8th of Inandyl - 2nd Isharil

  I make my way to Professor Marblebrook’s office with all the questions that Mistress Yevvena left me with last week. I wanted to bring Chou with me, and would have, if Professor Lighthammer hadn’t insisted on keeping her with him overnight to study. Her? It? “Her” seems right for Chou.

  I suppose I can’t blame him for wanting a chance to understand how an ancient piece of enchantment magic really works in this day and age. He called it nothing less than remarkable for a mammet of this caliber to be active in the here and now. When I asked about the term, he explained that these automatons were quite popular in the age before the sundering and that he always suspected that the stu— the beetle was one of them. Suspected, but never proven. Until now.

  I still revel in the sense of pride that this success has brought me after wondering if I truly belong here for so long. Who would have guessed that the professor, sensing the potential in me from a rock I enchanted by accident, took a chance on me discovering, or rather rediscovering, an ancient piece of magic. I guess I really have exceeded his and my own expectations on this assignment. Regardless of the fact that I still have to write the final report and pass the mock exam, I am more than confident in breezing through both. But, sleeping gods, I better get stellar marks in this class!

  What’s more is that he implored me to write about it more in his intermediate class next term. I was more than happy to accept the invitation, but handing over Chou this morning when I dropped her off was a more difficult endeavor. Even though she is only hours old, I feel a kinship with her; a kind of resonance between us and I’m still not sure what to make of that.

  After class yesterday, I took her back to mine and Cira’s room to maybe try to grasp what I had actually done. Chou’s voice is feather light, like a gentle spring breeze, and she used it, shakily at first, to answer my several questions about her existence. In truth, she did not reveal much in the way of actual answers, but at least she responded easily enough to my questions, which is unbelievable in itself.

  Cira was equally impressed and quickly took a liking to Chou as I had, but the impact of this rediscovery didn’t really settle on either of us until Cira and I had already snuffed the lamps for sleep. Cira had asked me then, in the silent calm of night, if I had really done that with my weaving. When I responded with a “yes”, I was, in that moment, glad for the veil of darkness that hid my face when she told me how amazing I and my magic are. I fell asleep while staring at Chou on my desk, her blue tinted wings glistening in the pale light of a singular moon in the sky.

  Knocking on Professor Elandria’s door this morning, I hope that I can have a similar breakthrough where my mishaps are concerned. I enter at her sharp word and take my usual seat in front of her desk. I wait patiently for her to finish reading silently to herself, parchment in hand, her rose eyes scanning the page through rose-tinted glasses. Once she is done, she sets it aside, flipping her long dark brown braid over one shoulder before speaking.

  “So,” she starts, “how was your session with Mistress Yevvena last week? Do you think it was a worthwhile endeavor?”

  I purse my lips, debating on how to answer the question.

  Professor Elandria cuts into my thoughts softly, “Remember your promise to me, Miss Crowfoot, from our first meeting on this topic. What did I ask of you?”

  I glance up at her seriously, understanding the reason for her gentle reminder, “To stick with it, no matter—“

  “—How uncomfortable it may be.” We end the sentence together in tandem.

  “Yes.” She nods her head with a soft, prideful smile on her lips.

  In this moment, I have an inkling that she at least suspected the reason for my maladies from the beginning and, like Professor Lighthammer, took a chance on me figuring it out on my own; through study, through intellect, through hard work and dedication. I wonder suddenly if all the Professors here are so keen as to know their students’ potential so intimately. Could Professor Moonshadow actually be trying to help me by chiding me so often?

  I take a deep breath, coming back to the topic at hand. “She told me about the Paragons and their Pactbearers and that I likely have formed a pact with a goddess known as the Morrighan. It likely happened on Darkened Veil night, five years ago, as that is when I received the crows on my neck.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  She nods, leaning back in her chair. “So they are crows, then.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Not for certain. I deal in chaos, in the cosmos, in the grand patterns of the universe. I leave the gods to Yevvena.” She tilts her head in my direction, a curiosity in her eyes, “What about you? What do you think about this information, Miss Crowfoot? You seem a bit uncertain, yourself.”

  I shake my head, the pressure of the breadth and depth of this sea of questions creeping up on me. “I don’t know what to think. There is some merit to the idea, but it is really hard to accept that there are pieces of my life, important pieces, that I simply can’t remember.”

