The Acolyte & The Alchemist Part III
The pen was a symbol, Quill thought. Or perhaps, an omen.
Whatever it was, he knew one thing for certain—Hamra would rewrite his Fate, one way or another.
Now, when they spent time in the library, they were no longer confined to their separate worlds.
Instead, they began to share one. They read the same books, collaborated on the same papers, alternating who would take first authorship.
Their work was so prolific that, one day, the Council summoned them to a meeting to discuss their potential as future Advisors.
“You have collectively submitted twelve manuscripts in the last six months,” a Councilman with a wispy mustache said, peering down at them from the dais. “That is the most in the College’s history.”
Quill swallowed his nerves, stealing a glance at Hamra. He had no experience with men in robes or wispy mustaches. Hamra smiled up at them.
“We are honored by your praise, Lord Councilman,” she said, casting a brief look at Quill. “We hope to bring pride to Foresyth.”
“You two are well on your way to becoming excellent Advisors,” said a younger Councilman, his beard full where the other’s was sparse. “We wished to extend our praise, and to ask if there is anything the Council might do to further support your studies.”
“We feel quite supported—” Quill began.
“What my colleague means to say,” Hamra interjected smoothly, “is that we extend our deepest gratitude. And, so that we may continue our research into the ceremonial practices of early Gnostic sects, it would be of great benefit to gain access to the archives.”
Silence fell across the chamber.
Quill turned sharply to Hamra, mortified.
The archives were strictly for Advisors—the practitioners of magick.
They housed private collections of journals, accounts of ceremonial rites, and, more than that, artifacts—summoning boards, pendulums, priceless relics. No student had ever been granted entry.
The eldest Councilman folded his hands. “We will consider your request.”
And so, history was rewritten.