lemae stepped aside for Saahira to cross over the threshold and close the door behind her. “We’ll see more of each other soon.”

  “Mhm.” Saahira struggled to decide what else she should say. Coming up short, she instead took a note from her tavern days. “Have a good night, Lemae. Cama.”

  “You as well, Saahira.”

  “Lemae, if you wish to sustain another dozen mosquito bites this year, by all means, eat the bugs yourself,” Cama grumbled as they strolled to the next dorm room.

  She winked at Saahira as she knocked on the door, and Saahira took her exit to the stairs.

  Would my summon look like that? she wondered as she wound her way back downstairs to the common room. What did Camazotz ask for in trade? Or Khuwadzi?

  The harried girl was still at the table, but now her forehead rested against her book. A soft, muffled snoring sounded from the pages. Saahira considered finding a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders, but thought better of it when she reasoned that it might lead to tardiness or missing classes. Instead, she set down her things with care not to startle her, then lay a hand on her shoulder.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Falling asleep on me?”

  The girl started, slammed her hands on either side of her book, and launched herself upright. “I am not afraid!” she shouted.

  Saahira recoiled and froze.

  The girl blinked twice, looked down at her book, then up at Saahira, and groaned. “Damn the winds…” She rubbed her palms against her eyes and exhaled, giving Saahira a chance to slowly sink into her chair.

  “Bad dream?” Saahira asked gently.

  She dropped her hands into her lap and straightened her shoulders. “Introductions usually precede such personal questions.” With her chin raised and her posture restored, she almost struck the picture of nobility. If only it weren’t for the shreds of fear that still lingered in her gaze and the red impression on her forehead from her book.

  “I’m Saahira.”

  “Saahira… Who?”

  She sighed. “Saahira Montarac.”

  There was a long pause, and the girl touched her chin in thought.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Saahira said.

  “Oh. I’m Anya Iwai.” She shook her head and brushed her bangs away from her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with your name.”

  “No apology necessary.” Not wanting to linger on the topic, Saahira tapped on the nearby stack of Anya’s books. “What professor gives this much work on the first day of class? I’d like to prepare myself.”

  Anya’s pride deflated by inches, and a light pink hue touched her cheeks. “None of them.” She traced a circle over the open pages before her, and longing replaced the fear in her eyes. “This is just…to make sure I’m ready for this year. Everyone falls a little behind now and then.”

  This is ‘a little’ behind?! With how shaken Anya was when she woke her, Saahira didn’t want to rub salt into the wound. “Absolutely. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “Of course I will. I am my father’s daughter, after all.” Anya snatched her quill and dipped it in a nearby pot of ink. “Now, back to it.”

  “I’ll get started, too, then.” Saahira opened her book on enchantments and turned to the first chapter. An Introduction to Enchantments.

  “Um, Saahira?”

  Saahira looked up and raised a brow.

  “If you get stuck, I might be able to help you.” The pink color in Anya’s cheeks deepened. “But only if you’re really, really stuck.”

  Saahira smiled. “Thank you, Anya.” She positioned her notes from Professor Moborí’s class beside her book, removed the lid from her ink pot, and dipped her quill inside. Then she started to read.

  ‘While it is impossible to place the exact date and time in which the art of enchantment was discovered, it is an immortal craft that has assisted countless sorcerers in Faylon’s history in applying magical abilities to everything from weapons, armor, and jewelry, to skin, hair, and teeth. The opportunities expand each and every day, and will continue to do so until the end of time.’

  The first few pages of the book referenced historical texts from names Saahira had never heard of and difficult questions posed by unfamiliar philosophers. She glanced up at Anya, who was clearly struggling to keep her eyes open, and thought better of asking for help. Instead, she skimmed over the names and general introductions until, at last, she reached a larger heading with the terms she needed.

  ‘Intent and Purpose.

  ‘While these concepts may sound similar, the first documented enchantment by Isorin Chavadieu stated, after thousands of hours of research, that one’s intent and purpose must be unique to one another, and held individually—with perfect clarity!—in our minds.’

  Saahira blinked. Chavadieu? She thumbed through her notes until she found the page with her classmates. Talia’s family? Just how far back did the bloodlines of her peers go? The thought was as daunting as it was sobering. She returned her attention to the book.

  ‘The intention is the first and most basic concept we must set into motion. It is the core of an enchantment’s effects, and thusly must be crystalline in preparation and execution.

  ‘An enchantment’s purpose, however, takes the intent and refines it to a more specific application. While it is still an independent concept, the purpose will directly affect the intent in the final enchantment’s function. It is imperative to note that, even in enchantments that may seem similar, the purpose set forth by the caster can change due to a multitude of factors.

  ‘In most cases, a weak sense of intent and/or purpose will cause the enchantment to fail. In rare instances, the enchantment will take, but its intent will harbor a will of its own, and its purpose will become unstable. This author prays that such a disaster does not occur in your practices.’

  Saahira’s hand moved so rapidly across the page that the ink didn’t have time to dry. It smudged against her skin and dragged a few black lines across the paper with it. While she was usually painfully aware of the drawbacks of a dominant left hand, she wanted to absorb as much information as possible. And despite trying to condense the book’s passages as much as she could, it all felt so important to know.

