Anaestra hadn’t been inaugurated as a school. Far from one. Beck was not too well-versed with the academy’s history, but he knew that it’d been conceived as a fortress during a time of war and bloodshed. Even now, as he trailed past the Coliseum Erdyean, gazing upon the twisting spires and hanging gardens in the distance, he couldn’t help but sweep his eyes over the titanic stone walls and barracks-converted-to-dorms. When he took a moment to ponder it, he could see the guards marching up and down the walls, sentinels clad in steel, gazing down from the parapets past the rolling hills and verdant forest expanse. Over the years, many of the facilities had been remodeled and rebuilt to foster a more “Academic Environment,” but the skeletons of war still remained in the mossy cobble and tucked-away fortifications. No amount of remodeling could change its roots.

They’d walked in silence, Beck leading most of the way. Beck’s panic had eased to the point where it’d become a debilitating afterthought rather than a full-body reaction. Despite that, the small talk they’d made on the way sounded forced to the point where quiet was preferable. The few other students they’d passed on the way seemed equally unnerved too.

“Just what do you think that was?” Killen said all of a sudden, as they entered into the Southern Foyer, passing the first set of walls. “Certainly wasn’t a dragon.”

“I don’t know.” He was surprised at the sound of his voice, strained. He took a seat at a wooden bench nearby, just under an oak tree. Killen followed, crossing a leg over another, as if he owned the seat.

“Sounded like something straight from a nightmare. Or like a demon from hell.”

Beck scoffed. Nightmares he knew too well. “There’s no hell. Just the Horizon.”

“Wiser words have never been said.” Killen picked up a twig from the ground, rolling it between his fingers. “I could never fathom why you’d want to go there. You’ve never struck me as the type to seek adventure, nor riches.”

“I don’t ‘seek’ anything. I just want to confirm something.”

“And that is?”

He leaned back in the seat. “If I told you, you’d think I’m insane. Well, more insane than you already think I am.”

“That rings true.” Killen said. “But if you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine. It sounds like heavy subject matter – and haven’t you had enough of that for a day?”

“It’s fine.” Beck’s leg bobbed up and down. A long quiet fell between them. It was fine, and yet, he couldn’t find the words. But then he felt a warmth fall upon his shoulders, and saw Killen’s arm resting around him. He couldn’t find it in himself to do the same.

“Don’t tell me today. You don’t have it in you.”

“Are you trying to piss me off again?”

“Pff– No. I mean, you don’t look like you’re ready to divulge. So just don’t.” Killen removed his arm from Beck’s shoulder, leaning forward on the bench, eyes glued to stray leaves on the cobble. He seemed uncharacteristically lost in thought.

“What’re you planning to do after the academy?” Beck asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“Whatever I want to do.” Killen said.

“And what’d that be?”

“When the time comes to make that decision, I’ll know. But until then, I’ll let the answer simmer.”

“So you don’t know.”

A rare silence. No retort, no flippant gesture, no teasing remark. One of those was rare enough, but two? In a single day? Even Beck had to acknowledge the novelty.

But he couldn’t for long. An ear-piercing wail echoed throughout the yard, past the walls.

He snapped to his feet, staring towards the source – wherever it came from. Every instinct in his body immediately called for him to leave. And yet; he felt inundated with an awful curiosity, an unsatiated urge to investigate. His slow paces turned into a light jog, then a hurried sprint, despite Killen’s protests, fuzzy in the background. Beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, but not out of exhaustion or exertion; but rather from the feeling that something was horribly amiss.

As he dashed past one of the stone arches leading back out to the Arenas, there was a clamor at the foot of the hill. A mass of students, quivering, forming a circle around one – one, dressed in rags, with hair as white as ash. She was writing something, desperately, on a pad, but was being pushed around so that it kept dropping to her feet, along with the thin reed-like object she was writing with. As a last resort, she began to spin words from the air, gold stardust. But all this did was invoke a surge of fear in the crowd; the girl tried to draw attention to the words to no avail. Her pleas must’ve sounded like a decrying roar, her face like a demon’s, with how the others reacted. It’s her. He almost cursed aloud. It’s her.

“BEAST!” A female student screeched from below, throwing an empty inkwell at her. It shattered to countless pieces as it smashed against the side of her head. “I saw it clear as day! That girl, that monster-woman; a beast LIVES IN HER EYES! I saw it!”

Beck was too astonished to move, so when Scholar Olin came barreling past him, he almost got sent to the ground. This was enough to snap him out of his daze. And without knowing why, he took a step forward, only to feel someone holding him back.

“Don’t.” Killen said. “I’m not sensing anything good from that girl.”

“I wonder why.” Beck tried to take Killen’s arm off, but it remained clasped to his shoulder. “Let go! I’ve gotta see something.”

“Beck.” His voice was abnormally grave. “She’s dangerous. Don’t let her fool you. One wrong move and she’d kill us all in the blink of an eye. I don’t know how she got in, or what she’s here for, but that doesn’t matter. She’s dangerous.”

