Chapter 23 | PoV: Sanya
Sanya and Mai brought their empty breakfast dishes over to the imposing pile of other dirty dishes. Zahira was around somewhere, as well.
The three of them had woken up and gotten dressed like an hour before. Sanya had found time to shave in the washroom as well, and spared any stabbing herself—on purpose—this time. Their first night together had passed without issue . . . mostly.
Mai had wanted to climb into bed with Sanya. Something about “girlfriends sleep together.” Oh, yeah, and Zahira found out.
She had expected it, apparently.
Unfortunately for Mai, and at a reluctant heartbreak for Sanya, she had declined the opportunity . . .
If they had slept together then Mai might have begged Zahira to leave the room, and things would have gotten weird.
Sanya was thankful for Zahira’s presence—or a third person there at all.
After the library, yesterday, they went to grab lunch, explore the gardens, and then read until dinner. They went into a bedtime routine and slept shortly thereafter. Their old clothes had mysteriously vanished at some point.
Maybe to get washed. Sanya hoped they would get them back. How everyone would know whose was whose would be difficult, however.
Anyway . . .
“First class!” Mai sang.
She was in high spirits, which meant she had forgotten about the inevitable separation. For the first time in one and a half days, she and Sanya wouldn't be together.
Sanya and Mai turned away from the pile of dishes at the counter and exited the dining area, navigating around groups and tables. There were not any neat aisles or rows of tables, just a scatter of chaos.
The two walked down the tunnel, further than they had previously—since they hadn't gone beyond the dining room before.
Three classrooms lined up next to each other on the left side, their teachers stood at each door.
Someone Sanya didn't know the person that stood by the first. Meanwhile, Barakat guarded his door like a friendly sentinel.
And Nur imposed himself next to the third doorway
“abyssal mages that are illiterate, this is your class,” the first teacher said. “You get to learn to read! That was deemed more important than flourishing your abyssal mage skills, and Nur was right to decree so! Words are the most powerful social force—!”
Sanya tuned her out. Maybe it was better to stay illiterate than to attend that class.
Sanya was joking! She was sure that the teacher wasn't that bad. It's not like her rant was too terrible . . . Words had merit, they allowed for lesbian romance novels.
Um. What? Sanya wasn't even into that. Not until recently, anyway. No—wait—
Mai clung to Sanya's left arm like leaving would kill her.
That wasn't far from reality.
Sanya tried to ignore the critical and even disgusted or annoyed glances that she and Mai received from all their clinginess and display of affection. At least there were a few sappy looks thrown around as well.
Sanya passed by Barakat and towards Nur's classroom. She stopped in front.
“Your class is Barakat's,” Sanya told Mai.
“I don't want to separate from youuuuuu,” Mai pouted. “I'll learn how to be an abyssal mage from your advanced fancy class!”
Sanya sighed and put her right hand up to her forehead. It was like a mother trying to poke her daughter into class on the first day of school.
Ugh, no, they were girlfriends, not mother-daughter. They were, at most, one year apart.
“Mai, I'll see you after class,” Sanya whispered. There were too many people around to not whisper.
“O . . . Okay,” Mai slowly broke away from Sanya.
Sanya headed into her class. She glanced back, Mai still idled by the door. Sanya waved.
Mai waved back. Only then, did she leave for her class. Or maybe she was ditching already, Sanya couldn't see past a certain point, on account of the walls in the way and everything.
The classroom was like a miniature version of the auditorium. The room started high, but descended in levels until the bottom-front row of seats. There, a stage rose up a foot from the ground, complete with a podium. No entryways led into any room beyond the stage.
Though, here, each row of desks had a long lectern-esque piece of stone furniture.
The doorway was on the right side of the room, facing the stage. So, Sanya went and picked a seat in the back-left. Away from the door, away from the stage, and away from other students. Perfect.
Sanya noticed a clock hanging on one of the walls, it ticked by in the silent room.
Eventually, Nur closed the stone door and descended the steps to the stage.
Sanya counted ten students in the room, including herself. Small class. They were all scattered around the rows and columns of seats, no one sat directly next to another person. It seemed they hadn't gotten acquainted with each other yet, none of these people probably shared a roommate or a friend.
Or by nature, all these realized abyssal mages were lonely losers.