  She sighed and curled her fingers into her palm, stretching each digit as best she could before she continued.

  ‘First, let us consider one of the basic enchantments taught to all fledgling sorcerers: augmented hearing.

  ‘The intent is simple: to enhance auditory ability. The purpose, however, is what defines the enchantment. Is it to assist in an elderly man’s failed hearing, or to grant a young woman the ability to listen in on important discussions behind closed doors? Is the user of the completed enchantment a human? An elf? Or even, perhaps, a noble flügel? Each of these variables—and more—within a purpose will synchronize with the intent to create the final enchantment.

  ‘Next, let us review a more complex enchantment. One example of particular note is Sigor Engeham’s Orb of Transmogrification. As the reader should be familiar with, the orb itself was created by melting and reshaping hyaline alloy—a rare metal used only in ornamental expenditures up until this point.’

  Saahira spun her quill between her fingers and frowned. ‘As the reader should be familiar with.’ Right. She should probably be just as familiar with what hyaline alloy was, but the metal was never mentioned by her father or the merchants in town.

  “Anya?”

  Anya’s head snapped up, and she blinked three times. “Y-yes?”

  “What’s hyaline alloy?”

  Anya wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow. “I thought everyone was familiar with hyaline.”

  Saahira shook her head.

  “Oh. Well, it’s a metal that looks like ice. It’s fairly difficult to find, and the only known mines that contain it are in Eichh?rn. Flügels prefer to trade it with the intensely wealthy.” Anya shrugged. “Outside of sorcerers losing a fortune in trying to recreate the Orb of Transmogrification, it’s usually crafted into jewelry.”

  “Was Sigor Engeham a flügel?”

  “He was.”

  First Talia’s family and now Engeham’s orb. “Are flügels better at enchanting than others?”

  “Not necessarily.” Anya’s gaze dropped to Saahira’s book, and she tipped her head to the side. “Is that the text by Nils Steinheil?”

  Saahira flipped back to the first page with the book’s title. Penned by Nils Steinheil. “Yes.”

  “That’s the book I read in my first year, too. He’s a very… proud flügel.” She sighed. “There’s a more recent edition that references far more Faylon sorcerers. I thought the sanctum had updated their book lists with it this year.” She looked at Saahira and pursed her lips when Saahira bit hers. Understanding crossed Anya’s features. “Don’t worry, that one will still teach you what you need to know. You can buy the newer one later.”

  “I’ll consider the flügel history an added bonus.”

  That won her a small smile from Anya.

  “Thank you for your help.”

  “Mhm.” Anya nodded and looked back down at her book. Saahira did the same.

  ‘During the orb’s creation, Engeham imbued his intent and purpose directly into the alloy. The intent: to transform into any weapon he pictured within his mind’s eye. The purpose: to protect himself, a human man, from other human men who sought to harm him.

  ‘As the reader is also aware, Sigor Engeham never shared the exact method of creation, nor the wording of his intent or purpose. Thus, we can only speculate on every aspect of this magnificent achievement. While we will dissect possibilities and reasoning in a later chapter, I must state that the intricacy of such an enchantment cannot be overstated. Consider this: if the intent of an enchantment must be succinct and easily held in the mind’s eye, how would we grasp eight to ten different weapon variations at once, in addition to the final purpose?

  ‘Many others have attempted to replicate this monumental artifact without success. Engeham’s intimate understanding of the nature of enchantments as well as his incredible command of magic are still revered, attempted, and studied four hundred years after his demise.’

  “I believe I need sleep,” Anya said, rubbing her eyes. “I’m reading” —she made a sound between a yawn and a groan—“the same sentence a dozen times.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Saahira could review the alchemy potion tomorrow. The exhaustion from the day was taking its toll, and the assumptive tone of her textbook carried the same scathing expectation as Dimitri or Talia. Even in a few pages, the exhaustive rate of information was dizzying. She needed time to absorb the lectures, the books, her notes, and the knowledge that she was drowning in nobility without a name or title to call her own.

  The door to the dormitory opened, and a laughing Nia wandered into the common room with Kaylee Erikson. They leaned shoulder to shoulder, both looking pleased to be in one another’s company. A tiny spark of jealousy pinched Saahira’s stomach, and she quickly looked away. You have no room to complain. You left Nia alone.

  “Studying hard?” Nia called.

  “Wow. She really is studying on her first night,” Kaylee laughed. “I didn’t think anyone actually did that.”

  Saahira shifted uncomfortably and collected her notes. “I was just heading up.” A tall, redwood clock in the far corner of the common room chimed the nine o’clock hour, and Saahira gestured toward it. “It’s almost curfew anyway.”

  “Oh, already?” Nia’s smile faltered. “Well, then, I’ll be up shortly.”

  Saahira stood and pulled her books and her notes to her chest. “Have a good night, Anya.”

  Anya groaned and waved before gathering her books and slinking off to a room down the hallway on the first floor. Saahira made her way toward the staircase, but not before Kaylee’s murmur to Nia clung to her back.

  “I’m sorry she’s your roommate.”

  Saahira squeezed her eyes closed and hurried up the stairs.

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