A week after meeting with Doctor Shivala, Juniper finally felt like she’d gotten a grip on things.
At first, she’d grumbled and complained at the idea of taking it slower. She didn’t have the time to take it slower. It was only when she’d stumbled into Varis at the library again, ruining her mood and destroying any semblance of concentration that she decided to take a break and do something fun.
There wasn’t much to do on the Academy grounds–the tournament was still going on, but watching other people wallop each other with magic wasn’t Juniper’s idea of prime entertainment.
Going into the city was an option, but Juniper wasn’t keen on spending two hours just to get there and back.
Which left the forests around the Academy, and that was where Juniper discovered her new hobby.
As she’d previously discovered on her trip to Ebonfell, running fast was fun.
Running fast through difficult terrain, climbing rocks and jumping over rivers? Juniper’s best time in years. Enough that she decided this would be a regular occurrence. Maybe not every day, but at least every two or three.
Worst of all, her new workout brought about benefits. Her mind was clearer than ever, and she could pack more information into her study sessions.
Juniper had to admit that the thought healer knew her shit.
The notes had kept coming–she was up to six, and they seemed to be coming more slowly–and Juniper still felt like she was being watched from time to time, but it didn’t bother her as much.
She’d gotten stuck on the doctor’s idea–if someone from Cassia had noticed her, then that meant she now had another chance to leave Esanys. For that chance alone she would put up with anything.
Juniper would have loved to see a diviner about the notes and figure out what their deal was once and for all, but it came down to Juniper’s eternal problem.
She didn’t have the coin for it. Diviners were highly sought after, even more than thought healers, whose stigma around their services meant they weren’t always in high demand. Diviners, however, offended no sensibilities, and as such were always booked until eternity and beyond.
All she could do now was to wait and see, so wait and see she would.
Though, Juniper thought, I really hope the seeing part comes soon.
***
“Miss Lorn! Just a moment, please,” the assistant on duty called out as Juniper entered the dorm one evening.
“Is something the matter?” she asked as she headed to the assistant’s desk.
“Nothing to worry about.” He shuffled through a drawer before retrieving a yellowed envelope before offering it to her with a smile. “Mail for you.”
Juniper’s eyebrows rose slightly–she wasn’t expecting any mail. A feeling of dread surfaced, and Juniper dearly hoped she wouldn’t find a blank card inside. If she did, she was going to break something.
She accepted the mail with a thanks and a nod, which the assistant acknowledged with his own. “Already the second time this month, is it not? You must be getting popular.”
Indeed, she’d already received the matron’s letter–and the… other one–earlier in the month. She quickly scanned the envelope for a sender, frowning as she read the familiar name.
She gave the assistant a half-hearted shrug. “Maybe. Have a pleasant night.”
“You too,” he said, but Juniper had already put him out of his mind.
She passed the corner, and the feeling of dread mounted, though she no longer feared a blank note. She ripped open the envelope, revealing a brief letter, its script messier than usual.
Dear Juniper,
I did not think I would write to you again so soon, but recent events have conspired for me to become the bringer of terrible news.
I am sorry to inform you that your good friends, the twins Adar and Hester Ward have passed away.
The circumstances of their deaths were not made clear to me, but in Hester’s last letter to me, she suggested she and her brother had been about to embark on an ambitious assignment for the House of Ravens.
I cannot say for certain that the two were related, but my intuition has never steered me wrong. I know you have had your own dealings with the Ravens, and I can only urge you to be cautious. My heart cannot take another of your cohort perishing.
Paratha Kavelith will be hosting a memorial at her house at 21 Low Hillside Road, on the 11th of Sunfire. I understand that your studies may prevent you from attending, but you are welcome to attend in any case.
And lastly, Juniper, I feel that I must warn you–do not do something stupid.
Stay well,
Amara ad Kestram
Tears began to well up in Juniper’s eyes as a vast numbness threatened to engulf her. Hester and Adar… Juniper had been bad at staying in touch with her friends from the orphanage–just a letter or two, over the past two years. Her studies at the Academy and their irregular schedules owing to the Ravens had made it nigh impossible for them to meet up, and their relationship had fallen by the wayside.
