Lisbeth

It’s amazing how you can miss food after not eating it for months. To save some time, I just prepare some nutritional potions so that I don’t have to take a break from my work. The body only needs some sugar and fat for energy afterall, then I have a nameless potion that I lovingly call ‘army ration’ so I don’t get sick from malnutrition.

Today however, we celebrate All Hallows’ Day, and the Eastern Endor Academy had prepared a lavish feast in its honor. The normally cold stone corridors were bathed in a warm orange glow from the moss that covers the ceilings. They usually have a white luminescence but interacting with certain spores could trigger a reaction and a temporary change of color. A mass of students excitedly entered the main hall, their spirits high as classes are suspended for two days.

I went with the flow and claimed a seat next to my dorm mates. I don’t like interacting with people but there’s a certain sense of comfort when you’re relaxed and surrounded by your peers. As much as possible, I try not to look like a barbarian as I clean out the food in my area. I may have cheated by giving everyone a slight nudge of 'don't notice me here', as I gobble up one dish after another.

"...those fingers are practically god's gift to women- huh!?" Terry cut off whatever she was saying to her friend once she realized that there's barely any food left on our area. Well it was only a slight nudge so it's easy to break out of the suggestion. I leaned back on my chair and started to doze off.

Terry glared at the guys opposite us, wordlessly accusing them for being greedy. I heard her mumble about ‘being on a diet anyway’ and she let the matter drop. "We're all growing kids, you really shouldn't restrict your food that much." I mumbled a sleepy reply to my roommate.

"Didn't sleep last night?" She asked suggestively.

"Kinda. I was solidifying Runic images in my head." I did that long ago, and I'm becoming a habitual liar. Mostly, I was meditating, scheming, and dealing with PTSD.

Most importantly, I think about how to get more money.

The path of a Mage is an expensive one. Potion and runes for example need high investments but they also have high returns. In my case, I'm planning a few comprehensive research endeavors - not to test for results as I know how they will turn out, but to make sure that the public has concrete facts in which they could base their decisions on.

I can't sleep on the lunch table. "I'm gonna buy some stuff." I marched to the potions department to buy some ingredients. It just so happened that Mike was there as well.

"5 gold for three stalks of Blue Moon Nightshade?!" it wasn't that expensive for most people, especially since most kids who are enrolled here are nobles. Mike looked at the cashier like the guy was asking for one of his kidneys.

I narrowed my eyes and did a quick calculation. Fosse came from commoner family, humans actually, and he did suffer the disadvantages of poverty. For the first few months.

He's relentless if nothing else, and spent all of his allowance on potion ingredients. He sells the finished products Downtown, and there’s no lack of market for it. He should earn a lot of profit of a few folds, and to my knowledge, his family isn't at the point where they need to rely on their acolyte son to sustain them. I believe they don't send him money anymore though, and he's mostly self-sustaining.

There are actually a lot of humans with a potential for magic but they don’t go to Wizarding schools due to lack of talent and resources. Some form tribes and communities in order to practice their magic, away from normal people. Others just integrate themselves amongst common humans, as the extent of their magical capabilities isn’t remarkable enough to prompt them to cling to wizarding ways. They’re sworn to secrecy.

With a relatively large community, and only a small number of people specializing in production, even a student’s products could have a high demand.

There should be a limit on how miserly you are, or so my upbringing tells me. "Maybe you should forage for ingredients instead."

He turned his scowl at me, and for a moment I felt petty bickering with him. I, an old soul, am pestering this kid. I convince myself that he’s a form of entertainment and doubled down on my shamelessness. "How was the game?" he said tersely.

"The Ventians' field controler was brilliant. He turned the whole field in ice. Their opponents used a lot of Imryxian fire potions to counter it." They threw money at their problems.

He adapted an expression that looks down on such spending, but his eyes delighted at the potential demand for fire potions as they’re very easy to make. You hypocrite that only cares about money, who hates Dark Schools now?

His ingredients were ready by the time we finished bickering. Mike grudgingly gave the exact amount but I've never seen him use these materials before, yet they are intimately familiar to me.

On the folds of his robes, I glimpsed part of the newspaper. I remember that Ms. Olminsky was supposed to publish an article of mine on potions. I also sent it to the Potions Guild but they're much slower on processing these things.

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"You've read this morning's papers? The one about potions?" I asked conversationally.

"Yea."

"What do you think about the its effects?" it could help induce a state that could predict certain things, albeit only very near into the future, and only limited to the user's immediate actions. There's also some margin of error, but rarely, it is only on the immediate future after all.

"I... don't think that people are supposed to glimpse at the future, I can see why it was feared but being labelled as 'Dark' is too much. Looking at it another way, it only lets us access the cause and effect of things related to us. It's possible that we know the future already, only subconsciously. I mean we sometimes dream of things that will probably happen because of the crap we do... I don't know, it's..."

"It's a fate that's originally yours anyway."

Be less of a bigot, please. Also, "you're holding up the line."

He was reminded of my usual arrogance and said, "But you're the one who asked me if - nevermind." Mike left in a huff. I felt pleased with myself, different from this morning's depression.

"Has my Orichalcum and Kyrrad arrived?" I asked. Strictly speaking, it's not a potions ingredient but I discovered recently that if this place gets delivery, why not include my orders?

