Chapter One: Kaz
It was the first day of the week, around early morning. The entirety of the Scholomance was quiet, with the exception of the Solarium, a large area located in the tallest tower of the famed magic school. The Solarium–a round, stone room with its only distinguishing feature being the large circle etched directly in the center–was empty except for a lone figure kneeling in the middle of the circle.
His name was Kazza (Kaz, he’d quickly correct) Hallow, and he was one of the Solomonari. This meant he was one of the best magicians in the country of Thenia, but he certainly didn’t feel that way now. In fact, he now felt rather useless, as the spell he was working on was doing little more than weakly light up the circle around him. Frustrated, Kaz let the spell go, and all magical energy went out of the room.
Kaz sighed in irritation as he studied the runes in front of him: he wasn’t arrogant out of habit, but it was a simple fact that he was more than proficient at magic, and so he wasn’t used to a spell not working at all. The runes looked correct, but then again, Ritual Magic wasn’t his specialty. Maybe he could get one of his classmates to look at it, but it still annoyed Kaz that the spell had alluded him so completely.
Kaz got up slowly, his muscles aching due to the length of time he had been kneeling on the stone floor. He wiped his chalk-covered hands on his pants and turned back to the circle, determined to find his error. After a little while of staring at it, it became obvious that Kaz’s mistake was hidden in the details, so he spelled away the empty containers of chalk and the short, well-used candles to leave only his chalk circle.
Kaz glanced out the nearest window to see the beginnings of sunlight streaming through the windows. Kaz never needed to operate on much sleep, and this time of the night was blessedly free from distractions. While he considered the nine other Solomonari to be family, Kaz was an introvert at heart, and for complex spells, he preferred to work alone.
“No luck?” A familiar voice jolted Kaz out of his reverie as his gaze snapped to the voice’s owner. It was one of his classmates, Nina Balazs, and also one of the closest people in his life. It had been Nina that had first befriended him when they began at the Scholomance. While some of the Solomonari had been hesitant to befriend the Solomonar from Kezig with a family who had just been murdered and was also a Ravkan…well, it didn’t make for the easiest friendships. But Nina, a Vothan (the sister state of Kezig, really), wasn’t at all frightened by the pale, slightly too-skinny boy she sat next to on the first day. From then on, he and Nina had been inseparable.
“No. Nothing,” Kaz said as he shook his head. His tone was only a little petulant.
“The book even said it wasn’t a fully conceptualized spell,” Nina reminded him. She was wearing casual clothes, not yet dressed in the Scholomance uniform. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, but he knew that before classes started, she’d spell it straight as a pin. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Just don’t tell Sarai,” Kaz said, referring to another one of their classmates. Sarai was wicked clever and extremely adept at magic (and Ritual Magic, especially). He and Sarai had competed since their second week attending the Scholomance, and the competition had not eased in the five years since. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Like I would tell her,” Nina said with a roll of her eyes. Sarai, despite holding the esteemed title of Dracul’s Distinction, was difficult to get along with, and while she was an important part of the Solomonari, most of them did not seek to spend time with her outside of their studies. “She could probably help you, though.” Nina came to inspect the chalk circle. Nina always insisted she didn’t have the patience for Ritual Magic, which required an extensive amount of steps and materials, and she was probably right. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the skill to do so–Kaz knew Nina could do anything she set her mind to–but when she was proficient with so much other magic, Ritual Magic was pretty far down on her list of magics to master.
“Probably,” Kaz grumbled in agreement. He glanced outside, and while the light of morning was beginning to brighten, it was still early. “What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Nina admitted. “The first day of term, and all.”
Nina was right; the official start of their sixth year was today, but frankly, there would be hardly anything different about that day. Yes, their classes would change, and in some cases, their professors, too, but they knew all the teaching staff, and the classes were simply a continuation of their previous studies. In fact, until Nina had mentioned it, Kaz had nearly forgotten it was the “first day” of the new term.
“It’s no big deal,” Kaz said, trying to reassure Nina, who was very rarely nervous. “Nothing’s changing.”
“No,” Nina agreed. “But it’s just a reminder that time is passing.”
Kaz knew what Nina meant when she said that: their education, seven years long, was coming to an end the next year. They had been fairly sheltered at the prestigious Scholomance, and while they had been completing outside assignments for at least a year now, it still felt daunting to think that in a short time, they would be fully-fledged Solomonars, tasked with any number of responsibilities to the Scholomance and to the country of Thenia as a whole. Thenians counted on the Solomonari to keep them safe, and Kaz knew they all took that responsibility seriously.
“We’ve still got two whole years,” Kaz pointed out. “That’s a long time, really.”
“Two years from today we’ll be past Solomonari. A new cohort will be using this room.”
“And Sarai can finally relax and be the Immortal,” Kaz said with a smile, knowing that would cheer Nina up. Every Solomonari cohort had to have an Immortal; it was payment for their education. As the Dracul’s Distinction (an award given even prior to their admission, to the student that shows the most promise), Sarai was the most likely to be chosen, and for the rest of the Solomonari that was fine: Sarai wanted it badly, and the rest didn’t want it at all. It was a good arrangement.
“Imagine having to spend immortality with her,” Nina said with a snort. “Imagine her being your professor.” All Immortals were expected to do whatever the Scholomance deemed important for them to do, and in some cases, that was teaching at the Scholomance.
“I’d rather not,” Kaz said brusquely.
Nina laughed and shook her head. “That’s not our problem, fortunately.”
“What if she’s not picked? Then it’s all our problem.” Kaz knew this was very unlikely; Sarai lived up to her title, and she wanted to be an Immortal. There was no reason for it not to happen, but ultimately, it was voted on by the Immortalis Solomonari, the group of Immortals who voted on everything the Scholomance needed: from who to admit to who received what assignment.
“If they don’t choose her, Sarai will probably take that opportunity to practice some Death Magic. Anyway, there’s no reason not to choose her. And if it’s not her, then it’s you, so keep hoping that.”
Kaz didn’t say anything to that. Kaz was a good magician–great, in fact–but his magic was deadly and destructive, and he didn’t like to show it off too often. He knew he’d be a terrible fit for the Immortalis, but his best friend insisted on saying otherwise.
“At any rate, it seems hard to believe we’re on Year 6,” Nina said softly.
Kaz felt like he measured time differently than others; for him, he had felt every day of the last five years. In fact, he had since he had come home to find that his parents, two younger sisters, and his older brother had been slaughtered in an apparent robbery gone wrong. At age 10, Kaz had to grow up fast, and he felt like one of the remnants of the tragic event was that he felt the burden every single day since then.
He didn’t like to talk about that, though, so he said, “It is hard to believe. We’re getting old, Nina.”
Nina grinned. Kaz was newly 18, but everyone always said Kaz was old for his age, and Nina often called him ‘old man,’ even though she was barely 19 and decidedly older than him. Kaz was also far from the oldest of the Solomonari: Julian was 21, after all. “So you admit it?”
Kaz shrugged. “Facts are facts.” He didn’t really like to talk about aging, either, when he had three siblings who would never get to.
Nina seemed to sense Kaz’s reluctance to discuss it anymore, so she said, “We could probably bug Lysander for some breakfast.” Kaz went to say that he wasn’t hungry when she interrupted, “Kaz, you hardly ate last night. You have to have some breakfast.”
Kaz thought Nina was too obsessed with his eating habits, but he knew she did it because she cared. When he went to spend time in Votha with Nina’s family–anytime his uncle, Andrei, was gone for a holiday, or he wasn’t off to one of the other Solomonari’s family–her mother, Katia, always tried to overfeed him, too. It was Votha’s way: show love through food.
“Maybe some Kezen cakes,” Kaz mumbled. They were something only Nina found palatable besides himself, but he knew Lysander kept a stock, just for him. Kezen cakes were practical, tough, and no-nonsense; it was the same way that most Thenians viewed Kezens. Kaz didn’t mind.
“At least put some spread on it,” Nina said. “But fine. Let’s go.”
With a last glance at the chalk circle, Kaz made the decision to spell it away. Nina raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Kaz knew she knew he’d never ask Sarai for help, so it was a moot point to have her look at his work. He’d just have to start over.
Kaz followed Nina down the several sets of stairs to the bottom floor of the Scholomance. The Scholomance was so large that for the first month or two of their tenure, most Solomonars spent more time getting lost than attending lessons. Kaz was one of those–he had a terrible sense of direction–but after five years, he now knew most of the Scholomance like the back of his hand.
