CORBAL WAS OVER EXHAUSTED by my rescue and the loss of his student weighed heavily on his thoughts, so while I was attended to with proper stabilizing somancy, he went to his chambers for a long rest. Animatic energy was, of course, one’s soul, expended exactly like one would muscle or mind, capable of suffering weariness and strain. The commotion had settled and more guards were brought to clean the blood- my blood- and move the bodies. I don’t remember much immediately after.

Being no stranger to unparalleled violence, I had seen bodies before, even separated their anima from them. But charred corpses seemed somehow cleaner than splattered blood and spilt organs. An overwhelming guilt pervaded my spirit. The placidity ritual’s effectiveness had long since passed, and the horror of what happened was resurfacing.

I practiced touching my fingers to my thumb, and with my eyes closed, thought I felt the mirrored sensation where my right arm should have been. After some time, I dared to reveal what I already knew to be true: instead of two balled fists, only one was there. No matter how many times I would check, only one remained, crushing whatever naïve hope I restored. The desecrated one- the mutilated and dismembered limb inscribed with runes and evil words- had been burned with cleansing fire and its ashes spread across a pond for Thaelossei’s domain to neutralize any trace of paranimancy. Still, the concept of somatic division felt foreign to me, as did the clothing with special needlework to cover what remained of my stolen limb, and the awkwardness of new and unrefined spatial awareness. I would turn quickly at the table and try to catch the drink I thought spilt only to find it had never been bumped at all, or reach for a door handle to no result. My reach, or lack thereof, was incredibly frustrating. The exasperation of seeing a goal within grasp with no means to actually grasp it nearly drew me to madness’ fury.

Corbal checked on me often. I’m glad he did. Without his care, I may have lost my hope to live. I would leave my room only to eat and relieve myself. I would spend hours lying in bed, feeling the uneven scar tissue of my sheered shoulder, tracing each line and groove and relishing the uncomfortable tingling touch would cause. I spent time feeling over my brand, too, tracing the smooth raised edges. They did what they could for my arm, but the Headmaster’s cut was not clean enough to salvage anything below my shoulder. There just wasn’t enough left. Though my eyes saw no hand, my brain still believed it there; under a sleeve, buried in a blanket, or otherwise hidden behind some wall I couldn’t see.

As days passed, I felt more and more undignified in being ashamed of what I’d lost. The theft, despite its horrific nature and the mere thought of it making me nauseous, somehow granted me a new determination: to never be stolen from again. My long hours of hiding in my room grew tiresome. Shame became unnecessary, and although I was not proud of my loss, it grew easier to bear, and following shortly after came my own triumph.

My posture had changed to accommodate the shift in my center mass. Over time, I began to favor my left side to lean on. I presented my right side to whoever stood beside me. In some ways it was easier to have lost a limb, though not for collecting pity and good-faith favors, but because it distracted me from the losses I created myself. To suffer at the hand of another meant to ignore what I’ve done to myself in destroying my village.

I pinned the sleeve to keep it folded, then stood to leave, but I stopped as I reached the door. Looking at the empty sleeve flopped lazily over itself, a pang of fear gripped my heart, but it quickly passed. I’m not going to hide. I gripped the shirt with my hand and pulled it off, struggling when it got caught and fought to stay. I opted for the silk vest instead. It was always too hot in here, anyway, and even me alone would warm the entire room over a short span of time.

I opened the door to find Nebrei’s hand raised to knock on the now empty threshold. She had with her a piece of bread on a small plate. I looked back up at her, and she began closely examining every inch of negative space instead of meeting my eyes. Sheepishly, she said, “Heard you weren’t feeling good. So I got bread.” She caught me off guard. I suppose she is empathetic after all. Remembering the gesture she showed me when we met, I reached and touched her shoulder. Her cheeks appeared to shine in a strange way. I’d never seen Nebrei embarrassed before. She lifted my hand off, and pushed it back at me. Did I offend her?

“That’s more for, uh, formal meetings. It’s not something you do between friends.” I could tell that last part was hard for her to say. It felt so strange to be so cared for. I didn’t realize the bond we had formed already, having only known each other for four months. I was still lost in thought when she began to walk away, saying “If you’re not gonna eat it, I will.”

