Magdaline, who had been tuning us out with her headphones, paused her music, her red eyes blinking slowly. She looked from Vespera to me, then back to Vespera, a flicker of annoyance in her shark-like gaze.

  “Smell him?” she repeated.

  “Ye, smell him,” Vespera insisted, tapping her foot impatiently. “You’re a Scrut in training are you not? Sniff the nullie and tell me if he smells soul-bonded.”

  Magdaline sighed dramatically, the sound like air hissing from a punctured lung. She pushed her headphones back around her neck, a reluctant expression on her face. With a slow, deliberate movement, she leaned forward, her unnerving red eyes fixing on me again.

  I suddenly felt like a particularly unappetizing lab specimen under scrutiny. Magdaline’s head tilted, and then, just like Cinder had done, she inhaled. Deeply. Her nostrils, barely visible slits on her shark-like snout, flared slightly. The air in the compartment seemed to vibrate with her focus.

  It felt… invasive. Like she was trying to smell my thoughts, my secrets, my very essence. I suppressed a shiver.

  She stood up and circled me slowly, stepping through the compartment, sniffing the air around me with methodical precision. Vespera and Cinder watched with varying degrees of curious fascination and annoyed impatience. Cinder still looked a bit flushed, her silver feathers ruffled, but she was trying to maintain a nonchalant air, picking at a loose thread on her grey robe.

  Magdaline completed her circle, pausing right in front of me again, her red eyes narrowed in concentration. She inhaled one last, long breath, then straightened up, turning back to Vespera and Cinder.

  “He smells… human,” she stated flatly. “Slightly metallic. Dusty. And… faint traces of fear pheromones. Standard nullie scent profile.”

  “Fear pheromones?” Vespera raised a sleek black eyebrow. “Really? Already? And we just got on the train.”

  “He’s a nullie,” Magdaline shrugged, as if that explained everything. “Fear is their natural state.”

  “What level is he?” Vespera asked.

  “Somewhere around four, I think,” the shark considered. “Bunch of minor skills. Very minor. Probably been on a single delve. Pathetic really.”

  “But… no soul-bond smell?” Vespera pressed. “No Quetzalcoatl essence? Nothing… electric, sparkly or deeply magical?”

  Magdaline shook her head, her white hair swaying slightly. “Smells… bland. Unremarkable. Like… tap water. If tap water could be afraid.”

  Vespera frowned, clicking her beak thoughtfully. “Huh. That’s… weird.” She glanced at Cinder, her grey-gold eyes sharp. “Cinder, are you sure you… actually soul-bonded with him? Like, for real for real? Are my Electofractal senses wrong?”

  Cinder’s feathers flared again, a hint of sunset-red creeping into the silver. “Of course, I’m sure! I bit him, didn’t I? Quetzalcoatl soul-bite!”

  “Yeah, but… maybe you just… nibbled him?” Vespera suggested. “Maybe it wasn’t a proper soul-bite. Maybe you just… gave him a hickey with teeth?”

  “I did not give him a ‘hickey with teeth’!” Cinder snapped, her voice rising in pitch. “I soul-bonded him! It’s done! He’s mine!” She jabbed a clawed finger at me, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Right, kobold? Tell them! Tell them you’re soul-bonded to me!”

  I blinked at her, then at Vespera and Magdaline. “Well,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, “I definitely have a neck bite. And I definitely feel… owned. Maybe. Hard to tell. My skills are kinda glitching out on me.”

  “Owned!” Cinder preened, puffing out her chest again. “See? Owned! Soul-bonded! End of discussion!”

  “Owned in the ‘just been bitten’ sense, or owned in the ‘eternally bound to your soul’ sense?” Vespera clarified.

  “Both!” Cinder insisted, crossing her arms defensively. “Definitely both!”

  “Ughh, fine, I’ll spend more mana on this if it’ll shut your yaps.” Magdaline inhaled and spoke up again. “Actually,” she said, her red eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance behind me, “there is… something else.”

  Vespera and Cinder both turned to her, all traces of amusement and defensiveness vanishing, replaced by genuine curiosity. Even I leaned forward, intrigued.

  “Something else?” Vespera prompted. “What? Something shark-smelly?”

  Magdaline nodded slowly. “Yes. Something… faint. Underneath the nullie-fear and the metallic tang and tiniest imprint of skills. Two bonds and something… not natural.”

  “Not natural?” Cinder repeated, her blue eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean, ‘not natural’?”

  Magdaline shrugged again, a gesture that somehow managed to convey both indifference and deep unease. “Hard to describe. Like… distant, twisted static. Interference. Like something… else… is touching him. Layered deep under his scent. Not Omnid. Not human. Not… here. Behind. Far behind. So far I can barely sense its end. If there’s an end. Endlessness… more like it. The… Number eight! I smell number eight!”

