The flames dancing across Professor Deyric's form cast shifting shadows on the library walls. My mouth hung open, words trapped somewhere between my throat and the rational world I thought I understood.
"Magic," I whispered, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. "You're actually—"
"A sorcerer, yes." His blazing eyes studied my face. "But first, practicalities."
Professor Deyric raised his hands, fingers weaving intricate patterns through the air. The scent of smoldering ash filled the room as he spoke words in a language that seemed to bypass my ears and resonate directly in my bones.
"Velum scientiae, mundus deceptio—let those who enter see only what they expect."
The air shimmered like heat waves over summer pavement. When the distortion settled, I blinked hard. To my eyes, Professor Deyric appeared exactly as before—hair ablaze, robes crackling with energy. But something fundamental had shifted in the room's atmosphere.
"A simple illusion," he explained, extinguishing the flames with a casual gesture. "Should your mother or the servants enter, they'll observe a perfectly ordinary lesson in thermodynamics. Charts, equations, respectable academic discourse."
I stared at the space where fire had danced moments before. "And if they look directly at you?"
"They'll see a distinguished professor tutoring an eager student. Nothing more." His grin turned predatory. "Now then—you must understand that what I disclose is forbidden to any who are not within our orders. We operate in the shadows because a very long time ago—this was decided by all three leaders of the Covenant."
"I understand," I answered.
"Not that simple Rhylorin," Deyric laughed. "A blood oath is required of you. All must do it."
The weight of Professor Deyric's words settled over me like lead. A blood oath. Divine destruction. My hand trembled as I considered what he demanded.
"You want me to bind my soul?" I asked unsure.
"The knowledge I offer carries consequences beyond your comprehension." Deyric's expression grew solemn. "The Covenant has survived centuries because we protect our secrets absolutely."
He produced a silver blade, its edge gleaming with unnatural sharpness. "You must swear to Alicia, Goddess of Augury, that you will never disclose the secrets of the Covenant or your magical abilities until you reach Transcendence Three—The Avatar of Divinity. Should you break this oath, divine power will destroy your soul utterly."
My throat felt dry as parchment. "And if I refuse?"
"Then this lesson ends, and you face whatever darkness hunts you without guidance."
I thought of Madam Asena's warning, the shadow in my dreams, Oliver's corpse. The approaching tragedy she'd foreseen.
"I accept."
Deyric handed me the blade. "Speak the words with your blood upon the steel. Alicia sees all truths—she will know if your oath is genuine."
I pressed the edge to my palm, watching crimson well against silver.
"Alicia, Goddess of Augury, I swear my silence until Transcendence Three, or let my soul be destroyed."
The blade grew icy against my skin, the chill seeping deeper than the cut itself. A strange sensation, like distant melodies resonating from within the steel. As I spoke, whispers flooded my mind, a myriad of voices entwined in an eerie symphony, echoing what I thought was the goddess's haunting chorus but not fully understanding the words. Each murmur seemed to assure me of the gravity of my promise.
Professor Deyric watched intently, his blue-white eyes now calm, the fiery blaze reduced to a flicker within them. His fingers traced the patterns of my assurance in the air, binding the oath in reality.
"Well done, Rhylorin. The Whispering Chorus has heard," he announced, a strange warmth softening his usual stern demeanor. "You're one of us now—your path begins anew."
I closed my eyes, allowing the whispers to fade. Words were power, I'd realized, more tangible than any force the Kuznetsov brass could conjure. My fate now twisted alongside the Covenant's secrets—entwined with knowledge that promised both enlightenment and peril.
As I opened my eyes, the room transformed once more. Professor Deyric offered a reassuring nod as flames vanished completely. "Ready for the first lesson?" he asked, and I was.
A nodded in agreement, with the warmth from Professor Deyric's approving gaze lingered, "there are three orders that make up the secret world of magic: Alchemists, born with the spark of genius in the numbers and formulas of creation. Gypsies, born with the ability of perception and sight of creation. Finally, Mystics, born with powers to conjure and summon the energy of creation."
"And being that I have divination then I'm a Gypsy?" I asked already knowing the answer.
"That you are and rumored to be a prophecy that has come to be nonetheless," he confirmed. "I suspected you may be an Alchemist with how well you do in sciences but alas, to my disappointment of being wrong—gifted as a psychic you are."