“H-hey, no- Wait! Come back!” I shouted after her as I quickly covered myself with the vest and chased her through the door. Her casualness returned when she knew she had the upper hand.

Her long legs were also to her advantage. She could easily clear half again my distance in the same amount of time. She turned to face me, crumbs on her face. “You’re too late, Ef, it’s gone.” I started to protest when she, laughing, threw the other half of it at my face. “Too long wasting away in that room, you’ve slowed down.” She threw it hard, and I was thankful it was only bread. “You could’ve easily dodged that had you not wasted away by sulking alone. Come on, let’s get you a new one.”

She had such a way with words.

As she led me through the halls, I remembered what she hinted at.

Friends.

I lingered on her words for the better part of the week.

* * *

As Nebrei scarfed a huge chunk of meat, something caught her eye, and she waved to someone behind me. Corbal made his appearance. “Ah, good to see you out and about.” Hearing his chipper voice banished whatever sadness I felt. A friendly “Hey!” was all I could squeak out before he excitedly announced his intentions.

“I know you’re mid meal, and I’m happy to see you, but I need to show you something in my office.”

“What do you mean? It’s pork loin day!” Nebrei protested. Corbal smiled and said, “I’d actually prefer to speak to Efrit privately. You can stay here, though. Based on student polls, the pork is the favorite of many students.”

She’s done so much for me recently, and I was having a good time talking with her. I chimed in, “Why can’t she come, too? Is it a secret?”

Nebrei responded, “Yeah, I want to hear about whatever it is too!” Looking at her plate, she’d only eaten one of the two monstrous-sized chunks. “But I also want to finish this.”

Corbal sighed, “Then take it with you, Nebrei, I just don’t want to discuss this here.” She gathered her plate, and as Corbal and I made our way to the archway marking the atrium, Nebrei quickly snatched the last loaf of bread. A student in line gave her a judgmental side eye as she then fled to catch up.

I knew where Corbal’s office was already, but the grandiose marble hall was still captivating to view. About halfway there, it occurred to me my gait was a little different. My pace used to be just faster than his, but now we matched in speed. I hadn’t been walking much, instead opting to remain shut away in my room. Nebrei, with her size, could clear half again as much per stride, and quickly rejoined us.

Upon reaching his office and closing the door, Corbal took a deep breath.

“Efrit, I wanted to give you time to settle before I brought any of this to your attention. It may be rough to hear, but seeing as you’re out and about and looking better, I think it’s time you should know. I discovered some vital information about why the Headmaster did what she did.”

Corbal hefted a weathered but clean book onto the table. Its cover was dark and intricately-crafted leather with swirling designs and smoothed edges from years of use. There must have been decades’ worth of pages it was so thick. Corbal opened it to somewhere in the second half, revealing beautiful curling script and some inky drawings. I took the seat across from his intricately carved stool.

He flipped through the pages, stopping occasionally to examine some parts before refocusing. He was looking for a particular place. Nebrei began to look bored and fidgeted. She had already consumed her meal along the way. Where she left her dirty plate, I couldn’t tell, but I hoped the cleaning staff wouldn’t be upset. A sigh of excited relief escaped Corbal, and he stopped on one section to rotate the book so Nebrei and I could also see. “Here’s the applicable section of Headmaster Avery Greene’s personal log.”

Stolen story; please report.

My comprehension wasn’t up to par. I could make out some sounds I remembered, but the loosely lined penmanship made it difficult. Sensing my struggle as any decent professor would, Corbal took the burden of interpretation and began reading aloud, though his voice was too small to fully convey the magnitude of the entries:

“Corbal’s return – Twentieth of Verna

Corbal’s proficiency as a master of divination yields promising results once again. The very source of the animatic spike has been brought to me; strangely enough, a boy, claiming to be from an unmarked and ordinary patch of forest two days’ walk east. Indeed he bears the brand signifying the blessing of Agnistreya, and can summon flame at will, but how is he able to do so without preparation or materials? His animatic aura was fainter than most. Professor Piers noticed this as well. Ignimancy is the second most difficult of the domains to harness, yet he does so fluidly.

I have never before laid my eyes on something so promising in all my decades of research.”

