1st of Inandyl - 1st Isharil

  I rub my hands together in front of Mistress Yevvena’s door. I know this for what it is; a soothing gesture meant to try and calm my frazzled nerves. All the questions just spiraled out of control this past week. I have lost considerable sleep pondering all the possible outcomes of this meeting, all the strange and obscure questions that I have given serious thought to.

  I realize some of those questions, those scenarios in my mind, are just the product of my ragged state, but, knowing this, I still can’t seem to shake them away from my attention and wind up giving them a power over me that I have never experienced before. It is a consuming thing, this unease mixed with dread, and I find myself increasingly distracted from the people and conversations around me.

  Like last night at dinner in the Great Hall, the girls from our temporary dorm got together to catch up. Vesa brought Fara, of course, as those two have become thick as thieves, exchanging silent, knowing looks and giggling quietly to themselves. I can almost relate as Cira and I have found similar hints to the other’s state of mind. In contrast, Syffy tells us of the disaster of a roommate she has in Drakonys by the name of Sonya. I recall the red, patchy-scaled drakari girl from mine and Calas’ very first duel.

  She was paired with Greyson while I was paired with Calas. Back then I hadn’t realized the animosity between the two of them. Calas was more focused on me at the time. And then vanished into thin air! Looking back on this event now, Calas must have wanted a win against Greyson just as much as I wanted Calas to call me by something other than “little mouse”. I suppose it was a kind of motivation for me, now that I think on it.

  I shake myself from that train of thought, trying to focus back on the conversation as Vesa and Fara agree with Syffy’s assessment of Sonya as nice enough when not with the “wrong crowd”. Maybe they mean Greyson? I missed half of the conversation letting my mind wander again and I admonish myself internally for not paying better attention. That has been happening more and more, but with the revelations from last week and all the question it brought, not to mention my professors worrying about my exams, it’s not a wonder why.

  So today, in the breezy, overcast morning, I find myself breathing calming breaths in front of Mistress Yevvena’s office, searching for the courage to knock. I have to knock, though. I have to get at least some of these questions answered about myself. I might never sleep well again if I don’t! It is with this thought that I finally knock and hear her soothing, slurring tones for me to enter. I do so before my courage fails me, closing the door behind me.

  Her neat and tidy office is just what I recall it to be if a bit darker from the lack of natural light in the overcast skies seen out the windows. There are lamps lit though, giving off a blue-white hue, not unlike the glowing mark on her forehead. She stands at her desk waiting for me to join her.

  “Hello again, Seretra.” She intones in a calming voice as I take the seat she has offered me.

  “Good morning, Mistress Yevvena.” I respond politely, but my voice is dull even to my own ears.

  “Mistress Elandria tells me you have a very interesting mark on your neck.” I stiffen at the mention. “Would you show it to me?”

  I nod with reluctance, pushing the hair away from my neck and turning my head so she can see the two birds there. She joins me at my seat and I stand to bring the mark closer for her inspection. My eyes drift down to the polished floor tiles as I try to focus on just keeping my breaths even. Just like when I showed Professor Marblebrook, a sense of exposure spikes in my blood. It gives me a chill that has nothing to do with the overcast skies outside.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  After only a brief moment, she thanks me and walks back behind her desk, taking out parchment and pen. “Do you know what this mark is?”

  “I’ve already told Professor Marblebrook that I don’t.” I sit down as I respond with all the unease I can muster.

  “Then you must have many questions.” Mistress Yevvena’s warm, subtle smile reflects in her smooth, slurring tones.

  I am shocked into silence momentarily. I had not expected this approach from her. Generally, Professor Marblebrook was the one who asked all the questions in our sessions, challenging me to think through the problems I have faced in this project. Mind suddenly blank of anything better, I ask, “What is a Pactbearer?”

  The Magistrate nods with a smile. “That is a good place to start, I think. The Paragons, as they are known, cannot effect this plane, our plane, directly. So they will seek out like minded or willing individuals and form pacts with them. These pacts are generally mutually beneficial, but some Paragons are not so generous. The mark is the symbol of your contract, like a signature on a page.”

  “But I don’t remember making any contract.” I interject, a diffidence to my voice.

  “Yes, that is quite common for new Pactbearers.” She picks up her pen again, “When did you receive your mark, Seretra?”

  I look away sheepishly, “Five years ago.”

  Mistress Yevvena stops writing to glance in my direction and I squirm under her gaze. “That long? And you still do not know what was promised?” I shake my head, discouraged by this knowledge. “Well, well. There must be some conditions in place to prevent this.” She picks up her pen again, scribbling.

  “You said this was five years ago.” I nod again, humming in quiet agitation. “Did you have a dream or perhaps found that you missed several hours?”

  I narrow my eyes in thought. “Maybe a dream. Mother said I was screaming in my sleep. And then she found my mark.”

  “Yes, I believe that was it then. Dreams are a powerful tool for the Paragons as it is a place in between things.” Mistress Yevvena nods, placing her pen down gently. “Tell me, Seretra, what was it that you wished for most at that time?”

  My brow furrows at the question, trying to recall that kind of detail from so long ago. “Uh, It’s hard telling. I wanted to go to school pretty badly, but I’m here now so…” My voice trails off, still mulling over the question.

  “What was it about school to make you want it so badly?” She has picked up her pen again, starting to jot down some notes.

  “I don’t know. Meet friends? Learn new things?”

  “Did you have many friends, then?”

  “None. Unless you count the Innkeeper, Misses Candy.”

  Her pen stops and I feel her shock at my casual response. “None? Not even one?”

  I shake my head. “No, a girl named Liddy made sure that no one got too close to me when I was in town.”

  “What happened there?”

  “I accidentally made her glow when we were small. And she cried about it.”

  “Ah, one of your mishaps?”

  I shrug, not really knowing whether to call it a mishap or just a mistake. “Maybe.”

  “It sounds like a pretty lonely time for you.”

  “Yeah,” I start slowly, “I had my parents, but I really wanted a friend.”

  We are both silent for a few heartbeats and I pick at my fingernails in the lull.

  “And after receiving your crows?”

  I look at her askance, “What do you mean? My mark?” I touch it reflexively. “How do you know they are crows?”

  “Yes, I can say with some certainty that they are crows. I know that because there is only one Paragon I know of that uses them as trusted companions.”

  My heart flutters at the last and I recall the words I wrote in one of my first journals; how the birds were rather comforting to have with me. It was as if they were a person I could talk to before all the awkward, dangerous things started happening.

  Things like fainting in the Void of Reflection and being controlled by that creepy lectern come to mind and I push down the panic that I felt in the Halls of Equity. Both times. Even though Professor Peacock was largely unaffected by the object, it was still enough to scare the wits out of me. Until.

  “Is this Paragon with crows for friends female, by any chance?” I ask, seeking only confirmation.

  Mistress Yevvena tilts her head in an inquisitive manner. “Why, yes. Have you remembered something?”

  “A voice I thought I heard. It felt female to me.” I blush, knowing how stupid that sounded. I go on trying to move past the awkward feeling. “What is their name?”

  “The gods are known by many names, Seretra. Some differ by location or custom or language. This one is no different, but this one is known to many as The Morrighan.”

  I sit back in my chair, taking in the name and trying to place it anywhere in my memories, real or imagined. I am somewhat disappointed when I don’t find it to be at all familiar. I suppose I should just take solace in the fact that my misfortune has a name and it is surprisingly not Calas Duskwood.