  A silence fell over the compartment, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the train, Omnithornian mountainous landscape flashing by.

  Vespera’s brow furrowed, her grey-gold eyes thoughtful. Cinder’s feathers seemed to deflate slightly, the sunset-red fading. Magdaline just stared blankly ahead, lost in her shark-scent world.

  “Outsider interference?” Vespera murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “Could that be it?”

  “Outsider?” Cinder repeated.

  “Outside reality,” Vespera added. She glanced at me, her gaze suddenly sharper, more calculating. “You said things have been… ‘iffy’ since this morning, right, kobold? Holes in your head? Missing memories?”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I nodded slowly, feeling a chill crawl down my spine. The ‘dimensional skewered’ diagnosis echoed in my mind. Was this… worse than just insanity? Was I attracting… unwanted attention? Was something questionable deep inside me, messing with me?

  Vespera tapped her beak thoughtfully again. “Maybe… maybe that’s why you claimed him, Ci,” she said, turning back to Cinder, her tone softening. “Maybe your Quetzalcoatl instincts sensed something… off. Something… vulnerable. And you just… reacted.”

  Cinder blinked, her expression shifting from defensiveness to something resembling dawning understanding. “Maybe…” she said slowly. “Maybe… yeah. Maybe that’s it. Protective instincts. Quetzalcoatl are very… territorial. And protective of their… territory.”

  “Right,” Vespera nodded, smoothly changing the subject. “Protective. Territorial. Totally makes sense. We def’ ought to keep an eye on this nullie till we figure this shit out. Anyway!” She clapped her magisteel-clad hands together, her usual cheerful, if slightly manic, energy returning. “House sorting! We should probably start thinking about houses, right? Strategic house placement is key to Skyfall success. And world domination. Eventually.”

  “Same shit to me,” Cinder yawned.

  “It is not the same shit,” Vee snapped her magisteel talons. “Placement determines opportunities. Let's start at the top–House Silverfox. Cunning. Strategic.”

  “Silverfox is good,” Cinder shrugged. “But Pyroclast is flashier. More… power-hungry. Access to the hoard of Skyfall. Central Citadel area.”

  “I do like hoarding,” Vespera clicked. “But I’d like to hoard my own shinies. Relying on other people’s hoard influences the mind, I hear. Not sure if I want to be constantly mentally derailed by the school hoard’s gold call.”

  “Pyroclast is for strong-headed losers,” Mags said. “Pyroclast knobs usually bang their head against walls until they break, or their head breaks.”

  “Das’ just the dragon way, right ma’ dragon-bae!” Vespera jabbed Cinder playfully. “Pyroclast has its merits! Raw power is important! And they have the best beast-slaying parties, I hear!”

  “Parties are for airhead knobs,” Cinder rolled her eyes. “Silverfox is in the central spire Silver Tower. Best views in the whole school.”

  “Catacombs is where it’s at,” Magdaline considered.

  “Catacombs?” Vespera and Cinder echoed.

  “House Gorefield. Practical. Builder tech. They’re in the catacombs. Quiet. Dark. Good for… thinking. Making things.” Mags trailed off, her red eyes drifting elsewhere.

  “Gorefield?” Vespera repeated, wrinkling her nose. “You into trash pandas? Seriously, Mags? They smell like… well, trash. And they’re all obsessed with… building things. Who wants to spend their school years living in a sewer, building artifacts?”

  “Sewers are practical,” Magdaline insisted, her voice with a hint of… defensiveness? “Safe. And making artifacts is… permanent. Useful. Aren’t you an artificer junkie, Vee?”

  “I am,” Vespera conceded, tapping her beak thoughtfully. “But pure artificery isn’t exactly… glamorous. Or socially advantageous. Silverfox or Pyroclast, that’s where the power is. And the parties.” She winked at Cinder. “We both have wings. Consider flying from the Silver tower to class every morning!””

  “Hrm,” Cinder considered. “That does sound… fun. What about Hexacomb?”

  “No way,” Vespera shook her head. “We’re leaders, not followers!”

  “Yes, but we could get many sixes or even kobolds in Hexacomb,” Cinder said. “It’s a wholesome house full of hard workers, I heard.”

  “Being a Queen Bee is appealing,” Vespera clicked. “But working hard isn’t. Not sure if I could force myself to work my way up from a drone.”

  “What about House Wormwood?” Mags contemplated.

  “Nah. None of us are Agromancers,” Vespera shook her head. “Wild magic ain’t my thing. I’m a logical creature.”

