Sybil Quinta

A slender woman looked out the window of her limousine at the sleek, rain-wet spines of the city of Ai-Khanoum. High into the lattice of sky bridges that ran between the many tall towers of the Ataraxian capital, the air began to thin, and traffic became more sparse. Sybil could barely make out the massive statue of the matron witch goddess at the city’s center.

“Madam, we’ve arrived.” said the coachman.

The young woman wordlessly assented to the driver, allowing him to open the door for her. She pulled out a small compact, briefly regarding her visage. Her dark hair was cropped into a perfect bob, just above the point where it would touch her shoulders. She assured that her cherry red lipstick was fresh and glossy and that her pale skin didn’t need powdering before she stepped out of the vehicle.

I’m here to cause a scene, so I might as well look the part.

Sybil wore her best pout, allowing her perpetual ennui to consume her features as she waved off the guards of her former master’s estate. The courtyard of the spire before her was particularly imposing. The gates of the Stradivari Finishing School were carved or perhaps forged in the image of several armored war witches, standing perpetual watch over the opulent sanctuary beyond. A tasteful amount of gilding highlighted the artwork, starkly contrasting the blackened metal that composed the city's architecture.

Flourishing a bit of her mana outwards, she probed to see if her former master had thought to lock her out yet. The gates began to creak open.

Who am I kidding? She doesn’t forget anything. She left a door open for me.

Sybil pressed forward into the courtyard and then made her way to the entryway of the school beyond.

_____

A stately older woman slowly paced around the classroom, regarding the young women seated in front of large glass apparatuses. The multi-tiered room had several rows of these devices, each of which alit with all manner of tubes full of sparking mana and elegant, decoratively-shaped knobs.

“Three-quarter turn clockwise on the stopcock. Watch for saturation. Titration occurs once the mana shifts in attunement from arcane to somatic.” the woman intoned, speaking in a rote, robotic tone. She briefly turned to the rear door of the classroom, making eye contact with Sybil, but continuing without acknowledging her. Her lips pursed slightly more.

The older woman wore a rectoress dress. The dress itself might have looked rather plain to a layman, but the woman’s dress was perfect. Every pearl button was polished, and every thread was in perfect condition. No folds or creases. The woman issued out a few more instructions to the room, before stopping behind a nervous-looking blonde girl who was quickly trying to do something about a small glass vessel that appeared to be overrun with some sort of pink slime.

“Lady Arrielle, you have failed. Remove yourself.” The instructor flatly stated.

The young girl tried to stop herself from crying, gathering her things and nearly running out of the room in a very unpractical dress.

Sybil’s dress was not more than a black slip dress, barely touching her ankles. She congratulated herself internally on her choice of outfit. She walked forward, gathering the eyes of the students around her, some of whom should have been paying more attention to the devices that were in front of them.

Sitting down at the Fulgerium, Sybil began artfully manipulating the delicate glass instrument, producing all manner of essences and mana-rich slurries.

Her class responded. She felt the warmth of her skills supporting the working, and declined to allow them to affect the resulting product, wanting to stand on her raw knowledge of the ancient device.

She’ll know the difference.

The class had ground to a halt. Everyone in the room was watching her as she flew through the motions. Sybil extracted her product into a glass ampule. A glowing tube of crystalline, pink essence emitted an aroma of sweet cherry and vanilla, projecting powerfully into the room beyond. Sybil locked eyes with the woman at the front of the class and gave a sly smirk.

Sybil knocked back the contents of the flask, to gasps from the classroom. She felt the rush of the concoction instantly, as the waves of pleasure rolled through her being. She floated upwards into the air on a bed of mana, feeling her feet lift out of her high heels. She closed her eyes and arched backward, allowing the substance to consume her consciousness in a rapture of sensations.

She heard the sound of glass shattering, and harsh words.

“Class is dismissed for the day. Keep this to yourselves, and I expect better work from you all tomorrow.”

Sybil couldn’t bring herself to care.

She floated upwards, nearly to the ceiling at this point. She felt her awareness slipping but lasted long enough to hear one last word after the sounds of the shuffling of expensive shoes fleeing the room.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Flawless.”

_____

Sybil awoke feeling more rested than she had in months, on a sofa in the private office of Alecto Stradivari, the infamous blood witch.

“Well? You’ve gotten my attention. I do wish you hadn’t felt the need to break one of my Fulgeriums to do so.” Said the old woman, smoking a pipe.

The purple smoke from the pipe rose, dancing around the tapestries, hanging fabrics, and ceiling drapes that gave the room a very bohemian feel.

“Madame Alecto, you insult me. I suppose congratulations are in order, I thought the method for producing a Fulgerium was lost to the dungeons. How long have you been able to craft replicas?” Sybil asked.

