Mages from all over Sumora applied for admission in droves. Only those with a strong enough Talent were admitted. The largest class Erinna ever heard of was forty total. Of course, itwas great if half made it to graduation. A quarter graduated at most. Power or perish. Though death was rarely ever the reason for fallout.
Recently, there was a new trouble plaguing the gifted students. Burnout was always a concern for mages. Arcanum was a fickle thing to tame, even for the most skilled, and it was easy to push past the limits. A few nearly lost their lives, and worse, one student had lost her Talent altogether.
What was once a rare occurrence was becoming a more frequent consequence. Even with witchstone to help control and focus their power. That was what scared the academy the most. Something that could take away their gifts, something they could not control.
Serves them right, Erinna thought with only a slight twinge of guilt.
The academy was accepting of all mages with a caveat: their Talents must belong to the official Schools of Arcanum. Many, particularly those of the Everdawn faith, believed that all pure Talents could be characterized into five categories: Summoning, Conjuration, Enchantment, Transmutation, and Abjuration.
A summoner could call on beasts to do their bidding, a conjuror was best known for their elemental prowess—typically excelling at one element in particular—an abjuror could protect and bind, an enchanter could create supernatural effects through weaving the threads of arcanum, and a transmuter could manipulate the very essence of a thing to make it something else.
There was little room for exception, save perhaps her father’s own druidic Talent. It was rare but not completely unheard of. The academy typically referred to such cases as an interstitial Talent, a combination of two schools.
Then there were the aberrants.
Erinna remembered the Reformed from earlier that morning and shivered, shifting her attention to search for a carriage that would take them to Crown Quarter. Academy mages had priority, but with a large enough pocket, any traveler could book a ride through the city.
Before she could nudge her way to a waiting line of carriages, Damien caught her hand, pausing her in place as he held up a garlic knot with a lopsided grin. Erinna tried to resist rising emotion.
“Don’t worry, she didn’t let me pay,” he said, and, sensing her inner turmoil, split the bun in half. Erinna devoured every crumb.
“Fee the same?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“For me, yes, the fee is the same. But they charge extra for non-academy riders.”
Erinna rolled her eyes and licked the tips of her fingers clean. They charged extra for non-academy-anythings.
They hustled toward the first carriage that was nearly full. “Two, please!” Erinna huffed to the middle-aged coachman. He peered down his long nose, clearly noting her lack of an academy uniform, ready to reject her place. With a flare of dark blue and gray fabric, Damien pulled an official Academy seal from his pocket, denoting him as a fourth-year academy student.
“It’ll be twenty-five croons.”
Spit on the Mother Goddess; the price was outrageous. Before Damien could protest, Erinna fished out the required fee, catching even the coachman off guard.
“And whom do I have the pleasure of transporting today?” The coachman gave a quick bow; his words dripped with sterile sweetness as he opened the door to allow them to board. It was amazing how much a bit of coin could change someone.
“I’m Erinna, and this is Damien.”
He flashed a wry grin. “A lovely couple.”
“Thank you.” Erinna nudged the flustered Damien aboard. They crouched beneath the low ceiling and found space two rows from the back.
“So, a lovely couple?” Despite the nonchalance in his voice, a pinkish tint in his cheeks and the tips of his ears betrayed the embarrassment. Erinna bit down a laugh before responding, fighting her own rising blush. “Wasn’t worth the time to explain.”
The carriage shuddered to a start as the horses pulled four mages and one shipwright toward Crown Quarter.
Erinna stared out the window, admiring the masonry of academy-owned buildings and the splendor of noble fashion. A woman in bright pink skirts ushered two young children away from the crowd. Pearls dotted her ears and hung in layers around her neck. The mark of the Everdawn was pinned above her heart, encrusted with pink topaz accents. Erinna shivered and turned her attention inward. It would be more beneficial to consider the meeting that was fast approaching.
“...another Burnout just this week.” The conversation between two second years filtered through her short-lived peace.
“Maybe the new witchstone focuses will help?” a young mage countered.
“We’ve tried that. Odds are the next batch will be just as dull. Hell, maybe we should consider learning that backwater witchcraft shit.”
Witchstone was supposed to help mages focus or store raw arcanum. Keep it from overwhelming their Talent. The rumors must be right, Erinna dreaded. Tarth was either running low on its stores or the newest batches lacked significant quality.
Damien tensed beside her, and Erinna swore she could hear the click in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Witchcraft wasn’t illegal, for the most part,but it was frowned upon and much too easy to crucify as slights against the Everdawn.
She knew of only one woman who still held to old traditions. But that was a sworn secret between their families.