The only person Sanya noticed was Sakhr.
So he was the other twenty percent of the forty he mentioned back in Glorestra. Interesting.
“I do not have as much to teach you all as you think I might,” Nur began, stepping onto the stage. “You already have the magic. You already know how to use it. Now, you will learn the deeper technicalities behind it. Hopefully, I will guide you into finding out abyssal mage spells, as well. Those are the main goals of this class.”
His staff had been hidden behind the podium. He grabbed it and held it up.
“Staves help connect the user to mana lines, which run throughout the world and are the units of magic. Staves allow for casting of spells as long as the user knows the mana signature of said spell, on top of amplifying latent, innate, basic ability—whatever you want to call it. Once you know the mana signature, incantation gives you a shortcut to the spell. Incantation gives the magic your intent, and learns what spell you exactly want to cast.
“You will all attain your own staff at a later date. In fact, you will forge your own. I have already obtained the metal for it, which you will also learn about later.”
Sanya perked up about the idea of having her own staff. Her metaphorical dog ears drooped down when Nur said “at a later date.” Couldn't they just do it now?
“Once you have your staff, I will teach you easy abyssal spells in hopes you can use that knowledge to find new ones. I'll go more into depth on this later.
“For now, there are a great many things that mages are widely ignorant of. I will tell you about these things.
“First, mages are all stupid. Your staff allows you to see mana, if you know how to attune yourself to it. Most mages do not know this. You can even see spent mana with enough skill and experience with it. Seeing the mana will be a great advantage to learning spells. Again, this lecture will come after you have your staff.”
It sounded like they needed their staff first for multiple topics. So, wasn't that another point to the argument to do it now? Hadn't Nur said that they already have the metal? Sanya was tempted to enact Mai's secret puppy dog eye technique and beg Nur to let them all do staff creation now.
Okay, maybe not. Puppy eyes weren't really Sanya's thing. Maybe she could glare at Nur into submission?
“Mana! Each type of mage has its own mana, each with its own pattern, color and unique spell signatures. Strangely enough, aeolian and thermal mages share a very similar signature, and don't overlap patterns. The only difference between the two is their color. This contrasts with temporal and abyssal mages, which have their own shape and signature, on top of color. Thermal mages are red. Aeolian mages are light blue. Temporal mages are a sun-worn orange. abyssal mages are a dark purple. The evidence suggests that thermal and aeolian mages may actually be the same type of mage.”
W-what? What did Nur mean by that? Why hadn't Sanya ever seen a thermal or aeolian mage cast spells of both types?
Well, she hadn't seen many of either. Could Barakat cast both?
Nur glanced up at the clock and grumbled something.
“Another thing that makes mages dumb—a hundred and seventy years and mages still don't understand their magic. They take the brunt of the recoil for their magic. However, mages can take the negative effects of their magic and move it elsewhere that doesn't have to be on their body. Magic is just about keeping an equilibrium, and it's the easiest to give the recoil of a spell to yourself. There's another aspect of spells that nobody sees, which, again, is a later lecture . . .”
What was with all of these “a later lectures?” Sanya almost groaned. It was just the first day of class, after all. Yet, the overuse of it didn't sit right with Sanya.
Finish what you start, coward!
“One individual that knows some of this is the renowned Glorestrian essayist Aisha Of-Jinan. At the age twenty-nine, she has these ideas down, and has the potential to be the strongest mage of our time. Due to political and social reasons, she's not an Archmage yet. She does have a title, however. They call her the Chronomancer, which . . . is literally just a synonym of temporal mage. Alas, it is almost mocking.”
Sanya yawned. She did not join class and listen to Nur just for him to rant about some powerful magic lady.
Hmm, if Sanya got strong enough, would people lecture about her prowess in the future?
No, wait, she didn't need the attention. Instead, it would be cool to be powerful and yet behind the scenes, a bit—to be some mysterious and benevolent figure . . .
Nur checked the time again. Silence consumed the room as he stood in thought, probably deliberating his next topic or move. Had he run out of all his lectures already, until they got staves or whatever else he was waiting for?
Not a single student had raised a hand or blurted out a question the entire time. Huh.
“I lied,” Nur said suddenly. “Let's go create your staves.”