With the use of ancient and forbidden magic, a handful of Mages erased the collective memory of the world, turning many innocent practitioners into mere Sleepers. Only a few trusted folk were left with access to the Runes, and the vast majority of those left with power united to form two sister organizations: The Exodus Corps and the Genesis Corps. One to oversee mages, and one to look after Sleepers.

“Okay, two things.” Tav interrupted once again. “First, I have never heard of any of those, so I assume they either died off or are a secret.”

“Correct on both accounts.” Mustafá nodded.

“I guess Genesis is no more then.” The youth blinked. “Anyways… So we are dealing with Exodus now, which has the power to erase and rewrite memories!? What hope do we have against power like that!?”

The alchemist closed her eyes. She agreed, full heartedly, that such tremendous power shouldn’t be in the hands of anyone.

“I am unsure if such magic is possible anymore, with the changes in how information works and flows in our world.” Mustafá shrugged softly. “But it is not worth it to worry about that, at least not for now. May I continue?”

With Tav’s nod, the old mage continued her story.

The arrival of the Age of Silence did not stop the efforts of humanity for complete control of Jericho. More and more magical beings were erased or enslaved, for people considered them an abomination against their new understanding of the world.

Until everything reached a breaking point.

Mustafá glared for a moment, falling silent and taking a sip of her tea before resuming.

One day, all of a sudden, all magical creatures disappeared from the face of Jericho, apparently at the same time. And soon after that… a mist began spreading through the entire world. A thick, malicious fog carrying horrors of flesh and bone to Jericho, turning animals and humans alike into abominations which had been hidden in the imagination of men for the longest time.

The survivors came to call this cataclysmic event ‘The First Sacrifice’, and it is thought to be the revenge of the forsaken Presences of Jericho, and the many displaced magical creatures.

“It took centuries to rebuild the world after that.” Mustafá said, looking into her cup of tea. “It was terrible for everyone involved… and now, a little beyond six hundred years later, we are facing the start of a Second Sacrifice, a return of the same mist that once covered the world, and the horrors that come with it.”

Storytime was over. Tav’s eyes stared into the middle distance as she tried to imagine it, a fog so thick that could cover the Sun in its entirety. Nightmarish beings roaming the land, death for everyone. She shivered, closing her eyes and trembling for a moment before looking at her teacher once again.

“Wait. How do you even know it is coming? How can you be so sure?” The youth questioned.

“I learned to see the signs, the shifts in the mana of the world, the changes in the Third Layer, the apparent reduction in the amount of unexplainable events.” The alchemist sighed, before forcing herself to admit. “I am not the only one who has been fearing this, nor the only one who has confirmed its coming.”

“H-How long do we have?” The apprentice was starting to feel the pressure. “Is there something we can do!?”

“I don’t have a specific date, but I know that it must happen this year.” Mustafá shook her head, setting her empty cup on the table. “As per what we can do… the book must be the answer. It was written by one of the greatest minds from the First Sacrifice.”

“Humiko did look like the sort of person who knew things…” Tav mumbled mostly to herself. “... Where will it all start?”

“The North Pole.” The teacher nodded softly.

“That’s where we have to go as soon as this book is translated, then. That’s what her introduction said…” The young one finished her cup of tea in one gulp, setting it down as well. “Let’s get to it.”

If Mustafá had the power of smiling right there, she would. Her lips curled up, ever so slightly, as she nodded and cracked her knuckles, walking over to the pile of dried clothes and pulling her turban out. She couldn’t teach without it, at least she felt that way.

“Where’s the iron? I wish to iron my clothes.” The alchemist stretched lazily. “Once that’s done, we are leaving again. We will practice in your assigned Elysium.”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous? Anyone could see us.” Tav asked to divert from the fact that she didn’t exactly remember where her iron was.

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“That’s the point. You need to be seen, at least a little bit, before people stop suspecting you of being evil, or worse, a leech on society.” Mustafá, catching the nervous glances of her apprentice, just sighs and conjures both an iron and an ironing board with a flick of her wrist.

The younger one sighs in relief, before she suddenly realizes something.

“Wait, if you can just conjure stuff like that, why did we have to go to Obuda for bread!? Couldn’t you just summon or create the bread instead of paying for it!?”

“I am not good at making bread.” The alchemist answered, setting her clothes on the board and plugging in the iron.

“Oh but you’re good at making electrical appliances?” The apprentice grew rowdy.

“One.” Mustafá began counting with her fingers. “I am not creating these, I am technically summoning them from my apartment. Two, I am very good at making electrical appliances, thank you. Three, you can only create the objects that you actually understand, so even if I know how bread is made, my lack of talent for baking means my produce will always be inferior to an actual baker.”

“Oh…” Tav frowned. “I guess that makes sense…”

“Four. Just for that, you’re ironing my clothes.” The teacher walked back to her seat.