“There was an energy spike? When?” I asked Corbal, whose face appeared both lost in thought and animated.

“From what I gather, that was when the massive tree rose from the bowels of the earth.”

“Oh, the Harvest?” It hadn’t occurred to me that it could be felt from so far away. I still didn’t remember much about it right when it happened, except the memory of timelessness and subsequent madness.

Nebrei chimed in, “What’s the Harvest? Like a cornfield? You said it like it’s some big event.” Corbal shushed her, and she reluctantly quieted.

Corbal continued,

“Hidden Veil? – Thirty-Third of Verna

I spoke with Efrit at length today. He appears to be unaware of the existence of anything outside his village considers himself a victim- an unfortunate bystander in this world. Perhaps Tellustraine has secluded the region for his own purposes? This would explain its obscure nature. I believe Efrit – or perhaps Efrit’s patron – has somehow entered the barrier shielding it from the rest of the world. Corbal has confirmed the source was from that region. He has also informed me how he acquired Efrit- extracted from a veiled realm, discovered and broken through a potent relevancy ritual. Corbal believes Efrit had no part in both the realm’s creation, nor the birth of the risen effigy. It begs the question: if not by Efrit’s hand, what is there to be gained from concealing an entire village? This also requires further investigation. What is he hiding?

Addendum: the earthen effigy still remains standing at the buried mountain’s summit. Perhaps he has grown lonelier? Maybe a bridge?”

Corbal turned the page to reveal messier writing. He continued:

“How?? – Fifth of Estiv

Efrit can never be trusted with this power. He is too new to the animatic arts. It would be safer in the hands of someone more practiced. His untrained skill supersedes even my own.”

I noticed grouped inky dots on the page and thought them similar to what I’d seen Corbal do when he couldn’t come up with the right word.

“How does he do it? How is a malnourished, ignorant farmhand able to outperform my former ignimancy students? I can’t put it from my mind. I must know, at any cost.”

Corbal paused his reading to add, “This is when she devised her plan. She was of many secrets in her years, but her descent into greed and powerlust surprised even me.”

“Justified – Nineteenth of Estiv

I banished those from the chamber who might see my books. I know this will result in my excommunication should anyone discover them. I intend to prepare a parasomatic ritual. This must be done quickly and quietly, in the deepest chamber, in secret. The staff must not know, as they would surely present a significant setback. They have grown close. However, Efrit is a weapon- more importantly- a tool, designed for a single purpose, one that I will repurpose to my own need. The kept kiln will become my own. Rhnull be forgotten; I am unbound. I must learn of a way to separate this blessing from his body. The method should be in this forbidden book- it must be. Only the potent force of forbidden paranimancy can transfer such a gift. If it is truly animatic replacement, there will be nothing left. I will trade what I am able.”

From across Corbal’s desk, I could see that last entry’s script was written in a hurry and much messier than the previous entry. Ink smears masked a few letters and the curved parts were scratched from a dry quill she’d not bothered to refill between lines.

“Finally – Second of Sertim

He should be asleep from the draught by now behind the basement door. I will deface the brand upon his brow to pacify his flame, as I fear he would quickly escape. Tellustraine will leap at the chance for revenge, so I’ll call upon his sigil to silence the Flame. The circle is finished. I furnished it with steel chains. I have the required tools. I have been focusing my anima with acumency since I formed this plan. I must set aside my reservation for barbarism. Efrit, I am thankful. Your sacrifice will advance my research by centuries.”

The next entry was planned but unfinished, reading only:

“Success -”

Corbal closed the book gently, “That’s the last entry before she died.”

Not much was clarified. If nothing else, I was more confused. “Who is Agnistreya?” I asked, and in response Corbal appeared puzzled. He eventually spoke, “You don’t know Agnistreya? Of anyone, you should know. That’s the name given to the sum of the Continent’s thermal energy, the total potential of fire’s animatic domain. Any elemancy involving fire or heat is attributed to him.”

“Him? Agnistreya is a person?”

“…though, ‘him’ is probably a misleading term. The gods are referred to as people; however, this is likely an outdated belief, or maybe a mistranslation of Pre-Divide documents. Nobody knows if it’s a sentient being, or just a metaphysical vessel from which its power is drawn. Some peoples of the southern mountains believe Agnistreya to be a living person, at least from what I’ve heard. It’s common practice to refer to them as people, whether or not they are.”

