The boys dressed quickly, departing their dormitory before the usual clamour of voices had filled the common room. They hurried down the stairs and into the Great Hall, stopping by the girls’ dormitory along the way. Nellie had greeted them with a wide smile, though Mary’s expression had mirrored Osric’s own—one of thinly disguised dread.

  “Isn’t it strange to think,” Nellie said as they settled into some seats near the entrance, “in a day or two, we’ll all be casting brand new spells!”

  “That is, assuming we all complete the spelltaming process,” Osric said.

  “How hard can it be?” Edgar said, reaching past Osric to grab a jug of water. “They wouldn’t let us try if they didn't think we could handle it.”

  Osric grunted in agreement, barely noticing as staff members served them bowls of porridge and laid out baskets containing a variety of breads and pastries.

  “I confess I am more worried about making a strong first impression,” Avery said.

  “Don’t be daft,” Edgar said. “Haven’t you been paying attention in lessons? It’s all planned out in advance! You say your part, they say theirs, and before you know it you’re shooting fire out of your hands.” He imitated Professor Edwards’ display of Vafram’s magic, sending his imagined flames shooting towards Nellie, who laughed and ducked out of the way.

  “I have been!” Avery said. “I spent most of the weekend reciting the words, but Professor Deighton has gone to such lengths telling us how to address the gods that it makes one wonder what might happen should one say the wrong thing…”

  Osric gave him a sympathetic look.

  “Professor Edwards said the gods are patient,” he said, as much for himself as for Avery, “and they’ll have done this hundreds of times before.” Avery nodded, seeming to relax a little with Osric’s words of encouragement.

  Osric looked over at Mary, her eyes fixed on her spoon as she swirled it slowly around her bowl, having not yet taken a bite. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit responsible for how she must be feeling. Like him, she had seemed excited with the prospect of finding a way to escape the terms of the oath. Yet with the day’s conversation looming, the reality of their treachery had well and truly set in.

  Osric’s stomach was in knots and his mouth was somehow still dry even after drinking a few glasses of water. He forced himself to eat a couple of measly bites of the food in front of him. Before he had even finished half of it, a group of older students who had been sitting nearby got up to leave.

  “Come on,” Edgar said, eyes following them as they left their seats, “we don’t want to be late.”

  Osric heaved himself up out of his chair, joining the others as they walked towards the Great Hall’s entryway. They travelled quickly, even Nellie and Edgar’s previously animated conversation falling into a subdued quiet as they neared the Gilded Tower.

  “This must be it,” Nellie said.

  Before them rose a spiral staircase, wider than any Osric had seen so far at Ravenhurst. A grand archway beckoned them inside, adorned with a thick layer of gold leaf twisted into various floral patterns. A few other first-years had beaten them to it, and the five of them followed a larger group up the stairs.

  “And I thought the rest of this place was grand…” Mary said, gazing upon portrait after portrait bedizened with gold leaf.

  Arched windows cut into the cylindrical wall. The waxing sunlight forced its way through the thick slate and illuminated their way upwards. They climbed slowly, admiring the extravagance of the tower along with a growing crowd of students.

  “In here, first-years,” Professor Deighton called from a little further up. He signalled them into a room set inside the starcaise’s embrace.

  They squeezed inside and filled out the rows of benches nestled within. The ornate theme continued, the room glittering in the warm glow of candlelight. Once Professor Deighton had completed a headcount, he handed out a number of books and closed the room’s heavy oak door behind them.

  “Good morning, first-years. Welcome to the Gilded Tower,” he said, his voice imbued with pride.

  “Wonder where it gets that name from,” Edgar whispered drily. For a moment Osric thought the professor had heard, his eyes glancing over to where they were sat, though he continued on undeterred.

  “As you have no doubt surmised, this tower represents that which is most precious to our way of life here at Ravenhurst—communion with our gods. In the room above, you will find the academy’s largest and most powerful Cairngorm Quartz. With its strength, you will be able to contact our gods and request your first deimancy spell.”