As predicted, Nina and Kaz were able to wheedle an early breakfast from Lysander, and they took their meal up to the Salon, a sitting room with a plethora of squishy armchairs and soft sofas. It also had an ornate fireplace at one end of the room, and because of the time of year, a large fire was already roaring in it.
They were not surprised to see Zara Ghazali, the Solomonar from Ghazeen, reading dutifully by the fire. She was a stickler for homework and assignments, and over the five years they’d been at the Scholomance, Zara had never missed a single assignment.
Zara was already in the Solomonari uniform: all black clothes (in this case, she was wearing a dress) with the purple crest of the Solomonari on one side of her dress and the gold crest of the Scholomance on the other. Her black hair was slightly curled this morning, a long, wavy cascade of curls reaching halfway down her back. Zara was beautiful, there were no two ways about it, and she was also a part of the Reza Court, the royal family of Ghazeen, so she had always grown up in wealth and comfort. Despite that, she was incredibly kind, and Kaz called her not just a colleague of sorts, but also a good friend.
She smiled when she saw Nina and Kaz come in; Nina went to sit next to her, offering her some of her breakfast, while Kaz sat across from them.
“You’re up early,” Zara said to Nina. Zara was often Kaz’s late-night companion, so she knew Kaz was up at all hours. But Nina…well, Nina liked her sleep.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Nina explained. “I started to get anxious about it being the beginning of the term. Our sixth, and penultimate, one.”
“That’s true,” Zara said as she nibbled on one of the scones Nina had shared with her. “But nothing’s changing. And it’s not like once we graduate it’s going to change that much. We’ll all go back to our states and continue on. We can Portal whenever we like.”
“It’s different,” Nina insisted. “We’ll say we’ll see each other often, but then it’ll be a year, and we won’t have seen each other at all.”
“Speak for yourself. Andrei travels too much to look in on him, and he’d probably starve if we didn’t feed him.” Zara gestured towards Kaz. “We’ll have to be on rotation.”
Kaz rolled his eyes; he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, even if he sometimes forgot to eat or sleep. “I’ll be fine.”
Zara and Nina looked at Kaz so incredulously that he vowed right then and there to start eating and sleeping better. Portaling meant magicians could visit others as most people walked across the street, and Kaz knew he’d wake up every day to one Solomonari or another on his doorstep if they didn’t feel he was taking care of himself. Kaz loved them all dearly (even Sarai), but he liked his privacy and didn’t need permanent nannies.
“Okay, fine. I’ll do better. In the meantime, see, I’m eating.” Kaz took a hearty bite of a Kezen cake. He remembered his mother always made her own for their family; he had thought they were the best in the world. Unfortunately, the recipe had died with her.
“Those are gross,” Zara pointed out, not for the first time. “Now hadrash…”
Hadrash was a Ghazeenian delicacy that even Kaz had to admit was delicious. In fact, Ghazeenian food was in general. Ghazeen had a very “open arms” policy to outsiders, so their cuisine was always tinted with other cultures, and it always made their food that much better. Kaz was also partial to the food from Trece Isla, but Ghazeen always won, and Zara’s family always sent him care packages of their food as well.
“I could use some of that,” Kaz agreed. “I’ll have to ask your father.” Kaz was incredibly lucky that many of his Solomonari had classmates whose families made him feel like family: that included the families of the two people eating breakfast with him. Their classmate, Akiva, also had a family that took Kaz in as one of their own. It meant that he very rarely felt alone.
“Hadrashasheen is coming up, so there’s plenty,” Zara said, referring to a Ghazeenian holiday. She finished off the scone and brushed her hands together to get rid of the crumbs. “Better than Kezen cakes, at any rate.”
Kaz rolled his eyes but said nothing. All of the Solomonari enjoyed teasing him about his home state, and Kaz took it good-naturedly. “Everything is, according to you lot.”
“That is true,” Zara said quickly. “I don’t mind Kezig, but your food is terrible.”
“Compared to Ghazeenian food, I agree,” Kaz admitted. “I don’t think it’s any better or worse than Vothan food, though.”
Nina threw a crumpled-up napkin at Kaz in defense but said nothing. Votha and Kezig were sister states, so Kaz and Nina often good-naturedly ribbed each other about their home states.
Zara glanced up at the clock and said, “We have our first lessons soon. You two better go change.”
Both he and Nina nodded in agreement. Kaz would be expected by his Mentor, Cyneric, in a short time. Kaz knew he could change quickly, but he wanted to read one more chapter of his recent book before his meeting.
“See you at lunch,” Nina said as she spelled her garbage away. Because Zara was Zara, she already looked perfect and wouldn’t have to prepare at all before their first lesson.
“Good luck!” Zara said cheerfully as Nina and Kaz left the library together. At the main stair landing, they separated; Nina’s room was down one end of the hallway, and Kaz’s at the other.
“I’ll see you at break,” Nina said pointedly. They almost always spent their morning break together with Akiva. She glanced up at the clock that made its home in the main atrium. It was large enough that they could see it from where they were standing. “If I’m late to my meeting with Melina, she’ll kill me. See you later!”
Kaz watched as Nina bounced down the hallway, and he turned to go to his own bedroom. Kaz also didn’t want to be late with his Mentor, Cyneric, either. As a proficient user of Dark Magic, Cyneric could incapacitate him in a heartbeat. Luckily, he and Cyneric got along fabulously, but Kaz’s chronic tardiness drove Cyneric crazy.
Hoping to avoid Cyneric’s consternations, Kaz decided to skip his chapter so he could be early to the library. That would probably shock Cyneric more than any kind of magic Kaz could come up with. **************************************************************************************************************************** Cyneric was one of the Immortalis Solomonari, and one of the most important people in Kaz’s life. He was officially the librarian for the Scholomance, but his specialty, Dark Magic, meant that Kaz had spent a lot of time with Cyneric over the years. Every Solomonar had a Mentor, one member of the Immortalis that guided them through their education. Besides the Dracul’s Distinction, who always had the Dracul as a Mentor, the rest didn’t receive one until six months after their education began, so that the best Mentor out of the hundreds of Immortalis could be chosen. Kaz considered him lucky to have been picked by Cyneric; he knew he owed a large portion of his magical competence to his Mentor.
Once, Kaz had asked how old Cyneric really was. Immortalis looked young for hundreds of years, and the oldest amongst them only looked about 70 or 80. Contrary to popular belief, the Immortalis weren’t really immortal; they just lived thousands of years, but eventually, their body would break down, even with magic, and sort of fade away. But Cyneric only looked to be in his 30s, so Kaz figured he was old but not old. Cyneric had just laughed and said he had lost track, and Kaz had wondered if that was true or Cyneric just didn’t like to talk about time passing.
Kaz spent countless hours in the library, often in companionable silence with Cyneric. He also took lessons with Cyneric several times a week, and often even spent his leisure time with him, so besides his fellow Solomonari, Kaz felt closest to Cyneric. It had been Cyneric who had assured Kaz he wasn’t bad or evil because of his magic, and even though Kaz struggled to believe that at certain times, Cyneric did his best to keep reminding his Mentee.
Kaz knew their lesson would be in the library, so after quickly changing, he headed down there. Everyone’s first lesson of the new term was with their Mentor, and it was used to determine their course of study for the next year. Kaz didn’t have as much variety as some of his classmates, but he knew the Immortalis made a strenuous effort to make sure he wasn’t bored. Cyneric, especially, always made magic–even Dark Magic–both intriguing and safe, while also pushing the boundaries Kaz craved to.
As expected, Kaz found Cyneric in the back corner of the cavernous library, where he spent much of his time hunched over his desk. Part of his job as the librarian was the extensive research the Solomonari (both current and present) required to complete their assignments. Kaz was so impressed that Cyneric seemed to know every single book of the collection, which must contain thousands of books. It was a talent even magic couldn’t help with, and that just impressed Kaz even more.
“Morning,” Kaz said. He handed Cyneric a wrapped scone he had taken for breakfast. Cyneric was perhaps as bad at remembering to eat as Kaz was, so Kaz would try to include Cyneric in his vow to take care of himself better.
Cyneric nodded in acknowledgment of both Kaz and his offered breakfast and looked up from the large tome he was poring over. When he looked up, Kaz was suddenly reminded of his older brother, Mikhai. He had been Kaz’s best friend growing up, and while Mikhai wouldn’t be in his 30s yet, Cyneric certainly reminded him of his beloved older brother, and also that Mikhai would never be able to reach that age.
