Soulburned : The School of Souls
Chapter 11 (Part 2)
Thale limped down the stairs. Hercli's room was towards the top of the Iris, as were the rest of the Guardians.
Magnus had stopped by a few minutes ago to "top him off." It was a rather embarrassing process. Even the youngest, lowest-tiered Mages were able to generate their own Eros. To need these magical transfusions was more than just a slight blow to Thale's pride.
The Shirve blade clicked as it tip contacted each stone step. The thing was just a little shorter than Thale, and the grip on the sword was just long enough to make the perfect walking stick. He was headed towards the Mage wing, specifically the branch of the wing that was dedicated to training Menders. There were several viable career paths for a Mage, the majority were trained as battle mages and sent to the Walls, but there were still a good amount of prospects that chose the more peaceful and pacifistic life as a Mender, or one of the other less common vocations.
The slap-dash Mend spell he had cast on himself hadn't been meant for people, and something felt... off. He had broached the subject with Magnus, but like Thale, his studies had had a more... practical application.
"Go to the Mender quarter and ask for Sylane. She's used to patching up us Guardians... your sword won't startle her much."
The sword's ability to "startle" people was a larger problem than Thale had anticipated. Everyone that he came across in his slow descent through the tower gawked at the greatsword. It wasn't emitting any Voidfire at the moment, Magnus had told him that it wouldn't until he was able to fill it with Eros, but it was still impressive. Its gleaming black steel reacted with the torch and soul light in a strange way, seeming to consume the light instead of reflecting it. It was impossible to ignore, it just seemed so... out of place.
The Mage Wing was significantly smaller than the Wizard Wing, but it felt more... comfortable to Thale. Just walking into the Mage Hall was enough to send a wave of nostalgia coursing through him.. The smell of paper and ozone. The sounds of students shuffling back and forth from class to class. The sight of his old Vocation Hall.
Despite the injuries he found himself smiling as he clinked along.
As he passed through the familiar stone corridors, he couldn't help but notice that people were staring at him. No, not staring at him, staring at the sword. The younger, lower-tiered students looked at it with a sense of reverence, the higher-tiered with a sense of jealousy. Thale had quickly surmised that his re-arrival at the Iris was slightly unwelcome. There had been prospective Guardians, already training just for the chance to wield one of the blades. Thale had seemingly just lucked into the position.
The strange movement of his ribcage served as a reminder that it wasn't entirely luck. He had killed a Soul Eater, hadn't he?
The Mage's Hall was a large dining hall, lined with massive stone tables. Thale had never seen the hall as filled as it was. Most of the students in the Iris entered the Wizard's Wing, on the account that anyone could, in theory, become a wizard. One had only to grasp the intellectual nature of the art, and reach a certain level of intelligence before taking on the Mark and Trials. Mages, on the other hand, were more akin to Sorcerors. One still needed to voluntarily take the Eros Mark, but doing so required having the innate gift of Eros, and it didn't require the deep scarring that a Logos mark required. His Mark was just a simple Tattoo that wrapped itself around his abdomen.
That didn't make becoming a Mage more illustrious. If anything Eros was seen as the "commoner's" soulmancy, since a Mage could hypothetically learn how to draw on their Eros without the Iris, and thus skip the often prohibitive tuition costs associated with schooling.
That being said, Mages trained in the Iris were infinitely more effective than their home-schooled counterparts. This is why many self-taught Mages ended up making a pilgrimage to Sclera to refine their Soulmancy. The increase in clout was merely a fringe benefit.
Thale wound his way through dark classrooms and narrow hallways. The next Term had just started, and many students were moving in, clogging the already claustrophobic passageways. There seemed to be more Students staying in the Iris than in Thale's time. He supposed it was because of how many of those Students had been renting housing in the Second District.
Thale felt a slight pang of guilt at being unable to hold the Second Wall, it had been his duty, and he had failed.
"You're going to ruin the rugs with that thing. " A woman said, interrupting Thale's brief melancholy.
"Hmm?" Tahale turned.
The woman was tall and slender. Her brown hair was tied back into a bun. A pair of spectacles sat suspended over the bridge of her nose. In the fashion of many Mages, her form-fitting robes were cut away from her navel, revealing her intricate Mage mark.
"You're Thale?" she asked.
Thalle nodded, at a momentary loss for words. His tongue suddenly seemed thick in his mouth.
"Y-yes." he said, "Thale. Magnus sent me, said I needed to see... Sylane?"
"That's me. The woman said. "Come on, class just started."
"Oh, no, I'm not here as a student."
Sylane said nothing, only walked past Thale into an open classroom.
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Thale limped after her.
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The class was full of second-tier students. Each stared a hole into Thale as he entered the room, Shrive Blade in tow.
"Class." Sylane said, "I wanted to start this Term with a demonstration. Our Guardian friend here has graciously agreed to be the subject of that demonstration.
Thale's eyebrows shot up, and he shot a surprised glance at Sylane. She didn't meet his gaze but he could see her lips quiver in an attempt to hide a smirk.
"Guardian Vesper, if you please, remove your shirt."
