Moving On

One day bled into another in The Six-Pointed Star. The brief downtrodden atmosphere made way for the usual sameness. Ameyalli and Timur began joining their usual group after classes. After a certain point, the disciplinary office stopped bothering with them, preferring to send them straight to the nurse's office for healing. Bulut and Rumen pestered them for details about how they met, but they only teased them with false promises and vague half-truths. If there were other incidents, none of the faculty they knew were showing any hints. They correctly hypothesized the heads thought it best not to bring anything up, likely fearing they'd reopen lingering trauma.

Faxon and Mei were in history class. Martin was lecturing about the tremulous transitional period between the Death of the Gods and The Reign of the Mages. Apparently, they were still in the latter to a certain extent. Faith, belief, and existence itself was questioned without the primordial beings to guide them. Not all gods were good or bad, but they all put the world in order. Their death created a power vacuum the mages couldn't quite fill, which was how normal humans rose to power. The Six-Pointed Star was founded near the end of the bloodshed. It raised a question in Faxon's mind and a few others.

"We're not the only cluster of mages, right?" He refrained from looking back at everyone else when they turned their heads to him. "This world's way bigger than this tower...I think."

Martin cleared his throat. "A few you wouldn't recognize the names of. Most mages who learn how to use magic on their own go off alone. The decentralization of learning could be blamed for the waves of conquerors during and after the Death of the Gods."

"But are there any that hold a grudge against us? It was a violent time, and mages didn't really get along."

"...There's nothing for you or anyone else here to be concerned about. Really, the times of warring mages have long since passed. Our school heads and Archmage are more than enough even if a new conflict broke out with us in it. We've had good relations with other like-minded organizations, not conflicts. At best, there are some independents who despise us for not being like them."

He hummed yet said nothing. It was good to know there were other groups. While he understood mages fought, what happened with the stranger seemed like something else entirely. Their chaperon was killed out of the blue, and they were attacked. Regret and what seemed to be remorse were in his eyes, but he couldn't say for sure, being unable to read his mind.

The rest of their class went by as normal with the exception of a few looks thrown his way. Class by class went by with lunch between until the scholarly portion of their day was over. Everyone was transported to their rooms with the usual lack of fanfare.

Murmuring, Mei turned to Faxon. There was no sign of stress or any emotion on his face for the entire time they were together. She knew he felt things: he could never shut up about his precious Raya, and he did say her cowering gave him the strength to shape his bone blade. It seemed like a boy thing in her mind, not that it was bad.

Everything around them shifted to a grand room neither of them recognized. It was less of a dorm and more of a luxury suite. Strange baubles and artifacts foreign to them littered their surroundings. A multi-faceted sphere rolled about on the ground, misshapen jewelry floated in the air, various pieces of armor were rested on furniture, and tapestries hung on life-like mannequins. The mishmash was something that reminded them of someone.

Set popped in with his usual lazy look. "Hey." He looked from Faxon to Mei. "Been a while." His lips curved downward into a frown. "How have you two been holding up?"

"This is about what I asked during history class, isn't it?" Faxon said.

"More or less." He tilted his head. "What you went through was probably the worst experience in your entire lives so far. That kind of thing sticks with you. It's okay to be scared, but you have to accept that it's over now, even if it doesn't feel like it."

"I'm okay." Faxon turned to Mei, who nodded.

"Are you sure? You don't have to hide anything from me; I brought you here to listen to what you might have to say."

"Really, I think we're fine." Mei accompanied his words with a hum. "We're still alive and kicking."

"You think you're fine or you know you're fine?"

He and Mei squinted. "Since when were you so definitive about things?"

"About the time I heard you made a shank from your bones." Set winced when they did the same.

"...That's the Head of Mysticism I know."

He set a hand on each of their shoulders. "My bad. I'm not sure how to deal with this either." A sad smile formed from his lips. "You guys are my responsibility, so that makes what happened to you my fault."

"How?" Faxon shot him a look while Mei shook her head. "You weren't even there, and you couldn't have known."

Set resisted the urge to avert his gaze. "It's a responsibility/accountability thing: I'm in charge, so it's my fault."

