“I’ll live.” I shrugged. “Just a lot on my mind. Trying to keep my head clear and my thoughts focused on what’s important.”
“Very good,” Hahen said. “I’m sure you’ll master the Sleepless technique in no time.”
“I’ll get it,” I said. “It’s just hard to concentrate on that when I’ve got so many other problems to deal with.”
“Ah, yes,” Hahen said. “I forgot that you are the chosen one, and the fate of the world rests solely on your shoulders.”
Hahen’s ribbing was a reminder I wasn’t alone in this mess. No matter how dark my fears were, I had allies who’d do anything to help me.
“I know, I know,” I said. “Let’s eat.”
Over breakfast, I compared class schedules with my friends. We were all in Advanced Empyreal History on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Clem and I shared a Basic Jinsei Sorcery course in the afternoons on those days. Tuesday and Thursday mornings, the four of us were in Advanced Martial Arts, with the rest of our time being taken up by academic courses that seemed pointless considering everything going on in our lives. It was a very full schedule that, according to Clem, would help us find where we’d fit best in Empyreal after we graduated.
I wondered what classes would teach me how to fight terrorists, kill otherworldly monsters, and make a new Empyrean Flame.
“Where’s Hagar?” Eric asked. “I expected her to turn up by now.”
My handler’s name hit me hard. A forkful of scrambled eggs drenched in hot sauce froze on the way to my mouth. I forced myself to take the bite and swallow before I responded. My friends deserved to know the truth, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss what had happened to my clan.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “There’s a lot of stuff going on right now.”
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur as students new and old hustled through the dining room. There were many familiar faces, but no Shadow Phoenixes. While my friends made small talk, I remained silent and filled the void in my belly, one bite at a time.
“Hanging in there?” Clem asked after we’d dumped our plates and headed off to our history class.
“Trying.” I gave her a grin. “I’ll explain everything, but not until we’re somewhere private.”
Clem squeezed my hand. “Okay, mystery man.”
When we reached our classroom, it surprised me to see Garfield Tanoki, the librarian, was our instructor. He hadn’t said a peep about teaching the whole summer we’d worked together.
He offered me a warm smile as I came into the room with my friends, then gestured toward seats in the front row of the class.
“Please, I’d like a familiar face up close every day,” he said. “I’m not used to speaking to such large groups, and it will help ease my nerves.”
I didn’t really like sitting in the front row. It made it difficult to talk to my friends, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone else in class was staring at the back of my neck. The nervous glance from the librarian and the way he fidgeted, scrubbing one hand over the other, broke me down, though. His help had guided me to clues that brought me the map to the Umbral Forge. The least I could do was sit where he could see me.
“Sure,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
The four of us took our seats in the front row, with me parked directly in front of the lectern. Clem sat on my right, Abi to my left, and Eric to the left of him. I dropped my notebook and pen on my desk and waited for the rest of the students to file in. While most history classes were boring, I hoped there’d be information I could use in this one. I knew next to nothing about how the Grand Design had been formed, or where the Empyrean Flame had originated. All I’d found over the summer were incomplete myths and scraps of records, all of which made it seem as if the Flame had always been and always would be.
That, obviously, was not the case.
The librarian began the class in the steady, monotonous style I’d grown accustomed to during my hours working for him. Though he was a fountain of information, he delivered it in a sleep-inducing manner every bit as effective as Hahen’s sedative. The other students fidgeted in their seats, trying to be patient and alert, as they listened to him describe all the various eras of Empyreal history that we’d be studying.
I made a quick list as he recited them and hoped there’d be something useful.
Pre-Compact Conflicts.
The Age of Human and Draconic Enlightenment.
The Expansion.
Times of Peace.
And that was it.
The very earliest era was long after the Grand Design had been laid down. I stifled a groan, which got me a sharp look from Clem.
At the bottom of the list of eras, I wrote a quick note, then tilted the page so she could read it.
Too late.
Clem furrowed her brow. She fidgeted with her own notebook and pen, as if trying to decide whether to add anything to our written conversation. A glance at the librarian told me he was so deep into his notes he was oblivious to his students.
Let’s ask him after class.
That seemed logical on the surface. But I worried about pulling another person into this, not only because it put them in danger, but because the more people who knew what I was doing, the more likely information was
