-Casimir-

"None of this is fair!" groaned Casimir Élysées as he slumped​ in his seat in the back of the lecture hall of the great cathedral. The Archange de Lutèce cathedral served as the Parisii Academy for Élu mages and was situated on the southeastern tip of the Île de la Cité, one of two river islands that lay at the very center of Lutèce. Casimir's arms were hooked lazily over his prism-tipped quartz staff, which lay across his shoulders behind his neck. Ever since Renaud had lifted the state of emergency, Casimir had been itching for everything to go back to normal.

"Aren't either of you two at all interested in this?" Casimir demanded of his friends. "Really! How long has it been since we've had such a royal event?"

On either side of him, his two best friends ignored him. Casimir sat up straighter, bringing his quartz staff to rest on his knees. "Hey! Aren't you listening to me?"

Thérèse Chevalière, who sat on Casimir's left, balanced on the back two legs of her stool, using her malachite crystal staff, shaped like a long-stemmed rose, for stability. Her red hair, thick and wavy, swayed with her motion.

Barely concealing her smirk, she said, "Something about being Archmage again?"

On Casimir's right, Dai Lang quietly studied his Codex. He raised one eyebrow and glanced at his friends out of the corner of his eyes. "Something about life not being fair?" he added in a quiet tone.

"Thérèse, what do you know about the extra security?" Casimir asked, not deigning either jab with a response. He brushed his black hair away from his silver eyes, which were like two little mirrors that matched his quartz staff. They were a side effect of his rare Gift. Casimir leaned closer to Thérèse. "I heard rumors there were going to be extra Battlemages on the scene. Conjurers, too."

"So?" Thérèse snapped, uninterested in the topic. Dai had stopped turning pages, which meant he was curious in his own subtle way. Thérèse frowned and continued, "It's a high-profile wedding. So of course, there'll be extra security."

"What could happen? It's not like the Déchu can break through our gates, nor can the sanscoeur. So, what's so big that they need security?"

"Grand Master Ione has been a bit on edge lately," Dai added, almost as an afterthought. Dai Lang, who was also rarissime, an Élu with rare magic, had eyes of two different colors, one blue and one amber. "And Grand Master Emyr hasn't been seen in days."

Casimir gestured wildly. "See? So, what's going on?"

Thérèse rolled her eyes. "It's the Shimano family, and you know how they are! They think they're the most important family to walk the streets of Lutèce."

Casimir looked at Dai, but the thinner mage shook his head. Casimir took a breath and turned back to Thérèse. "But your mother didn't say anything? What about your uncle?" Casimir pressed. "Wasn't Fiore in charge of growing the flowers?"

Thérèse brought her stool down on its legs with a crack, making the other Mage Adepts around them glare over their shoulders. "No, they didn't say anything to me." Her lips pressed to a thin line now, Thérèse went back to her balancing act. Casimir was bursting with annoyance, but he knew he had crossed a line with her. He hated being left out of the latest gossip, especially when it concerned the noble circles.

"It may simply be because Master Renaud only recently lifted the state of emergency. People are still nervous." Dai said, picking up his Codex again. "It seems we shall have to wait for the rumors to come true or be disproven."

He let out an exaggerated sigh, and Casimir laughed. The two of them had been as close as brothers since they were toddlers and were the only two rarissime in their generation. They had met Thérèse shortly before entering the Academy together, and after a rocky start, the three became inseparable. Thérèse was a Battlemage prodigy, but she still had to work twice as hard to keep up with Dai and Casimir's natural talents.

"Come on, Dai," Casimir whispered, punching his friend playfully in the arm. "I know it's eating at you, too! We should be there! We could be there," he added with a sly grin.

A smirk tugged at Dai's lips. "You would risk your studies, and Ione's temper, of all things, to see something so boring as a wedding?" Dai chuckled. "I think not. We've missed enough class lately and Ione said if she catches us slipping out again, she won't advance us. If you don't advance, you'll never be Archmage."

Casimir snorted. "I guess you're right. Besides, Thérèse would just give us away again with all her noise."

"Hey!" interjected Thérèse, hiding her own grin. She knew she was not the most subtle sneak. She pushed herself further back on the one leg of her stool.

"Tere," Dai said, returning to his open Codex, "if you keep doing that, you'll fall."

Thérèse snorted. "If I do, and I hit my head hard enough, maybe it'll knock me unconscious, and I won't have to hear Casimir go on about that damned wedding."

Casimir kicked Thérèse's stool out from under her and she crashed to the floor with a yelp. Dai lifted his Codex so his face was mostly hidden behind its cover, but seconds later, Casimir's silvery eyes widened as his own stool was pulled out from under him. He fell, none too gracefully, to the floor next to Thérèse.

