“I’ll be honest,” Mel said, leaning against the tall wooden staff. “You surprised me back there, mosshead.” She eyed me with grudging respect.

  A pang of lingering guilt pressed at me—I’d had to use some synergy with Fern to beat her in our last spar. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Guess you can’t win them all, huh?”

  She snorted but didn’t argue. Hopsander’s voice cut through the chatter of the classroom.

  “All right, next pair!” the frog-man barked, gesturing to Tevin and Sora. “Front and center! Let’s see if you two can keep up that momentum.” He beckoned them toward the center stage of the training hall.

  ‘At least we can take a breather now,’ Fern whispered in my head.

  No kidding, I thought, stepping aside and leaning against the wall. I wonder who will win between them. It’s definitely Tevin, right? I mean, he’s like four times the size of Sora! My ribs still ached from Mel’s attack, but at least the humiliating performance was behind me.

  As Tevin and Sora approached the stage, Laska tapped me on the shoulder, startling me. She had slipped into the room when I wasn’t looking, like a shadow.

  “Erik,” she said quietly, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room. “Come with me. Now.”

  I tensed—her tone left no room for discussion. “But—Tevin and Sora are about to spar. Shouldn’t we—”

  She gave me a look that froze my tongue. “This is important.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded and stood up.

  ‘Where’s she taking us?’ Fern asked, confused.

  I shrugged mentally, letting Laska guide me out of the training hall, leaving behind the sparring match.

  The training hall’s echoes faded behind us as Laska led me through a maze of corridors, her pace brisk and unwavering.

  I rubbed my sore arms and fidgeted with my new staff dangling against my shoulder. My mind buzzed with exhaustion, but Fern stirred inside, uneasy.

  ‘You think she knows everything about us?’

  Probably not everything. But she probably knows some. She and Hopsander are close, I thought back. Maybe he told her.

  Laska’s uniform mirrored ours—black, gold-trimmed fabric—but hers bore red stitching and golden shoulder tassels, a sign of rank. A cluster of ribbons lined the left side of her chest, denoting dozens of missions. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-eight, yet she carried herself like a veteran who had seen too much.

  We ascended a spiraling stone staircase, the air growing colder and thinner the higher we climbed. Even the warmth from the crystal lanterns seemed no match for each gust of wind snaking through the open gaps in the stairwell. At one point I peeked outside and saw we were at least thirty floors up from the ground. It felt unnatural being this high up, but I figured that anything was possible in a fantasy world.

  I eyed Laska as we walked, in a curious way. Her eyes were unnatural. A deep blue so intense, it seemed to glow with its inner light. Not unlike what I had seen when she fought against the lichwolves.

  “You knew, didn’t you?” I finally asked. “About me.”

  Laska didn’t break stride. “I knew back at the inn.”

  “How? Are you a fourth level like Hopsander?”

  She glanced at me. “No, I’m not. But I could still see your soul aura.”

  She continued as if explaining something obvious. “You know I come from Vecla, right? Veclans are born with the Gift of the Cobalt Sea,” she said while pointing at her eyes. “It doesn’t matter if we’re a voidblood or a mageblood. Instead, our heritage, our parents’ blood, gives us something else. Our eyes let us see soul auras.” She tapped her temple. “With enough training, I can see the inner light of a person’s essence and even more. It’s a little difficult to explain that part of it though.”

  I nodded. “I see. So Hopsander didn’t even need to tell you, did he?”

  “We discussed your . . . situation when you entered the inn, way back then.”

  “Do you think I am dangerous?”

  Her expression didn’t change. “No. Twin souls have a bad history, but the only records of the ones that caused any destruction were sick, power-hungry men who were evil before they became twin souls. They aren’t like you. The ritual, when done by occultists or mages, usually kills the original soul so the invading one can take full control. That didn’t happen to you. YOU don’t even know what happened to you. So that is why we are taking you to the only person who may know what to do in a situation like this.”

