Two months later

  When the nib of my brand spanking new fountain pen bent on the parchment before me, I nearly had a conniption fit. A single moment of excess pressure, and not only did I ruin a custom order that had cost me three damned gold, but I ripped straight through the assignment I’d spent the last hour on. To add further insult to injury, ink dribbled out of the bent nib to stain the sheaf even more.

  I felt my right eyebrow outright twitch.

  Calmly, much more so than I truly felt, I moved both the ruined assignment out off the way, as well as the book to my right…

  And let my head droop, slamming down onto the library table I had reserved for my personal use months ago. The sound of skull on wood echoed out across the library stacks, and I heard more than one fellow student stop in their own work. Presumably to gawk at the newest person who had succumbed, if only briefly, to the stress of Academy life.

  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’d rather be stuck in the Bunker fighting ghosts and laser roombas than this.

  I heard a few mumbles of sympathy from around me, but they dried up when the distinctive ‘thump-thump’ of a cane drew closer to my position. When it stopped, almost as if the owner was looming over me, I briefly closed my eyes in frustration before sighing. As I raised my head, I barely paid any attention to the spare sheet of parchment that was stuck to it. I just stared unblinking up into the unamused, grey eyes squinting down at me. “Yes, Mr. Krecht? Can I help you?”

  Osric Krecht was a stubborn old hawk of a man. Stooped, suspicious, and frankly downright unpleasant, he was the Head Librarian of the Academy’s Principle Archives. He was also, unfortunately, startlingly good at his job. Rumor had it that the man had spearheaded a decades-long campaign to sort and organize the Archives into something actually useful, not long after he had graduated himself. As a result, he had been granted a lifetime appointment by Grey himself to oversee the public archives. That might have been actual centuries ago, judging from the state of the man, and nobody I’d even spoken to could recall a time when he hadn’t been lurking behind his creaky old desk and glaring out at any student who dared to read one of his precious books. Even at his advanced age, the man could hear the potential canoodling of students several rooms deep in here. Not only that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he could spot a single fly pissing on the leather of some old economic treatise from four hundred years ago. Something that probably talked about the unlauded market potential of beet sugar or some such rot.

  If this old bastard hadn’t specialized in Perception, I’d eat my boots.

  Krecht squinted at me suspiciously for a moment under a crown of thin grey hair, the same shade as his beady little eyes, before they drifted over to linger on the table. An ugly triumph blossomed in his gaze. “Ink on the table?” He sneered, sounding genuinely affronted. “Endangering a tome? That’s a four copper penalty, boyo. Out. You’re done for the day.”

  I closed my eyes and slowly counted backward from ten so I didn’t lose it at this…this…

  I sighed and dropped it. No use getting mad at the old man. He was just being crotchety and overprotective. I opened my eyes and dipped my head to the librarian. “Very well,” I said calmly, gathering my things, including the ruined assignment. Everything went into the brown leather messenger bag I used for my supplies on campus. “I’ll just be going then. Have a good day, Mr. Krecht.” I ruffled around in my pocket for some change for the fine, dropped it on the table, turned, and left. I wanted to say it was my imagination to see a hint of disappointment in the gaze of the geezer at how I didn’t raise a stink, but…

  I’d haunted the Archive stacks enough over the last few months that I didn’t believe that.

  I exchanged nods with a few other students I knew on the way out, as I navigated my way through the tables. More than one of my fellows looked to be on the brink of losing it themselves, and I wasn’t surprised at all to hear one of them sobbing very quietly into their scrunched-up cloak on the table.

  It was that time of year, after all.

  Midterms here at the Academy of Mystic Arts.

  Fuckin’ yay.

  Classes were out for the day, and I thought I’d get in a little bit more study time as well as finish a particularly boring paper on Aetheric wave forms. Voss had sprung this one on us at the last minute, and only a few days before her own midterm started for the Neophyte course. The woman was a bit of a sadist, and I could see why poor old Simeon was so eager to distance himself from his former Master.

