Alera squinted at her surroundings, still flat on her back. Oren groaned, sprawled over her. Moans and cries echoed around her. She lay on cool, smooth marble, staring up at an intricate ceiling where grand chandeliers swayed gently.

  Kari knelt beside Azurael, her breath ragged. “Help!” Kari called out in desperation.

  “Yes, yes. I’ve been expecting you.” An ancient looking woman walked towards and past Alera, who sat up to look around. The group lay sprawled across the floor, each clutching a wound—an arm, a side, a bloody mouth—groaning in pain. Kari looked no worse for wear but a figure clad in black was missing an arm, and bled heavily onto the floor.

  Kari’s eyes went wide as the ancient lady knelt beside her. “Miss McNellie.” A glint in her eyes echoed hope as her face seemed to soften.

  “All you pibbies, get to the emergency wing.” The group quieted as they watched her, passing her hands over Azurael and holding the stump of his arm. “Well? A couple of broken bones won’t kill you! Unless you’d rather take on this boy’s toxic blood and maiming curse instead.”

  "The hallway stretched ahead, silent and empty. Those who could stand did so without complaint, their pain drowned by exhaustion and urgency. In arms they made their way to the distant doors. Oren dragged Alera forward, his swollen eye and jaw barely allowing him to speak. They left behind Azurael, Kari, Arhen, and the shadow—fate uncertain.

  “Nasshra to the east wing. Javir to the north. We require salve and opium to the west.” A white cloaked woman with a gold circlet was ordering a crowd of white robed healers. They ran about in apparent chaos, searching cabinets and darting from room to room as they carried injured folk, some limp and lifeless.

  “H’pital.” Oren pulled Alera along. The girls held their cries as corpses were carried past them. Alera massaged her forehead, easing away the pain. She wondered where the sleepy people were being carried to.

  The doors to the east wing flung open, and the staff led them to the firm, cold beds of the infirmary. Immediately, they removed their cloaks and underarmour to reveal the extent of the damage. From broken arms to ribs and jaw, all bore the same gleaming symbol, an X with a crescent through the top. Alera undid her own to find bruises where Oren had held onto her.

  “W–What happened?” Connie broke down, her tears overflowing. Dalli left her bed and hugged her.

  “We were attacked…” Mallo stated simply.

  “Why?” Everyone in the room asked in unison.

  “How would I know? I couldn’t even see who it was, I just saw the fire, and then Kariavri blinded me.” He spat.

  “His clothes looked like rock.” Alera chimed in. Everyone turned to her.

  “You saw who it was?” Connie asked.

  “Who? No.” Exasperated sighs were shared through the room.

  “Can’t blame you.” Said a boy with golden curls sitting at a corner bed. His head was wrapped with a golden turban. My group was at the springs of Quevale, there was thunder, and water just splashed everywhere. Our guide and Mr. Avros only realized what was happening when Gio was pulled into the boiling springs and some creatures ran out at us from the water.” His voice quivered as a girl beside him curled up, holding a wrapped arm. “It was just one guy but he boiled Mr. Avros and three of us alive, then he just left in a clap of thunder.”

  It wasn’t just royals? Mallo thought to himself. No, it had to be. He looked at Alera. But then why kill anyone? Azurael was engaged first, then we were attacked after the split. It has to be.

  “Alera,” Mallo hesitated. “How did someone from Parmsa get in here?”

  Alera stood frozen as gazes shifted from her to Mallo.

  “Hey, what would that matter? You’d think we’d moved past that, no?” Dalli spoke up.

  “Fine, what’s an Astrealith doing here?” The room went silent.

  “What do you mean?” Alera’s chest tightened. She hadn’t told anyone, of course Azurael knew this but that time it had been part of a conversation, not an interrogation such as this.

  Mallo sprang to his feet and advanced. “Don’t play coy, the last Astrealith tried to kill everyone. Suddenly here’s another and people start getting killed?”

  Oren stepped in his way. “Back off.” He warned, his mouth aching from the treatment.

  “The hell is this? Why was Azurael there to begin with, huh? And you two were awfully friendly with Miss Asha’s protege. You know what, he was way too friendly with royals. Answer something you stupid b– girl.” The room was cold and silent.

  “The last Astrealith was– my brother. I do not know him well, I have only met him four times before. Before I left, the representative told me to keep my name secret.” Mallo went pale. “Zuz is taking care of me, Miss Asha told me to listen to him.” She tilted her head and looked Mallo dead in the eyes. “What is ‘killed’?”