  Osric leafed through the book the professor had handed out. Page after page of written conversations outlined every conceivable response a student might need to give.

  “I trust that you have all familiarised yourselves with the pages I outlined in last week’s lesson. It is of the utmost importance that you address the gods with the respect they are owed. Refer to page twelve should you need to revise these details in advance of your conversations today.”

  Osric’s heartbeat quickened. A flutter of pages broke out around the room.

  “Once I call your name, proceed up the stairs to the Sanctum of Whispers. Place both hands firmly on the crystal, and begin speaking. Once your request has been accepted by your god, the spell transfer will begin. You may feel some discomfort, but it is essential you remain in contact with the crystal until the process is complete.”

  The students eyed each other nervously. Osric couldn’t imagine the discomfort Professor Deighton had warned them about would be much worse than what he was already feeling. He breathed in sharply, trying to draw air deeper into his lungs than his tight chest would allow.

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  “Once the crystal has become inactive, proceed downstairs to your next lesson, where you will begin the process of spelltaming. Return to this room only to collect your belongings. Do not discuss the content of your conversation with any other student—though you are of course permitted to share which spell you have been gifted.”

  Chatter broke out amongst the rows of first-years. Professor Deighton cleared his throat loudly to restore quiet to the room.

  “Finally, I would like to wish you all good luck. This conversation will be the first of many that you will share with your god, and though it will be brief, I am certain that you will find it an enlightening experience.” He smiled broadly at them from underneath his beard.

  The chatter in the room rose once again as the professor left for a few minutes, returning with a stern expression and a length of parchment.

  “The gods are ready to begin. First up is Master Talbot.”

  The students swivelled round in place, fixing their eyes onto a small, dark-haired boy sitting in the back row. He hesitated, biting his lip while his wide eyes searched for a reprieve.

  “Make haste, Master Talbot, we ought not keep the gods waiting!” Professor Deighton said.

  The boy stood up, squeezing past the others in his row and reaching the door. He turned, looking back at them before the professor urged him on once more, then began his climb upwards.

  “Blimey, did you see the look on him?” Edgar said, his smirk fading once he received a few glares in return. “I mean, it’s not like there’s anything to worry about,” he added.

  Osric busied himself with reading. He read and re-read the first chapter of the book, whispering the suggested words to himself.

  The room fell suddenly quiet. Master Talbot had returned, passing without word to the back row to pick up his bag before heading back out through the oak door.

  “Next is Master Blythe,” Professor Deighton said, checking his parchment.

  “Hurrah! No more waiting for me,” Edgar said, patting Avery on the shoulder before sauntering out of the room.

  He returned a few minutes later, a little less energy in his step but smiling nonetheless. He gathered his things, glancing over at Professor Deighton before mouthing ‘fire’ at the others.

  “Well, that seems to have gone well,” Nellie said once he had left.

  Osric returned to his book, glancing up only to exchange a few words or watch the next student leave. Most of the students seemed as nervous as Talbot had been, though a few carried themselves with something more akin to Edgar’s confidence. Pendlebury was called soon after, returning later with a less sprightly gait then he had left with.

  Osric’s nerves only grew as the room emptied. The book’s words jumbled together in his mind and his tongue tripped over them as he rehearsed them again and again. Nellie and Avery had been and gone, and only Mary was left in his row, her sullen expression doing little to reassure him.

  “Master Finch, it’s your turn. Be on your way!” Professor Deighton said, his voice having lost little of its vigour in the last half an hour.

  Osric closed his book, setting it beside him. He glanced over at Mary, though she seemed not to have heard the professor’s call. He left his bag behind him and rose from his bench, his breath quickening with every step he took towards the staircase. Professor Deighton nodded as he passed. He climbed the stairs once more, sparing no time for admiration as he ascended to the tower’s summit.