“Argh, you bitch…”

Knowing that arguing with this woman was useless, the apprentice sighed and got to work immediately, politely leaving the underwear on the side to work with the rest of the clothes. She had her limits.

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Honestly, when I started thinking and hearing about Elysiums as magical places, I was expecting something far more mystical or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with a mysterious building in the middle of the city, no; I guess these hideouts need to keep appearances up so people don’t come around making the wrong questions, but… a Cat Café? Really? I didn’t even know we had one in Saüle!

Entering wasn’t a problem, for the place opened quite early in the morning. Soon enough, Mustafá and I are sitting on a puffy couch, in the middle of a warm and comfortable living room decorated with pastel colours and many figurines of cats… not to mention the REAL cats, gathering around Mustafá like bees to honey while completely ignoring me.

She doesn’t look really happy about it.

“The more magical potential you develop, the more you start attracting cats. Or repelling them. It’s a coin toss, depends on the cat really.” She explains with a sigh. “That’s why cats make good familiars.”

“So familiars are a thing, huh?” I tilt my head.

“Of course they are a thing. Did you really think no one would try magic with animal companions? They are dumb as bricks, but useful if you are into that.” Mustafá clearly wasn’t into that, gently pushing the cats away from her as they purred and seeked her attention. “Shoo.”

To keep appearances, and to enjoy the delicious hot cocoa they serve here, we decide to stay a bit in the actual café… but soon enough, Mustafá grows restless and annoyed with all the attention and demands we go into the Elysium proper. Right when I am finally managing to bond with a silly but loving orange cat! I don’t even manage to make the silly lasagna cat joke when she pulls me by the arm and takes me over to the kind lady tending to the café.

I don’t even get the chance to speak when suddenly my teacher pulls out both of our credentials. For a moment I think her mad… but then, I try to put those feelings down and trust her. She is my teacher now, after all! She’s supposed to know what she’s doing.

“Ah…” The lady nodded, recognition in her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were kin. Let me register your entrance.”

Mustafá probably feels my eyes on her, asking questions in silence, because she immediately says:

“Most Elysiums, except for the more public ones, have a guardian that keeps tabs on who enters and who exits them. The members of the Brotherhood are fascists.”

I immediately tell her to hush up, checking to see if the café lady heard her. Luckily, she seems busy looking for her note book. With a sigh, I turn to Mustafá and shake my finger.

“Don’t. Say those things. We all think them, we all know they are true, but we don’t just call a pig a pig to its face!!” I can feel the strength leaving my body as I tell this to her. Her lack of common sense is killing me.

“You’re way too soft.” She simply says, shrugging as the tending lady returns with an open book. “Put your thumb on the page and sign your name.”

I do as she says, even though there’s no ink to dunk my finger in or anything. The paper itself takes the print from my thumb and I feel a little burning sensation on my skin for a few seconds. With a wince I pull my hand off, shaking it for a moment and then taking the pencil to sign my name besides the black print.

Mustafá does the same soon enough, without even caring about the burn, and then we are both directed to a door ‘in the end of the hallway, to your left’. She just lets us leave, just like that! Not even doubting our intentions or anything. Again, I turn to my teacher as we walk through the hall.

“What was that all about?”

“To avoid people using glamour, which is a thing by the way, to sneak in with other identities, they use special paper to reveal your real identity using your fingerprints.” She shrugs.

“What, can’t you change your fingerprints with magic?” I grin, feeling smart and subversive.

“No.” She answers calmly, turning to the left and facing a wall in the hallway. “One of the aspects in which Sleeper Technology has surpassed us is the ability to modify and take care of the body.”

Now that takes me by surprise.

“So there’s no magical medicine?!” I say, louder than I intended.

“You can make magical remedies and enhancements, but magic can’t directly warp the body in any shape or form.” She explained, looking for the Phi symbol carved in the wall. “We are too dense, too attached to our body… It’s also forbidden to even try. We don’t want to end up with another ‘Flesh Sculptor’ situation.”

“A what situation?” Now that has to be made up, I demand for it to be made up.

“Ah, here it is.” Mustafá ignores me once more, pushing a finger against the symbol on the wall and letting her magic do the rest… I watch the octarine travel through her body into the wooden wall, forming a round door leading to a set of stairs. “Come.”

“No, seriously, what was that about ‘Flesh Sculptors’!?” I follow closely to her, watching our access into the dark stairway close right behind us.

“Don’t worry about it. They used to be a great number of them among the necromancers, but lately it’s just an old wives’ tale. Something to make little kids wet their pants.” Again, the damn crone (because I am sure she’s far older than she looks) comes so close to smiling it is actually a bit unnerving.

Honestly… the more I learn of this magical world, the more scared I feel.