Dai closed his book with a snap. At the sound, both Casimir and Thérèse looked at him. They hastily climbed back onto their righted stools. Both eyed the jade staff tucked neatly into Dai's violet sash. It was shaped like a guandao, an ornate polearm with a wide, curved blade. Though Dai's Gift was conjuration and not weaponry, the dull crystal blade was still frightening when it was swinging towards them with full force during sparring matches.

"Grand Master Ione told us to study our codices," Dai told them, flipping his long, sleek black ponytail over his shoulder. There was a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the students around them. "I think it would be wise to start doing so."

"Ione probably snuck off to get drunk," snickered Casimir, crossing his arms.

"Grand Master Ione probably needed to get drunk after dealing with you three every day for a decade!" came a deep growl from behind them.

Together, Casimir and Thérèse turned to see Ione Leontes' golden-brown face glaring down at them. At her side loomed a giant lioness. Dai seemed unperturbed, and Casimir glowered at him. Dai's rare Gift gave him a heightened sense of awareness. Casimir turned his gaze back to Ione, heart pounding in his ears.

Ione's amber eyes, which were set wide apart on her face, were even more striking against her umber skin as they stared at him, like a cat challenging an enemy with its hard stare. Her face was framed by long braids, twisted so tightly they fell straight around her shoulders and back, that once had been the blackest ebony but were streaked with gray and white. Yellow citrine ornaments decorated her braids at random. She wore no other jewelry except for two pieces: a thick black tourmaline bangle on her left wrist, and a shimmering rainbow opal cuff on her right ear.

She let out a small groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Elam bring back the plague, if only to have another reprieve from these troublemakers," she sighed. After a few agonizing moments, she said, "I take it that you have completely mastered your codices, and have discovered the infinite depths of your Gift?"

There were some snickers from the other Mage Adepts in the classroom, but the lioness at Ione's side rumbled with a low growl. Ione placed a brown hand on its head as if to calm it. At her touch, the animal began to shimmer with a crystalline light, then melted away, forming itself into a yellow citrine staff. The tip of it was crafted to resemble a stylized cat's head and shoulders; it was a common image from Ione's birthplace in the Holy Kingdom of Alexandria.

Grasping her staff, Ione stalked to the front of the classroom. Her white robe flared around her, embroidered and trimmed in the orange color of l'École de Transformation. Ione was one of three, now only two, Grand Masters of Lutèce; a mage who had learned to wield their magic without words, without a Codex, or even without their staff. A mage of nearly five hundred years, Ione could do it all and make it look effortless.

"With all due respect, Grand Master," Casimir began in his most placating tone. Ione cut him off with her famous glare.

"The class session is not over," Ione said curtly. Then she sighed, exasperated, and pressed her fingers to her forehead as if trying to rub out the irritation. "Each of you will soon be going to the Old World to undertake your Expert Exams. If you do not take your studies here seriously, how can we trust you will survive your first real assignment?"

The students exchanged glances, mixed expressions of excitement and worry. A few who had been born in the human realm, Thérèse included, kept their emotions tightly guarded.

Ione continued speaking. "In order to advance from Apprentice to Adept, you show off your abilities and skills in individual exams. You exhibit your control of your Gift and your range of spells. Then, under the Masters' guidance and supervision, you face your first sanscoeur. But the sanscoeur which roam the human realm are of a completely different caliber. Once you become Mage Experts, you will be expected to protect the realm from the monsters of Crystallos." She looked around the room, her expression softening. "And you will not have us to protect you."

"Grand Master Ione," a Communications Adept with a blue sash asked, "why do we continue fighting the sanscoeur in the Old World? The Déchu don't want us there, so why do we go?"

Like many Élu born in Lutèce, Casimir also wondered this, though he knew the technical reason. The sanscoeur, the bone-shelled, twisted creatures that spawned from the realm of Crystallos, were beings that hunted and consumed magic, or as the Élu and Déchu called it, Elam's Gift. It was said that the sanscoeur were the souls of those discarded by Elam in his final judgement, and so they were cursed to forever seek the light and life of Elam's Gift. Casimir glanced at Thérèse, whose jaw was clenched tight. Whenever talk of the Déchu came up, Thérèse shut down.

"It is Elam's Will," Ione recited, though she herself never seemed to care much for the scriptures. "Elam's Will guides us to protect the Ungifted who still live in the Old World."

"But don't the Déchu do the same?" the same Mage Adept pressed. "And why would Ungifted appeal to sanscoeur in the first place? They don't have any magic about them."

Ione nodded. "The Déchu dissolve the sanscoeur in such a way that the sanscoeur's life is released into the Stream and returns to Crystallos. We absorb it, taking it from Crystallos, thus lessening the dark realm's influence. Furthermore, our mages can seal the rifts between the two worlds, ensuring that the sanscoeur are no longer able to enter the world so easily."

"And the Ungifted?"

"The humans born without Elam's Gift still have life," Ione replied patiently, "and the Gift is life as much as it is our magic. The sanscoeur sniff out the magic that flows in and out of the Old World, the magic that flows in and out of every living thing, even if they do not have the ability to sense or feel it. Sanscoeur devour the life force of their prey, leaving an empty husk of a body, without a soul."