"Going by that logic, everything that happened was Archmage Typhon's fault. Neither of you had anything to do with it. Things just happened, and everyone involved has to move on."

Mei glanced at Faxon again before humming. His words were the truth. Although they didn't find the stranger, there was nothing they could do about it. Valerian was dead, he was gone, and they were alive. It was a tragedy and a waste yet it still happened.

"Huh… I'm supposed to be the one saying that to the two of you." He laughed at their odd faces. "How about I show you a few places sometime? There are some beautiful parts of the world you won't see being stuck in the tower for the rest of your lives."

Faxon raised an eyebrow. "Like what? I'm perfectly fine staying in this place for years, to be honest." He shifted to Mei when she scrunched her face at him. "What? The Six-Pointed Star is like a heaven." He tugged on his robes. "This alone is more comfortable than the bed I used to sleep in."

Set laughed even harder. "I can show you places where it snows during summer, giant beasts that roam around, the sky is green, and the ground is composed of gems." He smiled at the look of wonder in their eyes. "There's so much more than what you know out there."

"Maybe some other time. For now, can you tell me about the other clusters of mages?" He pursed his lips when they shot looks at him. "I'm not worried: I just want to know about them."

"They're a bunch of stupid, know-nothing uppity wannabes who wish they were us. No need to think about them or even know their names. We leave each other be, and that's that."

"It just sounds like you're worried I'm going to obsess over them or something."

"Well…" He tilted his head from side to side. "Yeah, I'm worried you're going to think about them all the time and ask me a lot of weird questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"Like if they're plotting our downfall after a thousand or so years of waiting or something ridiculous like that."

His brow furrowed as Mei did the same. "Even if I was worried, that's not something I'd ever ask. Why are you so specific?"

"Because something like that already happened before, so the chances of it happening twice are close to impossible, especially after Typhon had a heart-to-heart with the rest of the Archmages."

"...What?" He shared a curious look with Mei before focusing on the temple-scratching Master-Wizard.

"It's a long story; you'll probably hear about it in your history class."

"I want to hear it right now!"

"Seriously, it's not that important. History is history, even if it is relatively recent." Set winced when he noticed the burning interest in their eyes. "Don't you have assignments you need to help each other cheat on and fights to get into?"

Fax and Mei scoffed. "Those can wait; tell us everything you can about that incident."

"No."

"Pretty please?" Mei, holding her hands together asked, drawing Faxon and Set to coo.

"Still no." He pursed his lips when she whimpered. "That is so cruel of you, but I forgive everyone who wrongs me that I like." He put a hand on both their heads and ruffled their hair. "Now, go back to your rooms." Drawing his hands back, he returned them to their dorm. He frowned when he was alone at last.

There was much he needed to do in a short amount of time. No one was suspicious, but they were wary, even if Faxon wasn't. Letting tensions die down was pointless if he was going to use the second-rate again. Even if he changed his style, they'd still suspect him. The children surviving and giving a report of his existence assured it, not that Set wanted them to die. It was best for him to play that toward his advantage.

After they were returned to their dorm, Faxon and Mei were transported to a lounge room where their odd clique was. The usual suspects bickered, laughed, and commenced their daily brawl. Everyone was shifted to the nurse's office once they reached the unknown threshold of injury and violence. Increasingly familiar Necromancy practitioners healed them while shaking their heads.

"Timur," a puffy-eyed Bulut said, turning to him, "You say Necromancy goes against your beliefs, but you still let yourself get healed by it."

He scoffed before examining his cracked knuckles. "There is a difference between being healed by such a craft and using it."

"Oh please!" Ameyalli rolled her eyes as she rubbed her bruised side.

Rumen groaned. "I understand your logic, but you are hypocritical, my warrior friend." He kept his foot lifted up, avoiding pressure on his broken toes.

"I am not your friend," Timur said.

Faxon and a bloody-nosed Mei laughed. "Sure you're not."

"We share common interests and pursue greater ability in combat with each other, nothing more."

"By the dead gods." Bulut shook his head.

"Took the word from my mouth." Rumen put a hand on Bulut's shoulder. "He is a stubborn one."

