LEAVE ME ALONE

Frowning, he picked up a candle and one of Baylin's spellbooks and raced to the Novice ludus. He needed to confirm if the potion had worked. He hesitated before deciding to try the same spell he had last time. Seeing the source of the shadows had frightened him.

Still, it was one of the easiest mage spells he knew, and he wouldn't be shocked by how his magic looked now.

His palms grew slick with sweat as he moved into cycling position. Closing his eyes, he moved past his shattered centre and beheld again the enormous lightning-bright ball of light that was his athar. Like this, it didn't look so frightening. Its sheer beauty stole his breath.

But he knew now what it looked like outside of him. What it was. It soured any joy he'd initially felt on finding it.

Oh, he still planned on definitely using it. Despite how the ugly truth of what it was kept sticking in his throat.

Evil magic, he thought. Fusion magic. The same kind of energy that created golems who slaughter people, that killed thousands upon thousands of people for a thousand years. Shouldn't that be enough to want to give it up?

Who even put this in him? And why? For some greater evil purpose, no doubt. I should care enough to give it up. Why don't I care?

The akathar gave the magical energy equivalent of rolling its eyes at him and telling him to toughen up.

How could he forget that the great magical source that probably surpassed most Higher Mages was also insane and wanted to erase the world into unexistence?

I should stop this. He wavered over the spell. It's the only thing to do, really. People might get hurt.

The akathar let him know exactly how ridiculous it found this train of thought. It didn't believe Marvel cared one bit.

"Of course I do," he said aloud. "You destroyed my friends. I'll never get them back because of you."

A question sprung from the depths of his own dark heart. Do you really regret that they're gone when you've gotten all this power in exchange?

The answer was that he, of course, wasn't.

He just couldn't remain weak forever. Nobody wanted to be weak, right?

Forcing himself to focus on the spell, he spent all of his attention on carefully directing the athar through his arrays, bracing himself for the world of torment that usually came, and—

He blinked. Nothing. Nothing.

Dark shadows danced around his hand. A thousand bright lights of kathar shone all around him—the energy at the centres of every single mage at the Academy. Big and small. Novice, Adept, or Master—they all looked the same: bright, beautiful blue crystals of light.

But before him, his own personal wall of cloudy darkness.

It's all mine, he thought miserably, staring blankly at it.

At least now, he was closer to becoming what he wanted. He just wished it came with a lot less guilt.

…

"Maverick!"

Marvel nearly leaped up at the sound of his name being called. He blinked blearily awake at the figure in front of him.

Red hair, white robes, extremely pissed. It could only have been one person.

"Honoured One," he replied, stifling a yawn. There was a sheet of scroll paper attached to his cheek to the delight of his classmates. He hurriedly snatched it off. His face heated. Great, so Marvel was the class clown then. Excellent. "Your servant apologises."

"Does he?" Apprentice Echo did not look at all amused.

He had fallen asleep in the middle of one of her lectures. He sat with his classmates, for once, in a section of the ludus. An appreciated contrast to the last two days where he was the only one sitting during cycling practice.

Most of his night was spent practising his cycling. Echo refused to allow him to participate in this activity with the rest of his classmates.

She wouldn't give a reason for it when he asked, but if he were to guess why, he would hazard that it had something to do with a certain blonde Healer who still believed he was suicidal.

Now armed with Baylin's array-soothing potion and the knowledge that nobody could sense him using Fusion magic if they weren't in the room with him, he'd figured he could just practise on his own. The only problem was how exhausted it left him the next day.

Like, for example, now.

"Do I bore you, Marvel Satis?" Echo asked, crossing her arms. "The least you could do since you can't participate in the physical aspect of the class is listen to theory, or is your centre too weak to do that too?"

More giggles from the rest of the class. Marvel's skin felt even hotter from the humiliation.

"No, Apprentice Echo," he said, forcing himself to sound meek. "It won't happen again."

Echo snorted. "Perhaps you have the right of it anyway. What is a maverick going to do with the theories of alchemy?"

The shadows begged to be released at her. He was sorely tempted, and then in the next moment ashamed for even considering it.

Shut up, he told them, hands clenching. Leave me alone.

A flicker of suspicion blinked across Echo's face for a moment.

Marvel had seen it and hoped it meant nothing.

Panicking, he quickly lowered his head. "Honoured One, your servant begs forgiveness for his disrespect."

Echo scowled deeply. "Don't be obsequious."

Before he could apologise for that too, she was already moving on.

"Hopefully, everyone else wasn't sleeping," she said, pacing in front of the stands with her hands behind her back, "and can repeat to me the knowledge I've so kindly shared with you in the last hour."

Nobody in the class moved to answer.

Echo's smile took on a dangerous current. "Not a single one of you? Am I just that boring or do you all agree with the maverick, that everything I've said is useless to you?"

Suddenly Marvel didn't feel as embarrassed. It seemed nobody had been paying attention anyway. Probably since the majority of them had been around for a year, and half of them for over five, and had heard it all before.

The boy who sat beside Marvel raised his hand. He looked even younger than Marvel was, with downy pale blonde hair and very pale skin. "Apprentice!"

Echo winced at the title. Marvel thought there was something familiar about the way she grimaced; it danced on the edge of his memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it.

"Yes, Ned?"

The boy—Ned—shot to his feet. "You were talking about the difference between Pure and Fusion alchemy and how spells operate in both systems."

Marvel sat forward, newly interested.

"Can anyone else here tell me the difference?" Echo asked, turning away from him. "Future Lords and Ladies of alchemy? Caspian?"