And it was now gone, forever.
Growing up, they’d been among her closest friends–and she had precious few. Certainly not Paratha, with whom the twins were close, but who Juniper was surprised to see would extend an invitation to her, even if only for the memorial.
Adar and Hester, dead. Juniper felt bile at the back of her throat. It was just like the House of Ravens to get them killed. Never content with what they had, always reaching for more, spending lives like coin to get there.
Worst of all, the House of Ravens owned them all–the forgotten and the downtrodden. It had been a stroke of genius, whoever had come up with the idea. Raise orphanages, invest in the unwanted children, then milk them for all their worth once they were grown.
And now, it had been Adar and Hester who’d paid the price. They weren’t even the first, though they were the ones Juniper thought the most likely to reach an old age–always smart, and careful.
Though, apparently, not careful enough.
Juniper let out a bitter laugh at the Matron’s last thoughts. She knew Juniper better than most, of her propensity to throw caution to the wind and damn the consequences. But her warning was unnecessary. The House of Ravens already owned her more deeply than any other. She couldn’t act against them even if she wanted.
At least she could probably attend the memorial. Juniper counted the days–today was the 2nd, so the 11th was the Sunday after the next.
Juniper didn’t realize when she’d curled up into a ball in the dorm hallway, but when her tears dried up and she finally came back to reality, she was thankful the dorm was mostly empty. Rubbing her eyes, she made her way to her room and sat down in a corner, levitating her Gravitational Principles book over with an effort of Will.
If she wanted to escape the clutches of the House of Ravens, and maybe avenge her friends one day… then she had only one chance.
***
“It was great!” Evie exclaimed as she and Juniper made their way to Herblore. Evie had returned late during the previous night, just in time for the classes to resume. “Best two weeks of my life. I saw a spotted tiger–with cubs. Do you have any idea how cute spotted tiger cubs are?”
Juniper smiled wryly. “I’m going to guess very?”
“Yes!” Evie almost squealed, doing a little dance of joy as she walked. “Obviously, we had to stay at a safe distance–mama tigers are dangerous even to a full practitioner–but Byrne,” her nose twitched in disgust when he said his name, “thought he was hot shit and tried to touch the mama tiger.”
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“That didn’t go well, I take it,” Juniper said, lifting an eyebrow.
Evie laughed. “No, Professor Zaldia had to rescue him,” she said with a shake of her head. “The idiot. At least she dumped him in a river for his stupidity.”
“Ah, I wish I’d seen that.”
“I wish you had, too,” Evie said pointedly. “What about you, though? How did you spend the break?”
“Most of the same old. Studying and stuff.”
Evie puffed. “Boring.”
“Though I did take you up on your offer.”
“Really?” Evie said, perking up. “The high and mighty Juniper admitted weakness? I can’t believe it.” Juniper tried to poke her in the ribs, but Evie expertly sidestepped her. “That’s not going to work a second time, you know.”
“We’ll see,” Juniper grumbled, failing to hold back a smile. “Anyway, what about the more practical parts of the trip? DId you find anything noteworthy?”
“You know, I almost did,” she said, letting out a breath while crossing her arms. “I’d been tracking a masked ash snake–you know, the rare ones?” Juniper nodded. The masked ash snake’s eggs had a powerful bolstering effect on the soul when consumed, and were considered a potent advancement aid. “I followed it to its lair, then went back to find Faro so one of us could distract it while the other nabbed its eggs. Anyway, when we got back, the place had been ransacked.”
Juniper winced. “Unfortunate. Do you think someone followed you?”
“Or they found it on their own,” Evie said, shrugging. “The result was the same. Anyway, Leon got lucky, too. Or so everyone thinks.”
“How so?” Juniper looked at her quizzically.
“So, most of us broke away from the group after the first day or so, but we’d still return to the main camp every once in a while. Some only came back at the very end, though. Like Leon,” Evie explained. “And when he came back, he was visibly changed. Like, his Soul was way stronger.”
Juniper frowned. “So, he Inscribed his Path?” It wasn’t forbidden for students to advance ahead of schedule–a handful of her class already had, mostly those who had been dead set on a Path from the beginning. Most waited to be given the go-ahead from the Path Advisor, unless they had private tutors they could consult.
