Alistair begrudgingly looked up at the Victory Spire, the oldest building on campus noted for its numerous reliefs, many of which had crumbled over time. A few Magelings and Skywards funneled into the huge front entrance for advanced classes.

Alistair wished he could join them rather than visit the provost’s office.

Again.

After a quick look around, mostly to stall, Alistair entered the Victory Spire to find a new sculpture had been erected in the main foyer. As always, Professor Lucian Halor’s voice played out, Alistair souring at the description of the statue.

[A new work by Jacob Raccuia of Professor Elias Dreadwell making one of his more important Resonant Mana discoveries. Professor Dreadwell contributed greatly to the study of Resonant Mana until his untimely murder a decade ago. He continues to be the subject of numerous research papers and academic articles.]

Ghost: Untimely murder? They’re lucky I got to him when I did. If anything, his murder was timely. What I’m trying to say here is they’re going to hate the day that we expose Dreadwell. This is a terrible sculpture, anyway. It looks like a literal slab of shit.

The assassin’s description wasn’t far off. Dreadwell had been sculpted out of a single piece of clay, his features bloated and bubbling over the pedestal, face deformed. Did the artist dislike him or something? Alistair couldn’t make sense of why the artist had sculpted him in this way.

“Maybe it’s some kind of new art style,” he surmised.

Ghost: New art styles are always bad until one is given years of perspective. Then, they become good somehow. Miraculously. Don’t get me started on modern art. Senka was a collector.

Alistair tried to imagine the silent assassin’s art collection. He came up short.

Alistair: Really?

Ghost: Yes. Why do you find that so hard to believe? Did you really think she just went around our kingdom like a murderhobo?

Alistair: I haven’t heard that one before.

Ghost: Murderhobo is an assassin term, an old one that’s barely used these days.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Alistair began his ascent to the very top floor, where he came to Provost Weaver’s office. He could already hear chatter on the other side of the wall. It sounded like two women were speaking.

Ghost: Remember—don’t admit to anything, smile and nod. Be polite. Do not be memorable. This change of yours is stress-related. Say it with me, stress-related. In fact, ruffle your hair. Rub your eyes for a moment until they’re red. Look stressed. We should have used some coal to strengthen the dark circles under your eyes, but there’s not a fireplace anywhere near your dorm.

Alistair: Makeup?

Ghost: That is an option. Next time we visit Solaria, maybe I’ll get us an assassin’s makeup kit.

“Are you coming, Blackstar?” Provost Weaver asked from the other room.

Rather than reply, Alistair stepped into her office to find the Provost seated behind her desk. A woman with frizzy white hair leaned against the desk behind her, arms crossed over her chest. She wore a simple blouse and numerous golden necklaces, all of which seemed to gleam and settle at the same time.

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Provost Weaver looked at Alistair over the rim of her glasses. “This is professor Meryl Lordsin, an old friend of mine. She teaches Celestial Binding at the Vesperspire Academy and has written extensively on the subject.”

“Hello. Blackstar, was it?” the other woman asked.

“Please, sit,” the Provost told Alistair.

“Hi, and yes, that’s fine,” he told the professor. “Alistair Blackstar.”

“Right.” She looked back to the Provost. “Do you mind?”

“By all means, Professor.”

The woman approached Alistair and he caught an instant whiff of either a lotion or a perfume, he couldn’t tell. It was strong, something with hints of coconuts and tropical fruits. He started to sneeze but stopped just in time.

Ghost: Get hold of yourself.

Alistair: Fuck off. You’re not smelling how strong her lotion is.

Ghost: I’ve trained myself to deal with powerful smells.

Alistair: What? How?

Ghost: You don’t want to know.

“Let’s see here,” Professor Lordsin said as she moved even closer to Alistair. “A Fledgling with a golden eye. Not unheard of, but certainly rare.”

Alistair didn’t know if he was supposed to look right at her so he simply sat there, trying not to blink.

“Well, I think it’s clear,” the professor finally said after examining him for an excruciatingly long minute in which her pupils turned completely white. “This Fledgling has been possessed, and he has decided not to reveal the fact.”

“What?” Alistair and the Provost said at the same time.

Ghost: Summon Lionel, now!—

Professor Lordsin started laughing. “I’m joking. Relax, everyone.”

“Please, Meryl, that sort of accusation isn’t funny,” the Provost said, relief in her voice.

Alistair: Your solution was to summon Lionel to fight two high powered battledeck mages? Seriously? Are you trying to get me killed?

Ghost: Not exactly. My solution was to summon Lionel so I could get my sword, kill Professor Lordsin, and then hopefully get lucky and manage to strike the Provost as well before she conjured whatever madness she would inevitably conjure.

Alistair shook his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” Professor Lordsin said, “I thought it would be funny. We have humor, you know, at the Vesperspire Academy. It appears that sort of dark humor isn’t as accepted here at the Lumina Battledeck Academy. In any event, what is going on here is likely tied to an Abyssal summon. You have one of those, yes? A Nightflutter Faeling?”

“Yes, Noctarii. I can summon him, um, if you’d like.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I have seen this before, especially with someone who is able to Celestial Bind. Provost Weaver told me that you are the first in your class to be able to do so. I’m assuming it’s with the fae?”

“No. It’s with Hooty, my owl bear.”

Ghost: Grimbeak.

“Ah, your Strigursus Onikuma. Interesting.” Professor Lordsin brought her hand to her chin. “Not the answer I expected, but an answer, nonetheless. And your eye turned gold before or after you were able to bind with Hooty?”

Ghost: Grimbeak.

“Right before,” Alistair said, stretching the truth a little. It had actually been more than a week before he was able to bind. He shot a glance to Provost Weaver, hoping she didn’t pick up on the way he had smudged the timeline a little.

She didn’t seem to.

“Odd, but not unusual. My recommendation is to monitor it for now,” she finally told her counterpart. “If he starts behaving strangely, or badly, or if both his eyes turn gold, perhaps bring him to my Academy, where we can observe him for a few days. Other than that, you are clear, Blackstar. Good luck in the qualifying tournament. That starts today, yes?”

Ghost: Ask her about Calista Halor’s biography.

Alistair glanced from the Provost to Professor Lordsin. There was no way he was going to stay here any longer than he had to.

He left the office, and finally spoke to Ghost once he reached the entrance to the VIctory Spire. “No late training tonight. Instead, we’ll meet Zola and look at the biography ourselves. I’ll shoot her a message now. I’d rather figure the biography out on my own without the Provost intervening.”