It was night on the island. A sliver of moon just barely outlined the distant waves in one direction and trees in the other; closer objects were illuminated by the fierce orange of a large bonfire built on the sand.

Talbot stood with his back to the flames, gazing out over the ocean (sunglasses even at night, apparently), his externalised spell tugging at his hair and clothing as usual. He hadn’t seen us.

“Hey!” Kylie called.

He jumped. “Oh. You came.” He gestured at something behind the bonfire. “I just made some tea. Would you like some?”

A few minutes later, we were settled around the fire, little cups of tea in hand. Talbot plucked a stick from a nearby woodpile and tossed it into the flames. “Two witches,” he said.

“Uh, yeah.”

“In one year. From the same continent. Both fourteen?”

We looked at each other.

“Is… that bad?” I asked. “Should we be worried?”

“Well, no; coincidences are bound to happen occasionally. Some people get struck with lightning, some people win the lottery, and some witches go to school together. I bet you’re already causing headaches for the establishment, aren’t you? Have you found out about the spells yet?”

“You mean about how curses are spells?”

“It’s more accurate, I think, to say that spells are curses.” Talbot sipped his tea. “They’ve taken a wild thing and tried to tame it, which is a hundred times more foolish than wrangling a wild curse.”

“Our friend Max called spells ‘domesticated’.”

“Ha! Domesticated, from domus – ‘of the home’. Curses have always been domestic; they are rarely tame. In my experience, anyway. And what will you do now?”

“Wait a second,” Kyllie said, “are you saying we shouldn’t do the initiation?”

“I don’t know what you should do; I’m not in your situation. I was curious about what you’re going to do.”

“You went through the initiation,” I pointed out.

“I did.”

“Well then. Do you regret it?”

“No. Of the options available to me at the time, it was the best one.”

“Well, it’s the best one for me, too,” I said.

“So long as you’re sure.”

I glanced at Kylie, expecting her to agree about her curse, but she wasn’t responding. She was staring into the fire, unmoving.

“Kylie?” I asked.

She just stared. Was she breathing?

“Kylie!” I shook he shoulder. She jumped.

“What did it say?” she asked.

“What did what say? Are you alright? Do you need to go tot he medical ward?”

“The Evil Eye. What did it say?”

“Nothing. You just stared at the fire and went all weird.”

She relaxed. “A false alarm, then. It happens sometimes.”

“So… it nearly predicted something that it turns out isn’t going to happen, or something bad is going to happen, and it won’t tell us?”

“Wait,” Talbot said, “you have a prophecy that tells the future?”

“Um, yes?”

“In words?”

“Yes?”

“Predictive or proscriptive?”

“What?”

“Does it predict what’s going to happen and tell you, or proscribe a given future and use magic to make it happen?”

“Predictive,” I said at the same moment that Kylie said, “proscriptive.” We looked at each other.

“We don’t know,” Kylie admitted.

“That’s fair enough. A lot of people don’t. Speaking prophecies are incredibly rare these days; it’d have to be a family curse, right? One inherited from a dead relative?”

“I don’t think so. Nobody had any idea what my curse was until it started prophesying; no one else in the family ever had it.”

“Oh. So you’re very lucky then, I suppose.”

Kylie crossed her arms. “It’s not lucky,” she mumbled.

“What is it you do?” I asked, to pull the attention off Kylie.

“I make excellent tea, for one thing.” Talbot refilled his cup from the teapot, then leaned over the bonfire to refill ours. The flames under his arm danced bright blue as his externalised spell whipped forward and tugged, annoyingly, at my sleeve. I tried not to flinch from the flames, the spell, or the hot liquid; the last thing I wanted to do was spill tea all over myself, like an idiot.

I sipped the tea. I’d have to take his word that it was excellent. What was I, a tea connoisseur? Tea was tea.

“I’m also pretty good at swimming,” he continued with a grin. Daring me to clarify that I’d meant about his curse. I didn’t. I skimmed my gaze over his visible skin, looking for a witch mark, then realised I was doing exactly what I hated people doing to me, and stopped.

He took pity on me. “It’s a change spell. Yours?”

“Evocation. How do you control it?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I can’t. Kylie’s warns us when someone’s in danger – ”

“It puts people in danger.”

“ – although she insists it puts people in danger, which I don’t think makes sense but either way, that’s not helpful to me. Alania Miratova’s supposed to help me figure this out, but she’s in hospital. I guess, well, if you have a curse, too – ”

“That they might be similar? That how mine works might be how yours works? Unlikely.”

“Can we be sure, though?”

“Kayden, my curse is almost always active. I’ve never needed to trigger it. My biggest problem has always been holding it back.”

I nodded. “I spent most of my life holding mine back, too. But now I’m here, and if I can control it, well… but it never does anything when I want it to!” That wasn’t entirely true, of course – both times it had activated, I had wanted it to. But it usually didn’t do anything when I wanted it to.

