Chapter 25 Nyx
NYX
“So… ghosts?”
“Ghosts.”
“And spirits?”
“And spirits.”
“What’s the difference?” I ask Milo over breakfast on Monday. We’ve been getting to know each other over the last couple days since the Masquerade—which I refuse to think about right now—and it turns out I like whatever’s wrong with him.
Which is a lot, considering he likes peanut butter on his bacon.
That boy ain’t right.
“Ghosts are like echoes of souls that remain on the earthly plane after the soul has moved to the astral plane. Most of the time they’re just confused, or there’s like, unfinished business or something.”
“And you can see them?”
He snorts. “Oh yeah. Even before my epiphaneia. Every couple generations, someone in my family gets like, “super” necromancer magic,” he says around a mouthful of the aforementioned crime against bacon.
“My great-grandma on my dad’s side was the last one to have it.
My parents realized what I was when I came home from school one day talking about “Grandma Fran”, who’d died about twenty years before I was born. ”
I can’t help but laugh out loud, and he smiles ruefully.
“She was actually really helpful. Turns out she was just waiting around for the next “super necro” to pop up in our family tree so she could teach them how to control it before their epiphaneia. She peaced out after I went through it last year. And I’ll probably do the same after I kick the bucket. ”
“That is so fucked up.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Are there any here right now?”
He crooks his eyebrow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Nope.
No I do not.
“Okay so—spirits.”
He nods, finishing off his drink before continuing. “Spirits are souls that have moved on, but they come back through the Veil. Usually when the Veil is thin, like Samhain, though some are strong enough to cross anytime they want.”
“How can you tell which is which?”
“Spirits are like… heavier than ghosts.” He grabs my full cup, lifting it in one hand and his empty cup in the other.
“Think of it like a full cup versus an empty cup. Still cups, but one has more substance than the other. Then you’ve got poltergeists and wraiths, but we’ll save that for our next lesson,” he grins, then quickly flicks his eyes over my shoulder before meeting mine once more, looking sheepish.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not like you can help it.” I shrug, and he blinks a few times, like he can’t quite compute my easy acceptance. I think I broke him.
“What class do you have next?” I ask, trying to restart his brain.
“Uh, Divination. You?” He asks as we start cleaning up our trays, making the long walk from our secluded corner table through the crowded Great Hall.
When I told Milo about the Legacies ordering the servers to withhold food from me, he insisted we divide and conquer: he’d get the food, I’d get the table.
Between the two of us, I actually managed to sit down for a real meal for the first time in… fuck. Weeks.
“History with McCall,” I groan as we meet the frigid morning air.
“You don’t like History?”
“I like all my classes—it’s the faculty I can’t stand. The last few weeks have been the worst: they’re either failing me, ignoring me, or humiliating me. McCall prefers to do the latter.”
“That sucks, I’m sorry.”
Now it’s my turn to glitch. “Um. Thanks. I’ll survive.”
“Want to get lunch later?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Cool, I’ll text you.” He fist bumps me and starts walking in the opposite direction my class is in.
I brace myself for the worst when I walk in, claiming a seat at the back of the classroom.
It begins as it usually does, with everyone around me pretending I don’t exist. I’m weeks ahead of the reading McCall is covering now, so I let myself zone out as she drones on.
And like a genie appearing from a lamp, Brandt walks in.
McCall looks up from her lectern with surprise. “Wolfram, this is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”
“Good morning Marilyn, students.” He nods graciously as he steps down the aisle of the tiered classroom. “Please excuse my interruption, I wanted to return one of your students assignments that I believe is due today.”
“An assignment?” she asks, reaching to take the papers he offers to her.
“Yes. I asked to review Ms. Byrke’s latest assignment to ensure accuracy as there seemed to be some confusion, and I’m afraid I lost track of time. I’d hate to see her stellar work penalized for my tardiness.” He turns and waves at me before I can slink down my chair.
“Ah, yes we have been trying to catch her up, given her unfortunate circumstances—”
“Pardon me Marilyn, are you sure you’re referring to the right student?
Since Ms. Byrke and I have been meeting weekly, I’ve been continually impressed by her profound understanding of the current material and endless appetite for further study.