  Mallo scowled. “You make jokes? It’s by your hand that people lose their faith in the families. Wasn’t the head satisfied with the war? How many hundreds of millions had to die for his actions? Now you joke, or do you mean to tell me you’re so sheltered you haven’t known the concept of death?” He paced. “Killed means they’re dead, gone. They’ll never laugh, cry, breathe again. Do you get it?”

  Oren wanted to shout, to stand up for her, to punch Mallo in the face, but it had been a long three days and Alera had not been the most normal girl he’d met. Part of him wanted the answers as to her being but the risk had been evident when Azurael had been the only one aware of the headmaster’s approach on that first day.

  That’s quite enough. A serene voice came from the air. The doors to the infirmary opened as the deep crimson hair of the headmaster flooded forth along her arms. “There has been enough pain today. You would all do well to comfort one another. I assure you those responsible will be brought to justice, in the name of the Zoraveth.”

  Her voice was chillingly calm. Breaths paused, a few braced themselves as if standing in a gale.

  “Miss Asha,” Alera croaked, coughing as she merrily got to her feet. “I lost the marble Zuz gave me.” Mallo shot daggers at her.

  “Not a word. To anyone.” She turned to Alera, snapping her fingers. “You can never lose this sweety.” Alera gave a pining look, touching the warm silver marble to her face. “I’d wager none of you would enjoy giving the families a reason to go to war.”

  Her fair skin was marred by the bloody mark on her forehead, the blood had run down to the bridge of her nose and stained her eyes. A bruise formed under her eyes. The marble fell from her fingers as her knees buckled, Asha reached out holding her by the waist and pulling her into an embrace.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Alera?” Asha held her as her head swayed and her weight pulled them both down. Her lips moved but nothing could be heard. Mallo and the boys made their approach. “No closer.” Her tone of warning. She heaved Alera back onto the bed beside Oren and waited in silence– until Oren, concern weighing heavy, dared to ask.

  “What happened?”

  “She’s sick, you’ll all be too.” Her matter of fact tone struck them all like a breaking cord. “But you’ll be fine. She and I might die.” She giggled, a bluish vein betrayed her attempt at easing their worry.

  Their minds swam with questions.

  Sick with what?

  The headmaster will die?

  Why is an Astrealith at Hristak?

  Oren sat, staring at Alera; the headmaster at the foot of his bed, his heart thrumming with vigor and from nerves. At least, he could feel it. There was a silence– an uncomfortable, unnatural, surreal stillness in the air, in his body. Not a beat, the blood in his veins or some form of tinnitus could be made out, he could swear that even his thoughts were drowned out by the oppressive peace.

  If time passed, Oren could not tell. All he had to go by was the rise and fall of Alera’s chest, her deep, slow breaths as sweat glinted silver light off her fair skin. Then the door opened with a bang.

  “It’s the fetid scourge.” McNellie made her way into the infirmary, bringing with her the wonder of noise.

  The headmaster lost any sense of patience, of calm, she glared at the ancient woman. “How? I ordered you to eradicate it. Every. Single. Sample.”

  “I kept one.” She replied simply, eyeing the headmaster lazily.

  “Let me remind you, miss Uvs’Hert, that before our agreement you were wanted for a list of atrocities committed against the people of the seven nations.” Oren was surprised to hear anything at all, the world seemed to quiet when the headmaster addressed someone directly. “You have not been pardoned, simply given a lease.”

  “We were victims of the times, all is fair in war.” The ancient woman walked forward, to Alera’s side. “Besides, it’s not like I let anyone die.”

  “Might I remind you that was the issue.” McNellie gave a low chuckle.

  “I met the pib with my tome. She’s been afflicted as well.” Oren felt an unease as his mind drifted to recent memories. Those of strange, familiar people. Those of familiars who acted strangely around each other. And McNellies tome in the cave, how someone he was just getting used to was in possession of it. Kari.

  “Will they be alright?” The words slipped out before he could ask something more meaningful, or choose a more appropriate time, as he interrupted their discussion.

  “No.” She chuckled. “It’s made to kill in thirty minutes and it’s been…” She looked at the ceiling, apparently watching the precious seconds tick away. “Fifteen minutes, give or take.” She scratched her wrinkled chin.

  “Fix this,” The headmaster spoke simply, seemingly having regained her composure.

  “Yes, your highness.” McNellie pouted, her head to the side, and began to walk out. She halted at the door frame. ”That boy of yours, what’d you call him? Azurael? He died.”

