The sun rose slowly over Fractalkeep, light peeking in through the windows. Callan rolled over as the beams reached his head, trying to salvage the last few moments of rest. But the sun wouldn’t let him rest. He surrendered to the dawning day and pushed himself up, swinging out of bed. Wrinkles criss-crossed his pants and tunic. Why had he worn them overnight?

Callan remembered the night before and instantly wished he hadn’t. Slowly, he crept over to his desk. His essay parchment lay askew, covered in swirling lines. The pattern didn’t quite match up with the one on the desk. He quickly snatched the parchment off the wood and tore it into a few large pieces. Later on, he could piece them back together and copy what was left of the essay. But the fractals had to be broken. Shattered fractals didn’t hold power, and he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Classes would start soon. He couldn’t afford to be late, not when he had extra questions for the Wizard on top of what he would already have from the day’s lecture. If he dared to ask them. His clothes from the day before would have to do. He smoothed out a few of the major wrinkles as best he could and pulled his bag from a hook on the wall. He couldn’t recall if the essay was due today or later on, but it didn’t really matter at this point. The sooner he could get back and sleep more, the better. Hopefully he’d be thinking clearer then. He just had to make sure he didn’t drift off at the desk again. With a yawn and a sigh, Callan forced himself out the door and into the land of the awake. For once, he wished he lived in a different campus when the time and location difference would give him a plausible reason for being a little late to class.

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Emmalene sat at an old table, pieces of parchment scattered all across the surface, pen in hand. Rindolph had gone to get her something to drink, anything to stave off the coldness of the tavern. It was a side effect of the revenants, he’d said. Nothing could be done about it except wear another layer or two.

Captain Stringham sat across the table from her, forearms resting on the edge of the wood. That was another thing Rindolph had said; the revenants could touch physical things, but only if they really tried. Most just used stairs and chairs and tables because it made them feel a little more alive. But try as they might, he told her, they couldn’t touch humans. Or elves, for that matter, but Emmalene doubted she would ever get Maiken into a spooky place like this.

Although, it didn’t seem quite as eerie anymore. The light still seemed colder than it should have been, and the upper level was still dark and quiet. But Emmalene could feel a power in the walls now, an excitement mirrored by her own heart. So many secrets were hidden in these walls, with all of these people that no one had talked to for decades. To speak to the very Founders that had made Silverleaf the expansive university it was, to hear even a few words they had to say. Even if nobody else ever believed her, it didn’t matter. She had to know.

She dipped her pen in the inkwell again. “So, Captain, Rindolph said that every single revenant here has a story of some sort. What’s yours?”

The revenant shook her head. “I have one, but I won’t tell it just yet. After a revenant tells their story, they start to fade. Just a little, but it keeps going until they pass on to the next realm. And since I’m the Captain, I’ll wait until the very end.”

Emmalene blinked, trying to process the information. “Alright. Well, where are the others?”

Stringham smiled. “I might not have a story, but I do have a few things to tell you before you start.” She held up her fingers. “First, a quick thank you. The others will probably echo it, but I’m making sure it gets said. Second, be careful. Some of these stories are very personal, and many of them relate to mistakes made in life. Don’t just share them with anyone, not until we’re gone. And third, if you’re asked to do something, do it.”

Emmalene looked up. “I’m just a student. You know that, right? I can’t do a lot of things right now, and even if I could, I still have a lot of classwork to do. It’s not like I can just go gallivanting across the countryside doing favors.”

Stringham frowned. “That’s part of this deal. The revenants are telling you their stories because they have hope that something can be done to mend what’s broken. You have to promise that, one day, one way or another, you’ll do what they ask.”

Emmalene sighed, feeling the weight of the project settle on her shoulders. “Very well. I promise to complete the asked tasks, so long as they don’t endanger my life or anyone else’s.” She frowned. “And I’m not breaking any laws either. But I’ll do my best beyond that.”

The Captain nodded. “That’s good enough. I’ll go find someone to come down and talk with you. Although a word of caution. Some of them are a little touchy when it comes to talking about life in general. Maybe just avoid that.”

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Emmalene smiled. “I’ll do my best to make them feel happy. They’ll tell their stories better that way.”