  I nodded my head along to her explanation. So far, it didn’t seem like I was in any current danger. These Cinders wanted to study me, and clearly, they wanted to use me as a weapon in their cause.

  During our training, Fern and I had discovered that we grew stronger twice as fast as the others. And that there was a feeling I could activate to tap into Fern’s strength. When I did that, I felt twice as strong and as fast as before. We both concluded that I must have activated that state when we fought Carlyle in Corello and those wryms on the way to Ash.

  “Speaking of, you said you weren’t a fourth level,” I said carefully. “What level are you?”

  She raised a brow at my sudden change of topic but humored me. “Second level.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Only second?”

  Does it really take that long to get powerful? I asked, shocked.

  ‘I guess it’s a good thing we have that twin soul enhancement to develop faster,’ Fern said.

  She scoffed. “Getting to level three blood infusion takes years unless you undergo specialized training.” She smirked, shaking her head. “And that only happens once in a great while.”

  “So, Hopsander’s a—”

  “Fourth level,” she answered before I could finish. “That’s how he knew about you instantly. He could see what I saw, but clearer.”

  Hopsander had told me that earlier, but it was all starting to come together. Each level gave new abilities.

  My biggest concern was: If Hopsander and Laska, both voidbloods at the bottom of society’s ladder, could see that I was a twin soul, could more experienced magebloods see it too?

  ‘We need answers,’ Fern whispered. ‘And soon.’

  Agreed, I said to Fern.

  I gritted my teeth. “And we’re meeting someone who can help?”

  Laska turned back, heading up the winding staircase. “Yes. A man by the name of Pestil. Head of Alchemical and Runic Studies.”

  A shiver ran down my spine at the sound of his name.

  I knew nothing about the professor, but something about his name didn’t sit right. Maybe it was because it sounded too close to pestilence.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  After climbing another few floors, we came to a level with a large, cavernous room, where giant paintings hung high and students milled about. The largest painting depicted men and women arguing in a forum while a dragon and a jester performed a show for an audience of one. The style was eerily like pieces I had seen back home in museums dedicated to the Renaissance. So much so that the similarity made a pit form in my stomach. I wondered to myself if this world and Earth were more connected than I initially thought, but I shook it off and looked elsewhere, and then, my jaw dropped.

  A massive set of double doors was open wide and led into the largest chamber I had seen since entering the academy. The library. Inside, I saw towering shelves stacked with tomes that stretched far into multiple corridors. The faint scent of ink and old parchment drifted through the air and wrapped around me as if to pull me in.

  I had to get inside. I took a step forward.

  Then—Laska’s grip clamped on my collar.

  “Not that way,” she said flatly, pulling me back.

  “Aw, come on . . .”

  “You can go there on your own time,” she said.

  I groaned but complied. Finally, after three months, I found out where it was. The library had eluded me for so long, but at that moment, I made a promise to come back that night.

  Laska guided me toward another archway, leading us farther up the pillar’s interior. The walls became colder, and the corridors became more isolated. The air smelled wet and sharp, like metal in the rain.

  “Anything I need to know about this Pestil guy?” I asked, uneasy.

  Laska’s lips pressed together. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  More pits formed in my stomach, back-to-back.

  An icy chill hit my skin as we entered an immense alchemical lab. Long tables held half-finished potions, piles of assorted crystals, and runic circles etched into the floor. Hooded students wearing white masks labored in silence, ignoring us. In the center stood a tall figure cloaked in black robes, Professor Pestil. He turned slowly, revealing a pale face framed by silver hair. His piercing gray eyes flicked over me with immediate disdain.

  “So,” he said in a cold voice. “The anomaly has arrived.”

  I was tense. “My name is Erik.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “You can name yourself whatever you wish, but is that the true name of the body you took over?” He looked at Laska without waiting for me to answer. “And you’ve confirmed Hopsander’s claim?”