“Tsk. I should have expected that you would notice. A few months now. The replicas cannot do any serious distilling of compound essences and are useless for industrial application for now. Don’t change the subject. Your behavior is, as always, unbecoming of an Ataraxian Princess. Why have you come here? Do you intend to sully what little remains of my reputation in the courts?” Alecto asked, glaring daggers at her former student.

“You? What a joke. The Blood Witch, a famed student of Hilaria! Your reputation will never be tarnished in the high courts. Me, however… I’m gambling. This country- no, this world is littered with useless princesses. I’ve bitten the hand that feeds enough that I think this stunt, should your students spread the word of my debauch, might actually lead my sisters to banish me. I’d love to finally be free of my gilded cage, you see. Either that… or you take me as an apprentice again.” Sybil retorted, voice dripping with venom.

“Watch your tone. I've suffered your flights of fancy for long enough because you were gifted, but all of that went out the door when you chose true thaumaturgy. You have denied your birthright, Sybil. You have wasted yourself.”

“My birthright? Who cares about my birthright? We’ve enough half-assed “Priestesses of the Great Mother” as it is. I refuse to spend my life binding contracts with an uncaring goddess. Also, I wasted nothing. You remember what I gave up.” Sybil shot back.

“You’re a fool. I guided you away from that class to protect you. [Dreamer of the Grand Façade] is an aspect of desire. You would have been hunted down. No, scratch that. Your mother would have made me hunt you down and kill you. You have no idea what an aspect is capable of if left unchecked. If you look over the Grand Sea to our trading partners in the Ringed City, you would see that the aspect of pleasure that runs the criminal underground has a chokehold on the royal family. She’s discrete enough to keep her true name out of the mouths of everyday citizens, yes. But the king and queen of the city are locked in a stalemate against her criminal element.” Alecto lectured.

“I am aware of the Pink Lady. I am also aware that Eudoria “The Midnight Inquisitor” Vespertine could singlehandedly descend upon that particular stalemate to sway the tide one way or another.” Sybil replied, smirking.

“Bah! You miss the point! Aspects are individuals who have chosen to abandon their identities to the service of some… idea. I have little doubt that desire would have turned you into a power-hungry despot.”

“Well, it’s in the past. Whatever I might have become isn’t worth talking about, is it? I am a [True Thaumaturge], and I have access to any magic I want. You could teach me blood magic, for example- like the way that your master taught you.”

Alecto turned to fully face sybil, putting her pipe down.

“Hush your mouth, fool girl. You know nothing about my master.” Alecto stated, eyes glowing red.

Undeterred, Sybil straightened in her chair.

“Don’t I? I know that the fugitives my sisters are so desperately seeking out are a clone of Hilaria and a failed experiment from when she was still alive. Let loose from the secret tower that's supposed to be filled with bloody horrors, am I correct?” Sybil stated, with a mocking look.

Alecto was taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered.

“I don’t know how you stumbled upon that information,” she said, turning her back to the princess to look out a window into the rainclouds beyond.

“Hilaria… my master… She was many things. She was a genius life weaver. She was a cruel and unforgiving teacher, but close to the end… I think she softened. Those poor things… I don’t begrudge them their right to freedom. I digress. I won’t teach you blood magic in the same way that I was taught. Moreso… I cannot teach you true magic. I am a witch of the spirits, like those who came before me.” the old woman stated.

“Well… there’s that option. I appreciate your time, master. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the way things ended between us.” Sybil said, dusting herself off and preparing to leave.

“Wait,” Alecto uttered.

She turned again to face her student.

“I… can prepare you further so that somebody else can teach you true magic. Your foundations are good in the old arcana, and your thaumaturgy is better than any I’ve seen… but you lack an understanding of intuitive casting. I have demands if you are to study under me again.”

“Name them.”

“You will disappear from the public eye. No more of this renegade princess sideshow. Secondly, you adhere to my teachings. I learned thaumaturgy to supplement my blood magic, but you must understand that it is fundamentally magic for crafting tools, refining resources, or working wonders. No more of this… appalling tripe that you do- distilling emotion down to bare essence for a cheap high. You’re better than that.”

“Understood. What comes after?” Sybil asked, surprising herself with how agreeable she felt.

“Then… we ship you off discretely to the Ringed City. for all of its faults… their dungeon is the premier place to learn true magic in the world. Besides that… There are many interesting things hidden in the Ringed City. I imagine that there’s enough there to sate your thirst for adventure… you loot goblin.” the woman said, her voice gaining mirth.

“Interesting. Well… I am at your command, Mistress Stradivari.” Sybil said, wearing a smile.