  That didn’t change how frustrating his own course was, but whatever.

  To everything, really. I was done trying to get anything finished for the day. If I had to, I’d push the assignment off onto my clone when I got home. Today had been a Minor day, so he was kicking around back at the lighthouse. He was probably playing teatime with Aveline or something, considering the time of day.

  Lucky bastard. Let’s see how smug that asshole was when I made him transcribe a ruined paper and then finish it all in one night.

  With that cheery thought buoying my mood, I diverted my course from the impromptu take-off platform I’d been using to get to and from the Academy over the last few months. Instead of going to the roof of the Main Hall, I was going deeper into the building.

  After all.

  That was where Grey kept his private labs.

  I might as well see if I could get some more enjoyable work done today, before I have to get ready for my plans later.

  …………………………………….

  I was surrounded by the chatter of lingering students as I stepped into the Main Hall. Exchanging a few hellos and waves with a few different people I made an acquaintance with since my time here, I didn’t see any of my actual friends. Azarus was probably already home, hammering away at his newest project. As for my Gnoll friends, Renauld stuck to a fairly strict schedule. Despite his lax attitude most of the time, he took his responsibilities as a Healer very seriously. If he wasn’t pulling a shift in the Academy Infirmary or slapping fingers back on after overzealous Evocation students blew themselves up, he was probably volunteering at a local clinic he had a good relationship with. Liora was…probably at her work.

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  Which, goddamnit. I was still pissed at her for. What had it all been for, if she was going to…to…

  Oh, whatever.

  As for Sylvia…well.

  I had plans later for a reason.

  But for now, it was time to get something hopefully productive done. It didn’t take me long to descend the main staircase all the way to the basement, considering I was taking two steps at a time. Once there, I absentmindedly raised a hand in greeting to Angela, the older woman who manned the desk to the private lower labs. Used to my presence by now, she barely glanced my way before waving me through the door and into the enchanted, climate-controlled workrooms of the Academy. I shivered for more than one reason as the large iron door slammed shut behind me.

  After all, the entire floor that spanned the length of the Academy labs was one massive Isolation Chamber. To my understanding, it had been a monumental task to establish it, making the labs entirely devoid of environmental Aether. Even after months, it was still incredibly eerie to step into a giant void to my senses. I was so used to the gentle pulse of Vereden’s Aether that the energetically clean environment of the labs made my neck crawl.

  Grey had assured me I would get used to it.

  Eventually.

  I stepped quietly down the stone halls of the labs, lit by disturbing, familiar hunks of glowing stones set into the ceiling, chiseled into puck-like shapes. Every few feet, there were large iron doors set into the surface of the walls, each of which only had a single identifying number painted on the surface. These were the labs allocated out to the most promising of the Master level students, those Magi and Cultivators who were in their final year of attendance at the Academy. I even knew some of them, having exchanged pleasantries with a few, or even shared a cup of tea with them in the cozy little break room down here. However, I couldn’t see into any of the individual labs, considering there were absolutely no windows down here. Not on the inner walls, the outer ones, or even the doors themselves.

  It was both a matter of privacy as well as a matter of safety, from what Grey had told me. I’d asked him once, just how many explosions happened in the labs to fear windows.

  My mentor had just looked at me like I had a single-digit IQ, and I dropped the subject.

  Speaking of, Grey’s personal, permanent lab was all the way at the end of the single, winding corridor that composed the lab floor. Not only was it about twice as large as the student labs, it was much more secure. The door itself was thick and large enough to count as a vault door, honestly.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to physically move the giant slab of iron myself.

  I set my hand on the enchanted piece of slate to the right of the door, and shivered as I felt the downright malevolent enchantments that protected the lab almost taste my spirit. It withdrew in a distinctly disappointed manner as it recognized me, and I then heard the giant bolts holding the door in place pull back. Smoothly, the door opened inward by itself, and I stepped gingerly over the lip of the door, into Grey’s lab.

