Chapter 13 Upheaval

Cassian stood shirtless in Professor Thorne's austere classroom, feeling the cold metal of the odd handheld implement against his skin. If he had something to compare it to, it would be a cross between a sonogram gun and an arcane pistol from Men in Black.

The classroom was devoid of unnecessary decoration, with only a few ancient tomes and artifacts meticulously arranged on the shelves. And accented, of course, with the occasional skull. Thorne was just finishing applying the device to the last area on his body—just below Cassian's navel—where he made disturbingly meticulous circles that made him want to shower immediately.

Thorne's usual grouchy and overbearing demeanor had been tempered by his intense curiosity. His eyes were scrunched up in deep thought as he worked.

When Thorne finally finished, he stored the implement carefully in an ornate box and reshelved it without saying a word.

"Can I put on my shirt now?" Cassian asked.

Thorne seemed distracted, but Cassian's question snapped him out of his reverie. "Oh, yes. We're finished now," he said, almost absentmindedly.

Cassian quickly put on his shirt, grateful to cover himself again. He watched as Thorne pulled out a grimoire and began recording information in it.

Then just ignored Cassian, the only sound in the room, the scratching of pen on paper.

After what felt like an eternity, Cassian cleared his throat and broke the silence. "Did you…find something, professor?"

Thorne put down his pen, sighing deeply at being interrupted. Then he glared at Cassian as he explained.. "You do not, in fact, have a familiar contract. It is just as it was with Professor Lyra. Neither of you show signs of a tether of any kind. Identifying such a connection is exceedingly difficult.” He smiled derisively. “But not for me.

“I was hoping that I would discover something in you. While there is no evidence of a familiar bond that I can see, both Professor Lyra’s and your description of the connection is not dissimilar to the bond shared between familiar and master. Albeit, there are differences. Namely, your ability to use her skills. My familiar, for example, can only use its inherent abilities and, to a certain degree, cast my spells from a distance.”

Cassian thought about the implications. Would he be able to use the abilities of any familiar he gained?

Thorne continued, "One more thing. As you know, everyone has a mana pool. It can be sensed or observed in several different ways, but my implement allows for a closer look.”

“What did you find?”

“Your mana pool is quite small."

Cassian felt a pang of disappointment. But it wasn’t like he expected any more. He’d already guessed as much with how difficult casting even a simple light spell had been. "Does that mean that I have a low potential for magic or something?"

"As a matter of fact, it does," Thorne answered bluntly.

How reassuring, Cassian thought.

"So then where do my new healing abilities come from? It has to be Professor Lyra, right?"

"Yes and no," Thorne said, raising a hand to forestall any further interruptions. "I wasn't finished. Please keep silent, Mr. Varn."

Cassian nodded, biting back any further questions.

"While your own mana pool is small, that is not the end of the story. Your mana pool is growing. This is, by itself, not unusual. All mages' mana pools grow with time, effort, and practice. Of course most are born with pools ten or twenty times the size of yours. However, your mana pool is growing at an accelerated rate. In fact, while I was studying it, I could see it grow before my very eyes. Something akin to watching someone’s hair and nails grow. The rate of your growth is at least two or three times the standard curve, if not higher."

Thorne tilted his head as if expecting Cassian to interject, but Cassian knew better and said nothing. This seemed to please Thorne.

"Upon further investigation, I discovered that you have, in effect, a second mana pool enveloping yours. Either it is an exact copy of Professor Lyra's, or it is, in fact, hers. The answer would require further study, and I would need Professor Lyra present. A pity she felt the need to leave."

Cassian's concern deepened. "Is this... bad? Will it hurt Lyra, or myself?" he asked, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice.

"On the contrary. Your mana pool seems to be growing into the one enveloping it. Should this continue, I expect you will soon have a mana pool comparable to Professor Lyra’s own. What happens if you exceed it, I could not say. Perhaps the bond you share would break on its own.”

"How long will that take?" Cassian asked, feeling a mixture of hope and apprehension.

Thorne opened his mouth to say something, then stopped short. "I haven't the slightest idea. Your growth, while abnormal, was a bit sporadic. Like a tachycardic heart.”

That imagery was somewhat disturbing.

Then the professor leaned forward in his chair. “What on earth did you do to create this bond? Professor Lyra was unwilling to disclose that detail."

