Chapter 3 #2
Lesya looked at him seriously. “It is the domain of Aeterna, the Lady of Eternal Silence. That’s why it’s forbidden.
Only she may harness the power to grant life to a body and, when the time comes, to pull the soul out of it.
That’s Aeternumancy. A necromancer may seemingly bring back someone from the dead, but the act only animates the body.
It does not bring back the soul. That’s why a necromancer can control the undead.
True Aeternumancy brings back a life with its soul.
A true rebirth, such as only the Goddess of Death and Life is capable of.
Anytime a human has attempted to uncover the secrets of Aeternum, they have only managed an imperfect imitation. ”
The students confusedly looked from Lesya to Cassian, who nodded with a satisfying smile on his face.
“And that’s the nuance that you students are going to need to pass my class.
Now, there’s one thing that you’re not exactly right about, Miss Rosefield.
There are no books on how to practice Aeternumancy.
But there are plenty of books that divulge on the history, theology, and theory of it.
You’ll find plenty of copies in the library.
And you’re all going to need them. This time, day after tomorrow, there will be a quiz. ”
This was an advanced alchemy class, and so no one groaned at the idea of going to the library. These were the brightest of the batch, after all. But there was a degree of confusion, a confusion that Sid Vercliff addressed.
“Professor Veilmonte, sir. I know the entire curriculum of this class cover to cover. What the hell does alchemy have to do with Aeternumancy?”
Cassian placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward, looking intently at Sid.
“Suppose Aeternumancy was not a forbidden art. Suppose there were rules to it. What would those rules entail, Mr. Vercliff? Is it abjuration, as in protective magic? Or is it evocation, where you create powerful elemental effects? Its not enchantment, which has to do with controlling the minds of others. By degrees of exclusion, what branch of magic are you left with that Aeternumancy could belong to? Or rather, which branch of magic belongs to Aeternumancy?”
“Alchemy?” Trisha asked, her confusion deepening.
“Right you are, Miss Evermore. Alchemy, which is the study of transmutation, transfiguration, and change if in theory is extended to the matters of life and death, and the perfect translation of energy lost to energy gained, would become Aeternumancy. Now, I trust all of you are intelligent enough to put two and two together.”
The class was dismissed five minutes later, after Professor Cassian Veilmonte had finished telling the students which books they’d need for the quiz.
When everyone had left, only Lesya remained, standing by the shelf of vials, phials, and reagent bottles.
There were copper alembics at work, and potions brewing in the cool dark of the classroom.
“I assume you’re not going to tell me anything?” she said.
He had his fingers pressed against his shut eyes and was kneading his eyelids. “I assume you’re already in my head.”
“We don’t do that, remember?” she said, making sure the door was closed.
“I couldn’t help it. I saw that shithead Theo nearly blast your friend to hell,” Cassian said.
“I can take care of myself and my friends,” Lesya said, crossing her arms and standing against the closed door. “You taught me well.”
“You’re a talented woman,” Cassian said, letting go of his teacher persona and slinking back into being her boyfriend.
“But you can never be too careful. That whole business last night has got the whole mage body all riled up. What I don’t understand is how that news reached Umbrveyl, and how does every student know? ”
“We get mail, like the rest of the world,” Lesya rolled her eyes. “There’s like ten students of House Balthazar, not including me, who are from Lynsfeld. Guess who got overly excited mails from their families last night?”
“Ten students?”
“Ten students.”
“Fuck.”
“And they’re the ones who give House Balthazar its bad name. Deathless descendants or relatives, all.”
“Miles Farrow as well?”
“Miles Farrow especially. Did you know his father was Geron Farrow?”
“But Geron Farrow must’ve been like fifty years old fifty years ago. Miles has got to be no older than twenty-two. Was the old bastard having kids in his late seventies?”
“Who knows. He was a Deathless. They’re not really bound to the laws of aging as we are,” Lesya said. “Some of them have white hair and look not a day over forty.”
Cassian’s eyes flashed as he stared at her uncertainly.
She was talking about his father, Derleth Veilmonte of Veilmonte Industries.
It was said that Derleth, seeing the error of his ways, chose to back away from being a Deathless.
As if such a thing was even possible. It was his funding that had given Mortandagh the capital he’d needed to extend his reign of terror across multiple continents.
But somewhere near the end, before the start of the Necromancy War, Derleth Veilmonte had come to regret his decision and tried to change sides.
Whether or not he had actually changed sides was not a matter of public knowledge. As far as public knowledge went, Derleth Veilmonte was serving a life sentence at the Doldrum Isles along with the rest of the Deathless who had been apprehended and captured alive.
It was said that the effects of Mortandagh’s necromancy were so strong upon Derleth that he’d been perpetually forty for the last fifty years. Cassian Veilmonte was a result of a conjugal visit twenty-six years ago. His mother was a Vanguard officer, Moira Knightley.
She had joined the Vanguard at a young age. Twenty, to be exact. Back then, the Vanguard and the Solignis Covenant needed every man and woman who was willing to join their cause.
Like many of the Vanguard’s foot soldiers, she’d been put in charge of apprehending and killing the Deathless preceding the Necromancy War. But when her duty had put her in the path of Derleth Veilmonte, something unexpected happened.
He had fallen in love with her, and she with him.
Moira made him see the errors of his ways, but it was too late.
He was already a Deathless, under the thrall of Mortandagh.
He agreed to being imprisoned in the Doldrum Isles with just one caveat.
That he be married to Moira, and that she be allowed to visit him every once in a while.
She was sixty-six years old and still alive.
Still in love with Derleth Veilmonte. Still visiting him once every month, telling her about her life, about their son.
While people knew that Cassian was Derleth’s son, no one, other than the top brass of the Solignis Covenant, most of whom were dead, knew that Cassian was Moira Knightley’s son.
It was a well-guarded secret, one that the Solignis Covenant hoped would die with Moira Knightley, who, by the time she retired from the Vanguard, had reached the rank of colonel.
Lesya knew.
Cassian had told her.
And so Lesya had told him about his own mother, the fitful woman who checked the temperature of her dead husband’s cryochamber every night to make sure his body was preserved for Mortandagh’s promised second coming.
Their shared trauma, the horrors of their past, had been one of the reasons they were drawn to each other.
The sexual tension between them, their sheer draw to each other, was another.
“Not mocking my father, are we, Rosefield? That’s an icy topic, don’t you think?”
Lesya grinned right around the same time as Cassian’s stony expressions gave way to a mischievous smile.
“I missed you,” she said, breaking into a run toward him.
“I missed you too,” he said, taking her in his arms and giving her a deep kiss. She kissed him back, letting her tongue feel the familiarity of his soft tongue in her mouth.
Shared trauma. Lesya had discovered that it was nice to make light of the stuff that haunted you. And in Cassian, she had found someone all too willing to make light of everything holy and profane.