  “Yes but they have the best crystallography lab,” Mags pointed out. “And access to all of the Cantigeists! Access to the gargantuan Wormwood Shard in the main building!”

  “Ugh,” Vee frowned. “Choices.”

  I absorbed their conversation like a sponge, spinning it in my head. I was fairly certain that Skyfall didn’t have houses before. Why did it have houses now?

  “Question? Where is Skyfall?” I asked.

  “Wow,” Vespera commented. “Such vast ignorance. How did you even get on this train, nulls?”

  “My sister brought me here,” I said. “Also, it’s not ignorance. I’m dimensionally skewered. Just need a bit of adjusting time, that’s all. I’ll be fine once I get the hang of things.”

  “Skyfall’s in Saxtland,” Cinder said. “Big layline crossing area. Edge of the Wormwood Star oceanic impact crater up by the North Sea off the coast of the Still Ocean.”

  “And how many Wormwood impact craters are there?” I asked.

  “Loads,” Vee replied. “Too many to count. All the big ones have stuff round or in ‘em. Higher Aetheric density, yo. Easier to magic shit, easier to create dimensional gates. Etc.”

  “And Saxtland is what?” I asked.

  “A Magogenic Fault mountain nation. A ring of cities. Ruled by the Saxtant Parliament, secured by the Most Chivalrous Order of Saxtant Knights,” Cinder said.

  “Chivalrous in a ‘we’ll lock you in a dungeon for three weeks for jaywalking’ sort of way,” Vespera laughed. “Saxtant Knights are hardcore. Order, discipline, and smiting heretics. Saxtland is a theocracy in all but name. Muuuuch runes. Very control.”

  “Theocracy?” I blinked. “So Skyfall is… a magic academy, run by… rune-loving theocrats?”

  “Mystagogue academy,” Vespera corrected. “For Mystagogues. Omnids and mixed-bloods. Run by… well, by a council of Mystagogues, technically. But the Order of Saxtant Knights keeps an eye on things. Don’t want another Elisabeth Zartella incident.”

  “Elisabeth Zartella,” I repeated. The name flickered in my memory, bringing up nothing at all.

  “The Mystagogue who exploded.” Magdaline said.

  Vespera nodded grimly. “Anguishstorm, 1944. That’s why everyone starts Skyfall at eighteen now. Supposedly, the more mature the Mystagogue is, the less likely they are to spontaneously combust from uncontrolled magic working with the unearthed Wormwood Star shards.”

  “Spontaneous combustion,” I repeated, a dry smile tugging at my lips. “Sounds… fun.”

  “Not if you’re the one combusting,” Cinder grunted. “Or standing anywhere within a mile radius.”

  “So, no pressure then,” I said. “Just, you know, try not to explode. Got it.”

  Magdaline, who had been silent again, suddenly spoke. “Anguishstorms… leave traces.”

  “Traces?” Vespera prompted. “Smelly traces?”

  Magdaline shook her head slowly. “Not… mere smell. Resonance. Echoes. Places touched by Anguishstorms… feel… wrong. Twisted. Like a broken note.”

  A chill went down my spine. “And Skyfall is… near an Anguishstorm site?”

  “Biggest Anguishstorm of 1940s. Plus near the Wormwood impact crater,” Vespera clarified. “Big one. Lots of residual weirdness. But also, lots of magic. That’s why Skyfall Citadel is there. Harnesses the weirdness. Turn it into… Mystagogue-ness.”

  “Mystagogue-ness,” I chewed on the word, feeling increasingly like I’d stepped into a very strange and slightly unsettling dream. “Right.”

  I looked outside. The centipede-train left the land and was plowing across the ocean now at ludicrous speed, a million crystalline legs flashing across the waves.

  “Impressive, ya?” Vespera clicked. “Skyfall Admin burns a ton of beast cores on this trip.”

  “Seems like a waste,” I said. “Could we not gate to Skyfall or something?”

  “We could, but it’s a show of power,” Vespera said. “Omnithornia is flexing. Flex, flex.”

  She flexed her talons at my face, sending sparks flying all over me. “Flex.”

  “Are you trying to flex on me?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “Maybe!” She laughed. “Is it working? Are you impressed by my flexerrificness?”

  “Maybe,” I shrugged.

  “Aight, I’ma order cafe foodles via the à la carte app,” she moved off me slightly. “Who wants wat? Tell me now or forever hold your peace!”

  Nyah! Check out me :

  My Second Life is a Dog-Gone Mess!

  More deets:

  -Systemfall apocalyptic world where refrigerators dream of steaks and grow legs to hunt at night

  -Numbers that go up when you kill living objects and other questionable things

  -Dogged Siberian Husky waifu with emotional baggage

  Read "Where the Dead Things Bloom" here on RR!