  Laska nodded, folding her arms. “Yes. The boy has a soul aura that has all the qualities of a twin soul. Both Hopsander and I can confirm, as I am sure you will too.”

  Pestil squinted and his eyes started to glow a bright silver, inhuman. He looked me up and down and let out a sigh. Then the glow from his eyes disappeared. “I see, you are right. Who on Mourne thought it would be a good idea to make a twin soul from a voidblood?” he pondered to himself.

  He’s at least reached level four for his blood infusion, I thought, trying to gauge Pestil’s strength given what Hopsander told me about what level fours can do.

  ‘I’m starting to hate the word twin soul,’ Fern muttered in my head.

  Professor Pestil gestured at a cushioned exam table with an overhead lamp fueled by a glowing crystal. “Strip to the waist and lie down on your back. Let’s see what the pillardust runes can show us.”

  Reluctantly, I removed my uniform’s upper portion, shivering in the lab’s cold air. I was half self-conscious about the other students around, but they all seemed to be too involved in their work to look.

  Pestil seized a small brush and dipped it in water and then into a small glass jar of finely ground white dust, the same dust Hopsander had used to ward off monsters and heal Silas.

  Without warning or any sort of explanation, Pestil drew strange runes across my chest and shoulders. I flinched to protest but he held me down with his free hand. The tall, skinny man was surprisingly strong. A tingle coursed through my skin with each brushstroke; the pillardust he painted on my skin shimmered in the lamplight like moonstone glitter.

  “Al?theia . . . Psych? . . . Tópos . . . Chrónos,” he muttered.

  Wait . . . is that . . . ? I twitched my eye to Pestil, whose eyes were now closed as he continued chanting and drawing runic symbols on my chest.

  I recognized those words—Greek terms for truth, soul, place, and time. Memories of philosophy books, video games, and action movies with cliché puzzles flashed through my head.

  Pestil was speaking Greek.

  ‘You know what he’s saying?’ Fern asked.

  It’s . . . Greek. It’s from my world. But why?

  Pestil finished chanting quietly and then leaned back.

  The runes glowed softly, and the lab dimmed. Darkness closed in like a rolling black fog, swallowing the hooded students, leaving just me, Laska, and Pestil in a humming bubble of greenish light coming from my chest.

  Suddenly, an image flickered before me—Fern. The sixteen-year-old, a mirror of me, appeared in front of us. He turned slowly with confusion painted on his face.

  ‘Erik?’

  Fern? I asked, leaning my head up from the exam table. Then Fern disappeared, and the vision changed. My old Earth body appeared, suspended in midair, battered and bleeding and held in place by nine red swords. Horror seized me and I began to panic.

  “Stop!” I gasped, wrenching free.

  My body raised its head, and before it opened its eyes, I stumbled off the chair, scattering pillardust across the floor. The glow winked out, plunging us back into the lab’s normal lighting.

  “You fool!” Pestil snapped. “You ruined the calibration.”

  I backed away, heart in my throat. “That . . . that was my old body. What the hell was that? What were those swords?”

  Pestil sighed, exasperated. “We WERE close to gleaning more data before you just ruined it. Do you know how long it takes to charge pillardust to that caliber of quality?”

  Laska stepped in, grabbing a spare cloak and draping it around me. “Enough for now, Pestil. You have your orders from Captain Hopsander. Erik can’t handle more now.”

  Pestil glared, then turned aside. “Hopsander doesn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant. Don’t forget who ranks higher. Bring the anatomy back next week. I’ll have more charged pillardust by then. Dismissed.” He tossed a rag at my chest, effectively ending the conversation.

  Laska led me out of the lab. My heart was still rocketing inside my ribs, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw my body. Fern remained silent, possibly just as shaken as I was. Once we descended to a corridor far below, Laska put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Professor Pestil lacks . . . let us say empathy. But he’s the best chance to unravel your condition. He’s a world-renowned researcher, even among magebloods. You’ll have to keep complying if you want to know anything more about your condition. Is that something you want?