Ione's expression hardened and her body tensed. None of them had ever seen such a look on her face before. Casimir glanced at Dai, whose expression was open and curious, and then at Thérèse, who shrugged, though she too seemed worried.

Another Mage Adept, a violet-sashed Illusionist like Casimir, asked softly, "What happens to us if we're devoured?"

Ione's eyes closed, and she took a shaky breath. Casimir saw her place her right hand over the tourmaline cuff bracelet and turn it gently. "In the case of Élu, our Gift makes the sanscoeur stronger. Our anima is ripped away, devoured by the sanscoeur, and it causes most of us to go insane in the moments before death. It is a slow process, and incredibly painful. But sanscoeur are drawn by instinct to the Gifts of Elam, both ours and the Déchu, which is why activity is often heaviest around the Holy Kingdoms. It is why we are safe here. They cannot penetrate our barrier." Ione opened her eyes. "Between the sanscoeur, who seek to devour us, and the Déchu, who seek to persecute us, the Old World is a dangerous place. Many Élu died to bring us here to Lutèce, but we continue to uphold Elam's Will, or else we lose our Gift."

Ione looked around the classroom, meeting the eyes of every student there. Her gaze lingered on Dai, Casimir, and Thérèse. For all her temper and brashness, Casimir and the others looked up to her. She had been a mentor of sorts to them even since they were children. He knew, deep down, that somehow, they got away with more mischief than they ever should. Casimir was unnerved, seeing her so subdued, but he knew just the story to pull her out of this odd mood. He raised his hand. Ione blinked, as if coming back to reality, and nodded at him.

"Grand Master," Casimir began, "will you tell us the story of how you escaped the Déchu slavers?"

A great murmur rose from the classroom. Casimir grinned. They had all heard some version or another of the story; not always from Ione's telling. How Ione, as a child, had been captured from her home and taken to the Holy Kingdom of Latium. How she had heroically escaped the Déchu caravan and inadvertently caused a volcano to erupt. The volcano buried an entire city alive, and Ione followed the voice of Rayyan, First Archmage, to safety. It was always most exciting when Ione told it. Casimir waited, but Ione's face did not brighten.

"I am tired," she said, "of this story. It was not heroic, nor was it a feat. I killed many people, many innocents, because of my lack of control. This is why we train you, teach you, from as early an age as possible, so that you will never experience what it is like to not be in control of your Gift. Animi are our companions, our bonds, and our contracts with the Gift, but they are as individual and unique as each of us. They are bound to our will, yes, but they have their own thoughts and desires. Their instincts are ancient and alien to us. For an untrained Élu, this instinct is too powerful."

Ione absently rubbed the scar along her jawline. It was a brand that Déchu had burned into her for being Élu, a simple circle with a cross through it. Abruptly, Ione reached for a stack of papers on the desk next to her. She was finished with questions, and there would be no more lectures today. Ione smirked then as she glanced through the papers. When she looked up, her amber eyes found Casimir immediately.

"Adept Élysées," she commanded, and Casimir shot to his feet, "you and your team, Adepts Lang and Chevalière, will report to the Pont Archange Bridge Gate tomorrow morning for your first assignment in the human realm. A Mage Expert Communicator and Healer will be assigned to your team as proctors."

Dai and Thérèse had stood at the mention of their names as well. On Casimir's left, Thérèse seemed ready to burst with excitement, but Casimir was shaking with annoyance.

"Grand Master! That means we'll be-"

"Far away from any unnecessary distractions," Ione cut in. "You might learn to put your duties to Lutèce and the Parisii Order before your merrymaking with the nobility. Unless you intend to cease your studies?"

Casimir, Dai, and Thérèse glanced at each other. All three of them were members of noble houses, which afforded them the choice to leave the Academy and the Parisii Order when they became Mage Adepts. They had already decided to keep going, together, until they became Masters of their schools.

"I seem to recall Adept Élysées boasting many times that he would become Archmage," Ione goaded. "What sort of Archmage would ignore his duties to attend a party?"

Casimir frowned. He wanted to point out that the Archmage was attending the wedding as an officiant but decided against it. Next to him, Dai made a point to look at some very interesting specks of dust on the table, doing his best to keep a neutral expression. Thérèse did not try; Casimir heard her snicker. Neither of them cared much for their noble titles. For them, Casimir knew, it was a way to get out of the event. He sighed.

"Well?" Ione pressed, crossing her arms.

Casimir huffed. "Yes, Grand Master. We'll be there."

Ione grinned, and there was a feline mischievousness in it that gave Casimir chills. He had run from that grin a hundred times and was caught like a rat in a cat's claws every time.

"Good," Ione purred. "The Bridge Gate will be charged and ready for your departure at daybreak."