When I encountered the wolfess, she snarled.
I placed the meat in front of me and got on my knees so she could smell my head. The pups squeaked and jumped around me.
“I need to get something,” I whispered to her, hoping she would understand.
She licked the meat and gorged it down before laying down beside a fallen tree trunk and nursing her children. After watching them compete in who could suckle the longest without getting overjoyed, I committed to digging with a cake shovel.
Sensing the Underworld became difficult, but I was certain I would find Vanna’s grimoire under the den. I would prove Veymor wrong and never get claimed. I could turn the wheel around in my favour and it would be me sitting in Doctor Di Centi’s seat instead of Tonio.
After I had dug a hole deep enough to stretch my arm into it, I gave up shovelling. There was no buried treasure waiting to be discovered.
I stuck my nose into the moss but it guided me nowhere, my gut longed for rest, not adventure. Shovelling the earth back into the hole, I accepted my failure.
I wouldn’t need Veymor, I convinced myself. I had arrived in Roness without him, had climbed through the woods and gotten myself enrolled in the academy, all by myself.
The muddy patches on my dress laughed at me. All I had to do was consider the warning on the loose grimoire pages. Though Veymor was right about one thing, I had the ability to sabotage my life and did so more than often. I had known nothing else but chaos, I became it. A whirlwind of misfortune, who dragged bystanders into a journey without providing a map. This time I would change the course.
The ship was not sinking, yet.
15. Promised Lifestyle
The campus atmosphere shifted into a serious tone during the first week. I was glad to have chosen Harriet’s courses since he filled it with room for creativity. His art course started my week. It was the only course of that day and allowed me to sleep until lunch.
There, I learned about architecture, aesthetics, and colour theory. It became my spiritual lair.
“Beauty,” he discussed. “What is beautiful?”
We gave many answers, like blooming flowers, pleasant colours, and round shapes. He let us vote on the beauty of them and concluded it with a phrase that stuck with me.
“A spring, full of refreshing, sparkling water, is beautiful to anyone but those who nearly drowned. A black canvas is meaningless unless you see yourself in such a void. Truly, beautiful is anything you can relate to.”
That week, we were given the task of painting what we related to. Since I struggled to erase Claire’s moon-face out of my mind, I failed to submit a result.
Whenever I focused on beauty, I saw her. She was the perfect collaboration of shapes and colours. We shared arts and ethics courses, during which she would hold my hand under the bench and clench it from time to time.
Elvora’s eyes followed us, and I hesitated to act on my desires while managing Claire’s impulsiveness.
In between courses, she would push me into niches of the hallway, just to kiss me, and the fear of getting caught added fuel to my passion.
I brought her home on the first and second days of the school week and would stay until sunset.
Doctor Di Centi’s dinners inspired me. He loved talking about his research and the wish of a never-ending line of Doctors and Magicians. During dinner, I would sit beside Tonio but ended up going into Claire’s room every time.
On my free day, the fourth weekday, she visited my loft after her library duties and waited for Bryon’s training to finish so he could take her home. We studied together or I read to her until she fell asleep.
After a few weeks, it became routine, and I forgot about the initial secret.
By then, outsiders perceived us as the closest of friends and stopped following us around on campus, though Elvora’s minions continued brewing up fresh gossip.
After we finished our second month of courses, Claire got obsessed with the idea of a birthday party for both of us. Ever since she saw my personal documents, she knew my date of birth. I had to find out hers through Tonio, afraid of giving her the impression that I didn’t care about her special day.
It never appealed to me, as there were plenty of cultural holidays to show your appreciation—like the family-fest.
Both Northerners and Southerners didn’t celebrate their birthdays, but the Isle-people did and I followed Claire’s lead.
“I don’t understand you mainlanders,” she said. “I mean, I try, but your birthday is your personal holiday where we can celebrate your existence. Who wouldn’t want that?” She wrapped my blanket around her shoulders and marked the territory with her signature scent.
“Maybe because time passes on its own and has nothing to do with you? We are nineteen days apart, anyway. Do you want to have a party across multiple weeks? We’ve got the porcelain holidays where all girls get celebrated. Isn’t that enough?”
“No. I want it to be about me! I mean, about you. Us,” she persisted.
Unconvinced, I shifted my chin from side to side while chewing the dried skin on my lips. “I don’t know, Claire,” I sighed, “I’m not an Islander, this holiday doesn’t belong to me.”
“Islander or not, it doesn’t matter. We’ll pick a date, have cake, a band, and guests that come to see us enjoy our day,” she said, and I agreed to her plan just to see her smile.
During her afternoon naps, I would continue my alchemy studies.
Professor Bloum was one of the most competent teachers I encountered, despite his young appearance. He found visual examples for every point, engaged in discussions and complimented every thought-provoking
