Hahen seemed scandalized by that comment. He ducked his head and glanced over his shoulder as if afraid an inquisitor would appear to smite me for my heresy.
“Jace, you have to be careful with your words.” Hahen lowered his voice. “Especially with your background...”
Especially because my mother was a known heretic who had experimented on her unborn child to turn me into a mystical warrior from the Empyreal past. That’s what Hahen meant, though he was too kind to say it.
“And maybe it’s my background that confused the wheel,” I said quietly, more out of respect for my friend’s feelings than the fear that someone might overhear me. “I was born with half a core. Maybe I’m only halfway integrated into the Flame’s plans.”
“That’s an interesting theory.” Hahen shrugged. “We may never be able to prove or disprove it, of course. For now, let’s focus on the classes you’ve been missing while you’re cooped up in this sorry excuse for a hospital.”
And that was how my time with Hahen went while I convalesced. He tutored me in the classes I’d missed and fended off my endless questions about the Grand Design and why it couldn’t fit me into one of the seven neat roles every other Empyreal assumed as they grew into adults.
To Hahen, those questions served no purpose. Neither of us knew enough about the metaphysical nature of reality to answer them, and any guesses we made just added to my anxiety about my future. In the end, he became so annoyed with me that I simply stopped pestering him on the subject.
But I never stopped thinking about it. I’d seen how Empyreal society treated those it couldn’t categorize or control. They’d burned the first generation of Eclipse Warriors. They’d banished my mother and father for daring to challenge the sages and their rulings. And, now, they’d taken the best and brightest of their students and pitted them against one another in a modern-day gladiator pit to settle a theological argument. We were all pawns for the powerful, and when we were no longer needed, they’d gladly sacrifice any or all of us.
I had to do something about that. I just didn’t know what.
The second semester was well under way by the time the infirmary released me. Though my burns had been serious enough to warrant daily visits from physicians, the real worry was my core. No one had ever seen anything like it, and the School’s medical staff had wanted to send me off for intensive treatment at a hospital in California. I’d had to get Hirani involved to stop that. In the end, I was happy to get out of the infirmary, and the doctors and nurses were glad to have me out of their hair.
They released me just before breakfast on the fifteenth day of the new semester, and I immediately limped toward the dining hall for a meal with my friends. They, at least, would listen to what I was worried about, and they might even be able to help me figure out what I should do.
The vision I’d seen kept coming back to me in nightmares. I was worried that the dragons were getting ahead of my team while we recuperated from the last challenge. Then there was the matter of the hollows, who had less than half a year left before Inquisitor Rhône showed up to drag them all off to Atlantis, where they’d spend the rest of their natural lives turning polluted jinsei into purified sacred energy and aspects the priests could sell for a small fortune.
I couldn’t let that happen to those kids. They deserved better.
“Mr. Warin.” The one good thing about the infirmary was that they wouldn’t let the headmistress bother me. Cruzal must have been waiting for the moment they released me, because she pounced on me before I was anywhere near the dining hall. “A word.”
“Anything for you, honored Headmistress.” I bowed low and winced at pain from my stiff muscles. She was the last person I wanted to talk to just then.
“You’ve neglected the initiates in your charge,” she snapped. “Come with me.”
“I was injured in the challenge,” I began. I’d vowed to be more polite to Cruzal, since I gained nothing by being sarcastic with her, but I wasn’t about to let her blame me for what I hadn’t done while I was under a doctor’s care. “Hahen kept them busy while I was out of commission. They’ve been training with him every day.”
“Your rat spirit is not a qualified instructor,” Cruzal said as she stormed past me. “Now come along.”
“Hahen trained me.” The burn on my leg ached if I moved quicker than a hobble. It would be healed in a few days, but I wouldn’t hurt myself just to keep up with the headmistress. “Please, slow down.”
Cruzal stopped and waited for me to catch up. Her aura seethed with so many negative aspects it was a wonder she still had enough energy to walk. If I’d carried so much anxiety and stress around with me, I’d have been crippled. She needed to meditate, have a drink, or both.
“You do understand the gravity of our situation, I hope,” Cruzal said more quietly. “Inquisitor Rhône has taken a special interest in these initiates and is not pleased with their slow advancement. If something doesn’t change, soon, we’ll lose them.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. None of these people knew anything about the hollows or what it took to heal them. I’d worked like a dog for a solid year, and still wouldn’t have been able to become an Eclipse Warrior if it hadn’t been for my encounter with a Locust Court emissary. These kids were holed up in their dorms or a classroom most of the time, without access to the challenges that had honed my strengths. If something didn’t change, they’d never heal themselves