“Did you eat this morning?” Cyneric asked Kaz.
“I did,” Kaz confirmed. “So you should, too.” He took a seat in the large armchair that was on the other side of Cyneric’s desk. Everyone widely recognized it was really Kaz’s chair, and he was glad: it was insanely comfortable, and he didn’t want to share.
Cyneric hummed in agreement as he unwrapped the scone and took a bite. He then pulled out a sheaf of papers and sat them pointedly on his desk. It was Kaz’s potential schedule, which also had to be approved by the Dracul.
“Anything good in there?” Kaz asked, gesturing to the papers. “Please tell me there’s something exciting.”
“Absolutely not,” Cyneric answered. “I gave you the worst.”
Kaz rolled his eyes but smiled slightly; he knew Cyneric wouldn’t do him wrong. “Fine.”
Cyneric cleared his throat before continuing. “So we’re going to continue you on Sacrificial Magic with Hadley. She says you’re making remarkable progress, and she wants to continue with you.” Kaz had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in glee. He loved Sacrificial Magic, and they had only let him start studying it the previous term. “The Dracul also approved you to begin honing your Curse Magic with me.” Kaz couldn’t stop the growing excitement showing on his face. So much of his magic he was hardly able to use, and he had only been allowed to use Curse Magic a few times once to prove he had it, and just a handful of times since then. “I thought you’d like that,” Cyneric said dryly.
“You said yourself they didn’t use to limit Dark Magic by age,” Kaz said defensively. “So I’m anxious to begin.”
“They didn’t,” Cyneric agreed. “So we ended up with a few dead Solomonari as a result.”
“I’m ready,” Kaz said immediately.
“I agree,” Cyneric said. He glanced down at Kaz’s papers. “We’re also going to continue you on Portal Magic with Louisa. I know you don’t love it, but you’re exceptionally good at it, and the Dracul specifically requested it.”
Kaz sighed but said nothing. He was good at Portal Magic, but it used up a lot of magic and energy, so Kaz wasn’t keen on doing it often. But he loved Louisa, and he couldn’t help but preen a little at Cyneric’s offhanded praise.
“We’ve also scheduled you with Hadley to continue with your Pain Magic as well. This lesson will be based on your magic levels since it requires so much. I’ve also discussed upping your Enchantment Magic with Noam. I know it’s not your favorite, but it’s probably your weakest magic, so it’s good to hone it. Of course, you’ll continue on with your Elemental and Potion studies…and we’ll have you in a lesson with Doreah for your Sense Manipulation.” Cyneric set the pile of papers down and said, “Now is the time we discuss something serious.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll also be studying Death Magic with me. The Dracul approved it, but like your lessons with Hadley for Pain Magic, it’ll be dependent on your magic levels and overall health. Understand?”
Kaz could hardly hide his glee. All of his classmates had already been allowed to access their full magical potential, but for obvious reasons, Kaz had not yet been able to practice Death Magic, which he knew was strong. Of course, Kaz didn’t want to kill anyone, but accessing his full magic was something he was keen to do.
“I understand,” Kaz answered quickly. “When can we start?”
Cyneric glanced up at Kaz and said dryly, “I’m guessing you mean your lessons in general.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Kaz tried to tamp down his excitement. He knew it was odd to be so excited over such a morbid type of magic, but the possibilities were fascinating to him.
“You’ll be happy to know you’ll be doing Potion lessons with Nina, as well as Elemental with her and Akiva. Rowan and you will share your Portal lessons, and you and Leeza will share your Enchantment portion. You and Sarai will have an independent Ritual Magic study, and I don't want to hear a word about it.”
Kaz sank down deeper in his chair and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but he knew his posture communicated his displeasure. He didn’t hate Sarai or even dislike her, but she was difficult to work with, and her Ritual Magic was her main magic, meaning she blew Kaz away pretty consistently when it came to Ritual Magic lessons. It annoyed him greatly.
“And that’s it. Agreeable?”
Kaz nodded; the last revelation had taken the wind out of his sails, so to speak. But he tried to remember how excited he was about his upcoming Curse and Death Magic lessons, and that did brighten him considerably.
Cyneric glanced up at the large grandfather clock that was near his desk. “You were early.”
“It happens,” Kaz said as a way of explanation. “Rarely, but I thought the first day deserved my punctuality.”
“You look tired. Did you sleep last night?”
“You’re just like Nina and Zara,” Kaz grumbled. “And yes, for a while. I was trying out a new spell, but it didn’t work.”
“Want to talk it through?”
Kaz shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see if I can tackle it on my own.”
“Just let me know, then.”
Kaz nodded. “And then Nina was saying she couldn’t sleep because this is our ‘penultimate year,’ to quote her.”
“Does that bother you?”
Kaz shrugged and said, “Maybe not in the same way as everyone else.”
Cyneric gave Kaz a sympathetic look, which made him squirm. He didn’t like pity, and people were full of it for a kid whose entire family had been slaughtered. Kaz knew he’d feel sympathy if someone told him his story about someone else, but pity was often distressing to him, so he tried to avoid it at every possible turn.
“Frankly, two years seems like a long time to me.”
“It’s not,” Cyneric reminded him. “But I’m glad you’ve accepted the transition.”
“Do you remember your last few years here, as a student?” Kaz noticed that although Cyneric’s memory was perfect after he received the spell (that was part of the deal: perfect memory of their immortal years), it seemed like the older the Immortalis got, the less they remembered their mortal years.
“A bit,” Cyneric answered. “I was honestly hurtling towards the end, so I just remember being really anxious.” Cyneric had been the Dracul’s Distinction for his cohort and had, predictably, been chosen as the Immortal for his cohort. He had been honored, unlike Kaz, who was fairly horrified by the prospect.
“I think Sarai feels the same way.”
Cyneric shuffled Kaz’s papers again but said nothing. Usually, the Immortalis treated the Dracul’s Distinction a little differently (better, in most cases) because most of them had been the Dracul’s Distinction themselves in their cohorts. But Sarai was difficult, at best, to get along with, so she didn’t have the best relationships with the Immortalis. Cyneric would never outright talk badly of Sarai, but Kaz knew he didn’t like her, and he was more pleased than he could say that Cyneric had told him once that he thought Kaz should have been the Dracul’s Distinction. Kaz was terribly glad he wasn’t (there was a lot of responsibility and not enough reward, in Kaz’s opinion), but it still pleased him that someone he so highly respected had mutual respect for him.
“I’m surprised Nina is so anxious about the end. She seems to be eager to go from current to former Solomonar,” Cyneric finally said.
“She is. She just doesn’t like change,” Kaz explained. “But she’s ready to begin her assignment in Votha, or wherever else the Immortalis places us.” He paused, trying to find a good segue, but finding none he just blurted out, “But…when can we start the Death Magic lessons?”
“Kazza–” Cyneric often called him that, and he was the only one allowed to do so. His parents had called him that so he didn’t like to be reminded of it often, but he knew Cyneric did it affectionately, so he let him. “We should talk about this.”
“Talk about what?”
Cyneric paused as a thoughtful look crossed his face. Then, he said, “Having the amount of power you have, Kaz, it’s…a lot. It’s a large burden, and one you already face. You will be able to kill someone in the same amount of time it takes to magically clear a table. For obvious reasons, losing control can cost more than just some property damage.”
“I know that.” Cyneric’s look of concern deepened, and that worried Kaz. Did he think he’d misuse the magic? He and Cyernic had a relationship where they could say just about anything to each other so he asked, “Do you think I’ll just go around and misuse it?”
“No.” Cyneric’s answer was firm and immediate. “No, I don’t think so. But we know that sometimes you lack…emotional control, and I do worry about that.”
Kaz felt properly chastised. Magic was affected by a magician’s emotions: negative emotions could almost entirely suppress a magician’s magic, and in some cases, permanently damage it. In addition, strong emotions–and anger, especially–made some magician’s magic unpredictable, and that’s where Kaz’s issues arose. Kaz knew he had emotional regulation troubles, and he was often mercurial and impulsive, but every year at the Scholomance had helped him gain a little more control. Sometimes, anger lived in Kaz like an unwelcome visitor, but he had learned by now to (mostly) control it.
“I have every single faith that you have every intention of using your magic only when needed, Kaz,” Cyneric said kindly. “I just want to impress upon you the seriousness of this lesson. Losing control now means you’ll give someone a torture session of bad thoughts. In a little while, you could kill them before even realizing what you’ve done.”
