Page 31

The dining hall is louder than usual. Not because students are relaxed. Quite the opposite. Conversations drift from table to table, all revolving around the previous day's combat assessment.

"I swear she saw my attack before I made it." A first year says.

"Corvell never even drew his weapon." His friend answers.

I glance toward the upper tables instinctively. Empty. Of course. Chief Wings Officers rarely eat with the first-years. At least not when they have duties. For some reason, I feel strangely disappointed.

Nyra arrives carrying two cups of tea. "I wasn't sure which one you preferred." She says.

"You bought both?"

"I panicked." She admits.

I laugh softly. "Thank you."

She slides into the seat across from me. "How are your ribs?" She asks.

"Sore.My legs. Also sore."

"I've discovered walking downstairs requires considerably more optimism than yesterday." She laughs.

We eat quietly for a few moments. Around us, students compare bruises like trophies. One wolf proudly claims Professor Vale called him "predictable." His friends congratulate him as though he'd received an award. Apparently, surviving criticism is an accomplishment here. I suspect they're right.

Our first lecture is Foundations of Magical History again. Professor Aldren is already standing at the front when we arrive. No books. Only the enormous enchanted map behind him.

The classroom settles quickly. No one wants to be the student who keeps Professor Aldren waiting. He waits until the last chair becomes still. Then places one hand on the map. Yesterday's borders vanish. Mountains remain. Rivers remain. Forests remain. Everything else disappears.

"History," he begins, "is often taught through kingdoms." The map slowly rotates."Today, we will discuss a period that predates every modern kingdom."

His fingers trace a stretch of wilderness near the center of Varethia. "The Age of Silence." The name alone changes the atmosphere. Several students stop writing before they've even begun. Professor Aldren notices. "The title was not given by historians." He looks toward us. "It was given by survivors." Silence settles across the room. He lets it. Then continues.

"There is no complete record of the Age of Silence." He smiles faintly. "There isn't even agreement on how long it lasted." The map shifts again. Ancient settlements appear. Smaller than today's cities. Connected by glowing roads.

"Some records claim decades." The roads fade. "Others, centuries." The settlements disappear one by one. "What every surviving account agrees upon." He pauses. "Is that something changed Varethia forever." A hand rises near the back. Professor Aldren nods.

"A war?" the student asks.

"Perhaps."

Another student raises her hand. "A plague?"

"Perhaps."

Another one. "A magical catastrophe?"

Professor Aldren inclines his head. "Perhaps."

Soft laughter moves through the room. He smiles. "I see you've noticed a pattern." He turns toward the board. With one movement of his hand, a single word appears. HOLLOWBORN. The room grows noticeably quieter.

I recognize the name. Barely. Something mentioned once during childhood. A cautionary tale. Nothing more.

Professor Aldren studies our reactions before speaking again. "What have you been taught?" He asks.

A vampire student answers first. "My tutors said they fed on magic."

Professor Aldren nods. "Widely accepted."

A wolf raises his hand. "My grandfather says they never existed."