  As soon as I was inside, the vault door closed behind me. I restrained a shiver and instead cast an eye around the lab.

  It was much as I had left it, a few days ago. The floorspace in here was frankly larger than my home, including the lighthouse. Granite tables dominated the floorspace, with only short rows of walkable space between each of them. Every available spot on the wall was occupied with cabinets of varying sizes. I knew that each and every one of them contained either an Alchemical ingredient, in more kinds and varieties than I knew existed, or an artifact that Grey had no particular use for at the moment.

  The surfaces of each and every tabletop were absolutely festooned with gizmos and gadgets of all shapes and sizes. I only had experience in using maybe a quarter of them at this point, and I had difficulty guessing the usage of the majority. Some were specialized tools, some were repurposed weapons, and…I think some of them were just oddities that Grey was fond of.

  I mean, honestly. What was even the point of the stuffed duck that honked at me whenever I passed it? The damn thing didn’t even sound like one of the birds. Grey had somehow given it a voicebox akin to a trumpet.

  I glared at the honking thing as I passed it, and swear the little shit gave me a smug look in return. I shook it off, though, and let my gaze drift around some of the other tables. On one of them was a completely dismantled wooden Sculpted. It was an almost sobering reminder that this lab was where an entirely bespoke, new race of people was literally crafted into existence. I shook the feeling off, though, so I could direct my gaze up at my favorite feature here in the lab.

  Grey’s personally constructed orrery.

  It was huge, dominating the center of the high ceiling. Cast from bronze, it depicted the entire Tarusian system as the six planets of it orbited the physical body of the Great Spirit of the Sun. Not only that, but a proud Grey had told me that it tracked the movement of the entire system in real time.

  I had been incredibly surprised to discover that none of the planets that had been part of the ancient portal network were in this star system. Nobody knew where exactly they were in real relation to Vereden, not even the single remaining planet we were connected to, Indiqua. I stopped for a moment to consider that, my finger shortly finding the emerald form of Vereden.

  It was the third planet in the system, in an eerie mirror of Terra. The first planet of the system, and the one closest to Tarus, was Nyxara. Much, much smaller than even Vereden, it was a little more than a blackened hunk of rock. Second in line was Askariel, a slate grey orb actually a little larger than Vereden, but still devoid of life. I skipped over my new home for the fourth planet in the system, something that gave me outright chills whenever I thought of it.

  A ruby red world by the name of Calithorne. I…had been a bit disturbed to discover that the planet was, strangely, an almost mirror of Mars. Only, much more of a bloody red than an iron-rich one. The closest planet to Vereden, it was thought to be an almost Gyreite hell equivalent. I had been beyond shaken when I discovered that the imagery associated with the planet was that of crimson thorns. When I’d confronted Grey about the similarity to my own, my mentor had merely blinked at me, and then confirmed that I had been running around and essentially wielding the thematic equivalent of a devil’s trident.

  No fucking wonder I tended to weird people out when I used my thorns.

  Shaking that off, my finger traced its way to planet number five in the system. This was the first gas giant, an almost mournful collection of swirling purple and black wisps by the name of Soryphane. Next to Tarus itself, it was the largest object in the entire system, and the location of it was so damn similar to that of Jupiter that I didn’t bother to be surprised.

  Even before I got to the last planet, a pure white ice giant by the name of Thireos, I had realized there was something odd about this system. It mirrored the star system of my birth too closely to be mere coincidence.

  It was probably the damn Netherim’s fault.

  I shook it off and focused on the desk at the back of the room where I could already see Grey hunched over a chaotic collection of wires, all of them hooked into the latest iteration of our main project

  An attempt at recreating the charging environment of the Netherim data repository, cast from Mithril.

  And we were close to solving the problem. I could feel it.

  As Grey looked up to greet me, I returned his almost manic smile with equal energy.

  Time to get to work.