“Have you ever had to kill someone, on your assignments?” Kaz asked curiously. He and Cyneric didn’t discuss this portion of their magic a lot, so Kaz had a lot of questions about it.
“Yes,” Cyneric answered, somewhat hollowly. “It’s felt terrible every time.”
“Even if they deserved it?”
“Even if they deserved it,” Cyneric confirmed. He got up from his seat and went over to a large window near his desk. The morning light was streaming in, although some clouds were now hanging around, signaling some possible afternoon rain. “You’re very adept at Sacrificial Magic, Kaz. Death Magic isn’t so different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just like when you cast a Sacrificial Magic spell, Death Magic requires a sacrifice as well.”
Kaz frowned in confusion; in all the reading he had done on Death Magic, none of them had mentioned a sacrifice. Sacrificial Magic required blood, which Kaz happily gave, so what would Death Magic require? “Like what?”
“It takes a part of you, every time you use it,” Cyneric explained. He was still staring out the window, and it looked to Kaz like he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “I’m not talking physically, but emotionally.”
“I don’t understand. If someone deserves it, then…”
“Do you claim to play the part of the Defiled?” Cyneric asked. He was referring to the pantheon of one of Thenia’s largest religions, Ravka, which Kaz had been born into and continued to be an active member of.
“Of course not,” Kaz answered. Kaz wasn’t going to bother to have a theological discussion on Ravka; technically, the Defiled didn’t call someone home to their death, it was simply a natural part of the cycle of a person, but Kaz got what he meant. Cyneric wasn’t religious, but he knew Kaz was.
“You feel like you are,” Cyneric said softly. “Some of us who practice it…it gets out of control, Kazza. It begins to eat at you, sometimes. To see the life leave someone…it isn’t satisfying. It’s horrifying.”
Kaz was sobered by that thought. Death wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but his family had already been dead by the time he had arrived home, and he hadn’t been allowed to view their bodies.
It’s almost as Cyneric could read Kaz’s mind–or perhaps he just knew Kaz really well–because he said, “I know death isn’t unfamiliar to you. You know the devastation it causes. Even casting it takes tremendous energy and magic. It’s obvious why we may not be able to do the lessons some days, if your magic is depleted, or your health isn’t good.”
“I know,” Kaz said, imbuing the phrase with as much gravitas as he could. “I’m not taking this lightly.”
“I didn’t think you would, but the Dracul insisted we have this conversation.”
“Is he worried about me?”
Cyneric smiled slightly. “He always is, Kaz. You…are a lot of very dangerous magic wrapped up in a very young man.”
Kaz couldn’t argue with that. He did possess strong and dangerous magic, and while 18 was considered grown in Thenia (in fact, 17 was), all of the Immortalis thought they were very young; it was simply the result of being, in some cases, several centuries old. 18 was practically infantile to them.
“So…good talk?” Cyneric asked. He turned from the window and came to sit back at his desk.
“Yes,” Kaz agreed. “I think…I understand.”
“Good.” Cyneric leaned back in his chair and stretched. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, either. The Dracul had a huge research proposal I just finished this morning.”
Kaz grabbed his schedule off the top of the pile, and Cyneric let him. The neat boxes showed when and where he should be for the rest of the term, and he was delighted that besides this meeting with Cyneric, he was free for the rest of the day.
“I wouldn’t be too happy,” Cyneric warned. “I know you’re seeing free slots for today, but…” Cyneric tapped the paper Kaz was holding and the words ‘Independent study, Solarium’ appeared almost directly underneath his current meeting with Cyneric.
Kaz groaned loudly. “What?”
“I forgot to put it on there,” Cyneric explained simply, although his slight smile betrayed his real intention. He knew Kaz would see that on his schedule and rejoice, and then he’d be able to ruin Kaz's day with this information.
“I’m sure,” Kaz said dryly. He folded the schedule and pocketed it. “Guess I’d better get going, then.”
“If you behave yourself with Sarai, and I get no complaints from the Dracul, we can begin your Curse Magic studies tomorrow.”
This brightened up Kaz considerably, as Cyneric obviously knew it would. Kaz silently vowed that no matter what academic insults Sarai hurled at Kaz, he would behave himself.
And besides…Kaz would let it slip that he was going to start his official studies in Curse and Death Magic soon, and what Sarai did with that information was up to her. Kaz wouldn’t even dream of even threatening Sarai with using that kind of magic, but she didn’t know that, and Kaz didn’t think she knew him well enough to know that while he was excited to begin this magic, it scared him, too.
Kaz got up to leave, and Cyneric said, “Kaz, wait.”
Kaz turned back around. He wasn’t angry with Cyneric at all for leaving out the independent study–in fact, he found it rather amusing–but by the look on Cyneric’s face, he could tell that the unnecessary apology wasn’t coming. In fact, Cyneric looked about as serious as Kaz had ever seen him.
“Kaz, I just want you to know–and it’s important to know–that I have never, for an instant, felt like you’d misuse your magic in any way.”
“I know,” Kaz said, immediately confused by Cyneric’s sudden seriousness. They were rarely serious with one another and love to tease frequently–showcased by Cyneric’s omission on his schedule for that day–so this worried Kaz. “Is everything okay?”
Cyneric nodded. “Yes. But I just…I remember starting this type of magic. It…changes you, and I just…” Cyneric shook his head. “It’s foolish, but I've seen magicians go down the wrong path with this type of magic, and I worry about you, Kaz. You’re a great magician, a good and decent person, a friend to all…but sometimes even all of that isn’t enough to stop this sort of magic from consuming you from the inside out.”
Kaz was quiet for a moment before he said, “But it’s my magic. It’s a part of me. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”
Cyneric nodded again, but the look he gave Kaz was a little too deep and piercing for his liking. Kaz suddenly wondered if he was picturing someone else standing there and having the same conversation. Cyneric had had other Mentees, of course, so it occurred to Kaz that maybe he had been in this situation before, and maybe Cyneric wasn’t simply warning him but was giving a sort of ominous premonition.
Kaz suddenly desperately wanted to ask Cyneric more, about his past, about his other Mentees, about Dark Magic in general, but he was interrupted by Sarai standing at the entrance of the library, her arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face. Kaz glanced up at the clock, and he was ten minutes late for his independent study with Sarai. Kaz was rarely happy to see Sarai, but now he felt even more irritated about it than normal.
“Kaz, you’re late,” Sarai said. “Let’s go.”
Kaz glanced back at Cyneric, and he had a totally serene look on his face. Kaz knew his window of opportunity had closed; he’d have to find another time to bring this up with Cyneric.
Sarai hadn’t left from where she was standing, so Kaz had no choice but to wave to Cyneric in goodbye and follow Sarai to the Solarium. She already had a stack of books there, probably given to her by the Dracul, and Kaz sighed. There were few tortures he’d endure in order to get a lesson in Curse Magic, but this was certainly one of them.
Throughout the lesson, though, Kaz couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to the conversation he’d had with Cyneric. Would he change, once he started this magic? Obviously, the Dracul and Cyneric had concerns, but Kaz was hoping that was because of his age and not some glaring personality flaw. Yes, Kaz knew he had problems with anger, but he wasn’t a bad person, and he’d done his fair share of good deeds. He’d even saved Sarai a time or two, which to Kaz, spoke to his utter benevolence.
By the end of the study, Kaz felt far more confused than when he started it, and when Sarai left to attend to her next lesson, Kaz simply lay in the middle of the circle to stare up at the beautiful ceiling of the Solarium. It depicted the many constellations that made up the night sky, and with the weak sunlight streaming in, it lit up the golden and glittery stars.
Right then, Kaz decided to make another vow to himself, and this one was much more important than eating and sleeping better. No, this one meant more, too. It would be that no matter what, Kaz would never let this magic consume him. If even for a second he suspected he was going down the wrong path, he’d stop immediately. Yes, Kaz was ambitious and probably more so than most, but he trusted himself to know when things were going wrong.
And, well, if he didn’t, he knew he could count on his fellow Solomonari to bring him down. Gods knew Sarai didn’t have a problem doing it, and he knew Nina wouldn’t be far behind. This thought cheered Kaz, a little. Yes, he had dangerous magic, but he himself wasn’t dangerous, and he knew the Solomonari wouldn’t allow him to become that.
Monsters were a very real threat in Thenia, but Kaz made one last vow to himself: he wouldn’t allow himself to become one.