“No, no.” Evie shook her head. “He’s still at Soul Connection.”
Juniper was skeptical. She’d reached the limit of how much essence she could pack into her Soul, so she knew well enough you couldn’t push past that without advancing. Unless Leon had been severely behind–and he hadn’t–then it made no sense for him to improve that much in that regard.
“We think he must have found a treasure or something,” Evie whispered as they passed a group of students. “Or a legacy. A legacy could explain why he doesn’t talk about it.”
Or, more likely, he just wanted to keep his secrets to himself, Juniper thought. Evie seemed to think better of him, though, so she decided against sharing her hypothesis.
“Almost makes me wish I’d gone,” Juniper murmured as she opened the door to the Herbolore class.
“It might have done you some good,” Evie agreed. “Well, it’s too late now. Anyway, how did your… you know… go?” she asked, then backpedaled, “if you want to talk about it–it’s okay if you don’t.”
Juniper almost reflexively told her off, then felt guilty at the thought. Her friend was the only reason she’d been able to get some help.. She owed her at least part of the story.
She summarized her experience with the thought healer after they took their seats, leaving out the part the healer thought she was pushing herself too hard–she didn’t need to give Evie more ammo against her. By the end, Evie was wearing a deep frown.
“So, not only are you sane, but your mystery notes are from another world?” Her brows went higher and higher with every word. “I’m not sure if you’re just spinning a tale or if your life really is that weird.”
“It’s all true, I promise,” Evie said, lifting her palms defensively. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Well, there was that time when you said you’d take out the bathroom trash and then didn’t.”
“That wasn’t a lie, I just forgot,” Juniper shot back.
“So what are you going to do about all this?”
“What can I do?” Juniper asked. “Cause from here, it doesn’t look like there’s anything I can do.”
“You could… actually…,” Evie trailed off, “ yeah, I’m stumped.”
Professor Cilin entered the classroom, slapping his register against the desk with a resounding bang. “Welcome back, kids. I hope you had a nice vacation, because you’ll need it. Now, let’s get back into it.”
***
Juniper waited nervously before the dark, oaken door. The student in front of her had already been inside for ten minutes, which meant that her turn would likely be coming up soon. She straightened her sleeves, more as a tic than because she needed to.
Suddenly, the door opened, revealing her classmate, Lucian. He was a young man with dark frizzy hair, and a perpetual lost look on his face. Despite this, he was neck to neck with Juniper in the rankings, the two having formed a minor rivalry.
“How’d it go?” Juniper asked after he closed the door behind him.
Lucian shrugged. “No epiphanies or anything, but I have some ideas now.”
Juniper nodded. That was all they could expect, really.
“Next,” a deep voice rang out from behind the door.
“Good luck,” Lucian whispered before Juniper stepped into the office.
The Path Advisor’s office was richly furnished, intricate carvings covering every surface aside from the heavy mahogany desk. The man behind it, the famous Professor Sol gestured for Juniper to take a seat.
Juniper was aware she had no real reason to be anxious. Visiting the Path Advisor didn’t involve any kind of tests or grades–it was simply a conversation with someone who could guide her into making a right choice.
Not that that lessened her nerves in any way. Professor Sol was a legend. As a Fourth Gate practitioner, he was easily among the most powerful people alive on Esanys–and certainly the most powerful staff member of Skystrall Academy.
Indeed, it was rumored that the only reason he wasn’t Dean was that he couldn’t be bothered with paperwork, instead preferring to work directly with young practitioners and guide them along their path.
Granted, the bulk of his work was with the older students–the third and fourth years, the ones who’d already embarked on their Paths–but right now, his schedule was swamped with undecided second years, someone to help them pick a direction.
“Juniper Lorn, right?” he asked, much to Juniper’s surprise, as he leafed through a large register before stopping to what she could only assume was her page.
“That’s me,” she said, swallowing nervously.
“What brings you here, Juniper?” he asked, giving the book a single glance. “With your grades, most Paths should be easily open to you.” He paused. “Unless I’m right to assume that’s where the problem lies?”
