“Do you think he was high?” suggested Seraphine.

  “Or he finally got laid,” speculated Aurelius.

  They paused, each leaning against the cold stone of the tower before they began the treacherous journey down its staircase.

  The tower was tall, and there were no magic elevators like the ones dotted around campus. The Academy had a limited budget after all, and since the dean could teleport, the administration probably decided the torturous climb was “good for character” for troublemakers who had earned his attention.

  Each cobblestone step was an inch too high, the narrow walls were dimly lit, and fading light leaked through the occasional window. All in all, very bad ergonomical design.

  Given their battered state, it was bound to be a pain to descend.

  Aurelius took the first step, feeling the horror of poor engineering. His foot hit the stone with the exact, most annoying amount of force, sending a jolt through his aching body.

  Seraphine followed and fared worse. Even leaning against the wall, she was exhausted. The closest physical equivalent would be having run the length of the city twice while curling two twenty kilogram weights at once.

  Even healing magic could not cure the exertion of casting. It dulled the pain during recovery, but it could not erase fatigue.

  “Aurelius, my valued junior, please support me on the way down. I’m absolutely hammered after using so much magic to save your sorry ass,” Seraphine managed weakly.

  Aurelius felt a surge of reluctance. He had survived death twice today. Making the charm and contracting the spirit had not been easy on his still inexperienced body.

  Yet he knew Seraphine had saved his life. He weighed the two unfortunate conflicts against each other and, despite his more selfish wishes, relented.

  Sliding his arms under hers, the two continued down the staircase.

  “Do you think we actually saw a spirit die?” Seraphine asked.

  “It’s possible, but I don’t really trust that weird geezer,” he replied.

  “Oh, don’t be like that. He’s an archmage, plus he wasn’t even born a nobleman, so he had to work even harder for his title.”

  “He just told us he witnessed a divine descent. That’s insane,” Aurelius objected.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Don’t forget the true creation part,” Seraphine said cheerfully, the edges of her smile strained as they picked their way to the next step.

  “Plus, he let us go. For him to do that, he at least believes something serious happened.”

  “Unless it’s some sort of trap for us,” Aurelius countered, ever the pessimist.

  Seraphine switched topics without warning.

  “Do you know why I asked to follow you from the ingredients storage room?”

  “Errr… to harass me,” Aurelius replied, annoyed.

  “Pft, yes. But also because Sylven said she smelled something off about you. She usually ends up right about these things, given her spirit’s intuition.”

  “What did she smell on me?” Aurelius asked, mildly concerned.

  He braced for mockery about being smelly after their ordeal, but he also knew spirits detected magical anomalies in ways humans could not.

  “She said she smelled… mysteries,” Seraphine answered, upbeat.

  Aurelius closed his eyes for a second. This woman had barely cheated death and now was using her last energy to mess with him? Unbelievable.

  “No, but seriously. She said your soul felt different. She sensed corruption,” Seraphine continued.

  Those words brought a chill. Had Quetzalcoatl left him tainted? A divine contract? Something worse?

  It seemed impossible. He had been healed in the chapel. The priests and the guardian spirit at the chapel were experts in mana and souls. They would not have missed a mark.

  “You’re wrong. I had a near death accident earlier this morning. I went to a small chapel in town to get treated. There’s no way they missed it,” Aurelius said, defensive, clinging to hope.

  “Ok, first of all, you almost died today in the city and you immediately came to the storage room to practice magic in the middle of the weekend?” Seraphine said, incredulous.

  “Secondly, you are being strangely defensive about this.”

  “That seems very suspicious. I bet you encountered something weird, didn’t you?”

  Aurelius clammed up. He had fallen into a trap.

  “My little Sylven is quite good at sensing changes to the mana of someone she has interacted with before,” Seraphine went on, scholarly. “Priests cannot see this kind of change without a proper reference, and the mana work churches do for healing is more naturalistic. They cannot really scrutinise your soul.”

  Her explanation made sense. Subtle corruption, surface level mind magic, memory manipulation, any of it could be hidden from ordinary healers if it was sophisticated enough.

  If Quetzalcoatl had meddled with his soul or mind, the god likely had ways to cover his tracks. Aurelius nearly vomited at the thought. Had he been puppeteered without awareness? Had his soul been marked for the ancient god’s service?

  “Now, see Aurelius, I think you’ve admitted there is something wrong. Setting aside your two near death experiences, visiting the potions storage right after such trauma to… practice magic?” She wagged an accusing finger. “I do not think so. If I were you, I would be resting or chatting up a friend. Basically, you are hiding something big, and I want to know what mess you’ve made. As I always say, a scholar in training must have an inquisitive mind.”

  Aurelius was speechless. Was he that easy to read?

  She had him, and he now needed a believable lie to placate her curiosity. Or… or did he? Could he keep his secret under wraps much longer? With Dr. Varian sure to watch him like a hawk over the coming weeks, was there harm in getting advice from a “trusted” senior?

  He turned to face Seraphine and saw an expectant, smug expression.

  Surprisingly, it made him emotional. He was a dead man walking. Either the Commission would end him, or Quetzalcoatl would. The pressure was unbearable.

  He thought of the void once more, the pain of his near-death experiences, and the explosion that had happened in the clearing. He felt as if he had experienced enough strangeness to last him a lifetime over the course of a single day.

  He stopped, leaning against the wall for support. Breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, the words tumbled out before he could steady them.

  “I-I think Que-Quetzalcoatl revived me.” He managed.