His name was Kazza (Kaz, he’d quickly correct) Hallow, and he was one of the Solomonari. This meant he was one of the best magicians in the country of Thenia, but he certainly didn’t feel that way now. In fact, he now felt rather useless, as the spell he was working on was doing little more than weakly light up the circle around him. Frustrated, Kaz let the spell go, and all magical energy went out of the room.
Kaz sighed in irritation as he studied the runes in front of him: he wasn’t arrogant out of habit, but it was a simple fact that he was more than proficient at magic, and so he wasn’t used to a spell not working at all. The runes looked correct, but then again, Ritual Magic wasn’t his specialty. Maybe he could get one of his classmates to look at it, but it still annoyed Kaz that the spell had alluded him so completely.
Kaz got up slowly, his muscles aching due to the length of time he had been kneeling on the stone floor. He wiped his chalk-covered hands on his pants and turned back to the circle, determined to find his error. After a little while of staring at it, it became obvious that Kaz’s mistake was hidden in the details, so he spelled away the empty containers of chalk and the short, well-used candles to leave only his chalk circle.
Kaz glanced out the nearest window to see the beginnings of sunlight streaming through the windows. Kaz never needed to operate on much sleep, and this time of the night was blessedly free from distractions. While he considered the nine other Solomonari to be family, Kaz was an introvert at heart, and for complex spells, he preferred to work alone.
“No luck?” A familiar voice jolted Kaz out of his reverie as his gaze snapped to the voice’s owner. It was one of his classmates, Nina Balazs, and also one of the closest people in his life. It had been Nina that had first befriended him when they began at the Scholomance. While some of the Solomonari had been hesitant to befriend the Solomonar from Kezig with a family who had just been murdered and was also a Ravkan…well, it didn’t make for the easiest friendships. But Nina, a Vothan (the sister state of Kezig, really), wasn’t at all frightened by the pale, slightly too-skinny boy she sat next to on the first day. From then on, he and Nina had been inseparable.
“No. Nothing,” Kaz said as he shook his head. His tone was only a little petulant.
“The book even said it wasn’t a fully conceptualized spell,” Nina reminded him. She was wearing casual clothes, not yet dressed in the Scholomance uniform. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, but he knew that before classes started, she’d spell it straight as a pin. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Just don’t tell Sarai,” Kaz said, referring to another one of their classmates. Sarai was wicked clever and extremely adept at magic (and Ritual Magic, especially). He and Sarai had competed since their second week attending the Scholomance, and the competition had not eased in the five years since. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Like I would tell her,” Nina said with a roll of her eyes. Sarai, despite holding the esteemed title of Dracul’s Distinction, was difficult to get along with, and while she was an important part of the Solomonari, most of them did not seek to spend time with her outside of their studies. “She could probably help you, though.” Nina came to inspect the chalk circle. Nina always insisted she didn’t have the patience for Ritual Magic, which required an extensive amount of steps and materials, and she was probably right. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the skill to do so–Kaz knew Nina could do anything she set her mind to–but when she was proficient with so much other magic, Ritual Magic was pretty far down on her list of magics to master.
“Probably,” Kaz grumbled in agreement. He glanced outside, and while the light of morning was beginning to brighten, it was still early. “What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Nina admitted. “The first day of term, and all.”
Nina was right; the official start of their sixth year was today, but frankly, there would be hardly anything different about that day. Yes, their classes would change, and in some cases, their professors, too, but they knew all the teaching staff, and the classes were simply a continuation of their previous studies. In fact, until Nina had mentioned it, Kaz had nearly forgotten it was the “first day” of the new term.
“It’s no big deal,” Kaz said, trying to reassure Nina, who was very rarely nervous. “Nothing’s changing.”
“No,” Nina agreed. “But it’s just a reminder that time is passing.”
Kaz knew what Nina meant when she said that: their education, seven years long, was coming to an end the next year. They had been fairly sheltered at the prestigious Scholomance, and while they had been completing outside assignments for at least a year now, it still felt daunting to think that in a short time, they would be fully-fledged Solomonars, tasked with any number of responsibilities to the Scholomance and to the country of Thenia as a whole. Thenians counted on the Solomonari to keep them safe, and Kaz knew they all took that responsibility seriously.
“We’ve still got two whole years,” Kaz pointed out. “That’s a long time, really.”
“Two years from today we’ll be past Solomonari. A new cohort will be using this room.”
“And Sarai can finally relax and be the Immortal,” Kaz said with a smile, knowing that would cheer Nina up. Every Solomonari cohort had to have an Immortal; it was payment for their education. As the Dracul’s Distinction (an award given even prior to their admission, to the student that shows the most promise), Sarai was the most likely to be chosen, and for the rest of the Solomonari that was fine: Sarai wanted it badly, and the rest didn’t want it at all. It was a good arrangement.
“Imagine having to spend immortality with her,” Nina said with a snort. “Imagine her being your professor.” All Immortals were expected to do whatever the Scholomance deemed important for them to do, and in some cases, that was teaching at the Scholomance.
“I’d rather not,” Kaz said brusquely.
Nina laughed and shook her head. “That’s not our problem, fortunately.”
“What if she’s not picked? Then it’s all our problem.” Kaz knew this was very unlikely; Sarai lived up to her title, and she wanted to be an Immortal. There was no reason for it not to happen, but ultimately, it was voted on by the Immortalis Solomonari, the group of Immortals who voted on everything the Scholomance needed: from who to admit to who received what assignment.
“If they don’t choose her, Sarai will probably take that opportunity to practice some Death Magic. Anyway, there’s no reason not to choose her. And if it’s not her, then it’s you, so keep hoping that.”
Kaz didn’t say anything to that. Kaz was a good magician–great, in fact–but his magic was deadly and destructive, and he didn’t like to show it off too often. He knew he’d be a terrible fit for the Immortalis, but his best friend insisted on saying otherwise.
“At any rate, it seems hard to believe we’re on Year 6,” Nina said softly.
Kaz felt like he measured time differently than others; for him, he had felt every day of the last five years. In fact, he had since he had come home to find that his parents, two younger sisters, and his older brother had been slaughtered in an apparent robbery gone wrong. At age 10, Kaz had to grow up fast, and he felt like one of the remnants of the tragic event was that he felt the burden every single day since then.
He didn’t like to talk about that, though, so he said, “It is hard to believe. We’re getting old, Nina.”
Nina grinned. Kaz was newly 18, but everyone always said Kaz was old for his age, and Nina often called him ‘old man,’ even though she was barely 19 and decidedly older than him. Kaz was also far from the oldest of the Solomonari: Julian was 21, after all. “So you admit it?”
Kaz shrugged. “Facts are facts.” He didn’t really like to talk about aging, either, when he had three siblings who would never get to.
Nina seemed to sense Kaz’s reluctance to discuss it anymore, so she said, “We could probably bug Lysander for some breakfast.” Kaz went to say that he wasn’t hungry when she interrupted, “Kaz, you hardly ate last night. You have to have some breakfast.”
Kaz thought Nina was too obsessed with his eating habits, but he knew she did it because she cared. When he went to spend time in Votha with Nina’s family–anytime his uncle, Andrei, was gone for a holiday, or he wasn’t off to one of the other Solomonari’s family–her mother, Katia, always tried to overfeed him, too. It was Votha’s way: show love through food.
“Maybe some Kezen cakes,” Kaz mumbled. They were something only Nina found palatable besides himself, but he knew Lysander kept a stock, just for him. Kezen cakes were practical, tough, and no-nonsense; it was the same way that most Thenians viewed Kezens. Kaz didn’t mind.
“At least put some spread on it,” Nina said. “But fine. Let’s go.”
With a last glance at the chalk circle, Kaz made the decision to spell it away. Nina raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Kaz knew she knew he’d never ask Sarai for help, so it was a moot point to have her look at his work. He’d just have to start over.
Kaz followed Nina down the several sets of stairs to the bottom floor of the Scholomance. The Scholomance was so large that for the first month or two of their tenure, most Solomonars spent more time getting lost than attending lessons. Kaz was one of those–he had a terrible sense of direction–but after five years, he now knew most of the Scholomance like the back of his hand.
As predicted, Nina and Kaz were able to wheedle an early breakfast from Lysander, and they took their meal up to the Salon, a sitting room with a plethora of squishy armchairs and soft sofas. It also had an ornate fireplace at one end of the room, and because of the time of year, a large fire was already roaring in it.