  A vast golden door awaited him. Layered onto its surface was a coat of arms, divided into four quadrants each more intricately detailed than the last. He took one last deep breath, then opened it. Inside, a gargantuan crystal, three times the height of a man, rose up into the domed ceiling above. Sunlight danced across its surface and within the quartz itself a dark black smoke surged upwards from its base. No amount of golden trinkets could distract Osric from its majesty, though plenty seemed to try. He closed the door behind him, noticing for the first time the heady, floral scent which emanated from spiky, burning leaves placed in bowls around the edge of the room.

  Steeling himself, he travelled the short distance to the crystal. It seemed to cool the air around it, and emitted an almost indiscernible hum as if it had been recently struck. Osric stared into its swirling depths, planting both hands on its impossibly smooth surface. It was icy to the touch, and he felt it drawing from his strength much as his own magic did.

  “Lord Nautanios, god of the sea and wind, hear my plea,” he said, his voice quiet and shaky. The crystal gave no indication that his words had been transmitted.

  “I, Osric Finch, request the gift of your magic so that I may serve the Empire in your name,” he said, speaking slowly so as to not stumble over the words. He waited, the bitter smell of the smouldering herbs filling his nostrils.

  A deep, reverberating voice called out.

  “At last. The boy with twin feramancies. I have been waiting.”

  A flash of panic shot through Osric. This was not supposed to happen.

  Stick to the book.

  “I seek to control the element of air,” he said, the crystal’s icy surface becoming colder by the second.

  “I knew another like you. She thought herself above the other humans. One more spell. One step closer to godhood. She was wrong.”

  Osric froze, Professor Deighton’s sinister warnings seared into his mind.

  “...My lord?”

  “She angered my kind. You will not repeat her mistakes. My brothers will be watching. They will send others to test you.”

  “I will not, my lord,” Osric said, his heartbeat pounding across his temples.

  “Then you may have what you seek.”

  It started in his fingertips, a sharp, hot sensation burrowing into his skin. The quartz’s hum crescendoed until the vibrations rattled through his frame. His forearms twitched as the feeling spread up to his shoulders, inflicting a pulsating pain as it ran along his veins.

  He leaned into the crystal, eyes lost in its murky depths. The pain travelled across his torso and up his neck. Osric gritted his teeth. It lashed at his back, his muscles clenched as he fought the urge to break free from the quartz. He surrendered himself to the pain, slumping against the crystal, his forehead resting against its surface.

  Then it stopped. No warning. No final flash of pain. It simply dissipated. He gulped in a few lungfuls of the earthy, herbal air, his headache slowly morphing into nausea as a result. The hum had vanished with the pain, though Osric could almost still hear it echoing around his skull.

  He stumbled back towards the aureate door. He pushed through it, desperate to clear the haziness which had come over him. Once outside, he turned back towards the Sanctum of Whispers, his head swimming with the conversation that he had just had. He couldn’t be sure if Nautanios had been threatening him or warning him. Perhaps both.

  He closed the door behind him and walked back down to the floor below. Professor Deighton greeted him with a nod and a half-smile. He grabbed his bag, doing his best to put on a reassuring expression for Mary’s sake. There were only a handful of students still waiting, which meant that most of them had already started their spellcasting lesson.

  He left the room quickly, the professor calling the next name out just before Osric fell out of earshot. Mary would have to wait a little longer, though Osric hoped she would be put out of her misery soon. He rushed down the steps, consulting his map before heading outside onto the western lawn. The rest of the first years were scattered across it, striking an assortment of poses. Some were hunched over buckets of water or lit flambeaux embedded into the grass.

  “Over here, Osric!” Edgar’s voice called. Osric jogged over.

  “You’d better get started,” Edgar said, “else you’ll be losing that bet in no time at all.”

  Osric grinned.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

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  Comments are always appreciated too--thanks again to my loyal commenters ;)

  I've decided to switch my posting day to Monday instead of Friday. This should work better with my schedule going forward. Everything else will be the same. Still one chapter a week, at least until I've built up more of a backlog.

  Here's this week's shout out. This is from an author who reached out to me very early on and helped me out when I had just started. Go check them out!

  Who do you think will win the bet?