  Oren’s heart skipped a beat, the world pulled away. Except for one thing, the headmaster’s eyes, as they lost some luster and Oren could see beyond the warmth of the fireplace that was her eyes, beyond the molten gold. Something burning unimpededly.

  “Well, technically anyway. All his blood was worthless. I had to change it out, repair the arm too, just like he likes it. The scar’s hideous as hell, that’ll teach him to touch Feral Flames.”

  “He’s alive?” She asked.

  “T’sRight, got that other kid up too. Left Anaq with him.” With that, she left. Not a single word of a cure or treatment, or an explanation of how or why, and what next. And yet, Oren felt a horrible ease as he watched the headmaster brush Alera’s silver bangs away from her eyes and wipe the sweat from her brow. Her features eased as she stared longingly at Alera, and the notion that either of them were about to die seemed like nothing more than a farce, a joke that missed the mark. After all, who could know their death is coming and be at peace?

  “I’ll return in an hour,” Asha rose from the bedside, “I have a few people to contact.”

  “Hang on.” Connie called out. “What’s even going on? Please, everything’s happened… it doesn’t make sense. Weren’t we supposed to be safe, even out there?”

  “Constanza, I can assure you were– would have been, the safest group. If Lemos had stayed at his post. I have been played for a fool and lives have been the price. The representatives will be held responsible, I promise you all.” With that she made her way out, leaving the ambience of nature and a fair silence in her wake.

  * * *

  It was an odd thing, she thought, those times when you couldn’t keep your eyes open. When your body felt so heavy it was as if the silk sheets were trying to keep you in bed. But it had never been so sudden before, in fact recently she had gone without that feeling longer than ever. A feeling so hot it could only be compared to the cold she felt on her first day in the room with Azurael. Or, she recalled, to when she drank from the bottle of the tiny lady in the cabin that same day.

  It warmed her up, a deep, penetrating heat that moved through her body and made her head feel just as fuzzy.

  This elixir of life will make your body and soul stronger!

  Who could ever refuse such an offer? After all she needed to be stronger, why? How should she know? The representative kept telling her; after all, the old man kept coming to her room to see if she’d gotten that.

  Stronger…

  Language had been a funny thing, she didn’t know it, and what little she knew had come from the few talks she had had with the old coot. And she was grateful. For as long as she remembered he had refused to talk to her, that was when he wore a mask to match the room, it had happened thousands of times; and who knows how many since before she could count. A silent meeting that communicated nothing more than the knowledge that, at the very least, one more, something, existed… here. Wherever here was.

  Er– to be more.

  She needed to be strong to begin with, but what could that mean? A memory, a point of reference– the old man, his rugged hands; Azurael, that solid physique. Large and unyielding, unstoppable. Is that what she had to become? But, she had always been so much smaller, so much– less.

  You can do it, I know you’re stronger. You’re like him, just like Azurael.

  Asha’s voice pierced the here and there, the place between conscious and unconscious. Time stood still, or perhaps all of it passed, as she weighed the words. She could not make sense of it, for how can someone know what to do if they don’t know what they’re being asked? And yet she had accepted the representative’s request before he had to hand her over.

  To anything that could get her closer to that goal– The old woman’s offer.

  Yes.

  * * *

  Oren laid at her side, staring at the marble white ceiling. The room was in hushed discussion, silent argument, and a million questions filled his mind still. Not so long ago they were all worried about facing the oppressor; he still couldn’t understand how a couple people could just show up there and cause so much trouble.

  Though he was actively suppressing the apparent fact that each of the eight first year classes had been targeted. The why, though he didn’t want to, he had to agree with Mallo. Alera the timid, silent, spontaneous and wonder-filled addition to the institute: an Astrealith.

  His head pained as his heart thumped even imagining the possibility that another war could be looming. Had they tried to kill her? They did try to get Azurael. No, something like this would be a much too foolish way to go about it. Going after an unknown member of the most infamous family, but why? Why?

  He had been worrying about the past quarter hour, supposedly the time it would have taken for whatever the fetid scourge was, to do them both in. And yet, he turned to her, her chest was heaving ever so gently… and it was bigger… she was bigger. He sat up on the bed, staring at where the child-like Alera had laid, now replaced with a stunning young woman. Her larger form filled out her robe, her long limbs stretched out leaving the ends of her sleeves to tighten around her forearms, rosy red marks on her pale skin.

  Oren took in the sight, trying and failing to make sense of it all. Invocations were a deal with the world, a give and take– for each action and equal, opposite one. And yet, here she laid, changed and looked none the worse for it– had her lips even moved?

  She opened those ashen eyes, though he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t help but feel they were a shade darker.