They were not surprised to see Zara Ghazali, the Solomonar from Ghazeen, reading dutifully by the fire. She was a stickler for homework and assignments, and over the five years they’d been at the Scholomance, Zara had never missed a single assignment.
Zara was already in the Solomonari uniform: all black clothes (in this case, she was wearing a dress) with the purple crest of the Solomonari on one side of her dress and the gold crest of the Scholomance on the other. Her black hair was slightly curled this morning, a long, wavy cascade of curls reaching halfway down her back. Zara was beautiful, there were no two ways about it, and she was also a part of the Reza Court, the royal family of Ghazeen, so she had always grown up in wealth and comfort. Despite that, she was incredibly kind, and Kaz called her not just a colleague of sorts, but also a good friend.
She smiled when she saw Nina and Kaz come in; Nina went to sit next to her, offering her some of her breakfast, while Kaz sat across from them.
“You’re up early,” Zara said to Nina. Zara was often Kaz’s late-night companion, so she knew Kaz was up at all hours. But Nina…well, Nina liked her sleep.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Nina explained. “I started to get anxious about it being the beginning of the term. Our sixth, and penultimate, one.”
“That’s true,” Zara said as she nibbled on one of the scones Nina had shared with her. “But nothing’s changing. And it’s not like once we graduate it’s going to change that much. We’ll all go back to our states and continue on. We can Portal whenever we like.”
“It’s different,” Nina insisted. “We’ll say we’ll see each other often, but then it’ll be a year, and we won’t have seen each other at all.”
“Speak for yourself. Andrei travels too much to look in on him, and he’d probably starve if we didn’t feed him.” Zara gestured towards Kaz. “We’ll have to be on rotation.”
Kaz rolled his eyes; he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, even if he sometimes forgot to eat or sleep. “I’ll be fine.”
Zara and Nina looked at Kaz so incredulously that he vowed right then and there to start eating and sleeping better. Portaling meant magicians could visit others as most people walked across the street, and Kaz knew he’d wake up every day to one Solomonari or another on his doorstep if they didn’t feel he was taking care of himself. Kaz loved them all dearly (even Sarai), but he liked his privacy and didn’t need permanent nannies.
“Okay, fine. I’ll do better. In the meantime, see, I’m eating.” Kaz took a hearty bite of a Kezen cake. He remembered his mother always made her own for their family; he had thought they were the best in the world. Unfortunately, the recipe had died with her.
“Those are gross,” Zara pointed out, not for the first time. “Now hadrash…”
Hadrash was a Ghazeenian delicacy that even Kaz had to admit was delicious. In fact, Ghazeenian food was in general. Ghazeen had a very “open arms” policy to outsiders, so their cuisine was always tinted with other cultures, and it always made their food that much better. Kaz was also partial to the food from Trece Isla, but Ghazeen always won, and Zara’s family always sent him care packages of their food as well.
“I could use some of that,” Kaz agreed. “I’ll have to ask your father.” Kaz was incredibly lucky that many of his Solomonari had classmates whose families made him feel like family: that included the families of the two people eating breakfast with him. Their classmate, Akiva, also had a family that took Kaz in as one of their own. It meant that he very rarely felt alone.
“Hadrashasheen is coming up, so there’s plenty,” Zara said, referring to a Ghazeenian holiday. She finished off the scone and brushed her hands together to get rid of the crumbs. “Better than Kezen cakes, at any rate.”
Kaz rolled his eyes but said nothing. All of the Solomonari enjoyed teasing him about his home state, and Kaz took it good-naturedly. “Everything is, according to you lot.”
“That is true,” Zara said quickly. “I don’t mind Kezig, but your food is terrible.”
“Compared to Ghazeenian food, I agree,” Kaz admitted. “I don’t think it’s any better or worse than Vothan food, though.”
Nina threw a crumpled-up napkin at Kaz in defense but said nothing. Votha and Kezig were sister states, so Kaz and Nina often good-naturedly ribbed each other about their home states.
Zara glanced up at the clock and said, “We have our first lessons soon. You two better go change.”
Both he and Nina nodded in agreement. Kaz would be expected by his Mentor, Cyneric, in a short time. Kaz knew he could change quickly, but he wanted to read one more chapter of his recent book before his meeting.
“See you at lunch,” Nina said as she spelled her garbage away. Because Zara was Zara, she already looked perfect and wouldn’t have to prepare at all before their first lesson.
“Good luck!” Zara said cheerfully as Nina and Kaz left the library together. At the main stair landing, they separated; Nina’s room was down one end of the hallway, and Kaz’s at the other.
“I’ll see you at break,” Nina said pointedly. They almost always spent their morning break together with Akiva. She glanced up at the clock that made its home in the main atrium. It was large enough that they could see it from where they were standing. “If I’m late to my meeting with Melina, she’ll kill me. See you later!”
Kaz watched as Nina bounced down the hallway, and he turned to go to his own bedroom. Kaz also didn’t want to be late with his Mentor, Cyneric, either. As a proficient user of Dark Magic, Cyneric could incapacitate him in a heartbeat. Luckily, he and Cyneric got along fabulously, but Kaz’s chronic tardiness drove Cyneric crazy.
Hoping to avoid Cyneric’s consternations, Kaz decided to skip his chapter so he could be early to the library. That would probably shock Cyneric more than any kind of magic Kaz could come up with. **************************************************************************************************************************** Cyneric was one of the Immortalis Solomonari, and one of the most important people in Kaz’s life. He was officially the librarian for the Scholomance, but his specialty, Dark Magic, meant that Kaz had spent a lot of time with Cyneric over the years. Every Solomonar had a Mentor, one member of the Immortalis that guided them through their education. Besides the Dracul’s Distinction, who always had the Dracul as a Mentor, the rest didn’t receive one until six months after their education began, so that the best Mentor out of the hundreds of Immortalis could be chosen. Kaz considered him lucky to have been picked by Cyneric; he knew he owed a large portion of his magical competence to his Mentor.
Once, Kaz had asked how old Cyneric really was. Immortalis looked young for hundreds of years, and the oldest amongst them only looked about 70 or 80. Contrary to popular belief, the Immortalis weren’t really immortal; they just lived thousands of years, but eventually, their body would break down, even with magic, and sort of fade away. But Cyneric only looked to be in his 30s, so Kaz figured he was old but not old. Cyneric had just laughed and said he had lost track, and Kaz had wondered if that was true or Cyneric just didn’t like to talk about time passing.
Kaz spent countless hours in the library, often in companionable silence with Cyneric. He also took lessons with Cyneric several times a week, and often even spent his leisure time with him, so besides his fellow Solomonari, Kaz felt closest to Cyneric. It had been Cyneric who had assured Kaz he wasn’t bad or evil because of his magic, and even though Kaz struggled to believe that at certain times, Cyneric did his best to keep reminding his Mentee.
Kaz knew their lesson would be in the library, so after quickly changing, he headed down there. Everyone’s first lesson of the new term was with their Mentor, and it was used to determine their course of study for the next year. Kaz didn’t have as much variety as some of his classmates, but he knew the Immortalis made a strenuous effort to make sure he wasn’t bored. Cyneric, especially, always made magic–even Dark Magic–both intriguing and safe, while also pushing the boundaries Kaz craved to.
As expected, Kaz found Cyneric in the back corner of the cavernous library, where he spent much of his time hunched over his desk. Part of his job as the librarian was the extensive research the Solomonari (both current and present) required to complete their assignments. Kaz was so impressed that Cyneric seemed to know every single book of the collection, which must contain thousands of books. It was a talent even magic couldn’t help with, and that just impressed Kaz even more.
“Morning,” Kaz said. He handed Cyneric a wrapped scone he had taken for breakfast. Cyneric was perhaps as bad at remembering to eat as Kaz was, so Kaz would try to include Cyneric in his vow to take care of himself better.
Cyneric nodded in acknowledgment of both Kaz and his offered breakfast and looked up from the large tome he was poring over. When he looked up, Kaz was suddenly reminded of his older brother, Mikhai. He had been Kaz’s best friend growing up, and while Mikhai wouldn’t be in his 30s yet, Cyneric certainly reminded him of his beloved older brother, and also that Mikhai would never be able to reach that age.
“Did you eat this morning?” Cyneric asked Kaz.
“I did,” Kaz confirmed. “So you should, too.” He took a seat in the large armchair that was on the other side of Cyneric’s desk. Everyone widely recognized it was really Kaz’s chair, and he was glad: it was insanely comfortable, and he didn’t want to share.
