Kaz pulled back the bed curtain to see half the dorm watching them.
Niko formed a small tornado on his palm, baring his teeth at them. He stared them down until they looked away.
Kaz was equal parts amused and exasperated.
He felt a sense of familiarity when Niko introduced himself, and seeing Niko interact with others he understood why. Kaz’s nature was that of a starved beast intent on devouring or destroying anything blocking its path. A fool might say Kaz mastered these instincts–desires, but others would know a thin veneer of civility hid his hunger. Niko hadn’t mastered that veneer. He didn’t know how to hide his nature; to perform as a well-adjusted human. Niko couldn’t distinguish those who were harmless and lashed out at everyone. He was also too weak because to the strong it didn’t matter if someone meant harm.
Kaz used to be among the strong. On Earth, he was considered one of the top ten strongest mutants. Here, he was insignificant, forced to hide and bide his time. Here, Kaz had to wait, but if someone attacked him first, all bets were off. If Kaz couldn't win, he'd drag them to hell with him.
Kaz rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a wry smile on his lips. He pulled the curtain closed. “You’ve all made your appointments?” His voice was too high, but the others were paying attention. They nodded like birds pecking wheat, their gazes were on the curtain as if they could still see the others. It made them look so fucking young–and they were. He was young, but it didn’t feel that way most days. Kaz and maybe Niko lived through things that ensured they were mature for their age.
“We're numbered three to eight but Luther ended up with number eleven.”
Kaz pulled back the curtain to look across the room to the girl's section. Pink Dress stood by the barrier. When their eyes met, she pointed at the door.
“That girl terrifies me,” Whiny said.
“All girls terrify you,” Tristan said.
“Should I tell your mother that?” Luther asked.
“Why is everyone being mean to me today?” Tristen asked.
“Didn’t they say yesterday she jilted the pope?” Cyr’ran asked with the sensitivity of a bull in a glass shop.
They looked at Nathan.
“The Pope of the City of Lunera. Apostol of Sol, Pope Casol the Third has taken a vow of celibacy. For several reasons, I won't comment on the matter.”
He clapped his hands, cutting off Tristan who looked ready to start a fight. The man’s soul seemed to thrive on chaos. “Let’s go,” Kaz said.
The girls were waiting for them outside. Trailing behind Kaz were ducklings, following their mother unsure where they were going but ready to follow her onto a busy highway. Kaz’s ducklings were hedging their bets. He might lead them to a highway or a pond and it was better to take the chance. They were better off than the boys still sleeping and most of the girls. Pink Dress and her group didn't look inclined to call the rest.
Kaz stepped outside, and his breath caught. The air was sharp, and the stillness of the landscape felt heavy as if the world paused. The sky stretched wide and dark, a smudged blue-black expanse sprinkled with the brightest stars. The full moon glowed, sitting high and bright. Silvery light suffused the snow, making it glisten like the smooth, glowing edge of a knife dancing in battle. Near the edges of the horizon, wispy streaks of green, purple, and gold flickered and swayed like ribbons in an ethereal waltz. Those were the northern lights. Kaz gazed up in wonder, lost in something intangible.
Pink Dress stepped forward, stealing his attention, only to be pushed back by Red Hair. “Didn’t you read the note from the teacher?” She glared at him, snapping open a fan to cover the lower half of her face before turning up her nose. The impression of superiority Red Hair tried to achieve was diminished by small side glances to gauge his reaction. She was confident, clearly her tactic had hooked some unsuspecting fools before. Kaz just found it tiring. Red Hair was interested in his perceived value as a son of Duke Aquileia, a man Kaz hadn’t met.
“Different interpretations.”
“What interpretation–” Red Hair stepped forward, her torso leaned towards him, looking up from beneath her lashes.
Pink Dress pulled her back. “Enough Anna.”
Red Hair–Anna snapped around. “You made an app–” Her face twisted. “Argh, why are you pinching me?” She stamped her foot, pushing Pink Dress away.
“Enough!” Kaz said whatever peace he’d found vanishing. “Let’s walk and we,” he said pointing to Pink Dress “, will exchange information.” Red–Anna’s face pinched, looking between them. Kaz never thought he’d miss women whose idea of flirting was holding a knife to your throat. He held out his hand and followed as Pink–he should introduce himself.