Thale peeled back his tunic, revealing rippling muscles, his mark, and some incredibly colorful bruises. Deep cuts were already starting to scab and scar over, burns covered a large swath of his torso. Physical fitness was a requirement for cultivating Eros. The Mage Wing had several gymnasiums specifically for the art of aerobics, and it was a habit that Thale had continued to practice even once he'd graduated to Third Tier. There were more than a few cat calls from the students. Thale's face grew hot.
Sylane hissed when she saw the injuries, and the class grew more somber. Many of them had surely been in the Second District and knew exactly where he had acquired those burns.
Sylane cleared her throat.
"Right." She said. "Mr. Vesper was foolish enough to use a Mend spell on himself. Yes, the same spell that first-tiers use to reassemble pottery. Mr. Vesper used it to reassemble his ribcage."
The class chortled.
"Yes, it's an easy mistake to make, conflating Mend with Menders, but our Guardian friend here learned firsthand that it's a bit more complicated than that... We'll be performing several procedures on Mr. Vesper this morning, but first, we'll be starting with a Mender's bread and butter, the basic Heal spell. You should have mastered this last year, but a refresher can never hurt."
"Following the basic procedures," She continued, "I'll be describing the spell to the patient before I cast it on him. You need clear and informed consent from your patients before performing any Soulmancy on them. A basic understanding of what is about to be done to them will put most people more at ease. However, note that this is especially true for other Mages. They'll be able to sense your Eros, and it's important that they not be tempted to interfere in any way... for their safety, but also yours.
"Now, then."
Sylane rounded on Thale, looking him directly in the eyes.
"Mr. Vesper, I'll be channeling my Eros into you, through your abdomen. You'll feel a significant chill. I will then begin systematically probing you for injury. If any are found..." she gestured at Thale's exposed chest, "and... there will, I'll begin by casting Heal. A low-level spell that works by returning your body to its base state. As opposed to your Mend attempt, this will simply promote your body's own healing abilities to a supernatural level, not brute force it back together. If Heal is insufficient for your wounds, we'll move on to higher-level spells, but I will consult you before."
She gestured for him to sit on a nearby exam table. He did so.
"Do I have your consent?"
"Yes, professor, please continue," he said, forcing a smile.
Sylane smiled back, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Class," she said, "There will be hands-on practice later in the week, plenty of folks need Menders right now. For now, do your best to observe."
She placed a hand on his Mage Mark. Thale tensed at the sudden contact. From the back of the room, a student whistled. Thale's face managed to flush an even brighter shade of red, causing another bought of poorly concealed laughter to ricochet around the lecture hall.
"None of that, Mr. Murphy. This is a professional examination." Sylane snapped.
Thale flesh seemed to freeze as Sylane's Eros breached his skin. Slowly the thick tendril of magic split into thousands of tiny strands and began venturing around his body. They poked and prodded at the Eros Magnus had gifted him, ensuring it was concentrated in the proper places in his body. They explored the various contusions and burns, leaving small traces of Eros wherever there was a problem that needed attention.
"Deep breath, Mr. Vesper, this is going to sting."
He complied.
"Heal." she incanted.
The icy touch of Sylane's Eros turned to fire.
"Mmmh!" He grunted as a rib was snapped back into its correct position.
"Heal."
Thale clenched his teeth as bones he had fused together separated and reformed. He began to sweat.
"Heal."
This continued for several grueling minutes, and by the end of it, he was completely covered in a clammy sheen of sweat.
"Thank you, Guardian Vesper," Sylane said, wiping her own brow. "You can put your shirt back on now."
She turned back towards the class.
"As an added bonus, you'll now see Infusion. It's a difficult spell currently above your abilities. We'll be covering it in detail next Term... assuming you all continue taking Trials and advance to third-tier."
"Mr. Vesper." She said, turning back to him. "You have overdrawn your Eros, resulting in paralysis. I will be giving you some of my Eros until you can recuperate your own naturally. As you are not acclimated to my Eros signature, any Eros you receive will dissipate over the next few hours. Do you consent?"
"Yes."
"Class, observe."
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"Thank you, Sylane," Thale said after the class ended. "That was amazing."
The majority of his wounds were gone, and those that weren't would heal quickly. He felt like he could finally take in a full breath of air.
"Sorry to spring the demonstration on you, but I don't charge Guardians for healing, so I felt justified." She was busy putting away instruments that had been part of the latter portion of the class.
"I'm not really a Guardian," Thale said.
"You've got the sword of one, that's for sure." She said.
"Yes, but I didn't exactly earn it... People train for decades to become Guardians. There are more trials! I certainly didn't take those."
"And yet," Sylane said, tapping the flat of the Shrive Blade.
"...and yet." Thale agreed.
"Hang in there, Thale. You killed a Soul-Eater. No one else can say that. You deserve to be here. It's just going to take a while for that to sink in."
"Thank you, Sylane. For the healing."
She waved him off.
"Go, Magnus has some sort of abuse scheduled for you. Come back when you need another infusion. I'll turn it into another lesson."
I will. he thought, as he left the classroom, no longer using the sword as a walking stick but carrying it across his shoulder.