"If Mystics use sorcery?" I questioned, trying to grasp the uncharted territory of magical hierarchy. "How is it then that a Mystic mentors a Gypsy?"
Deyric unfolded the complexity slowly, as if unveiling an intricate puzzle. "Balance, Rhylorin. No order should overshadow another. Alchemists train Mystics, Mystics train Gypsies, and Gypsies guide Alchemists. It ensures no single group can transcend their own unchecked."
I considered this, imagining the Covenant like an unseen constellation, its patterns hidden from all but those initiated into its secrets. "So, it's a triad of... magical companionship?"
"Yes, as not any one of us is really different than each other as I can make illusions and have made a potion or two in my day," Deyric nodded, his expression softening as if remembering a moment when he too grappled with such revelations. " Each order maintains its essence but gains insight from others. A necessity for harmony and at a certain point—you like so many of us—fall in one of the three camps."
His explanation stirred a deep-seated curiosity within me, a hint of thrill at being part of such a grand design. "So, when you teach me, you'll impart knowledge not of your own arts, but of those who guide my path?"
"Yes," Deyric replied. "But in learning from Mystics, you'll gain perspective—wisdom drawn from the elemental weave, though your destiny lies elsewhere."
With this intricate dance of orders before me, I appreciated the constraints and promises woven into Deyric's mentorship.
Deyric perched on the edge of a chair, his gaze direct and unwavering. The library seemed to take on a sense of gravity, as if the shadows themselves were drawn into the vortex of revelation he was about to unleash.
"Listen closely, Rhylorin." His words bore the weight of prophecy, history, and chilling tales rarely spoken aloud. "Gods and demons—they are more than myth in our world. They were once like you, like me... born magic users who transcended beyond the limits of mortality itself."
I struggled to comprehend fully, my mind grappling with images of ethereal beings descending upon Mam Asena's tale, of Alicia's whispering touch on destiny.
"You mean to say," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, "they achieved Transcendence?"
"Transcendence One," Deyric confirmed solemnly. "Each order has Seven Transcendences. At the deepest level, they shed all mortal traces—no shadow, no reflection—becoming pure form, able to bend reality, consciousness, and matter."
My thoughts flit to Alicia—Goddess of Augury, Oracle of Consciousness and Fate—whose name suffused with echoes of caution and lineage.
"And they're the gods now?" I ventured, envisioning the divinities reigning over realms, untouched by time.
Deyric continued, an undertone of urgency punctuating his explanation. "Gods, yes. Yet not all who transcend remain divine. Some who reached the pinnacle... become corrupted by Erua'vem. Ariel rules that dominion and she is the Demon of Purpose."
The chains in my dreams, the shadows whispering of unusual traits... the familiarity that has haunted me since the carnival, all now enveloped in chilling clarity. This destiny—this prophecy—was mine, binding me to an ancient weave of gods and demons, of cosmic forces awakening.
I didn't yet know if the prophecy painted me as savior or destroyer. But beneath the surface of revelation, I'd felt truth's bite. The gods had set their gaze upon me, and the path forward would lead me through shadows and whispers far denser than any I'd dreamt before. My fate conjured from sands of time, and my heart pointed toward an uncertain horizon.
Professor Deyric's revelations wove themselves into the tapestry of my thoughts, each thread, a dizzying connection to something much greater. I felt small yet profoundly important, like a single cog in the vast machinery of fate—a machine whose purpose I barely understood.
"That will suffice for today." Deyric's voice was a gentle release from the intensity of the lesson. He extinguished the remaining energy hanging in the air with a casual wave, and the library returned to its mundane splendor, though my perception of it had changed forever.
As Deyric began gathering the props of our illusion—charts that no longer masked flames, papers that carried scores of knowledge—I hesitated. Madam Asena's reading pressed against my lips, eager for release. The images of approaching tragedy she had foreseen loomed large in my mind, threatening to crowd out everything else.
But the weight of my oath sat heavily upon me, urging caution. The words lingered unspoken, crumbs of unease lodged in my throat. Deyric would need to know, eventually—yet perhaps not today.
"Thank you, Professor," I said instead, trying to coat my uncertainty with gratitude. As the door closed behind him, I robbed myself. There would be time to voice my fears. For now, they would remain shadows in the quieter recesses of my mind.