“Ignacius Kaz’myr Blake Huxley.”
“Hu–” Pink Dress covered her mouth, her eyes darting to the girls behind. When satisfied that they hadn’t heard, she leaned closer to him. “Ignatius Huxley? Your mother is Lady Blythe Aquileia nee Caster.”
“Blake-Huxley,” Kaz corrected. “She remarried.” Huxley again. Stupid. If he experimented with his space sooner, he could have read his mother’s journal. Or maybe he shouldn’t have wasted his time with the guys? No. That had been informative as well and served secondary purposes.
“Oh blessed Sol. You’re allowed to claim the name Huxley. You’ve met the requirements. Do you know how big that is? You don’t or you wouldn’t be so calm. His legacy, Ignatius, you could inherit his legacy.”
Why aren’t I cold? Kaz wondered as each exhaled breath froze. It had to be the badge if it weren’t the uniform–which made sense. Temperature regulation was important if you built a school in the Arctic Circle. Was it called that here? They walked along a black path, Pink Dress leading the way with her compass and jabbering. Kaz kept half an ear open but for someone saying so much, little of it was useful or new information.
“Are you listening to me?”
Kaz looked down at her. “For the most part.”
She huffed. “Look,” she said, pointing at a statue. “Doesn’t the thought of inheriting his legacy excite you?”
Kaz blinked. The bronze statue held a startling resemblance to his younger brother. His eyes drifted down. Ignatius Huxley. Founder. Father. Hero.
“It’s Ignacius with a c.”
“What?” Pink Dress asked.
“My name's spelled with a c.” His voice was neutral but inside he was panicking a tad. That explained everyone’s reaction to his name. It also raised the question of why his mother would send him to a school other than the one her ancestor founded. Also, what legacy did Ignatius leave behind? Did others think he’d found it or wanted to inherit it? His sulky cousin also started making sense.
“That’s your takeaway? You inherited the name of the greatest mage to live–the legacy of one of the seven heroes of the demonic war–the driving force behind the magic era and that is your takeaway.”
Her horns were cute. He wanted to ask about them, but her face had taken on a concerning red tinge. He also thought it might be rude to ask without knowing her name. Was there a way to politely prompt someone to introduce themselves? He’d already said his name, and she was supposed to reply giving a curtsy and then he’d bow. Kaz cataloged her features. Short bobbed black hair, small brown horns poking out of the crown of her head, almond eyes with light brown pupils, and a pert nose on a round face. She was shorter than him, around five-eight to his five-eleven.
“Do you know the requirements for changing dorms?”
“Argh!” She stomped beside him. “No respect for history. Fools. Weak. Lily-livered.”
Lily-livered, another very English phrase. Though, it meant weak and cowardly so she’d said weak twice.
“What did you find in your trunk?” he asked, trying to get some direction to this conversation.
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“Ugh.” She listed off the items. They weren’t different from Kaz’s group.
His finger tapped against his side. He was missing something. “What about the student evaluation?”
“We have class at nine and a campus tour at twelve. We left pretty early, and should be able to eat at the cafeteria before heading to our first class.”
“We have a physical at eight.”
Her head snapped towards him, and her eyes took on a pale golden glow, not unlike the lights in the sky that were disappearing. “That isn’t on my schedule.”
“And a campus tour isn’t on mine.” Kaz took out his compass, double-checking that his compass was pointing the same way.
“So it was a misdirect?”
Kaz turned the note over in his mind. “A teacher assessment is usually commentary about the student’s behavior over the school year.”
“We’ll have group work at the start of the year and have to focus on individual work in the latter half?” Pink Dress’s face was solemn.
“Or it could be a misdirect?” Kaz said, playing the devil's advocate. “Or group work and individual assignments are equally important? Or it’s a warning not to prioritize group work? ”
“Or it could mean nothing and the purpose is to have us over analyze it and stress over the decision.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, eyes trained to the ground. “Some information needs to be shared or you wouldn’t have known about the tour and I wouldn’t have known about the physical.”
