Chapter 36 #2
Ivander steps out onto the stairs and into the sunlight, brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles.
He wears a deep blue vest with bronze buttons and a long-sleeved black tunic shirt underneath.
He has a black coat with intricate braided trim and the same bronze buttons as his vest. The coat is a little too fitted and long in the back for any professor I remember in school, but maybe I would have paid more attention had they all looked like him.
He looks every part the professor, which makes me want to do all kinds of things with him.
I grin back. Despite filling his new role as teacher well, he can’t help but wear a long, elegant coat more befitting of a performer.
Behind him, Alana pushes open the door and runs across the grass to meet us.
She throws her arms around Eliza in a tight hug.
She stops when she gets to me, bouncing on her heels as she waits.
I nod and hold my arms out to her, and we embrace.
“Niko wanted to see you both, too, but he’s busy with the lunch crowd,” Alana says. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, and she wears a long brown skirt with a maroon vest.
Eliza shivers and points toward the doors as kids brush past us, running back inside the school. “Well, go on. Show us what you’ve been working on. We’re freezing out here.”
Although the air’s getting brisk, it’s not cold. Not yet. Winter is still a month off. I know my sister’s desire to get inside stems more from nerves than anything else. After everything that’s happened, she’s as desperate as I am to believe we’ve done something worthwhile.
“Right this way, my lady,” Ivander says with a flourish and bow. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to escort Lady Rosaline.”
Eliza drops my arm and links her arm with Alana’s. “Go ahead.”
The way he says my full name makes me shiver as if a wispy spirit touched my skin. The pressure of his arm over mine after writing endless letters and sneaking in weekend visits makes my body heat from the inside out.
As we walk over the cherrywood floors, under massive chandeliers, and past multiple marble staircases, he points out changes as we pass them.
Although Eliza and I both went to school here, most of the wealthy donors were reluctant to embrace our new ideas.
They weren’t excited about allowing their hallowed halls to include a Morphic education department.
They especially didn’t like the idea of a “nobody” performer with shifter Morphia and a dance background spearheading the program.
However, after a few fancy dinner parties thrown by me, plus Ivander’s network of influence he curated with the upper class aboard the ship, the donors allowed a trial run at Almanac’s.
The council agreed as long as I took responsibility for any negative consequences.
I don’t recognize some of the hallways. Decorated with colorful flowers and paintings by the students, it’s a far cry from the dusty portraits of old men that adorned the walls before.
“As you know, Ivander and I don’t run this place—”
“Yet,” Ivander interrupts.
“Yet,” Alana concedes. “So, we’ve had to compromise on a few things. But I think the changes we’ve made have really helped.”
They’ve revamped the history class to include the true history of the Celestial and the Damarcus motivation for stopping the war. My stomach twists as they talk about the class. I’m glad the students are learning the truth, but sometimes I still can’t believe it’s real.
“We’ve shut down the extraction room,” Ivander says. “Extractions should never be performed at a school, anyway. And it scared the kids to have it there in the first place.”
He goes on to explain—for too long, if Alana’s and Eliza’s glazed expressions are any indication—how he’s running the drama program for the kids. He helps with the performances and has even squeezed in an aerial silks class.
“But,” Alana says, pushing open the door to what used to be one of the cafeterias, “this is our crowning achievement.”
The interior steals my breath away. It’s not the stuffy lecture hall I remember eating lunch alone in when I was a kid.
There’s a stage in one corner with a set of silks hanging from battens and a net to catch kids if they fall.
Another corner of the room holds a kitchen set with a wood-burning stove, an ice chest, and more knife sets than Isla would know what to do with.
In the center of the room, there’s a circle of plush pillows serving as chairs, with incense burners providing a calming ambience.
In another corner of the room there’s a wardrobe of materials—I’m assuming for crafters—that students are working with now.
On the far-left wall, there’s a large chasm of black paint and an hourglass.
That section is for the illusives and time winders.
The illusives can project their illusions on the black paint while they’re starting out, Ivander tells us.
And honestly, I have no idea how you teach a time winder, but I’m sure they’re figuring it out.
“We have at least one Morphic with each skill to teach the kids,” Alana explains. “Shifters, enhancers, emotives, illusives, time winders, crafters, and menders. The menders mostly learn in the infirmary.”
“We haven’t had any alchemers yet,” Ivander adds. “Or resurrectors. But we’ll be ready when we do.”
“It’s incredible,” I whisper, breathless. Eliza grabs my hand in silence. I wonder, if she had a place like this, would she have given up her Morphia?