It’s been quite refreshing, working with such an exceptional student. I wish there were more like her.”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, and the rush of petty glee at Brandt’s rebuke nearly makes me lightheaded. “Well. That’s—”
“If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out.
My door’s always open for anyone in need of assistance.
Take care.” He turns and walks back up the steps, and when our eyes meet, the corner of his mouth tips in a sly smile before he disappears through the door.
When I look back to the head of the classroom, McCall is still holding the papers Brandt handed her as the room waits in awkward silence. And then I decide to stir some shit up.
“Did you want to go over my work now, or later, Professor?”
She clears her throat and sets the papers on the lectern, plastering the fakest-ass smile I’ve seen yet, and shakes her head. “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Byrke, thank you.” And with that, she regains enough composure to finish teaching the rest of the class. I don’t have to say another word.
I’m still riding that high when I enter Politics, only to see Brandt speaking with Dr. Allard, whose typical apathetic demeanor has been replaced by nervousness if the sweat on his brow and fidgeting are any indication. Oh God, this is going to be fun, isn’t it?
“Students,” he announces when the last stragglers find their seats. “We have a guest lecturer this morning—if you don’t already know Professor Wolfram Brandt—”
“Grandmaster.” He interrupts, and Allard stutters, eyes shifting uneasily.
“Well, technically, Grandmaster of the Fourth Order as I’ve achieved Grandmastery in Wielding, Elemental Studies, Alchemy, and Astrological Studies.
” He chuckles, like we’re all in on the joke together.
“Though truth be told once you achieve your third Grandmastery, there aren’t many wielders qualified enough to review your work. ”
Allard breathes out harshly and continues when Brandt nods. “Right—Grandmaster of the Fourth Order, Wolfram Brandt has been kind enough—”
“Apologies, Dr. Allard, I should have reminded you that I also hold multiple Doctoral degrees in Theoretical Mathematics, Applied Economics, and Philosophy of Diplomacy. I wouldn’t normally insist, but you most of all know how powerful language is in political discourse.
In fact, that’s one of the lessons I’m honored to impart to your students today. ”
“Right, of course.”
“Wonderful.” He smiles, and I have no doubt Allard sees the sanctimonious twinkle in his eyes.
“Class, please welcome Grandmaster of the Fourth Order, Dr. Wolfram Brandt, professor emeritus here at Dreadhurst.”
“Thank you Dr. Allard. Now class, who here can tell me what the five key functions of political language are? Ah, Ms. Byrke—thank you for volunteering, please go ahead.”
Oh you sneaky little shit.
“Political language functions primarily to inform, persuade and influence, foster distinct and separate identities and ideologies, incite action, and shape perception.”
“Correct. Can you provide an example of how language has been used in political discourse in the past?”
“Religious texts like the Bible, for example.”
“Explain.”
“There’ve been countless of iterations of the Bible.
Texts have been removed, added, translated.
Numerous interpretations have been recorded across the world, and often the text has been used to justify political ideology and reinforce authority.
In the Great Schism of 1054, the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches separated when disputes arose around alterations to established scripture.
The Spanish Inquisition forced Catholic orthodoxy by censoring passages in the Bible and other religious texts to warrant forced conversions, torture and executions, and persecution of marginalized groups for over 300 years.
In the Americas, both the Old Testament and the New Testament were used for centuries to defend and legitimize the concept that slavery was ordained by God, as was Manifest Destiny, which led to the conquering, colonization, and eradication of native peoples in the Americas.
Modern and historical political discourse cannot be examined separately from Biblical influence as it combines theoretical authority with political reality. ”
“That was excellent, Ms. Byrke. Dr. Allard, you didn’t mention your class had already covered all this material!”
He clears his throat, tugging on the collar of his shirt. “We haven’t.”
“Then I am even more impressed, Ms. Byrke. Tell me, how…”
Brandt doesn’t call on anyone for the rest of the class. By the time it’s over, he’s practically bouncing with glee, in sharp contrast to Dr. Allard’s pallid complexion.
“Keep up the good work, Ms. Byrke. I expect great things, don’t you, Clement?” he asks as the three of us ascend the steps to the classroom doors.
“Yes, of course. Well done today, Ms. Byrke,” he hastily agrees and all but sprints down the hall, leaving Brandt and I alone.