Kaz held up his compass. “Wouldn’t this have led me there if I checked it?” Pink Dress was biting her lip-Ah! Zyaire–the headmaster called her name yesterday–Princess Zyaire. Could he call her that without her having introduced herself first?
“I don’t know. If I didn’t know where the first-year class was I wouldn’t even be sure where it was pointing. You mentioned the dorm requirement for Oblivion Plane?”
“Is that what it’s called? The next dorm we can go to?” Kaz asked.
“Yes,” Pink Dress-Zyaire said.
“That isn’t ominous.”
She tilted her head, regarding him. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s a made-up word.” Her eyes had gone gold and twinkled like the stars hung in the sky. It wasn't natural. It must have something to do with her mana. “It’s not a made-up word? I mean, scholars have speculated. And abyss, does that mean something?”
Did his ancestor pick and choose words from the English language to adopt? Was he a transmigrator? Or had he gone to live on Earth and then returned? If he found Ignatius’ legacy could he bring his family here? “You're not letting this go, are you?”
Her head rattled from side to side. “I swear on my mana I won’t share anything you tell me.”
“Did you reject that pope knowing they’d send you to Killingworth?” Kaz asked.
Imp–that word popped into his mind when he saw her expression. “I don’t know how much you know, but the Caster family, your mother’s maiden family, has been doing something shady for the last five years which led to no enrollments at Killingworth, and then suddenly the heir is attending Killingworth this year. I smelled a conspiracy. Wait! You’re trying to change the topic.”
What harm could it do? “Also swear on your mana that you won’t–”
“I won’t harm you, use the information against you, attack you–” she continued, phrasing it in every way to show that she didn’t mean harm.
“You know if I wanted to cut your throat you wouldn’t be able to do anything?”
Her steps paused, and then she shrugged. “Worth it!”
“Why-you know what, don’t answer that.” This was another one that was dropped on the head as a baby. Kaz glanced behind. The group watched them, but there was a subtle distance between them. Kaz used his body to hide it as he took out a dictionary. An abyss is a deep or seemingly bottomless chasm. Oblivion is the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one.”
“And treacherous?” she asked.
“guilty of or involving betrayal or deception.” He said. “Treacherous?”
“The third dorm is Treacherous Path, and the fourth is Eternal Sanctum but I know what eternal and sanctum mean.” Her face scrunched. “Do you think?” she asked, trailing off.
“Do I think it’s a nasty hint left by my ancestor that only a specific person could figure out? Yes. You can’t expect better from the person who founded this school.”
“Oh Sol.” Her fists bunched the white fabric of her uniform skirt.
“Here,” Kaz said, giving her the dictionary.
Pink Dress-Zyaire squealed. “For me?” She wiped her hands on her skirt before taking it. “I have never seen a book like this! How were the words written so fine and even? How is the cover shiny? Why isn’t it bound in leather? No! If I put it in my storage ring I won’t be able to use it.” She hugged it to her chest.
Kaz’s head tipped back, and he laughed. It was a sound torn from his belly that shook his body. Innocence–when was the last time he saw such innocence? His brother, Iggy, was fourteen but watched the world with weariness. He laughed more than Kaz, but he–
Chirp.
There was a black floof on his shoulder. “Thanks,” he said, scratching Fluffy. He’d have to face his feelings but not today. He switched trains of thought. The printing press was invented in the fifteen hundreds, and oblivion was coined in the sixteen hundreds so logically his ancestor should know about it. He didn’t have the technical know-how to make it? That was an era of learning scarcity. If he were from the poorer class, he wouldn’t–but that wouldn’t make sense. English was the common language. During that time only the upper and some of the middle class were literate.
“Is that a?” She asked wide-eyed, distracting him, the dictionary still clutched to her chest.
“You know, I don’t know what he’s called.”
“It’s a bant.”
Kaz scratched at the little things that seemed to like orgone more than mana. “Not as magnificent a name as I expected for a revered creature.”
“Bant is the name of the first man to receive Sol’s will. Sol's first disciple and apostle,” she said, her face deadpan.
“Oh,” Kaz said, wondering how to look contrite.
“It makes sense.”
“Does it?” Kaz asked.
