Chapter 563: A Student Of Magic

  Stryg stared disconcertedly at the decanter in his hand. The bright amber liquid sloshed around inside the glass, taunting him with a good time that would forever be out of his grasp. “Are you sure I can’t get drunk?”

  “Alcohol is a poison and a weak one at that. Your body will have rendered it useless in a matter of seconds.” Melantha took a swig of her ale, “You can still enjoy the taste though.”

  “Who drinks for the taste?” Stryg grumbled.

  Melantha stared at him with a sympathetic wry smile. “Those who have forgotten what it tastes like.”

  He raised the decanter, the firelight refracting through the glass. “I find it hard to believe I’ll ever forget the taste of Dragonbreath.”

  “I imagine there are many things you'll find hard to believe, you’re still very young.”

  “So people keep telling me.”

  Tauri furrowed her brow but said nothing.

  Stryg noticed. “What is it? You’ve been quiet the last few minutes.”

  Tauri couldn’t help but shoot a glance at Melantha. Her conversation with the goddess still lingered in her mind. She cleared her throat. “It’s nothing. Just, um, I know you’re sort of young, but you’re not that young.”

  Stryg nodded in agreement. “I’ll be 21 in— huh,” he blinked, “In a few days, I guess…” Had so much time already passed by? The day he first stepped into Hollow Shade felt like yesterday.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Tauri raised her wine glass.

  Melantha planted her elbows on the table, leaned forward, and stared at Stryg, examining him. “When I was your age I thought no one would have dared call me a child, but in the eyes of our kindred you aren’t even a child, you’re just a baby.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Stryg said dryly.

  “You really don’t grasp the concept of how long we live, do you? Stryg, every single person you know will be long dead before you’re old enough to be considered an adult in our people’s eyes.”

  “My people are Sylvan kind, the Ebon Tribe, Hollow Shade,” Stryg replied with an edge to his voice.

  A hint of a smile played at the edge of Melantha’s lips. “I understand. And I’m not trying to dispute that, I’m just trying to give you perspective. You are not mortal and if you keep trying to pretend that you are, incidents like last night will keep on repeating.”

  “Last night?” Tauri perked up.

  Stryg looked sheepishly away.

  “He lost control of his emotions. He rejected the blood in his veins and in doing so his body rejected him. If my sister and I hadn’t arrived when we did then Stryg would have obliterated half the Villa District.”

  “Half—!?” Tauri’s eyes bulged and she coughed up her wine. “T-That’s not possible. Not even Lord Elzri could—”

  “Stryg could never achieve such destruction with his chromatic magic. But we are talking about a godling, not a mageborn.”

  “R-Right…” Tauri mumbled.

  Stryg lowered his eyes. “I wanted to become powerful to protect the people I care about. I never wanted— this.”

  Melantha reached over the table and grabbed his hand. “I know. Believe me, I know. You’re not the only one who grew up different. But ignoring this will not help. You need training if you want to learn how to control your powers, the kind of training only a god of death can give.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “I will.”

  “Why?” The word escaped his lips before he thought about it.

  “Stryg, don’t be rude,” Tauri hissed.

  He meant no disrespect, but after everything that had happened, he had grown wary of those who offered their help.

  “Because, Stryg,” Melantha raised her hand and he watched as her pale freckled skin turned a pale blue. “You and I are one of the last of our kind. And though you may not realize it, this existence, our existence is a very long and lonely one. Someday you’ll understand that.” She stood up and tossed a couple of coins on the table. “Thanks for the drinks.”

  “You’re leaving?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to watch over me.”

  “I am. Our sister is here to take the next shift.”

  Stryg looked around. He couldn’t spot Holo among the crowded tables of merry drunks.

  “You won’t find Holo unless she wants to be found.” Melantha pulled her cowl down, obscuring her lilac eyes. “We’ll speak more later, little brother. Tauri, a pleasure meeting you.”

  “The p-pleasure is mine,” Tauri smiled strainedly.

  Stryg watched Melantha walk out the tavern doors. She nodded to the pair of cloaked Gale guards standing conspicuously outside, before disappearing into the bustling streets.

  “They really did follow me…” Stryg frowned.

  “You’re the lord of one of the most powerful Houses in all of Hollow Shade, they’re not going to let you go anywhere alone.”

  “Wonderful,” he groaned sarcastically.

  “At least they’re keeping a respectful distance.”

  He raised the decanter to his lips and downed the entire glass before setting it on the table. “...This sucks.”

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  “Hey, Stryg?”

  “Hm?”

  “About last night, did you really lose control?”

  “...Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I’m sorry.”