“Yes,” Juniper said, some of her anxiety melting off. Most people quickly found their specialty, or at least, the discipline they had the highest affinity for. And while Juniper wasn’t uniformly talented, she still had a large field of potential disciplines to explore. “I’ve only really been able to exclude the Living Arts, but other than that… I just don’t know.”
She truly disliked the Living Arts–it was an area fraught with uncertainty and unknown variables. Its practitioners valued intuition and feeling over solid theory. She could put up with it for a few exams, but to make a career out of them? No, that would have made her miserable.
“You are closer to the Exact Arts, then?”
Juniper nodded.
“And none pulls on you harder than the others?”
‘Well,” Juniper hesitated, “there is one, actually. Gravitation,” she chortled inwardly at the accidental pun, though her face remained impassive, “except I’m not sure choosing it would be the right decision.”
Professor Sol regarded her quizzically. “And why not?”
“Well, for starters, it doesn’t have as much application as any of the Dynamics, or the Materials. Some consider it kind of a poor man’s Dynamics,” Juniper said, scrunching her nose. She hated to boil magic down to its earning potential, but the reality was that she needed something lucrative. If she couldn’t escape to Cassia, then her best option was to pay her debts as quickly as possible.
She’d already had this conversation in her head hundreds of times–she was only repeating the same old arguments.
This time, though, she had a peerless expert listening to her. A feeling of inadequacy overtook her, but Professor Sol patiently motioned for her to continue.
“But the biggest part is how little we know about it. If I went with Dynamics, all the knowledge is there, neatly categorized. Gravitation doesn’t have that–I think I’ve already exhausted all the available literature.”
“You could be the one to pioneer it,” the professor suggested.
“Unlikely, that. People smarter than me have tried, and even if I was able to, I don’t have the backing to spend years figuring it all on my own.”
“So, money and time,” Professor Sol surmised, and it pained Juniper to hear it put so succinctly. “They are not shallow arguments, even if they make you uncomfortable. And yet, you are still leaning towards Gravitation, are you not?”
“I know it’s not logical, but yes. I still feel like it’s my… calling.”
“You should likely listen to that feeling,” the professor said, tapping his fingers on his desk.
Juniper’s eyes widened. “Sir?”
“Your affinity for the Exact may be clouding your judgment, as odd as this may sound. Your arguments are sound, yes, but Paths are inherently linked with the Will and Soul–they do not follow the rules of logic at the best of times.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“If time and money were of no object, would you still have reservations about Gravitation?”
Juniper paused for a moment, digesting the scenario. If she were truly free… “No. I would Inscribe Gravitation, no question about it.”
“Do you know what Skystrall took as his Path?”
Juniper blanched at the non sequitur. “Thermodynamics,” she said after a beat. He was essentially the poster boy of Thermos.
“Wrong–while his path eventually morphed into Thermodynamics, it was not what he began with,” Sol said, his lips curling. “Paths had different, more esoteric names back then, but he essentially followed the path of Fire.” He paused for a moment. “The Heat of the First Light was the proper name, if I recall correctly.”
She’d known that the people of old had a poor understanding of the world around them–some people, mostly mundanes, still clung to the idea that the so-called classical elements were relevant in any way. But to get from Fire to Thermodynamics... “That’s a rather big leap,” Juniper said diplomatically.
“A gigantic one. The Exact Arts were considered weak at the time, not worth pursuing–but Skystrall followed his calling, and his results speak for themselves.”
“I’m not Skystrall, though.”
“Indeed not,” Professor Sol said, smiling wryly. “For one, you’re lacking the beard.” He let the smile fade. “In any case, what I was trying to say is that you should listen to your intuition. Many might be tempted to take the Path of Least Resistance,” he let out a small laugh at his own joke, “but often you’ll reach its end prematurely. But with great risks also come great rewards. Perhaps you’ll be a trailblazer. Perhaps you’ll fail. But at least you’ll have been true to yourself.
“And…” he continued, “if you still find yourself unable to take that leap of faith, consider that you can veer into Gravitation at a later point. Dynamics, for instance, will not close that path for you.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Juniper said. “But it’s still not the same.”
“It’s not. But it’s a choice you will have to make.”