“I can’t help you. Some of your teachers might be able to help you – might – but I doubt it. Ditto for your classmates after their Initiations. I’m sure Alania Miratova’s extensive knowledge of magical theory will be helpful for you, but she doesn’t have the practical experience you’re looking for, either.”

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“What do you mean? It’s her job to help us. She said she could. Didn’t she help you?”

“I’ve never actually met her. My former master taught me control. I’m sure she knows her stuff, and what she knows will help you, but the thing about mages is that most of them have very controllable spells, designed to be cast through acts of will or very simple, voluntary steps. The kinds of spells that explode randomly or eat their hosts alive don’t make it into the Pit for Initiation, for obvious reasons. So you might have to do a bit of searching to find someone with the same problems that you have. Do you have any idea of what triggers it?”

“I have it when I need it, when my adrenaline’s really up. But only sometimes.”

“Well, that’s a start. Not ideal, but control tends to improve with practice, for people like us.”

“I can’t get practice if it won’t cast!”

“If you force it, it could put you in hospital. Has it put you in hospital yet?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Kylie corrected. “Twice.”

“Okay, yes, twice. But not because of the curse. That was just me being clumsy.”

“Also you nearly knocked yourself out on that bed forcefield.”

“I didn’t nearly knock myself out; it was just a little tap. And the curse didn’t cast, so that doesn’t count.”

“Does it make you feel hot at all?” Talbot asked. “Dizzy? Play with your senses?”

“I guess,” I said. “When it’s worked, there’s kind of a lot going on, so it’s hard to be sure. But I do get swamped by dizziness afterward. I passed out once, but that might have been from the fire.”

“What fire? No, don’t bother; it doesn’t matter. A curse playing with your body temperature and blood pressure is a common side effect of a curse casting, but being held in; the energy surges through your body and plays havoc with your internal feedback systems. I only bring it up because if this does happen to you, that’s the number one thing you should be worried about. Most mages don’t think about this much, because it’s a skill you learn with experience, to minimise the danger of casting. Most mages, by the time they learn how to do it properly, know what they’re doing, and if it’s difficult for them they will have a fetish or familiar to help. But for people like us, we work at holding our curse in as soon as we learn we have it, sometimes before it even does anything. If you’re skilled at this, the most important thing for you to learn is how to not do it. Forget trying to cast the spell intentionally. Forget trying to make it do anything. Learn to stop internalising the energy when it’s roused, because if you manage to cast and shape it properly and you’re holding it within your skin… well, some pretty horrible things can happen.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like, oh, setting yourself on fire or exploding all your internal organs at once or crushing your entire body down to the size of a dollar coin, depending on what your spell does. If you’re very close to a very good hospital at the time, and very lucky with your spell’s action, you might survive. But the recovery is brutal.”

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“Who said anything happened to me?” he replied, unconvincingly.

“You just seemed to know a lot about it, is all.”

“Yes, well, we all have to be aware of the dangers. When I was asking around trying to find you, somebody said something about a lab accident?”

“That wasn’t us,” Kylie and I said together.

“Okay.”

“You said you’d never met Instruktanto Miratova,” Kylie said.

“No, but I still hear things.”

“I mean, why haven’t you met her? She teaches higher year levels too, right?”

“It’s a very big school. I haven’t had classes with every teacher. One of my friends has her, although apparently he has some substitute right now.”

“The Fiore?” I asked.

“I have no idea who that is.”

“Tall man, looks like a Disney villain, has a cat familiar?”

“You just described six people I know and none of them are called Fiore. Why, do you need to know something about him?”

“Not really. It’s just that he’s apparently involved in this epic rivalry with Miratova. I like Miratova.”

“Oh. In my experience, the only people who have pettier and more dramatic rivalries than mages, are scientists. Scientist mages compound the pettiness and drama of both. If I were you I’d stay out of it. Is Miratova roping you into her battles?”

“No. I just know the Fiore’s nephew.”

“Oh, legacy mages? He might seem like your friend, but those people – ”

“He’s not. He’s a dick.”

“Oh.” Talbot relaxed. “I’ve found it best to avoid legacy mages altogether. Some of them are very good at appearing a lot friendlier and more trustworthy than they are, but they’re taught to treat other people as pawns and they will do so.”

“That’s a bit of a generalisation,” I protested. “You can’t say everyone is one way just because of the family they were born into.”

“No, but the ones trained by their families to come here sure are. Did one of them get under your skin?”

“Under my skin?” I glanced at Kylie, expecting her to leap to Max’s defense, but she was staring, unmoving, into the flames again. I jostled her arm. “Kylie! You okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” She shook herself.

“I’ve never seen this false alarm before and now you’re spacing out everywhere. What gives?”

“It’s probably the fire,” Talbot said. “Traditionally, most prophets activate their spells through staring into flames, or still water, or a mirror. Something like that. If you want to avoid bringing yours out for no reason, don’t stare into fires.”

Kylie nodded, and looked away from the flames.