“No.”
Kaz shook his head. “Focus. Requirements to enter Oblivion Plane, do you know what they are?”
“No.”
“Are you the person with the first appointment?” Kaz asked, frowning. He was sure it was Pink Dress-Zyaire.
“I am,” she said.
“Why did you make an appointment?”
“Grandpa Eli said I should.” She looked at his face before shaking her head. “You don’t know who that is. Sure. Fine. That makes sense too.” She was clearly trying to convince herself and not bombard him with questions. “Elijah Vance. He is the first ninth-layer mage in the last millennia and he is the mage considered the closest to the tenth layer.”
“Any relation to Niko Vance?”
Pink Dress-Zyaire glanced back. “Grandson, but Niko was kidnapped as a child. I don’t know if it was lucky or not that he escaped but Niko lived with wildlings–nomads who live in the wildlands. They have barbaric customs and don’t think well of Naks–city dwellers.”
“Requirements,” he prompted. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know more about Niko, but he’d prefer it came from the source. Still, he scribbled down everything Pink Dress-Zyaire said. He wondered what they looked like to the rest of the group. Kaz glanced back and met purple-eyes. Tristan wiggled his brows. Kaz glanced over at Pink Dress-Zyaire who stroked the dictionary’s cover like golem would the one ring. He was collecting weird people around him–which was strange, he led a solitary existence during the apocalypse where trust was hard to come by.
I didn’t enjoy being alone. I just had to be. I was lonely.
Chirp.
Kaz rubbed Fluffy’s tummy but didn’t let the thought slip away. He’d sought connection but stopped trying when it led to betrayal. Now he had a smart but ditzy girl who swore a vow on her mana not to betray him and a purple-eyed menace who thrived on the chaos Kaz seemed to create.
It felt good to talk about something other than survival. He was still weary, but it was a start.
“I’ll take it away if you don’t pay attention.”
She clutched it to her chest and ran ahead. Tristan slid into her place, eyes shining. “So? What was that about?”
“The rock I grew up under,” Kaz said, wondering if he should chase after her. Kaz rolled his eyes at Tristan’s hurt look. This was the moment of truth, maybe that’s why his heart was racing. Small steps. Information Tristan could find out on his own. “She figured it out. We’ll not really, she’s just weirdly obsessed with my ancestor so she sniffed something out.”
“Ancestor?” Tristen asked.
Kaz raised an eyebrow at Tristan. He’d called the annoying one last night brother, and then there was the whole thing Pink Dress-Zyaire said about multiple brothers in this year's group. Tristan was probably an illegitimate son, and when he manifested magic, his father legitimized him. “Remember last night? That whole Huxley thing?”
“Yeah,” Tristan said, his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, eyes on the sky.
“Ignatius Huxley, the guy who started this school? Apparently, he’s my ancestor and there is some legacy here–a legacy my cousin probably came for.”
Tristan digested the words. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Felt like I could trust you. No. I want to trust you or someone. It’s hard to explain.” Kaz tucked his hands into his pocket, head tipping back, still mesmerized by experiencing polar night. The northern lights were almost gone, just stains of color in the dark sky.
“Nah.” Tristan’s head dropped forward, and he toed at the ground. “I get it.”
Kaz searched his storage space for a high-level fire manual. There had to be one. His mother was a fire mage. Reckless his mind screamed, but he was okay with that. “I gave her something, and she was worried I’d take it back.” Kaz found three high-level fire manuals. Origin of Chaos caught his attention. “You'll have to swear never to tell anyone about what I'm giving you.”
“From the second I saw you, I knew we’d get along, but I still want to punch you in the face. I swear,” Tristan said.
Kaz took out the manual and gave it to Tristan.
“Fuck. That was bullshit about the storage item. You can use yours. And,” his words died. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, trembling hands clutching the manual.
“No, clue. Actually, I know what it is, as in a fire cultivation manual. But, past that, I don’t have the foggiest. Say thank you and we’ll move on. Oh– and I’ll store that manual until you can access your storage item. Just let me know when you want to read it.” For some reason, the grateful look on Tristan’s face made his racing heart slow.
“That rock–that was a really fucking special rock.”