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Chapter Thirty: Something to Learn From
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2024-10-29 19:42:56“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
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Stratin’s cry ebbed like a dying siren. It did not cut off abruptly as most do on the onset of unconsciousness. No. It drained gently, dissipating as the light in Kilvic’s hand. It would dim to nothing more than a sob, then there will be silence, then there will be nothing but simple breaths. Kilvic saw himself looking forward to it. At least, if anything, it would bring silence. And silence was always the best state to work with; it enhanced concentration. Surprisingly Moss was as quiet as the evening breeze. The boy almost seemed accepting of some kind of twisted fate, though Kilvic spared him no attention. His curiosity of Stratin’s ability to come back from this lurked at the back of his mind, like shadows at the edge of a dying light. It was something they would find out once the boy woke. Ariadne... Kilvic looked up at an unconscious Stratin seated back against the hostel’s wall… will not like this.Kilvic returned his at
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“Same as last year.” Lacra made a grunting sound like gravels scraping. She coughed, turned her head to the side, and spat out a blob of blood stained spittle. “Same as last fucking year.”She was seated on the sand. Her tattered clothes did not leave much for imaginations, but the necessary parts were covered and she cast the perfect look of a warrior from battle. Gyra and Kilvic stood in front of her. Around them the others were beginning to rise groggily. It had been roughly fifteen minutes since Lacra had surrendered and Kilvic noted her injuries were gone, completely healed. He turned his head to Fyodan where he stood, the first to come to his feet. Behind him the crack in the arena wall was also gone. Healing or reconstructive, he wondered. They did not have an arena like this in castle Grey. They did not have an arena that fixed itself… or those within it.Its effects were slow, but each of the students were comin
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