Sariela Silence:
The weather outside was warm. If I weren’t in such a rush to get to the dean’s office, I would’ve loved to stroll through the cozy campus paths, but free time was in short supply. So, I hurried into the main hall and started weaving my way toward the administrative wing through a crowd of clueless freshmen. Unlike them, the upperclassmen knew me by sight and steered clear—way clear. I guess after all this time, their survival instincts had kicked in pretty well. Too bad the younger ones hadn’t caught on yet.
At the next corner, some adept barreled into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I couldn’t hold back and let out a growl that echoed down the hallway. The poor kid was so startled by the sound that he transformed into a dead lion right in front of me, which only set off another round of curses from my end. If it had just been a regular lion, I might’ve let it slide, but this kind of transformation in a shapeshifter meant one thing—he was a universal mage. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, except I was the only oddball of my kind studying within these walls. Everyone else got shipped off to Saint Asonia for certification. Which meant I was in for a heap of news. And, most likely, not the good kind.
“Adept, turn back into a human right now. Spare the janitor—burnt meat is a nightmare to scrub off wood,” I snapped. The creature backed away, ears flattened, trembling in fear. “Can’t do it? Fantastic! Let’s go! If a single spell hits us, someone’s gonna be retaking my entire necromancy course.”
The threat worked like a charm, calming the overactive imaginations of the spooked students, who scattered in every direction. Shaking my head with a sigh, I headed toward the dean’s office, occasionally glancing at the face of this rather impressive feline specimen. At half my height, he looked more like a well-fed housecat than a predator. At least his black necrotic eyes didn’t scare me one bit.
A few minutes later, the stone floor gave way to carpet as I entered the administrative wing. The decor shifted dramatically—more refined, more elegant. Gray walls were now adorned with paintings, awards, and various professional certificates. Leading up to the office doors hung portraits of notable graduates from Saint Ebis Academy of Magic—a sort of hall of fame.
Stepping into the dean’s reception area, I smiled at the woman who had raised me through my childhood. She sat at her desk, poring over stacks of paperwork. The silver snakes on her head lazily propped their chins with their tails, not wanting to disturb their mistress. Her emerald eyes with vertical pupils were shielded by glasses layered with protective magic, ensuring her unique racial traits didn’t interfere with her work.
“Good morning, Seraphima Sanktovna!” I greeted, trying to catch her attention. “I’m here for the dean.”
“He’s expecting you. Hey, when you’re done with business, swing by. We’ll chat, have some...”—she paused, finally noticing the adept trying to blend into the background—“orange tea. And who’s this?”
“I’ll definitely stop by for tea. As for this guy, looks like we’ve got an unaccounted universal mage in our academy. Can you believe it? I had no idea I had competition. Are we raising a new batch of local terrors? Looking for my replacement already?”
“If only... Maybe we should let him go? The kid’s got classes to get to. He’s probably been prepping for the first day of the semester.”
“In this form, someone’s gonna bury him behind the next corner,” I pointed out with a laugh. “And then my conscience will nag me to death.”
“Sara, dear, if your conscience hasn’t woken up in... what, twenty years, you can sleep easy!”
“Alright, you’ve convinced me, Seraphima Sanktovna. If he’s back to human form by the time I’m done, he can go.”
Reaching for the doorknob, I turned it and pushed the door open with determination. Behind me, I heard a dull thud of a body hitting the floor and mentally chuckled. Why were they all so scared of me? Sure, my looks aren’t great, and my personality’s a bit rough, but fainting? Really?
The familiar walls of the office stirred up nostalgia. Nothing had changed in all these years. The same massive oak desk, the same armchairs, the couch by the wall, and even the bookshelf looked exactly as it did twenty years ago. They hadn’t even fixed the scorched corner from my pulsar mishap. It was like my “home sweet home.”
After my grandfather Vitorius passed away, his friend, Gorderion Alder, took me into his family. Since he and Seraphima practically lived at Saint Ebis Academy around the clock, I pretty much grew up here and knew every nook and cranny. I even knew about the small bottle of cognac hidden on the top shelf inside the book “A Thousand and One Ways to Dissect a Dragon for Potions”—for particularly rough days. Not even his wife knew about that one.
Today, these walls looked unusually weary, much like the dean himself. He sat at his desk, surrounded by dozens of scattered papers, endlessly signing or sorting through them. A demon would break his own horns trying to make sense of that mess, but not Gorderion. Sometimes I thought he had some kind of superpower to keep from losing his mind with all this paperwork. Still, even he wasn’t invincible. His furrowed brows, gray hair, and the red mark on his nose from constant rubbing all betrayed chronic exhaustion.
“Greetings, Magister Silence!”
“Good morning,” I replied, settling into a chair. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. Did you call me for something specific?”
“Yes, I’ll be quick,” he said, handing me a list with six names and taking a sip of coffee. “This year, the College of Mages in Saint Asonia has entrusted us with untrained universal mages. I suppose Lord Fulz remembered your... memorable graduation. Right now, there aren’t any qualified mages available to take on this heavy burden. So, I think it’s time for you to try your hand at being a mentor. I’m hoping you’ll manage. The heavens seem to favor you.”
“That’s an understatement. One of these prodigies already managed to knock me over. I just hope the others are a bit calmer.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Those hyenas from Saint Asonia are itching to cause us trouble. This won’t be easy... I keep hoping you’ll ditch your Abyss Watchers gig and take over my position. I’m getting too old for these games. One wrong move, and they’ll eat me alive.”
“You know I’m not cut out for this role. I don’t have the vast experience others do,” I rattled off the rehearsed line for the hundredth time, exhaustion creeping into my voice. “I don’t have support among my colleagues, and I don’t have the time.”
“Or the desire,” Lord Alder finished, rubbing his forehead. In his old age, migraines plagued him more and more, and the careless adepts and bigwigs from the College gave him no chance to retire. “But they do respect you.”
“A cute way of saying ‘Panicked Fear and Righteous Terror,’” Ember quipped, flying in through the open window and landing on my shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“How do you put up with him?” the dean muttered, wincing from another wave of pain and trying to push through it. Seeing his exhaustion, my conscience raised its beak, but it was quickly silenced by a firm nudge of Ember’s wing. With a few quick gestures, I eased his pain and shrugged. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, slowly rising from the chair and heading for the door. “I’m not ready to take on so many living people just yet. When they’re dead, then we can talk.”
“You’ve always gotten along better with the dead,” Uncle Gorderion sighed. “I’m scared to imagine your future fiancé. I hope you won’t drag him out of a graveyard, at least?”
“Oh, come on! Only the freshest from the ditch!” I laughed, closing the door behind me.
That conversation left a bitter taste in my soul. Gorderion was getting old. One hundred and thirty-three years was no joke, even for a powerful mage. I didn’t want to believe that one day he could cross into the Abyss like Grandpa Vitorius did. All this talk about passing on the family business just made me want to bop Gorderion on the head and force-feed him every health potion I could find. Better yet, I’d invent a new one to give him a whole lot more time.
Sometimes I felt like if I agreed to take over his role, Gorderion would lose his reason to keep going. But as it was... he still had reasons to live. For a responsible workaholic like him, the job was pretty much the only thing keeping old age from taking him down.