Cassian turned red, avoiding Thorne's gaze. "I... would rather defer to Professor Lyra's wisdom, and not say."

Thorne threw his hands up in the air. "As if I can help any of you without all the facts. At any rate, I would like to consult some of my texts on ancient magic. Without a doubt, Old Magic is involved, as I explained to Professor Lyra."

In the end, there was nothing else to do. Professor Thorne recommended that Cassian bond a familiar the traditional way at the first opportunity, to see if there would be any clue in the bond forged there.

"Very well, Mr. Varn. You're dismissed," Thorne said, his tone suddenly brusque. "Don't waste any more of my time."

Cassian observed that Thorne's abruptness seemed like an act. Apparently, even Thorne had a reputation to uphold.

When Cassian left Professor Thorne's office, Isolde was waiting for him. She had already submitted the proper documents to Thorne regarding the expedition, and they were both scheduled to attend an orientation meeting by the end of the week.

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"What were you and Professor Thorne talking about? You were in there for a really long time," Isolde asked.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," Cassian replied.

"I was too excited to just be on my own. I thought we could go on a walk before classes start. You've barely attended classes with me since you started training with Althea. So I thought maybe we could do something."

Cassian agreed, and they walked to a nearby coffee shop. The shop was cozy, with soft lighting and the rich aroma of coffee beans filling the air. They found a quiet corner and ordered their drinks. As they settled in, they made small talk about their classes and upcoming orientation.

After a while, Cassian broached the subject that had been on his mind. "You clearly looked like you knew what you were doing during that combat exercise. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Isolde blushed and looked down at her drink. "Training was a normal part of growing up for me. My father learned the Seraphian combat style since he was a child, and so I did as well. It's been a tradition for many generations. It's a tribute to our heritage, even if Eldarans hate Seraphians."

Cassian smiled gently. "I don't hate Seraphians."

Isolde’s blush deepened. "I know. It’s almost like you don’t see that part of me when you look at me. And that's why I... " She hesitated, almost confessing her affection for him, but held back.

Cassian noticed her hesitation but didn’t push her to finish her thought. Instead, he let himself enjoy how cute she looked at that moment. And is it my imagination, or is there an extra button open on her blouse today?

He sighed. Maybe he should get his “I have sex and forge a mysterious bond that even stumps the premier scholar on the subject” situation fixed before he indulged in any of those kinds of thoughts.

After parting ways with Isolde, Cassian headed to Althea’s classroom. When he arrived, an aide greeted him at the door.

"Mr. Varn," the aide said, "Professor Althea asked me to tell you that she is delayed and asks that you return in two hours."

Cassian nodded, slightly annoyed at the change in plans. "Thank you," he replied.

He considered his options. He could attend his scheduled class, but the History of Magic with Professor Drexler was notoriously dull. The professor's monotone and soft-spoken lectures made it hard to stay awake, let alone learn anything. He learned more reading the textbook on his own, than sleeping in class.

Deciding to make better use of his time, Cassian opted to check out the new Nature Magic professor who had taken Lyra's place. He crossed the campus and entered the classroom, surprised to find it more packed than he had expected. It seemed an unusual number of students were “checking out the new teach.”

It didn't take a wizard to understand why. Professor Miriam Marielle was stunning. Her movements were graceful, her speech melodic, her body alluring, and her lesson captivating. At first, Cassian listened attentively as she lectured on certain principles of Nature Magic. She explained how all living things have slightly variable mana and how subtle application of one’s own could manipulate this mana, reshape it, heal it, and even cause grievous harm. To illustrate, she repeatedly grew and withered flowers, encouraging students to open their senses to feel the nuances in the magic.

Cassian tried to focus, but his mind began to wander. He found himself imagining being lost in her lips, biting her neck, pressing against her, tearing open that shift of a dress, kissing every part of her. Taking hold of the flower between her legs and sipping on the nectar of…

Suddenly, a jolt ran through him, like brushing against a live wire. The professor's face and body blurred, as if two pictures were superimposed on one another. Cassian blinked and rubbed his eyes, but nothing else in the room blurred—only her.

His arousal vanished, and he couldn’t understand where it had come from in the first place. He had the vague sensation that he’d felt this magic before but couldn’t quite place it.