I plan to have someone make these into weapons for me, and I'll infuse it with runes. Some, I'll auction in the Black Market. So much to do, so little war funds. I don’t expect to use them soon as

"The Kyrrad arrived last night, Miss. The Orichalcum ran out of stock but your request was forwarded to the Main Branch. Unfortunately, it might be another month before you can get some. There’s a long list of buyers and they’re not accepting advance payments anymore."

Sighing, “It’s alright, I understand.”

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Night fell, and I didn’t bother to be Mr. Danton to disguise myself. I wore a black cloak and a bronze mask that looked like a reptile. It was far from the center of the city, an area that no one lives in anymore. I made sure that there wasn’t anyone present and I wandered the streets slowly, quietly.

The houses were low and old. They were made of mud and bricks, and facing the same natural elements gave them all a similar dreary coloring. The night air was cold and foggy. The stone pavement before me gradually turned less and less visible the farther I walked.

It was a small area but I could no longer tell what direction I was facing, or where I’m going. My heart beat steadily and there were illusory undulation in the fog, in time with my heartbeat. My footsteps unconsciously followed a strange rhythm. In the back of my mind, I felt the stone pavement beneath my feat change into soil, into old wood.

“Show yourself.” I heard a distant and familiar voice. Raising my head, I realized that I was at the entrance of a small room with an altar at the other end. There was a child sitting at the stairs, looking at me with her dark, red-tinted eyes. She was the one who spoke.

“I’m here.” I gently replied, slowly but surely making my way to her. She looked miserable. Her parents were missing, presumably dead, and now she’s forced to hold the tile of ‘Countess of Dasom’ while ceding all the actual powers to some hateful relatives. I stopped a few paces away from her and took off my mask, and then I awkwardly opened my arms. “It’s alright, come here.”

She thinned her lips but I knew that she wanted a hug but was too prideful to say so. In her stead, I made the request, “Please? I want a hug.”

“…alright.”

She stood up and dusted her clothes. The moment she rose, her body stretched and rapidly aged. I was caught off guard when a hag leapt at my exposed throat.

My senses flared and I tried to step back but it was too late. Her strong hand was around my neck and I frantically tried to pry it away. Her hands lacked the elasticity of youth and they felt like smooth plastic. The long nails were biting at my skin.

Her grey hair was muddling my vision but I could still see the crazed glint from her eyes, and the evil smirk that revealed yellowed teeth. “You-!!” I choked.

She pulled out a dagger from her other hand and I loosened one of my own hands to meet it. A stab came at me and I moved to catch her hand, but she changed the angle so the blade sunk into my palm. “Ugh!”

I reigned in my disgust as I sank my teeth on her unpleasant hands. It wasn’t enough so I gave her a kick that finally made her let go of my neck, and dislodged the knife from my palm.

Pressure built on my head as I forcefully stopped a coughing fit and urged my injured right hand to form some symbols in the air. I willed the dust motes to form a rune, taking advantage of my injury to add sacrificial elements to it. The air churned and wind blades rushed crazily to the hag.

She cackled and merely met the sharp air head on. I gritted my teeth and redirected the attack to the side of the room, leaving her mostly unharmed but for a thin line on her cheek. A few moments later, the line darkened and turned red. Blood oozed out from it; however, she paid it no mind and grinned instead.

I coughed and croaked, “What do you want!?”

“What do you want?” She echoed in a grating voice.

Forcing myself to calm down, I tried to restore my calm. “I wish for justice. I want to save myself and my people.”

“HAHAHAHA!!!” The hag burst out laughing, “There’s only the two of us, you might as well say what you really want!”

My heart leapt and I didn’t know why, “That is the future I’m working for…!” a harsh, insistent whisper.

“You killed yourself when you lost what’s important to you.” She gleefully crooned, “There were so many that you could have saved still, so much that you could have done.”

I felt myself weaken as my shame was laid out in the open. “It’s different now.”

Her face turned serious and she stared at me in silence. “You let yourself be swayed by the circumstances that you find yourself in?” Her voice became less grating, it sounded more like a strict, middle-aged woman. “Had you woken up in a world where your loved ones didn’t exist, but the future is still headed on a similar fate, would you be working so desperately now?”

“I… would hide myself and let those morons from the administration drive everyone to hell. People are sheep! They can’t even muster up the courage to admit reality sometimes! They make so many excuses and brainwash themselves that everything is just fine! What peace treaty, what compromise?”

I sobbed, and rambled “The conservative party led us all to hell with their bullshit diplomacy. And I believed them too, at first. We were all at fault. Now everyone’s alive again, they’ve returned to me…”

The hag listened to me in silence as I talked about the past life, where the wizarding society didn’t pull its shit together and gave a very sorry resistance from invasion. Indeed, to conquer the earth, one must conquer oneself.

“What do you really want?” she asked again, pointing a knife to my heart.

“…satisfaction” against my enemies. I clasped the knife-bearing hand and aided its aim to my heart. I pulled it in and the blade sank deep into my chest.

The hag laughed and I heard her say “Justice and revenge may not be mutually exclusive”, the voice transforming as it eventually resembled mine.

I was left alone in the room. I didn’t have any wound on my palm or on my chest. “Until next year, Shadow.” I felt blood trickle down my cheek.