Beck could barely see beyond the crowd, nor hear beyond the panicked shouts and yells. She was cursed, yes, and their interaction hadn’t exactly been sweet; but even so, he couldn’t bring himself to see a monster. Not yet.

“If you wanna tail me, then do it. Fine. But I’m going. You can’t stop that.” He said, wrenching himself from that grip. Killen looked in disbelief, made a double take back to the foyer, to the crowd, and then, grimly, followed.

“What is going on here?!” Scholar Olin said as they reached the foot of the hill. He raced past them. For such a short man, his legs could cross distances others would never fathom. A great tree hung over the students, shadowing most of their faces. Though his stature was short, his commanding voice was enough to quell the tumult, if but briefly.

“Scholar Olin!” A girl fell to her knees, clinging to his leg, tears streaming down her face. She pointed a shaky finger towards Mir. “She– Her– That girl–” Between her hiccuping gasps and her cries, she could hardly form words. “A MONSTER! It lives in her eyes! Something from the Horizon, no doubt!”

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“Step aside, step aside.” Olin grumbled, pushing through the crowd. Beck followed, Killen in tow. He could barely see him until Olin stepped into the circle, picking up the pad, his eyes furrowing for a moment – then he passed it back over to Mir. She took a deep, shaking breath, and began scrawling something down. The tension in the crowd was palpable. Everyone wanted to act, and some did; but all that escaped were abrupt, wishy-washy movements and words. The presence of a Scholar was just that powerful. As Olin’s eyes scanned the pad, his expressions went from intense, to confused, to pondering, then to a grimacing acceptance, as he read from Mir’s torn pages. Occasionally he said something to her, and she wrote something back, but nothing that Beck could take notice of.

At last, he turned back to the crowd. He looked uncertain. “This girl,” He said. “Is a new transfer. Her background is none of your concern. Her identity, whether she be a monster, elf, dwarf, orc, or demon, is none of your concern.” He raised his voice. “You will treat her with the respect deserving of a fellow Anaestran student. As a peer!”

Mumbles from the crowd, an uneasy shimmer of fluttering robes and movements. “That’s one tall order,” Killen said quietly. “It’s only going to have the opposite effect.”

“BULLSHIT!” Someone called out from the far end, near the tree trunk. Then another followed. Then another. Before long, the crowd returned to its state of clamor beforehand, with the cries and roars as before – yet, it was not just Mir who was the target of their ire.

“I saw it!” A male student yelled, his voice somehow eclipsing the others. “In the forest, at the edge of the barrier; something leaped out of her eye, ate out of her palm! But it was no pet – it was a MONSTER!”

“A DEMON!”

“BEAST!”

Olin shook his head. He summoned his staff in a brilliant flash of amber, slamming it into the floor. “Silence!” Olin said, his voice magnified. Many reeled back from the sheer volume, and once more, the yelling died down. “That was no beast. That was a familiar. You, Anders–” He said, pointing the butt end of it towards the student from before, the one who’d claimed to see her at the edge of the grounds. “You are on the cusp of graduation – with a focus on magical beasts, no doubt – and yet, you cannot recognize a familiar when you see one. You should feel ashamed!”

Anders’s cheeks flushed red in indignance. “That was no familiar!”

“And how would you know?” Olin said. “Betwixt the fanged leaves and branches, even a doe would look demonic.”

“Then bring it out!” The crying girl from earlier said. Her eyes were puffy and red, tears still wet on her cheek, and her words were infused with fear, betraying her provocation. She pointed a finger towards Mir. “If it ain’t a monster, show us!”

“Use your goddamn heads!” Olin said. “Any monster untied to a Reservoir gets annihilated the moment they cross the barrier. No doubt many of you’d seen it happen before.”

Rippling murmurs, varying in agreement and disbelief. But even so, that was a step up from how it was before. Olin’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, relaxing a bit. Beck found a wisp of tension escaping him as he followed suit. Irrational paranoia. That’s all it was.

“But, Scholar Olin, is your word really enough?” Another voice chimed in. Beck’s heart sank at the recognition. His head snapped towards the direction, and beheld Victor in all his contemptuousness. His face took on a mask of concern, but in the corner of his eye, Beck could see traces of cunning malice. One that Beck had grown so familiar with. Yet this time, he was not the target. “Your words are sound. And I doubt not the integrity of Anaestra’s barrier. Even so, the people; they fear the girl. Even now, poor Ellaine quivers at the sight of her.”

As he strode through the crowd, the people parted for him, as if he were a celebrity. He made the slightest eye contact with Beck, and it sent shivers down his spine – but only for a moment. He stopped once he’d entered the circle, the crowd hanging on his every word. “Would it not be acceptable for her to calm the panic herself, instead of lying on your word? If she has not the integrity to even make a stand for herself, then I worry for her life as one of our peers.”

Olin’s visage was steeled, an unwelcome glare. “The word of a Scholar is more than enough absolution.”

“So too is the word of a noble. For absolution – and objection.” He gestured towards the girl. “I’ve happened upon this girl before today. I will admit, our encounter wasn’t the most amicable; but I wish to rectify that. To come to an understanding.”

