Chapter 5
Mana was the life force of magic, an ethereal force that existed in the world and could be harnessed if one were initiated to the ways of magic.
Even regular folk came into contact with mana.
Some called it luck, others dubbed it providence.
But for as long as the world existed, so did mana, a force as important as gravity and magnetism.
At ten p.m. in that dark auditorium, Lesya Rosefield learned what happened when you tried to channel mana with your own body.
Before Elias Solwyn could cast a curse on Miles Farrow, Lesya’s raw magic burst from her hand and hit Elias in the head, knocking him down. Theo Cohen and Freya Drummond immediately went after him, trying to see if the headmaster’s grandson was still alive.
Lesya screamed in pain, holding her burnt hand. It had gone completely black, smoke rising from her palm.
“Les!” Trisha came running to Lesya’s side. “Oh God.”
“What is the meaning of this?!” Armen Drow slammed the door open and came to the strangest sight. Miles Farrow standing there unharmed, looking confusedly from Lesya to Elias. The side of Elias’s head was bleeding, but he was alive, breathing, his two friends trying to get him to wake up.
“He came in and tried to kill us!” Miles Farrow snapped. “And where were you, running off with our channeling devices? He could have killed us!”
“We didn’t come here to kill you!” Freya hissed. “We just came to…”
“Yeah! Go on!” Sara and Rheannon had gone down the steps and were standing beside Miles.
“We just came to scare you,” Freya said, looking at Elias, who was still not regaining consciousness.
“I’ll have to report this to the headmaster,” Armen Drow said, his mouth opening and closing in confusion.
Trisha was trying to heal Lesya’s hand, but the burns were severe and of a magical nature. Her healing magic was not working. Lesya sobbed in blinding agony, unable to move her fingers.
“She needs to go to the infirmary!” Trisha said, drawing Armen’s attention to Lesya.
“Right… I… Come along… Detention dismissed,” Armen grumbled.
The Balthazar students stood in a close rank, watching the three students from House Solaris leave with Armen. Trisha took Lesya’s good arm and slung it over her shoulder, hurrying her to the infirmary.
“This isn’t over.” Elias Solwyn opened his eyes and glared at Lesya as their paths diverged in the lobby. “I’ll get you for that.”
“Two and nothing, Solwyn,” Lesya said, flipping him the bird with her burnt hand. It took great effort, and the pain was unbearable, but it was worth it. The look of pure horror on Elias’s face as he was hoisted toward the headmaster’s office brought a smile to her face.
She knew what she had done. She’d attacked the headmaster’s grandson. But she had defended one of her own. Come what hell may.
* * *
Healer Aishwarya looked perplexed at the injury.
Trisha stood there by Lesya’s infirmary bed, wincing at the sight of the injury.
It reminded her of the brisket her mother used to make on the holidays.
All charred black on the surface and bright pink underneath.
Lesya’s muscles and flesh were visible underneath the burns.
Trisha looked away, resisting the urge to vomit.
“Holy Sol-Father,” Aishwarya muttered under her breath as she began applying a poultice to Lesya’s hand and arm.
“And to think that there are warnings at the start of every book we have, disclaimers at the start of every class… Tell me, girl, what is it about being a Balthazar that makes us reckless like this?”
“You’re one to talk,” Lesya said, gasping in pain as the paste set on her skin and started to heal aggressively.
“I did say us, didn’t I?” Aishwarya said, smiling with just half her mouth.
“You didn’t see Elias,” Lesya said, recalling the accident. “He was going to kill Miles. I could see it in his eyes. He had the spellblade at the ready. His two cronies were in on it. They had set a series of explosions in the hallway to distract Armen.”
“Well, that’s to be expected.” Aishwarya sighed as she started to apply a bandage over the poultice. “After what happened last night.”
“Crazy to think that it’s just been one day since Vincent Crenshaw’s death and the Grath Nomad,” Trisha said, studying a vial that she’d picked up from a shelf nearby. It contained a bright red fluid inside. A liquid that refused to sit still in its bottle.
“Imagine what happens in a week, a month, a year. This is going to polarize people like nothing else. The Grath Nomad knew this would happen. He wants it to happen. It’s far easier conquering a divided people. I just hope that it’s not like the last time.”
“There’s no way you were there the last time,” Lesya said incredulously.
“My parents were. Both of them were from House Balthazar, but they joined the Solignis Covenant and fought against Mortandagh.”
“I assume both survived,” Trisha joked.