“See, nobody tells us stuff like that!” I said. “Our surveyanto never said anything like that. Miratova – well, she probably will when she’s out of hospital, but that doesn’t help us right now.”

“My advice basically stops at ‘don’t die’, ‘stay out of politics’ and ‘keep prophets away from fires’, sorry.”

“Well, at least one of those things was new information.”

“Two,” Kylie said. “‘Don’t die’ never seems to sink in with you.”

“For your information I have died exactly zero times.”

“Unless there are any other immediate questions,” Talbot said, “I have class in about fifteen minutes. We should do this again another time.” He stood up, extended his hands over the fire, and the flames immediately began to die down. When the bonfire was nothing but glowing coals, he kicked sand over it, said “good luck,” and left.

Then Kylie got up to extinguish the coals properly while I collected the tea things and tried to figure out where to put them. A few minutes later, fire properly extinguished and teapot dumped back on the sand, we let the moonlight guide us to the dark cave mouth back home, and stepped through together.

We were halfway through when I wondered, why is it so dark? The tunnel should be lit.

And then we walked out into a vast, wide open space, the clouds moved and the bright moon lit the landscape, and that’s when I realised we were in serious trouble.

Because this was not the tight buried halls of Skolala Refujeyo.

We stood in a desert. Already, the chill of the desert night air was seeping into my bones. We’d passed through some kind of stone arch, and there were a lot more around, forming a massive circle around what I could only describe as a stone palace, heavily weatherd but very much intact, standing perhaps two city blocks away from us. Part of it had been buried by a sand dune. It was hexagonal in shape, and at least five stories high – no, looking at the doors and windows, it was more like three stories, but each story must have an absurdly high roof. From the centre rose a tall tower, dotted with windows.

I glanced at Kylie, but she wasn’t beside me any more. She was walking forward, apparently unphased, at the same steady pace as we’d entered the tunnel, as if the thick, loose sand wasn’t bothering her at all.

I rushed forward to keep up. “Kylie! Where are we? Do you recognise that place?”

“We aren’t here yet,” the Evil Eye announced.

“What?”

“We aren’t here yet.”

With one hand, I scrabbled at my tablet, hitting the record function. With the other, I grabbed Kylie’s wrist and tugged her back towards the portal. She didn’t resist.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ve about reached my weirdness limit for the night. If we can’t get back into the school, we’ll find Mae and Terry’s cabin on the island and spend the night there. Someone will come looking for us tomorrow.” I pulled her back through the arch, but of course, there was no portal there now. Of course.

“Well,” I announced to the world, “I don’t know why I’m surprised! Why would I ever expect anything here to stay in the same place for more than ten seconds? Why would anything ever happen to make something easy?” Above, the sky darkened as another thick cloud obscured the moon. “Oh, yeah; that’s about typical. Why not add more factors to help us get even more lost. Thanks, universe! ‘Oh, no, there’s an enormous landmark behind you; better cover that up!’” I turned the light on on my tablet and shined it into Kylie’s face. Her pupils didn’t react to the light at all. “Kylie, can you come back, please? It’s less pathetic if we freak out together. Surely you have some kind of idea, or…”

“We aren’t here yet.”

I hesitated. Spells, I knew, weren’t actually intelligent, but some could give an approximation of it. And the Evil Eye’s job was to know things. And it could speak. “Well, Evil Eye, do you have any advice for this situation?”

It turned to face the now-invisible palace and announced,

“In a time that’s mostly been, a Hero dreamed a thousand dreams.

A goal, a wish upon a star, a kiss blown to travel far.

In a time that’s partly been, a Child screams a thousand screams.

Imprisoned in the buried heart it pushes, presses, tries to start.

In a time that’s not yet been, the Hero dies, the Child freed.

Breaks mirrors, chains, and crushes pearls, to rise from the top of the world.”

“Uh… thanks,” I said. “That’s… really helpful.”

Then Kylie raised a hand to shield herself from the light I was still carelessly shining into her face, and stumbled back.

“What happened?! Where are we?!”

“Hey, hey; calm down. Don’t freak out.”

“Don’t freak out?! Where the fucking hell ARE we, Kayden??”

“Well, the good news is that I also have no idea, so at least we’re in the same boat.”

“Are we? Are we?? Because I’m cold and confused and can’t see a fucking thing!”

“It’s pretty dark out here, isn’t it?”

“Is it? And here I thought it was because I woke up to some arsehole shining a bright light into my eyes!”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t – ” but something had just occurred to me.

It was pretty dark, wasn’t it?

The moon had gone behind a cloud, but we were in the desert. How thick were clouds in the desert, usually?

Where were the stars?

What was that noise growing behind us?

I turned my light up to maximum and scanned the area. Even without a proper torch, I could see the grainy fog behind us. I could hear the howling, feel a few grains of sand scratch at my skin.

“We need shelter!” I yelled, grabbing Kylie’s arm and pulling her forward, towards the palace, as behind us, the dust storm grew closer.