Cyneric hummed in agreement as he unwrapped the scone and took a bite. He then pulled out a sheaf of papers and sat them pointedly on his desk. It was Kaz’s potential schedule, which also had to be approved by the Dracul.
“Anything good in there?” Kaz asked, gesturing to the papers. “Please tell me there’s something exciting.”
“Absolutely not,” Cyneric answered. “I gave you the worst.”
Kaz rolled his eyes but smiled slightly; he knew Cyneric wouldn’t do him wrong. “Fine.”
Cyneric cleared his throat before continuing. “So we’re going to continue you on Sacrificial Magic with Hadley. She says you’re making remarkable progress, and she wants to continue with you.” Kaz had to stop himself from rubbing his hands together in glee. He loved Sacrificial Magic, and they had only let him start studying it the previous term. “The Dracul also approved you to begin honing your Curse Magic with me.” Kaz couldn’t stop the growing excitement showing on his face. So much of his magic he was hardly able to use, and he had only been allowed to use Curse Magic a few times once to prove he had it, and just a handful of times since then. “I thought you’d like that,” Cyneric said dryly.
“You said yourself they didn’t use to limit Dark Magic by age,” Kaz said defensively. “So I’m anxious to begin.”
“They didn’t,” Cyneric agreed. “So we ended up with a few dead Solomonari as a result.”
“I’m ready,” Kaz said immediately.
“I agree,” Cyneric said. He glanced down at Kaz’s papers. “We’re also going to continue you on Portal Magic with Louisa. I know you don’t love it, but you’re exceptionally good at it, and the Dracul specifically requested it.”
Kaz sighed but said nothing. He was good at Portal Magic, but it used up a lot of magic and energy, so Kaz wasn’t keen on doing it often. But he loved Louisa, and he couldn’t help but preen a little at Cyneric’s offhanded praise.
“We’ve also scheduled you with Hadley to continue with your Pain Magic as well. This lesson will be based on your magic levels since it requires so much. I’ve also discussed upping your Enchantment Magic with Noam. I know it’s not your favorite, but it’s probably your weakest magic, so it’s good to hone it. Of course, you’ll continue on with your Elemental and Potion studies…and we’ll have you in a lesson with Doreah for your Sense Manipulation.” Cyneric set the pile of papers down and said, “Now is the time we discuss something serious.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll also be studying Death Magic with me. The Dracul approved it, but like your lessons with Hadley for Pain Magic, it’ll be dependent on your magic levels and overall health. Understand?”
Kaz could hardly hide his glee. All of his classmates had already been allowed to access their full magical potential, but for obvious reasons, Kaz had not yet been able to practice Death Magic, which he knew was strong. Of course, Kaz didn’t want to kill anyone, but accessing his full magic was something he was keen to do.
“I understand,” Kaz answered quickly. “When can we start?”
Cyneric glanced up at Kaz and said dryly, “I’m guessing you mean your lessons in general.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Kaz tried to tamp down his excitement. He knew it was odd to be so excited over such a morbid type of magic, but the possibilities were fascinating to him.
“You’ll be happy to know you’ll be doing Potion lessons with Nina, as well as Elemental with her and Akiva. Rowan and you will share your Portal lessons, and you and Leeza will share your Enchantment portion. You and Sarai will have an independent Ritual Magic study, and I don't want to hear a word about it.”
Kaz sank down deeper in his chair and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but he knew his posture communicated his displeasure. He didn’t hate Sarai or even dislike her, but she was difficult to work with, and her Ritual Magic was her main magic, meaning she blew Kaz away pretty consistently when it came to Ritual Magic lessons. It annoyed him greatly.
“And that’s it. Agreeable?”
Kaz nodded; the last revelation had taken the wind out of his sails, so to speak. But he tried to remember how excited he was about his upcoming Curse and Death Magic lessons, and that did brighten him considerably.
Cyneric glanced up at the large grandfather clock that was near his desk. “You were early.”
“It happens,” Kaz said as a way of explanation. “Rarely, but I thought the first day deserved my punctuality.”
“You look tired. Did you sleep last night?”
“You’re just like Nina and Zara,” Kaz grumbled. “And yes, for a while. I was trying out a new spell, but it didn’t work.”
“Want to talk it through?”
Kaz shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see if I can tackle it on my own.”
“Just let me know, then.”
Kaz nodded. “And then Nina was saying she couldn’t sleep because this is our ‘penultimate year,’ to quote her.”
“Does that bother you?”
Kaz shrugged and said, “Maybe not in the same way as everyone else.”
Cyneric gave Kaz a sympathetic look, which made him squirm. He didn’t like pity, and people were full of it for a kid whose entire family had been slaughtered. Kaz knew he’d feel sympathy if someone told him his story about someone else, but pity was often distressing to him, so he tried to avoid it at every possible turn.
“Frankly, two years seems like a long time to me.”
“It’s not,” Cyneric reminded him. “But I’m glad you’ve accepted the transition.”
“Do you remember your last few years here, as a student?” Kaz noticed that although Cyneric’s memory was perfect after he received the spell (that was part of the deal: perfect memory of their immortal years), it seemed like the older the Immortalis got, the less they remembered their mortal years.
“A bit,” Cyneric answered. “I was honestly hurtling towards the end, so I just remember being really anxious.” Cyneric had been the Dracul’s Distinction for his cohort and had, predictably, been chosen as the Immortal for his cohort. He had been honored, unlike Kaz, who was fairly horrified by the prospect.
“I think Sarai feels the same way.”
Cyneric shuffled Kaz’s papers again but said nothing. Usually, the Immortalis treated the Dracul’s Distinction a little differently (better, in most cases) because most of them had been the Dracul’s Distinction themselves in their cohorts. But Sarai was difficult, at best, to get along with, so she didn’t have the best relationships with the Immortalis. Cyneric would never outright talk badly of Sarai, but Kaz knew he didn’t like her, and he was more pleased than he could say that Cyneric had told him once that he thought Kaz should have been the Dracul’s Distinction. Kaz was terribly glad he wasn’t (there was a lot of responsibility and not enough reward, in Kaz’s opinion), but it still pleased him that someone he so highly respected had mutual respect for him.
“I’m surprised Nina is so anxious about the end. She seems to be eager to go from current to former Solomonar,” Cyneric finally said.
“She is. She just doesn’t like change,” Kaz explained. “But she’s ready to begin her assignment in Votha, or wherever else the Immortalis places us.” He paused, trying to find a good segue, but finding none he just blurted out, “But…when can we start the Death Magic lessons?”
“Kazza–” Cyneric often called him that, and he was the only one allowed to do so. His parents had called him that so he didn’t like to be reminded of it often, but he knew Cyneric did it affectionately, so he let him. “We should talk about this.”
“Talk about what?”
Cyneric paused as a thoughtful look crossed his face. Then, he said, “Having the amount of power you have, Kaz, it’s…a lot. It’s a large burden, and one you already face. You will be able to kill someone in the same amount of time it takes to magically clear a table. For obvious reasons, losing control can cost more than just some property damage.”
“I know that.” Cyneric’s look of concern deepened, and that worried Kaz. Did he think he’d misuse the magic? He and Cyernic had a relationship where they could say just about anything to each other so he asked, “Do you think I’ll just go around and misuse it?”
“No.” Cyneric’s answer was firm and immediate. “No, I don’t think so. But we know that sometimes you lack…emotional control, and I do worry about that.”
Kaz felt properly chastised. Magic was affected by a magician’s emotions: negative emotions could almost entirely suppress a magician’s magic, and in some cases, permanently damage it. In addition, strong emotions–and anger, especially–made some magician’s magic unpredictable, and that’s where Kaz’s issues arose. Kaz knew he had emotional regulation troubles, and he was often mercurial and impulsive, but every year at the Scholomance had helped him gain a little more control. Sometimes, anger lived in Kaz like an unwelcome visitor, but he had learned by now to (mostly) control it.
“I have every single faith that you have every intention of using your magic only when needed, Kaz,” Cyneric said kindly. “I just want to impress upon you the seriousness of this lesson. Losing control now means you’ll give someone a torture session of bad thoughts. In a little while, you could kill them before even realizing what you’ve done.”
“Have you ever had to kill someone, on your assignments?” Kaz asked curiously. He and Cyneric didn’t discuss this portion of their magic a lot, so Kaz had a lot of questions about it.