“Naturally… Seriously, girls, how old do you think I am?” Aishwarya laughed as she took away the tray containing the operating material.
“Forty,” Lesya said.
“Ouch,” Aishwarya said. “I’m thirty-two.”
The two watched Aishwarya exit through a door. Trisha looked at the bandaged hand and asked, “Hurts still?”
“What do you think?”
“I think Aishwarya’s right. We all attended the first-year lecture where they told us the consequences of casting magic without a channeling device. What the hell were you thinking?”
“What the hell was I thinking? What the hell were they thinking?” Lesya fumed. “They were going to kill Miles.”
At that moment, the infirmary doors opened and Miles Farrow walked in, carrying something in his hands. He nodded at Lesya, who nodded back, and then walked up to her.
“You left this behind,” he said, giving her the dragonhide hand harness. “As did you.” He gave Trisha’s ring back to her.
“Thanks,” Leysa said, taking the harness with her uninjured hand and placing it on the bedside table.
“I should be thanking you,” Miles said, his head bowed reverently. “You saved my life, Rosefield. I heard Elias whisper the words of the death curse. Fucking piece of shit was going to kill me.”
“I guess it had something to do with your father being a captain of Mortandagh’s army,” Trisha said, mock squinting her eyes and stroking her chin. “But then again, that’s just conjecture on my part.”
“My father was killed by Vincent Crenshaw,” Miles said, narrowing his eyes at Trisha.
It had never occurred to Lesya how intense he looked.
She had never really given him much notice, and he’d always ignored her.
But now that he was standing by her bed, and she could see his dark brown eyes and his long wavy hair, she could see why he’d had a certain appeal on the first- and second-year female students.
He carried a vehement aura. Tall, muscular, and sporting a slight stubble, he was nothing like Cassian Veilmonte.
Miles did not shy away from the dark repute of his parents.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lesya said, not knowing what to say.
“I’m not,” Miles said, turning to her, still scowling. “My father was a rotten bastard who’d sell his own wife and son to attain the Dark Lord’s favor. I’m glad he’s dead. He lived a dark life, and in the end, he paid for his crimes with his life.”
“Wow. I guess the apple can fall far from the tree,” Trisha said.
“I have nothing in common with my father, but I’m also not going to go around the entire campus explaining that to people.
Tonight, there was an attempt on my life, as well as all our lives.
We need to do something about it. Travel in groups, look out for each other. Like you looked out for me tonight.”
Miles gently placed his hand on her bandaged hand and gave her a weak smile.
“Thank you, Les. I shall not soon forget it.”
Trisha groaned quite frustratedly after Miles left.
“What?!” Lesya snapped.
“I think I have a crush on Miles now,” Trisha said, taking her ring and putting it on her finger.
Lesya rolled her eyes and shook her head. It’d be some time before she’d be able to put her harness back on.
Before they had a chance to talk any further, the infirmary doors opened once again. A woman with great poise walked in wearing dark robes, her black hair in a bun, her hands clasped together. Behind her, Armen came scampering.
“I swear, I didn’t know, ma’am,” Armen said.
“That is quite enough,” Professor Elara Moore snapped. “You left students in danger.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Armen was sweating.
“Please go back to your office,” Elara Moore said. “And expect to be contacted by Madam Rutherford on the matter of your behavioral assessment.”
“M-my assessment?”
“One does not go about doling detentions every day, and one isn’t allowed to take a channeling device from a stranger. It’s an intrusion. If the headmaster knew what you were doing, I swear, Drow, he’d…”
“Please, ma’am,” Armen said, bowing in front of her, hands raised as if in prayer. “I was only doing what’s right. These Balthazar students, you don’t know.”
She didn’t respond with words. Instead, she closed the doors on his face and turned around, sighing. She strode with great dignity toward Lesya, worry on her face, a matronly affection underneath the stern fa?ade.
“Are you well, girl?” she asked, taking the hand and looking at the bandages.
“I’m…”
“Remarkably brave,” Elara Moore said. “Standing up for another student like that. But also remarkably reckless.”
“That has been mentioned to me a few times.” Lesya chuckled.
“While I do trust Aishwarya’s treatment, I am afraid the circumstances call for expedited measures,” she said, waving her wand at the bandaged hand. “You have, after all, severely injured the headmaster’s grandson.”
“Professor, he had it coming,” Trisha said boldly. “He was going to kill Miles Farrow.”
“I understand that,” Elara Moore said, pursing her lips. “And it is for that very reason he’s being expelled from Umbrveyl, along with those who assisted him.”