“You know it’s not the same, right?”Moss let out a soft chuckle. “And you are pointing this out because…?” he replied.A startled Stratin quirked an unsubtle brow. His hands were held out before him, the littlest flicker of air swirling between them. This, as had been a good number of times over the semester, was another one of their attempts at bound magecraft.“This isn’t true, as it should be,” Stratin pointed out. “This isn’t bound. It’s a mixture, not a compound.”Moss shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean, but to that I’d say let’s create mixtures till we can create a compound.”Stratin pouted but it seemed that was the end of his opposition to it.All the while Kilvic stood at a safe enough distance, watching his roommates attempt something less deadly than what they’d been doing for a good while. He wasn’t certain

Stratin had begun sweating sometime in the last five minutes so much so that he was beginning to soak his bed. Five minutes and Kilvic had still been unable to come to a conclusion. He had pondered on as many possibilities as he could. All the while Moss sat with his head in his hands. His shirt was now as dry as could be and some vestige of himself was returning. But the guilt still remained in him, evident in the constant slump in his shoulders and refusal to make eye contact. If only he was more useful. Kilvic found himself missing Jarax’s company. If he’d been here an answer would’ve been born a while ago.He didn’t need to touch Stratin to know he was running a temperature. A fever had long since conquered the boy, if not, then its conquest was long on the way. It was only a matter of time before they would need to take him to the infirmary to save his life, and put themselves in trouble. It would be a blight on the academic record Kilvic was dete

What the magecrafters had done was quite clever. The word they had inscribed, Hirot ne inshi, was truly ancient. It was so ancient that its language was so old it was one of the very few the outworlders shared with the human history. Both, at some point in history, had spoken it. It was a word that trailed its way to the eastern parts of the world. The word itself was older than the continent upon which the kingdom stood. The bird, long extinct form this world was very much like its name. If the books were to be believed, it was a truly large bird, its size rivaling that of a whale. Rare as it was to see even in its predominant era, it was said an army was required to end the life of one. Like its name, it was known for its characteristic of refusing to die. Simply explained, it was a creature that required death be visited upon it twice. A lesson learned only after the extinction of a kingdom.After death, the Hirot ne inshi was known to regress to a state

It was late into the evening, well past Grunald’s training with the sword, well past dinner, when Kilvic stumbled his way through the hostel door. It was a testament to how often the headmaster had visitors. It was also a testament to how long the headmaster stayed in his office. While it had been well in the early hours of the evening before he’d gained enough control over his body to drag himself away from the headmaster’s door and out of the administrative building, it was still quite late. And not once had a single person walked by.The day had been darkened considerably when he’d come into view of open space where he could be seen by any, stumbling and staggering like a child intoxicated by the wrong type of wine stolen from his parent’s cellar. The door received him passively. The living room he stumbled into received him warmly. The testy heat from the fire blazing in the fire place was a kind contrast to the cold outside. Winter was near.

Everything happened quickly. The boys and girls roared into each other. It was not the skirmish of the non-mages. There was no physical clashing involved. This was a skirmish for those who trained to become great mages in the future. A few fists were thrown, but most of all, spells came flying, and the ambient reia was disturbed as if by the fury of a crashing wave.Trudi was all smiles as she sent spells flying, simple incantations after the other. Unlike the boys, the girls seemed to possess a chosen strategy. Some bought time for the spellcasters, dispensing physical oppression upon the boys. Lacra moved like a force to be reckoned with. Her steps were quick, carrying her across the arena in short bursts. She was everywhere she needed to be to support her team when they needed it. A fist here and there, forcing a boy or the other into defense where they’d been going for offense.Moss forced his way into the enemy, a battering ram in his form, arms crossed over