“Your disciplineisyour medium for studying magic.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I see.” He clasps his hands together in front of him and clears his throat. “Think of something you want. Picture it firmly in your mind.”
Claudia closes her eyes, and the first thing she sees is her mother’s face. More than anything, she wants to see her mother again. She wants it so bad it hurts.
When Claudia opens her eyes, High Sage Triche asks, “Do you feel the desire building inside you? For some, it feels like a spark in their chest. Others, a tingle in their limbs. And for some, it is simply pain, everywhere. Learn to recognize desire however it appears in you. Then, channel it through your scholarship to create magic. Yearn for answers, for knowledge, for undiscovered truths. In the simplest of terms, you must want, want, and want more.”
The High Sage resumes his stride, and Claudia follows while he informs her of the rules: There are no curfews and the libraries never close. The greenhouse is mostly for Scientia students, but it’s often open for other students to walk through and admire the magical flora. The cafeteria provides two daily meals but the coffee and tea are unlimited, and there are always little snacks available. Students are required to wear their robes at all times, except in the case of balls, recitals, or other occult rituals that require ceremonial clothing. Theurgic communication with the gods isforbidden for first-year students, unless under the direct guidance of a professor. Failure to complete assignments is grounds for expulsion, and expulsion warrants punishment from the gods. Death is rare, but it is always an option. There is a graveyard out back for fallen students. Others can visit to grieve and to remind themselves what should happen if they fail.
Triche unlocks the door with a small gold key and hands it to Claudia before pushing it open, revealing her new home. Stepping inside, she sees that the room is only slightly smaller than her room back home. In the center is her new bed made up of fluffy white blankets and too many pillows. The walls are a deep, textured red. Beneath the bed and stretching across the floor is an oval rug with a swirling pattern of burgundy, pink, and white. Claudia is careful not to touch anything with her bloody hands.
From the doorway (not to be confused with Doorway), Triche says, “Upon arrival, students go to the chapel and bond with the god of their discipline in order to access their abilities. I would’ve taken you there first, but—” He looks her up and down and gestures to a large wooden door across the room. “You have your own bathing chambers there. You can thank Caedisterra for that; we’re blessedly equipped with running water in every room. You’ll also notice that the candles never burn out, which was a gift from Malevimus. The classrooms clean themselves when empty, thanks to Dolericym. Orteslux gifted us advanced technologies in the dining hall to create the most delicious meals.”
“This is amazing,” Claudia says, staring up at the ceiling decorated with intricate plasterwork. There’s a large ornate medallion in the very center that looks like an eye when she squints. When she looks back at the High Sage, he’s giving her a warm grin. “You’ll begin your classes tomorrow. Your robes are in your armoire. Draw yourself a bath and prepare for my apprentice to come take you on a tour in the next hour. He’ll aid you in your bonding ritual with Malevimus as well. Is there anything else you require before I leave you?”
“No, I’m—” She pauses. “Actually, I do have one question.”
“Do ask,” he encourages.
“What made you change your mind about me?” She has to know how Dorian managed to make this miracle happen.
He smiles. “I knew you were special from your application, but your deepest desire was to study a discipline that we no longer teach, and to practice magic that no longer exists. We had nothing to offer you. But when a place opened, Malevimus choseyouto fill it.”
“Why me?”
He shrugs. “Only the gods know. But we are not to question them. He wanted you, and so, here you are. It is a great honor.”
“Absolutely, and I am deeply grateful. I just feel a bit…” She swallows. “Unworthy.”
“If you were unworthy, you would not be here. You would be dead.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “Have you any further questions, dear?”
“No, High Sage.”
“Very well. Please enjoy your new home and let me know if you need anything at all.” He turns to leave, but stops in the doorway and looks back. “Oh, and Miss Jolicoeur, we’ve done our best to clear this room of Odette Dufort’s things and return them to her family, but if you find anything important of hers, give it to any of your professors. Though if not of value, feel free to throw it away.”
“Value is subjective, though. How am I to know what was of value to her?”
He glances over his shoulder and gives a gentle laugh. “Best to save your semantic questions for your Rhetoric professors. I can already tell Olivier will adore you.”
The High Sage leaves her alone in her room and closes the door behind him. She drops her suitcase on the wood floor and retrieves Bishop from her pocket.
“Hey there, Bishop,” she says softly, stroking his head. “How are you feeling?”
He flicks his tongue out twice, and Claudia sighs in relief. She really thought she lost him, and she never wants to feel that way ever again. It turned her into a version of herself she didn’t recognize—one filled with bloodlust and rage.
Gently, she lays Bishop on the bed and looks around her new home, though it’s hard to focus on anything other than how disgusting she feels, inside and out.
Two glass doors let in bright afternoon light and lead out to her private balcony. She pulls the white curtains closed over them—no one needs to see her right now. Hopefully, she can clean herself up and everyone will forget this bloody version of her.
The bathroom has a large porcelain claw-foot tub. She turns the handle on the bronze faucet and steaming water begins to rise. Within minutes, Claudia strips off her bloody clothes and sinks into the hot water. She groans in relief, scrubbing the blood off her skin and out of her hair.
Everything is going to be fine. She’ll wash the guilt from her body and she’ll never go back home. She’ll stay as far away as possible from the student who humiliated her upon arrival. She’ll pretend it never happened and that he doesn’t exist. She’ll make a great life for herself and it won’t matter what she left behind or who she killed to get here. Surely, all those years of being good should count for something. She just snapped for one second. It won’t happen again. Her father is dead now—it’s not like she could kill him twice.
But didshekill him? It’s possible he could’ve survived the stab, right? It was the Doorway that killed him. He died because he was unworthy. That’s not Claudia’s fault.
So why is her stomach still churning? Why doesn’t her rationale make the guilt go away?