Timur looked at them both. "I am right here."

"We can see that," Ameyalli said.

"Yet you talk like I am not here."

Faxon shot him a look while Mei rolled her eyes. "Did the army you were a part of do this to you or were you always like this?"

"'I have always been Timur,'" Ameyalli quoted in his odd accent.

"You mock me, but it is true."

They shared more laughs, not quite at his expense. Out of their group, he was the strangest and the strongest. Ameyalli came from what had to be the oddest land they ever heard of, but she wasn't anywhere near the level of Timur's foreignness. His homeland was an endless sea of grass, children learned to ride on horses after they learned how to walk, and he spoke of combat as if he was born into it. Fighting as a game was odd but not unwelcome to him. Their skills and pain tolerance improved every day, which was invaluable if any fell into danger, so it had its merits in his eyes.

After all were healed, they were sent back to their rooms. The bane of their magical existences, class assignments, awaited them, and they had to be done or they'd be forced to complete them in a room outside of their comfortable dorms. Like the classes that gave them, they were meant to make them think, only there were many of what they saw as foolish and time-wasting questions. Hypothetical scenarios in which they somehow had any control over chaotic situations wouldn't change what happened or have an honest answer of what they'd do.

Set teleported himself into a practice room. Necromancy, Illusion, Transmutation, and Mysticism could be taught in a common lecture hall. Destruction and the higher levels of Conjuration needed to be taught in spacious rooms: titanic beasts needed to fit and destructive elements needed proper testing conditions to avoid damaging infrastructure or hurting people. Another person was taking advantage of the latter, tossing balls of fire into Transmuted stone.

Tamara's concentration broke when she noticed him. "Master-Wizard Set!" Her latest orb of fire dissipated before she bowed.

"Oh, stop it; just call me Set, like I told you to." He looked to the wall she was scorching. "Practicing Destruction and venting about Valerian, huh?"

Preparing another ball of flame, she nodded. "His murderer is still out there."

"I understand wanting to be prepared just in case, but the chances of you running into him are close to zero. We don't even know if he wanted anything or just decided he was going to kill some mage and his kids. Mages fight all the time, remember?"

"But it feels different." She pursed her lips as she threw the flaming blast. "And I know how that sounds like."

"No, I understand exactly what you're talking about: something about this all feels wrong."

"Reminds you of your early time here?"

He shook his head. "That was something else entirely. This feels like someone with a grudge lashing out in whatever way he can, except he's capable of more than petty harassment."

Tamara hummed. "Whoever he is, he values hurting us more than he does his own life." She focused lightning in her hands over fire.

"The world's filled with a lot of strange people, and some of them are like that." He looked up at the space-time warped ceiling. "Just is what it is."

"Doesn't change how twisted this entire thing is."

Focusing back on her, Set raised an eyebrow. "You two...were close, weren't you?"

"He was my roommate. You know how what that's like." She winced when his eyes narrowed.

"It's alright." He took a deep breath, sighed, and sat himself down on the stone floor. "That was a long time ago."

She shot the scorched wall with a bolt, sending crackling lightning around the wall. "Still, I'm sorry."

"Anu knew the risks and paid the price for going beyond his limits. It is what it is, like water under a bridge. No changing that." He lied down and yawned.

"Are you….going to sleep right there?"

He nodded. "Why not? These stones feel really good on my back." He laughed when she giggled.

"Just get Master-Wizard Morgan to fix that or ask Master-Wizard Zhao if you don't trust anyone below the leading experts." She conjured lightning once more.

"Morgan would do it, but that'd be embarrassing." Groaning, he closed his eyes. "And I don't want to ask Zhao for anything."

Her concentration broke, causing the destructive energy to disappear, as she looked to him. "Do you really not like him?"

"Zhao is just the most boring, stiff person I have ever met throughout the many years of my life. Whenever I talk to him, it's like I'm reading a manual, except it's saying what's written on it back to me. He'd do it if I asked, but then I'd have to hear him go on about whatever he thinks, which I already know from his character alone. It's why I kind of like him and kind of don't."