“Is Tellustraine one of those, too?” I asked, proud of myself for connecting the dots. Nebrei was now interested in the conversation. Corbal continued, “Yes, in a parallel. Tellustraine is a similar source of energy, but for the earth domain, and many related components of it. It is believed that Tellustraine refreshes soil and aids in the growth of forests and mountains. His affiliated domains are used for geomancy and creation.”

Nebrei, now paying attention, continued with relevant knowledge: “And Thaelossei does all that, but for the Water domain. Somancy and divination and whatever. That’s what I plan to do eventually, that’s why I traveled to the RASA way back.”

Imagining Nebrei as a healer seemed outrageous to me at first, but then again she was one of the students who helped me right after the Headmaster’s paranimatic ritual.

“Oh, so you have been paying attention in my lectures, after all,” Corbal announced. Embarrassed, she attempted to shrink her bulk into her chair. Her scholarly habits, or lack thereof were telling. “Well, now it seems even more important,” she muttered.

I felt compelled to add, “Thanks for what you did, but not all of it was necessary. You don’t need somancy in order to save lives. Even I can staunch a bleed- you just have to press on it long enough.”

“Well yeah, that’s what you do first. Weren’t you there? You bled an awful lot. Don’t downplay the importance of somancy. It’s also how you didn’t die of infection or fever after you got your arm chopped off.”

“It wasn’t chopped off, she sawed it off. Painfully, I might add. And it was awful. And I did die.”

“Well you would have died again from just the stress of somatic restructuring on your body if not for placating rituals to keep you asleep.”

“I was asleep? When?”

Nebrei cooled off a bit, disarming herself, “I guess you wouldn’t remember. You wouldn’t want to be awake for what we had to do.”

In response, I traced my shoulder. “I always wondered how it healed so fast.”

“Yeah, Tellustraine can do stuff like that. Thaelossei helped the now but Tellustraine can reduce the time for healing. Or extend it, if you really hate someone.”

Corbal cleared his throat, but I didn’t remember him having a cough. Nebrei returned the conversation to him just before the clock chimes signaled a new hour. “Speaking of Tellustraine…” Nebrei panicked and excused herself. She was late for Modarres’ lecture.

“If those are elemental gods, what is Aeyturno? Elder Barne mentioned something before I left.”

“Aeyturno? That’s something I’m not familiar with. In what context did he mention it?”

“Something about a shrine, I think.”

Corbal hopped off of his stool and made his way between his book piles to approach his hand-drawn map on his drawing-board. I watched his eyes meander to the place my village was. He appeared to argue with himself internally for a moment before turning to me to ask, “I know it would likely bring you a great deal of pain, but my curiosity is overwhelming. Would you consider revisiting your village? I imagine there’s a lot we could learn.”

A strange, new sadness weighted my heart when I pictured the crumbling ruins of my home- something I’ve never felt before. In that moment I wanted to talk to Anna again, and missed the airy timbre of her sweet voice, and the way the tired sunlight shone between the shutters of my cottage in the evenings. It was a pain unlike any I’d known.

Sensing this, Corbal added, “If I could scry instead, I would. I’ve tried. It’s like your village never existed at all, like a hole was cut through the map.”

“That would explain the veil you mentioned.”

“Yes, the veil… Avery’s second entry mentions Tellustraine secluding the region. Why though?” he pondered before asking me, “What did you mean when you said you burned your village? I assumed you were just out of sorts at the time and babbling… no offense.”

“Yes, I did burn it. That’s how I discovered my flame. I was scared. I didn’t want to die. Whatever happened to the others who were taken, I don’t know, but I was spared. Elder Barne said he didn’t expect me to survive. He wanted to finish whatever the Harvest started; to take me into the hill and kill me, to make me a martyr.”

The more I said, the more confused I became.

“What’s all this about, Corbal? What does she mean? She mentioned a bridge, also.” I thought about the mention of its location growing from the biggest hillside. “Is that the terrible tree-creature? Is it a bridge?”

"I think the only way to find out is to check for ourselves," he replied.

And we set out to revisit the place I never thought I'd return to.