“That fucker.” Beck hissed. The only thing he understood was how to make people’s lives a living hell.

“What’s it this time?” Killen inquired. But before Beck could give an answer of any kind, Olin started to speak again.

“I will not have you make a circus out of a transfer. These proceedings are unnecessary, and I suggest you quit trying to push them, Lori.”

But it’d seem Mir had other ideas. She tapped Olin on the shoulder, showing something new she’d written. They exchanged silent words between each other – Beck could only imagine what. Finally, Olin tentatively announced: “Mir has no objections to summoning her familiar.” He said. “However, I still reaffirm that this is unnecessary. There is no reason to push forward with such a proceeding.”

“That’s your name, is it?” Victor said, ignoring Olin. “Very well then, Mir. Go on. We haven’t got all day.”

Mir glared Victor down. She looked like she wanted to strike him despite all the distance that separated them, completely contrary to the ‘no objections’ Olin stated she had. But that never came. Beck watched her fist come undone as she took a deep breath, hanging her head low, her eyes drawing behind her curtains of hair.

It was like time stopped. The world went silent and the clouds went still, the birdsong staggered and the breeze splintered. From where Mir stood, Beck could hear the soft thumping of an infantile, beating heart. Except, it didn’t sound off in twos. No ba-dump. Ba-dump. It sounded off in sevens, like a spray of magic bullets slamming against mud. Each time it sounded off, the next beat spaced them out more, more, until they began intersecting with each other in a chaotic, discordant manner. Like a parade of drummers, if the drummers were all playing to their own rhythm; and with drums that sounded like dropping a stone into a pit rather than an instrument. It grew louder. To the point where, even if Beck covered his ears, he’d still hear it in his mind. He felt himself instinctively move behind Killen as the oppressiveness of the rhythm overpowered the sound of his own heart. He – no, everyone – was beating in tune with Mir. With Mir’s familiar.

It ended abruptly, replaced by something that sounded like the whining of a crow and the guttural rumblings of a basilisk. From what he could see, nothing appeared; but everyone who didn’t shrink back in fear had their staves out from pure survival instinct. Olin had stepped away from the girl, moving closer to the edge of the crowd, where Victor was, putting Mir alone in the center. Just her.

And then, her face exploded in red.

A hand crawled out of her scar, tearing off her mask. It writhed around like an earthworm after rain, clawed fingers grasping the air. Whatever it was gripped her chin, using it to push itself out, as another hand emerged, and another; then, a sleek body, mottled with gray-green pustules and spikes. A ridged spine came out, and with it, two impossibly large wings; as they stretched out, sending drops of blood and flesh dripping down into the floor, eventually the entirety of the creature spilled out onto the ground, staining the green grass red. As it did, Mir picked up her mask once more, her scar engorged, but looking rather unbothered. She spun some words into the air: This is George.

George raised itself from the ground, a serpentine, monstrous thing. The first thing Beck noticed was its mouth: a massive, man-swallowing maw, lined with yellowing teeth, some sort of viscous substance dripping from its gums. Just south of the head, where its ribs would’ve been, was an open cavity, partially covered by all the hands reaching across it, transverse; bits of meat and flesh and fluid kept spilling out from the cavity, and each time it did, the hands snatched it off the ground and stuffed it back in. It had eyes everywhere, bubbling, sizzling, popping. And when each one erupted in a spray of fluid, a new one appeared. And it never stopped erupting. With its wings, each one spanning a tree trunk’s length in size, it began to hover over the ground with a surprising elegance; a remnant of what it once was, perhaps. But beings twisted by the Horizon never remain unchanged. This was a prime example.

Mir strode over to its side, giving it a hearty pat. She gave the crowd an uneasy smile, and with her free hand, conjured more words into the air: Well?

George screeched. And Beck recognized that screech. It was cold. Dead. Like the dying cry of an animal, permanently captured, perverted, and twisted into what it was. Like the last words of slaughtered men and women. A shrill thing that plucked him out of the sunny day and into the bottom of the sea. Into an isolated void of dying, faded stars.

He had to be dreaming. This had to be another nightmare. Just another bad dream where, even if everyone got slaughtered right here and now, he’d wake up minutes later in a cold sweat. But, as someone fired off a spell at the creature, pelting the side of its maw, and as it retaliated with a horrendous roar; and as panic ensued, and Olin ordered for everyone to get back inside the walls, and as Victor’s sly mask was replaced with an earnest exhilaration, Beck stayed rooted.

Someone grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him away. His legs failed him. He couldn’t hear anything – a ringing in his ears muffled the noise. The creature made a move towards him, inching slowly, towering over Beck. It stopped right before him. And Mir, too. She crouched at his side, waving a hand in front of his face, scrawling something on her pad, prodding at his arm; and even though Killen leapt between her, shoving her aside, creating a shaky barrier separating her from them, his eyes were as rooted as he was. Even when the thing disappeared back into her scar, and the space parted for the clouds and the sky and the trees. Even as the monster left, he kept staring straight ahead, facing down its jaws, exactly like he did on that blazing night all those years ago.