"…Because he's a little too reliable?"

He tilted his head from side to side. "People you know where you stand with make things difficult: expectations, history, and feelings all get in the way." Eyes opening, he pursed his lips. "Makes you easy to manipulate, binding yourselves like that." The world around him felt odd and uneven. "Honestly… I feel bad for the guy."

"I never knew that about you."

"Well, you do now or maybe you don't or whatever it is." He closed his eyes again. "I'm getting tired."

Tamara shifted focus back to the wall. "Go back to your room and rest then."

"Right here's just fine."

"Then I think I'll go to another practice room. It was good talking to you Master-Wizard Set." She blinked away, leaving him alone.

"...How many times do I have to tell people it's just Set?"

For a moment, he was tempted to take her to the second-rate. She wouldn't be a match for him regardless if he assisted or not: a consequence of lacking real combat skills from sitting behind a desk for years. It didn't feel like the right thing to do, especially while she was grieving. The irony that he was responsible for that wasn't lost on him. Listening in on her giving the disciplinary task to Valerian without getting caught was too easy. Her passing after her former roommate would establish a pattern too. Whoever died next could be anyone, but he had to get them alone with no one who could place their last whereabouts.

A few more days passed, save for their steady advancements in the magical arts, more ordinary than the last. The questions lingered in Faxon's mind. Set's deflection using whatever fiasco he knew only made him more curious. Other mages were out there, and one tried to kill them. It wasn't as if info they had access to was restricted to their teachers. Their counselor told them they had libraries, new and old. Something that could explain who the stranger was had to be in them.

"Let's go to the library today," Faxon said, stopping their usual free-for-all brawl from starting. "There's something I want to look for."

"Okay, go ahead." Ameyalli kept her fists up

Timur looked to him. "Information about the man who attacked us?"

"You were attacked?" Rumen asked. "When?'

"Where were we?" Bulut's face scrunched.

Faxon frowned at a worried murmur from Mei. "I'm not worried or stressed about it: I just want to know who that man was." He raised an eyebrow when Bulut stepped toward him.

"What exactly happened?"

"It's how we met," Ameyalli, rolling her eyes and lowering her hands, said. "We were supposed to gather Transmutation for the mundane ingredients as punishment for acting out, and this guy killed the man supposed to watch over us before trying to kill us too." She pointed at Faxon. "He made a blade out of his own bones to defend us."

Rumen's eyes widened "What?!"

Faxon looked down. "I should've checked the body and finished him while I still had the chance." Mei patting his back gave him a slight smile.

Timur punched into his own hand. "Next time, we cut off his head."

"If there will even be a next time." Ameyalli scoffed.

Bulut frowned. "Why wasn't I there?" He punched an imaginary figure in his head. "I would've sent him to join the dead gods."

Faxon and Mei squinted at him. "Or you could've died."

"Everyone dies eventually."

"That...doesn't really change anything," Ameyalli said, shooting him a look.

Rumen patted his friend's shoulder. "As if he would die so easily!" He laughed. "If you four could survive that man so could we!"

"I doubt it," Timur deadpanned.

Faxon shook his head while Mei rolled her eyes. "Let's talk about it in the library."

"What library?" Bulut asked. "I've never seen a library in this place."

"Well, they should have one: this is a school," Ameyalli said.

Rumen scoffed. "As if rotting books could help us against this foe."

"Since when were you a part of this?"

Bulut smiled as he put an arm over Timur's shoulder. "We are your friends, so this enemy is our enemy as well."

"I suppose we could use distractions. He was powerful when he saw past our young age," Timur said.

"That's the spirit!" Rumen patted his back.

Ameyalli laughed. "Okay, fodder." She looked to Faxon expectantly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" His face scrunched, drawing a look from Mei. "You know how this place works: if we just want something hard enough, we'll be taken to it."

"Then why haven't we?"

He shrugged. "Maybe one of us doesn't want to go or something like that." Looking around, he scanned their faces before settling on his roommate's. "...Mei, do you not want me to look into the guy who attacked us?" Her head tilting side to side made him cluck his tongue.