“Yes,” Cyneric answered, somewhat hollowly. “It’s felt terrible every time.”
“Even if they deserved it?”
“Even if they deserved it,” Cyneric confirmed. He got up from his seat and went over to a large window near his desk. The morning light was streaming in, although some clouds were now hanging around, signaling some possible afternoon rain. “You’re very adept at Sacrificial Magic, Kaz. Death Magic isn’t so different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just like when you cast a Sacrificial Magic spell, Death Magic requires a sacrifice as well.”
Kaz frowned in confusion; in all the reading he had done on Death Magic, none of them had mentioned a sacrifice. Sacrificial Magic required blood, which Kaz happily gave, so what would Death Magic require? “Like what?”
“It takes a part of you, every time you use it,” Cyneric explained. He was still staring out the window, and it looked to Kaz like he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “I’m not talking physically, but emotionally.”
“I don’t understand. If someone deserves it, then…”
“Do you claim to play the part of the Defiled?” Cyneric asked. He was referring to the pantheon of one of Thenia’s largest religions, Ravka, which Kaz had been born into and continued to be an active member of.
“Of course not,” Kaz answered. Kaz wasn’t going to bother to have a theological discussion on Ravka; technically, the Defiled didn’t call someone home to their death, it was simply a natural part of the cycle of a person, but Kaz got what he meant. Cyneric wasn’t religious, but he knew Kaz was.
“You feel like you are,” Cyneric said softly. “Some of us who practice it…it gets out of control, Kazza. It begins to eat at you, sometimes. To see the life leave someone…it isn’t satisfying. It’s horrifying.”
Kaz was sobered by that thought. Death wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but his family had already been dead by the time he had arrived home, and he hadn’t been allowed to view their bodies.
It’s almost as Cyneric could read Kaz’s mind–or perhaps he just knew Kaz really well–because he said, “I know death isn’t unfamiliar to you. You know the devastation it causes. Even casting it takes tremendous energy and magic. It’s obvious why we may not be able to do the lessons some days, if your magic is depleted, or your health isn’t good.”
“I know,” Kaz said, imbuing the phrase with as much gravitas as he could. “I’m not taking this lightly.”
“I didn’t think you would, but the Dracul insisted we have this conversation.”
“Is he worried about me?”
Cyneric smiled slightly. “He always is, Kaz. You…are a lot of very dangerous magic wrapped up in a very young man.”
Kaz couldn’t argue with that. He did possess strong and dangerous magic, and while 18 was considered grown in Thenia (in fact, 17 was), all of the Immortalis thought they were very young; it was simply the result of being, in some cases, several centuries old. 18 was practically infantile to them.
“So…good talk?” Cyneric asked. He turned from the window and came to sit back at his desk.
“Yes,” Kaz agreed. “I think…I understand.”
“Good.” Cyneric leaned back in his chair and stretched. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, either. The Dracul had a huge research proposal I just finished this morning.”
Kaz grabbed his schedule off the top of the pile, and Cyneric let him. The neat boxes showed when and where he should be for the rest of the term, and he was delighted that besides this meeting with Cyneric, he was free for the rest of the day.
“I wouldn’t be too happy,” Cyneric warned. “I know you’re seeing free slots for today, but…” Cyneric tapped the paper Kaz was holding and the words ‘Independent study, Solarium’ appeared almost directly underneath his current meeting with Cyneric.
Kaz groaned loudly. “What?”
“I forgot to put it on there,” Cyneric explained simply, although his slight smile betrayed his real intention. He knew Kaz would see that on his schedule and rejoice, and then he’d be able to ruin Kaz's day with this information.
“I’m sure,” Kaz said dryly. He folded the schedule and pocketed it. “Guess I’d better get going, then.”
“If you behave yourself with Sarai, and I get no complaints from the Dracul, we can begin your Curse Magic studies tomorrow.”
This brightened up Kaz considerably, as Cyneric obviously knew it would. Kaz silently vowed that no matter what academic insults Sarai hurled at Kaz, he would behave himself.
And besides…Kaz would let it slip that he was going to start his official studies in Curse and Death Magic soon, and what Sarai did with that information was up to her. Kaz wouldn’t even dream of even threatening Sarai with using that kind of magic, but she didn’t know that, and Kaz didn’t think she knew him well enough to know that while he was excited to begin this magic, it scared him, too.
Kaz got up to leave, and Cyneric said, “Kaz, wait.”
Kaz turned back around. He wasn’t angry with Cyneric at all for leaving out the independent study–in fact, he found it rather amusing–but by the look on Cyneric’s face, he could tell that the unnecessary apology wasn’t coming. In fact, Cyneric looked about as serious as Kaz had ever seen him.
“Kaz, I just want you to know–and it’s important to know–that I have never, for an instant, felt like you’d misuse your magic in any way.”
“I know,” Kaz said, immediately confused by Cyneric’s sudden seriousness. They were rarely serious with one another and love to tease frequently–showcased by Cyneric’s omission on his schedule for that day–so this worried Kaz. “Is everything okay?”
Cyneric nodded. “Yes. But I just…I remember starting this type of magic. It…changes you, and I just…” Cyneric shook his head. “It’s foolish, but I've seen magicians go down the wrong path with this type of magic, and I worry about you, Kaz. You’re a great magician, a good and decent person, a friend to all…but sometimes even all of that isn’t enough to stop this sort of magic from consuming you from the inside out.”
Kaz was quiet for a moment before he said, “But it’s my magic. It’s a part of me. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”
Cyneric nodded again, but the look he gave Kaz was a little too deep and piercing for his liking. Kaz suddenly wondered if he was picturing someone else standing there and having the same conversation. Cyneric had had other Mentees, of course, so it occurred to Kaz that maybe he had been in this situation before, and maybe Cyneric wasn’t simply warning him but was giving a sort of ominous premonition.
Kaz suddenly desperately wanted to ask Cyneric more, about his past, about his other Mentees, about Dark Magic in general, but he was interrupted by Sarai standing at the entrance of the library, her arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face. Kaz glanced up at the clock, and he was ten minutes late for his independent study with Sarai. Kaz was rarely happy to see Sarai, but now he felt even more irritated about it than normal.
“Kaz, you’re late,” Sarai said. “Let’s go.”
Kaz glanced back at Cyneric, and he had a totally serene look on his face. Kaz knew his window of opportunity had closed; he’d have to find another time to bring this up with Cyneric.
Sarai hadn’t left from where she was standing, so Kaz had no choice but to wave to Cyneric in goodbye and follow Sarai to the Solarium. She already had a stack of books there, probably given to her by the Dracul, and Kaz sighed. There were few tortures he’d endure in order to get a lesson in Curse Magic, but this was certainly one of them.
Throughout the lesson, though, Kaz couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to the conversation he’d had with Cyneric. Would he change, once he started this magic? Obviously, the Dracul and Cyneric had concerns, but Kaz was hoping that was because of his age and not some glaring personality flaw. Yes, Kaz knew he had problems with anger, but he wasn’t a bad person, and he’d done his fair share of good deeds. He’d even saved Sarai a time or two, which to Kaz, spoke to his utter benevolence.
By the end of the study, Kaz felt far more confused than when he started it, and when Sarai left to attend to her next lesson, Kaz simply lay in the middle of the circle to stare up at the beautiful ceiling of the Solarium. It depicted the many constellations that made up the night sky, and with the weak sunlight streaming in, it lit up the golden and glittery stars.
Right then, Kaz decided to make another vow to himself, and this one was much more important than eating and sleeping better. No, this one meant more, too. It would be that no matter what, Kaz would never let this magic consume him. If even for a second he suspected he was going down the wrong path, he’d stop immediately. Yes, Kaz was ambitious and probably more so than most, but he trusted himself to know when things were going wrong.
And, well, if he didn’t, he knew he could count on his fellow Solomonari to bring him down. Gods knew Sarai didn’t have a problem doing it, and he knew Nina wouldn’t be far behind. This thought cheered Kaz, a little. Yes, he had dangerous magic, but he himself wasn’t dangerous, and he knew the Solomonari wouldn’t allow him to become that.
Monsters were a very real threat in Thenia, but Kaz made one last vow to himself: he wouldn’t allow himself to become one.
Honestly, putting my writing into the world makes me want to vomit, but I'm trying so hard to get over that, so here we are! I usually write in first-person POV, but since this project will involve multiple characters, I'm pushing myself to write in third-person POV. At any rate, any comments are appreciated!
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