  She grabbed his hand underneath the table. “It’s okay. Actually, I feel better about the whole thing after your sister explained what happened.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “I don’t know. Kind of? I’m more mad at myself than anyone,” she sighed. “My parents and sister must hate me right now.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” she squeezed his hand. “But I will be.”

~~~

  The line of hopefuls was longer than Sandra had imagined. Even with the recent attacks, it did little to halt the mageborn applicants. The hallway was crowded with teenagers, half of them dressed in noble garbs worth more coin than she’d ever seen in her entire life. The other half had more subtle garments, though the quality of the fabric was still clear to see. Merchant sons and daughters from the Bourge District no doubt.

  Some were vampires, most were drows, though there were some orcs, dwarves, and even humans as well. The only thing they all had in common was that they were dressed better than her. She tugged at her plain blue tunic and cloth spun skirt. They were a gift from First Mother Karen for her birthday. She was so happy when she first wore them, now she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious standing among all of these people.

  They looked at her as if she was a pariah, an almost repugnant marvel, the only goblin among all the applicants. Her pointed ears twitched from their horizontal position as she caught whispers of those around her.

  “What is she doing here?”

  “She can’t be serious, right?”

  “Look at those claws!”

  Sandra buried her hands in her pockets and clenched her fingers tight. She wished Melfyn was here, but only potential mageborns were allowed past this point at the academy. Maybe it was for the best. Who knew what Melfyn would have done if he had heard what they were saying?

  She thought of Jack, he was skinny for a human, but he still towered over almost everyone here, no one would have messed with him. Rowan reminded her of Master Stryg, quiet until he suddenly sprung and attacked.

  The thoughts of her tribe sparked warmth in her chest and she smiled, straightened her back, and held her head high.

  What did it matter what these people thought? They didn’t belong to a tribe. They didn’t have a group of brothers and sisters who would stand by her side even in the face of monsters, in the face of a horde of savages bearing down on the shade wall. Sandra was a daughter of Cinder Brood and she wasn’t about to let an exam stop her.

  “Sandra… Cinder Brood?” a nasally voice called out.

  She tensed at the call of her name. “Oh! That’s me! I’m Sandra!” She hurried over to the front desk where a drow with thick-rimmed glasses sat with a ledger.

  The drow adjusted his glasses and frowned as he looked down on her, “Is this a joke?”

  “Um, n-no, sir. I’m here to take the Magestone Test,” she stammered and wrung her hands at her side.

  “You do realize if the proctors find you’re wasting your time with a prank you won’t just be escorted off academy grounds. The guards will probably beat you to a bloody pulp.”

  “I’m not doing some prank, sir. I’m here to take the exam, just like everyone else. I am a mageborn.”

  “...Uh-huh.” He glanced down at his ledger and saw that she had indeed been sponsored by House Veres to take the exam. He sighed with a mutter, “I’m too tired for this.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing.” He pointed to the doorway behind him, “Go down that hall, walk into whichever room has an open door. The proctor inside will test your magic.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She nodded and headed down the hall.

  A dozen doors lined the white-painted hallway, most were closed, busy giving exams no doubt, but she did spot an open one, the third door on her right. She poked her head inside and spotted a pale middle-aged woman carefully dusting off ten clear crystal balls lying on a long table. She looked up at Sandra and her scarlet eyes narrowed.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped with an irate ire. “Didn’t anyone tell you? Entrance exams start today. You and the others will have to start cleaning after the sun sets.”

  “Oh, I’m not a servant, ma’am.” Sandra stepped into the room and cleared her throat, “I’m here to take the Magestone Test.”

  “You?” the woman burst into laughter.

  When Sandra didn’t laugh and just stood there fidgeting, the vampire’s smile fell and was replaced with a scowl. “Get out of my room.”

  Sandra frowned. “But—”

  “I said get out!”

  Sandra stumbled back a step but steadied herself and planted her feet. She had faced down monsters far more terrifying than this woman. “I am here for the Magestone Test and I am not leaving until you test me.”

  “Is that right?” she smiled maliciously. “Do you know who I am, girl?” When Sandra didn’t respond she continued, “I am Professor Myril of the Necromancy Order. Do you know what that means? It means that for the last hundred years, I have created the undead sentinels that have defended this city since before you were even born. The only reason I am here today is because we are short-staffed thanks to the goddamned bloody siege. I am giving up my precious time to help raise the next generation of mages for our Great City. I did not come here today to waste my time with a goblin brat who is clearly too stupid to know when she was this close to being flogged!”

  “You helped build the sentinels?” Sandra whispered.

  “I did,” the woman tapped her hand on the table impatiently.

  “Your sentinels don’t protect anyone. They hunt every commoner who stayed out too late and forgot their nameplate at home. They hunt orphans who’ve lost everything and are just trying to survive!”

  Myril glared at her. “My sentinels protected this city when the Warlord Marek brought his armies down upon us.”

  “And I stood atop the wall and fought Marek’s armies. Where were you, Professor Myril?”

  “You? A little goblin girl fought the valley savages?” Myril chuckled. “You’ve got guts, brat, lying to me that is.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Fine. You want to play this game, let’s see how it plays out.” Myril pointed at one of the crystal balls. “Step forward and place your hand on the magestone.”

  Sandra swallowed nervously and walked over. She carefully touched the clear glass-like orb. The stone was cold to the touch. Recalling Master Stryg’s words, she stared at the stone intently and willed it to glow. Nothing happened.

  “And you see, right about now if you were actually a mageborn the probe would be glowing a bright blue at the very least.” She leaned forward with a vindictive smile, “But as we can both see, it’s still crystal clear.”

  “I’m not a blue mage,” Sandra admitted hastily. “B-But I know I’m a chromatic Orange at least!”

  “You’ve wasted enough of my time with this farce, get out of my sight,” Myril waved her away.

  “I’m not lying! Please, just test me with the Orange one and I’ll show you—”

  “I said get out! Guards!”

  Sandra paled. “Please, give me a chance.”

  “Guards!”

  “Is there a problem, Professor?”

  “Yes, this goblin was…” Myril’s voice died in her throat as she noticed the drow standing at the door. “Principal Elohnoir.”

  “Interim Principal,” Loh corrected.

  “Apologies,” Myril bowed her head.

  “What is going on here?” Loh asked as she walked inside and glanced at Sandra. “You look familiar.”

  “Lady Noir,” she bowed low. “My name is Sandra. We met when you visited my temple with Master Stryg once.”

  “Ah,” Loh’s eyes softened. “You’re one of Stryg’s orphans.”

  “I am a daughter of Cinder Brood,” she replied defiantly.

  “Hush, girl!” Myril hissed.

  Loh raised her hand and silenced the vampire, before turning back to Sandra. “Yes, of course. My mistake. So, are you here to test your magic then?”

  “Yes,” Sandra nodded meekly.

  Loh glanced at Myril, “Well, what are you waiting for? Test the girl.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” Myril conceded.