“Perfect.” Stringham pushed herself up and walked over to the stairs. As she reached the landing midway between the floors, she looked back down at the table with the parchment. “Good luck, Emmalene Silverleaf.” She mounted the rest of the stairs and disappeared onto the second level. Emmalene tapped her pen on the edge of the inkwell and waited. Somebody would come along soon, somebody amazing. They’d have some incredible story to tell. Maybe it would even be one of the Founders. Maiken would love hearing about that…

A momentary worry crossed Emmalene’s mind, distracting her from her current thoughts. Hopefully Maiken was safe and back in their room by now. She’d be worried about Emmalene, but she’d live. Eventually she’d go out to some party and forget all about her roommate. Which was absolutely fine by Emmalene. After recording a story or two, she’d head back to Chronicle and get some research done before going to sleep early. Between revenants and her manuscript, she’d need the extra sleep. Especially if she had to deal with Loren again. Maybe something the revenants said could help her with that. Then again, maybe not. She’d just have to see.

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Surely the sun had fallen low in the sky back in Chronicle, but Maiken had no clue what sort of day-schedule Springwood ran on. And even if she had known, Loren’s hideout didn’t have any convenient windows.

Not that she’d want anyone to see her now. The girl watching her every move--Thyra--had gotten bored of filing her nails with her knife and had instead taken the blade to Maiken’s hair. Her carefully-cut long style now lay on the floor in piles. The remaining length on her head scratched at her neck and pointed ears, longer on the right than on the left. And a handful of scratches ran all around her forehead and cheeks from errant knife-strokes. Or maybe they weren’t errant. As per Loren’s order, there had been no attempt made on her life. But Thyra might very well deal the killing blow socially if this ever got out. Right now, the yellow-earringed girl was taking her knife to the edges of Maiken’s clothes, trying to make them ‘cuter’. As if her perfect combination of skin-tight and flowing wasn’t already in fashion.

Maiken had to laugh at all the thoughts running through her head, though she didn’t dare do so out loud. Maybe her consciousness had finally caught up with reality and refused to accept it. Every day, though nobody saw it, she seemed to slip closer and closer to the edge of her sanity. Maybe she’d finally broken. Any time now the voices would start up again…

A woman walked into the dark room, too old to be a student. She had long black hair divided into dreadlocks, and her dark skin contrasted with her thin white clothing that hung from an elastic collar and left her shoulders bare. Or, well, it would have contrasted. The woman had the same white-grey translucence as all the other people that wandered into Maiken’s mind.

Maiken felt herself stiffen involuntarily, eyes locked on the woman in the doorway. Thyra looked up, knife pausing. After looking back at the doorway, she laughed. “Trying to trick me? Or did you really see a ghost?” She went back to cutting slits in Maiken’s leggings. Maiken blinked, trying to see if the figure disappeared. But not, she still stood there.

The ghosts didn’t normally follow her this far into Silverleaf. Even though most campuses connected to a town or city, several simply floated in random places and served as hubs for other campuses. Places like that were the ‘inner’ campuses, and the others were ‘outer’. Lakeside, where Emmalene had run off, was an outer campus. If Maiken had stayed long enough there, some ghost would’ve come walking through her mind. But in these inner campuses, she was normally safe from her own delusions. Not anymore, apparently.

Maiken’s breath seemed to catch in her throat, her gazing never leaving the woman as she wandered closer. None of them had ever hurt her, but then again, they’d never shown up in the inner campuses. Maybe this was the day.

No. Stop thinking like that. It’s all in your head. Maiken closed her eyes and bowed her head. Just go away. I can’t see you. You’re not really there.

Thyra looked up. “Aw, did I hurt you?” She poked the tip of her knife into Maiken’s stomach. She winced, but said nothing. Don’t let her break your concentration.

“Tough, girl, are you?” Thyra let a little blood slide along the blade before withdrawing it. “Can’t let you lose too much of that, can I?”

The wound stung, but Maiken gave the ghost her full attention. The woman wandered closer, looking this way and that until her gaze settled on Maiken. She leaned forward and caught herself on both sides of the chair, face to face with its delusional occupant. “You mustn’t let him find it. You mustn’t let him take it. There are dark times ahead…” For the moments she said the words, her eyes looked crystal clear, but a fog soon crept back into her gaze. She let go of the chair and wandered around the room again before stumbling back through the doorway and out of sight.

“Hey, you’re not dying, are you?”

Maiken looked down at Thyra, who had an uncharacteristic look of concern on her face. “No. Why would I be?”

The look vanished. “Good. Because I don’t want to be responsible if Loren comes back and you’re lying on the ground.” She sheathed her knife and went back to sitting in the other chair. “I wonder if there’s anything fun happening back at Adona’s. He’s always got a girl or two skipping classes for him…”

Maiken couldn’t care less what the girl said. Her mind still turned over the words that the ghost had spoken to her. Don’t let him find it. If you do, don’t let him take it. There are dark times ahead… None of it sounded good. And, from her current position, Maiken couldn’t do anything about it.