  I nodded. “Yes, I want to retrieve my body and be returned to it. I am also . . . looking for someone.” I lowered my voice. I had decided that for now, under no circumstances should I mention that my brother was one of the most powerful magebloods in the country. I might trust and even like the Cinders, but I had no idea how far they would go for their own cause.

  “Who?” Laska asked, as if ready to test me.

  “My brother. He went through a portal and I am not sure where he ended up.”

  She shook her head. “That is unfortunate.”

  I swallowed, nodding. If this was the only way to learn about retrieving my real body or separating from Fern, I had no choice but to play by whatever rules Pestil and the other Cinders set. I was more relieved that I wasn’t being imprisoned or executed.

  By the time I got back to the training hall, nearly everyone, including Hopsander, had left the classroom except my five friends. A short, plump nurse by the name of Labella hovered over two who looked severely battered. Sora lay, half conscious, on a cot, her arms and face bruised. Tevin hunched next to her, nursing his own wound. Silas approached. He was repairing his severely dented mechanical arm and trembling with exertion.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked, glaring at Tevin. “Did you really have to beat her that hard?”

  Tevin looked up with hurt eyes, and Silas leaned in shaking his head. “Hey, hey. It wasn’t Tevin. Hopsander paired us off with the other house after you left with Laska.”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry, Tevin. I didn’t mean to accuse you,” I said to my gentle friend. I should have known he would never do such a thing. I looked back at Silas. “The other house? Which one—?”

  Silas nodded. “House Enlil, Lucius and Rinka’s house. They were here. But they didn’t hurt them. Well, Rinka didn’t.”

  “You’re kidding, that pain-in-the-ass wannabe rival Lucius did this?”

  “He sort of egged on some scary-looking recruits from the north to challenge Tevin. Sora called him out as a bully, and one of the other northern kids then challenged her. They . . . were unbelievably ruthless.” He rubbed his temple, confused. “All I know is both Tevin and Sora got hammered by House Enlil.”

  Tevin gave me a faint, pained grin. His wounds were already healing thanks to whatever was on the cloth the nurse gave him. “Guess we’re not as tough as we thought. Luna did well though.”

  Silas nodded. “Yeah, Luna kicked my butt! Who knew you could fight like that!”

  Luna sat next to Sora, eyes stormy with concern. She ignored us and clenched her fists, watching her friend lie there in bandages.

  The nurse stood up. “Well, that should be it! You’ll be healed by the time you get to your next class. This is why we keep some medically charged pillardust around to heal these broken bones quickly!”

  They really use that dust for everything, I chuckled to myself, relieved that my friends would be okay soon.

  ‘We need to get stronger. Fast,’ Fern’s voice cut in. I agreed completely.

  I put a hand on Silas’s shoulder. “We’ll get them back at the trial.”

  “We don’t even know what the trial is,” Mel said. She had been leaning up against the wall next to Sora. “But you’re right, doesn’t matter, we will kick their ass!”

  A new assistant teacher peeked through the door. “Class is over, House Anu. Head to your next session—Stealth and Survival in room eight, west wing. Immediately,” they said before buzzing away.

  We arrived at a large, dark square room in the west wing. Flickering candles cast tall, moving shadows on the walls, and inside, several other House Anu recruits sat waiting nervously in the darkness. Mel marched at the front, ignoring her bruises. Tevin and Sora limped in, not fully recovered, followed by me, Silas, and Luna.

  The door clapped shut behind us, and the lanterns abruptly dimmed, plunging us into near-blackness. A hiss-like voice echoed across the room, sending chills up my spine.

  “Welcome, classsss. I have released seven snakes in this room. For your first quiz, your task is to catch them all without getting bitten. You wouldn’t want this toxin in you.” The hidden voice laughed in the dark.

  My palms began to soak with sweat as I heard hissing coming from several angles.

  Class had begun and this first quiz made me want to throw up.