  “I don’t recall making a pact. I have no idea what was promised. Did it really even happen if I don’t remember it? Mistress Yevvena says there is some kind of clause keeping the information from me, but if that is so, is this entity, this Paragon, just holding my memories hostage? What else have they withheld from me? How…” my voice breaks and in the short pause I take to swallow, to relieve the tightness in my throat, a hot streak of tears rolls down my cheeks.

  I grasp the neck of my sweater, trying desperately to choke down this jumble of wild, frazzled, emotions pouring out of me. I try to breathe and it comes out a sob. I curse at myself, forcing out the last thought that was on my tongue. “How can I trust what is real? How do I know what I lost?”

  I hear Professor Elandria sigh, a deep heavy thing. I expect she is going to lecture me about crying in her office, but then I hear the clink of ceramic on her desk. Rubbing my eyes free of wayward tears, I pick my head up and watch as she makes several gestures at the teapot and threads of fire weave themselves around the base of a beautifully hand-painted, dark gray pot with fanciful depictions of henbane flowers. “Those are all very good questions, Serea.” Her voice is reserved as she takes out two matching cups.

  Startled to silence by her use of my nickname, she continues as the pot heats. “I cannot imagine what you must be going through. Even though I have seen many a pactbearer walk through these halls, it is still not an easy thing for a mentor to witness.” A thin trail of steam rises from the pot and Elandria gestures the weave of fire away, dispersing the steeped brew into the cups.

  She stands abruptly, bringing them both with her, handing me one and taking the other seat beside me while she sips from her own. “You are not alone in this, Miss Crowfoot. So with that in mind, let’s try to focus on what you do remember.”

  I nod taking a sip of the heavily floral mixture that tastes of rosehip and something softer. The warmth of the liquid loosens that tightness in my throat and spreads like a blanket in my chest. I’m still contemplating the contents of the tea when the professor asks, “You said there was some merit to what Yevvena told you. Would you care to elaborate on that?”

  I take another sip and tell her about the voice I heard in the Halls of Equity when I nearly ran away screaming from Professor Featherspeaker’s class. I recount the snapping sensation, the grasp of when I felt something latch on, but instead of becoming more fearful, in the moment, it felt familiar, almost comfortable if not for the chill down my spine. The voice itself was not a physical voice, more of an impression that I could infer and interpret meaning from.

  “Mistress Yevvena said this is quite normal as Paragons can’t directly touch this plane, though I’m not at all sure what she means by it.” I remark, taking another sip of blissfully warm tea. Maybe it’s chamomile.

  “That,” Elandria points at me while setting her cup down on her desk, “is something I can help with.” From her bookshelves filled with books and every manner of strange things, she pulls a large tome and flips to a well known page. Flipping it around so I can see, she shows me a detailed illustration of what looks like a map, but it is like no map I have ever seen before. I can say that it is definitely not a map of Akeroth.

  “This is a rough diagram of how we know the cosmos to exist. Remember Dinwold?” She pauses long enough to see my nod before explaining the patterns of nine overlapping circles interconnected with one large central circle and one slightly smaller central circle. “There so happen to be nine heavens that we can observe in the sky, each with their own distinctive celestial bodies. However, there is another, less observable, area on this figure.”

  “The outside central ring?” I guess from the smudged and shaded line that make the largest central ring.

  “Precisely. You will recall that Dinwold calls this the 10th heaven or the shadow realm. He calls it a ‘link between’ in his text. What you will not recall, because I think he frankly didn’t know, is what this shadow realm was linking to what.”

  “Mistress Yevvena said that dreams were a place between things.” I start, building off her implication. “Do you think that this Paragon used my dreams to connect with me that first time in this shadow realm?”

  Elandria gives a sure nod. “Indeed. This realm is not only linked in dreams though, Serea, so take care. It is an echo, a blanket on top of this one that ebbs and flows with the passage of the heavens.”

  Worry creases my brow as I stare at the fuzzy central ring on top of the solid one and interlaced with all the other nine heavens. I find myself clutching the lukewarm cup in my hands.

  Elandria closes the tome and sets it on her desk. “Nine heavens. Nine Paragons. Seems a simple correlation, don’t you think?”

  “Too simple.” I remark, deep thought still on my brow.

  She hums an amused sound, “I knew I liked you, Miss Crowfoot. You catch on quickly. Now then, it actually is easy to find the pitfalls if one knows where and how to look for them.”

  I glance up at her with pleading eyes, “Will you teach me?”

  Elandria adjusts her glasses at the bridge of the nose and flashes me a wide smile. “With pleasure.”