Then just as suddenly as it had come, the professor’s double image fixed itself, as if it had never been there. A quick inspection around the room revealed that no one else had noticed anything amiss. Now that his head was clear, he realized his arousal had been unnatural, something like a compulsion.

Had the professor cast a spell on the classroom? Was it part of the lesson, perhaps?

He couldn't tell for sure, but he didn’t think so. However, Lyra had taught this class and been a faun—a species of fey. Maybe this professor was also a magic creature of some kind, and this was simply part of her nature? Whatever the case, now that he wasn’t charmed, he felt uncomfortable in her presence. It was like hearing a constant buzzing or feeling a persistent rubbing on his skin. It wasn’t a big deal at first, but over time...

Cassian quietly snuck out when the professor wasn’t looking, and immediately another student took his place. He headed to Professor Althea’s room. At worst, he’d be waiting alone for a while, but anything was better than staying in that

When Cassian arrived at Professor Althea’s classroom, the door was open and there were already a number of students inside. He stepped through the doorway, and the smell of alcohol and some kind of preservative chemical struck his nose as if a swarm of angry hornets, after their hive got kicked, had all decided to stuff up his nose for revenge.

Althea looked up from her place leaning over a silver table and waved him over. Her tone was light, at least she didn’t seem upset that he was late. “Mr. Varn, join us. I thought it would take longer to procure these cadavers. No need to tremble in your loafers, you aren’t late. Grab a spot over there.”

Cassian approached and saw a number of torsos and severed limbs arranged on the long silver table. Each cadaver bore various wounds: some had gaping gashes that exposed bone and sinew, others showed deep puncture wounds, and several had severe burns that left the flesh charred and blackened. He learned they were adventurers who had perished in the field but were recovered and sold to the academy. Presumably, the money went to the families. Cassian rolled his eyes at the thought.

The students were taking turns injecting various gross-colored liquids into the flesh. Then, the student’s partner would invoke a spell to draw out the poison and deposit it in the corresponding colored cup.

Cassian was partnered with a black beardless dwarf who looked like a bodybuilder. His white apron stretched to such a degree that Cassian was sure it would tear at the seams with any sudden movement, or, gods forbid, a sneeze. Cassian’s own apron was too big for him, and he felt suddenly insecure. He hadn’t done much weight training during his time in Sonaris. Except for the occasional jog, that was the extent of his exercise. As a result, he was a bit fluffier than he would have liked, lacking any real muscle definition. He couldn’t help but feel envious of Rufarill’s bulging muscles.

Rufarill, that was the burly dwarf’s name, went first in poking their cadaver part—what looked like a bicep and shoulder, ironically also more muscular than Cassian’s own.

“Rufarill, I think I’d like you to teach me, Master.” Cassian pointed at his bicep then flexed his own. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”

The dwarf exploded with a barking laugh that disturbed everyone’s focus and earned their station a caustic glare from Althea.

Thoroughly chastised, the dwarf whispered, “If you wish for me to teach you the way of the iron fist…” He flexed a bicep. Cassian swore he heard the fabric screech in pain. “Aye, then Rufarill of the Great Rooster clan will take you under his wing.”

Cassian’s manner of dealing with poisons was a bit different than the other healers. His magic obliterated the poison, turning it into harmless agents the body could dispose of on its own. It was well known by now that Cassian’s magic was different by nature—no pun intended—such that no one remarked on it now.

“Great Rooster clan? That doesn’t sound particularly dwarvish.”

“Aye, it doesn’t. Until you learn the truth. That the Rooster in our name has nothing to do with farm animals.” The dwarf wagged his eyebrows and looked down, then rolled his hips in a suggestive fashion. “I can show you if you’re curious to bear witness to…”

“I’m good, thanks. Though I’m serious about the weight training.”

After the fourth or fifth round of clearing poisons, there was an alarming knock on the door—which someone had closed after Cassian’s arrival. It was the kind that said, open up, there’s an emergency. And when the door opened there was no doubt.

The messenger, sweaty from running and out of breath, burst through the door, his face pale with urgency. “The headmaster’s been hurt. Althea, you need to—”

But the Celestial professor was already pushing past the young messenger. A message didn’t come like this unless it was a serious matter.

The remaining students exchanged worried looks, at a loss for what to do.

Cassian was the first to say something, despite being a first year and the youngest student. “We should clean up here. I don’t think the professor will be coming back any time soon.”