"Actually," Rumen said, raising his hand, "I don't want to go because books are boring."

"But we're learning for the sake of killing someone who tried to kill us, isn't that fun?!" Ameyalli jumped and clapped her hands.

"Huh… You're right."

With those words, they were all shifted out of the lounge room. Bookcase after bookcase was lined up with just enough distance between them to fit someone. All were brimming with books, labeled or otherwise, in the same size. There were couches, tables, and chairs, like there were in the lounge room, set up before the treasure trove of knowledge. More than a few faces they didn't recognize were taking advantage of the furnishings, whispering to each other when they weren't combing through their books.

"Whoa." Bulut looked around. "So we do have a library."

Ameyalli squinted. "You'd think they'd mention that."

"Everything down to enchanted clothing patches is teleported around. Think this place is more for storage than hanging out or actually going to." Faxon and Mei hummed.

"How do you expect to find the information about our foe?" Timur asked.

"Same way we got here: thinking about it."

Rumen clucked his tongue after several seconds. "I knew it would be boring."

"Just give it a little while."

"Do we all have to think the same thing?" Ameyalli asked. "I mean, that's what got us here."

"Then let us do it for our own sake," Bulut said, pumping his fist.

Faxon facepalmed before giving a concerned Mei a reassuring smile. "How is the tower gonna give information on something as vague as some unknown mage?" Laughing at his own stupidity, he held out his hand. "Mage groups and wandering mages are what we should think about."

Timur's eyes narrowed slightly at his open palm. "If the history of mages is as extensive as our history teachers make it out to be, an entire portion of the library will appear before us."

"You're right." He blinked as several books materialized on top of each other right in his grasp. "Oh." Several more added to the pile made him drop them. "I might need a little help."

All of their eyes widened when their surrounding space was filled with books. Some sections on the bookcases were gone, now at their feet. More than a few of the other mages stopped to stare at them and the growing pile. It was a rookie's first mistake but a mistake nonetheless. They'd be embarrassed if any really cared about the opinions of people they didn't know, even if they were their peers.

"This is going to suck." Ameyalli groaned.

"You can say that again," Bulut said, "but it is for your sake, my friend."

She picked up a book. "We barely know each other."

"All of us know enough," Rumen said, doing the same.

"I insist were are not friends." Timur took a book, opened it, and raised an eyebrow as it flung to a page. "Witch Covens of the Far East."

"Circle of the Black Hand in Pictoria, modern Frankland," Ameyalli read.

Bulut squinted at the page his book flew to. "Mage Cults of the Dead Gods?"

"Conjurers of the Lost City of Daria," Rumen said, raising an eyebrow.

"This is going to take us a while." Faxon opened a book. "The Ancient and Eldest Necromancers." He hummed at the sight of a familiar name. "Master-Wizard Morgan is on here."

Ameyalli snickered. "She probably wrote it."

Timur shook his head. "What a foolish thing to dedicate yourself to." He scanned the pages of his book with some interest.

"I think Conjuration is the worst school," Bulut said, attracting a look from Ameyalli.

Rumen nodded. "Not a single word on this page is of interest to me."

"Then let me read it." Taking the book from his hand, Ameyalli handed him hers. "While you idiots risk your lives brawling on the ground, I'll be riding on the back of a feathered serpent."

"Yet you participated in every one of our sparring sessions," Timur said, still looking at his book.

Blood rushed to her cheeks as they chuckled. "Sh-Shut up!"

"I'd tell you to be more gentle with her, but she is a cruel woman," Rumen said.

"Still sore?" She scoffed. "Even if I did do any damage, the Necromancy healed it."

Faxon cringed. "That still hurts, you know."

"Cry me a river."

"That is impossible," Timur said.

She rolled her eyes. "It's an expression, Tee."

"My name i–"

"We know," they all, save for a humming Mei, said in unison.

There was a slim chance any information about the stranger was in their records. It was somewhat for piece of mind, greater knowledge about the world of mages, and anything that could help with their magical abilities. Even if there was info about him, it would take more than a few days to find something concrete. His identity was out of the question, but the extent of his abilities and affiliation were not. Only time would tell.