I swallow the lump in my throat. Ivander takes my hand when Eliza lets go. His gentle touch makes me want to break after holding so much in for the past year. But I don’t break. The Lady of Damarcus Estate can’t allow herself to crumble.
“It’s just like we talked about,” he says.
“My mother has even agreed to come help with the time winder training.” His voice lowers, quieter now than it was before.
“She’s been wishing she could get her Morphia back.
If an alchemer could create a potion to take Morphia, couldn’t your brother make a potion to give it back? ”
I don’t answer at first. Leith’s considered it, of course. How could he not? But the danger involved in trying to give someone Morphia makes us pause. Not just the idea of giving it back to someone who lost it, but what happens when non-Morphics decide they want Morphia too?
Leith has no idea what the effects of a potion like that would be, but I don’t take away Ivander’s hope for his mother. Instead, I squeeze his hand back and look him in the eye, giving him the only truth I’ve been able to provide lately. “I don’t know.”
Reluctantly, Ivander lets go of my hand and crosses to the stage.
“I want to show you something.” He removes his coat and tosses it to the floor.
The closer he gets to the stage, the more children make their way over.
By the time he takes the stage, a small crowd has formed around Alana, Eliza, and me.
They gaze up at Ivander with wide eyes and half-parted lips.
Even Niko watches us from the doorway. He holds a tray of candied gortha pods in one hand and waves to me with the other.
Ivander climbs up the silks, pulling himself to the top. He dangles there, muscles rippling in the way that makes my body melt. As I hear the familiar crack of his bones, he grits his teeth. “This trick is not for any of you,” he says to the kids.
As the cracking continues, webbed skin sprouts from his arms, changing into a dark bluish-black color. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s creating until the skin extends and showcases the thin boning running up and down what is now clearly a wing. Without warning, he drops from the silks.
This time, he doesn’t need the silks. He catches himself with shifted wings and soars throughout the classroom.
The kids whoop and exclaim with excitement as he somersaults in the air, landing lightly on the ground.
“You look impressed,” Ivander says, stopping in front of me. He breathes hard from the exertion but smiles anyway.
I hurry to close my mouth and shrug. “I’ve seen it a hundred times, actually.”
But even I know this shouldn’t be possible—not before raw Morphia was released. The freed Morphia is making us stronger.
“Zora gave me the idea,” he says. With the flourishes and showman skills of a born performer, he turns a hand to me. His beaming smile makes the children fall silent. “Now, please welcome our special guest as she takes the stage.”
I want to murder him. I’ve practiced on the silks, but if he thinks I’m getting up there and performing for these kids who’ve been watching him for the past few months, he’s going to be disappointed.
But his next words surprise me. “Roe’s a resurrector, and she’s going to give you a demonstration of what she can do.”
My heart drops. I wasn’t allowed to do much resurrecting back in school, although that didn’t really stop me. “Are you sure?”
“Never been more sure,” he answers. As I walk up the stage steps with blood roaring in my ears, he says, “Show them something beautiful.”
I take a breath and conjure a spirit. Easily.
I give them an animal. A large gray horse with powerful legs and white socks on his feet.
Although most of him appears solid and lifelike, patches of skin on his face are missing, revealing exposed bone and chunks of brown, decaying flesh. He snorts, pawing at the ground.
“Whoa!” one boy yells.
“That’s scary,” a girl screeches, running to the back of the crowd.
But another girl with dark, curly hair and a gap between her front teeth approaches the stage. She reaches up toward the horse’s nose as he leans down to sniff her hand. Ivander gives her an encouraging nod. “It’s okay, Adri. You can touch her.”
This must be his niece. Now I’m even more nervous. I wait for Adrionna to approach and hold my breath. Her fingers graze the bone, and she murmurs, “Cool.” My throat tightens as her cheeks dimple. She grins at Ivander. “Can I take one home to show Mother?”
My chest warms as Ivander and I both laugh. Tears threaten at the corners of my eyes. The children are not afraid of me.
I summon again. This time, not being so careful to make the spirit look fully formed. A little bone peeking through here. A little blood there. “Scary isn’t always a bad thing,” I say.
Resurrection saved my life. What looks like a nightmare to everyone else has been my greatest strength.
It only took my friends telling me it was beautiful—showing me that I was good—to help me see I didn’t need to be afraid of myself.
Now I’m never going back. If Tamarynth decides the Morphics are too terrifying, then I will show them how we’re beautiful.
I’ll always try for peace, not war, like my father.
But if this realm decides Morphics need to burn, then I’ll remind them what we can do.
I won’t hold back. I take Ivander’s hand in mine, and his touch anchors me to the future we want to build together.
When I meet his fierce brown eyes, the belief he has in me ignites.
I will let the dead rise.