His body ached the next morning. Raff woke up slowly, aware of the ache before he was aware of the sun against the back of his eyelids, before he was aware of the quiet sounds of Sab bustling around the room, before he heard Diego yell, "Good—" cut himself short, then apologize at the same volume: "Sorry! Nothing today!"

A frustrated cacophony of voices and groans replied, most of them uncomplimentary and certainly things that would have gotten the ones shouting laps if they were still attending the Schola.

Raff groaned. "Just shut up," he muttered. It was too late, though. He'd already woken himself up. He sat up, then stood, his body already complaining the motions. "Ugh."

"What happened to you yesterday?" Sab asked, glancing up from his bed, where he'd been kicked back, reading a book. "You just came back and passed out."

"Trials," he grunted. He hadn't heard he'd failed the written test, so he was going to assume he'd passed. Today, he was going to rest, and that was all he was going to do. He yawned and glanced out the window. Maybe he'd go find somewhere quiet and take a nap, somewhere where Diego couldn't find him.

He hadn't told Sab about the relic. That was a lecture he was happy to avoid.

Sab dropped from the upper bunk as he headed for the door. Raff looked at him. Heading out, too?

"You're heading to meet Edith, right? Someone responsible has to come along," Sab said, hands on his hips.

Edith...? Who...? Raff frowned, squinting at Sab. Then his eyes went wide. Right! Edith. He'd forgotten all about her. He rubbed his face and sighed out. "Shit," he muttered.

"A promise is a promise," Sab said.

"No, no," Raff sighed, waving his hand. He'd do it. Didn't mean he had to be happy about it, though. Hopefully she'd be happy with a quick showing around the Schola, because he was exhausted. Not like the Schola was all that exciting in the first place. "You think she'll be out this early?"

Sab shrugged. "She seemed pretty eager. You know, she was asking me to show her around, too? She really wants to get into the Schola, for some reason."

"Why?" Raff asked, mystified. Of all things to be eager about...

"Maybe she thinks she'll be admitted if she gets inside? I'll keep an eye on her, and you do, too," he said.

"Right," Raff agreed. As if he needed to be told to keep an eye on the street urchin.

The sunlight was blinding. After the darkness of early morning the day before, it was jarring to step out into light. Raff groaned and rubbed his eyes, every motion lethargic. He'd never felt this way after using magic before. It almost felt like yesterday's trial had burned him up inside. It had stolen all his energy and left him with cinders. He let out a heavy breath and shook his head. Was this why they were only allowed to use soulstones? It made sense, if this was what using natural magic felt like. Even the magic from Fabio's Godstone hadn't been this strenuous on him.

No one was waiting by the Shrine. Raff let out a sigh. "She's not there," he said. Oh well. "Guess she didn't care that much after all."

The Shrine doors opened just then, iron-studded wood swinging heavily. Edith was hustled out by a harried-looking priest, followed by Cecile. "Now look here, you little rat," the priest started, but Edith wasn't listening, because her eyes had locked onto Raff.

A low sense of dread boiled in Raff's stomach. Edith's eyes lit up. She sprinted over to him like he was her best friend and smiled. "Raff! I was looking all over for you! Didn't you say we were meeting in the Shrine?"

The priest whipped around to face him, eyes narrowing to slits.

"I did not," he started.

It was too late. The priest stalked over, robes snapping like snakes around his ankles. "You should know townsfolk aren't allowed free reign of the Shrine! People like her least of all," he hissed, inches from Raff's face.

"I know, I didn't—"

"If you ever let someone like her in again—"

"I didn't—"

"—I will personally speak with your captain and demand disciplinary action!"

"I di—" The priest's face was a shade of red that warned Raff against finishing his sentence. Instead, he sighed. "Yes, sir," he grumbled. Edith was grinning like a bandit, but her smile drooped at his glare. She wasn't getting out of this that easily.

The priest glared at him for one more, too-long moment, then harrumphed and marched away. Raff watched him go, then, when the door swung shut, made a rude gesture at his back. Asshole.

Cecile laughed, coming up alongside them. "She's a little troublemaker, isn't she?"

"What were you doing in the Shrine?" Sab asked, eyebrow cocked.

"Oh. Yesterday, they said I was disqualified, but apparently they made a mistake. I had to come back today to complete the second trial. And I passed!" She grinned, then glanced at Raff and quickly dampened it. "Did you...?"

Raff nodded. "I passed," he confirmed. They'd made a mistake with Cecile? At once, he was both excited and worried. Excited, because he liked her, and it was nice to have a friend going forward with the trials. Worried, because she was a far better mage than he was. Control and finesse weren't everything, he knew that, but when her skills were so far above his, it was hard not to get a little worried.

"Congrats!" she said, patting him on the shoulder as the grin returned in full force. "It was nerve-wracking, though, wasn't it? I thought—" Cecile stopped abruptly. Her eyes darted to Sab, then back to Raff, and she shrugged. "Thought I'd made a mistake."

"Me too," Raff muttered.

Sab glanced between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. Raff gave him a 'tell you later' shake of his head. Not that he wanted to tell Sab. It'd be a lecture and a half.

"Hey! Schola," Edith demanded, clapping her hands for attention. "Let's go!"

"What're you being so demanding for, after getting me in trouble," Raff muttered, snatching her cap away. "I've half a mind to leave you here and go back in alone."

She glared at him. "I was just looking around a little," she whined. She jumped, suddenly, lunging for the cap. Raff snatched it up out of her reach. She fell short, stumbled a step, and turned back around to face him. "They were being too uptight. I didn't do anything."

"Are you going to run off and get in trouble when I let you in the Schola? Because I can't have you tarnishing my good name twice in one day," Raff asked sternly. He spun her cap around his finger lazily, considering his options. He probably shouldn't. Letting her in could get him in trouble, after all. Especially if she ran off. And she'd already gone poking around places she shouldn't go in the Shrine. She'd already given back his soulstone. It wasn't like she could retaliate.

Just as he was thinking that, she lunged for her cap again, throwing herself bodily at him in a bid to knock it down. Raff stumbled back, hand closing around the cap as he held it high out of her reach. "Hey, hey..." he started. There was a tug at his hip. His hand dropped, too slow. He felt his sword slide free for the second time this week. Then it was pointed at him, the soulstone in the hilt glittering in the morning sun. Raff jumped, one hand going to his sheath, but of course it was empty. She'd stolen it away. He snarled. "Little thief!"

Sab lifted his hammer and stepped in front of Raff, pushing him back. Cecile gestured, flames sparking to life at her fingertips at an instant, and drew a step backwards. "Give that back," Sab warned quietly. His eyes tracked the motion of the sword, the way it shifted in an amateur's hand. "Now."

"Why should I?" Edith asked, almost mockingly. She dropped the sword to her hand and swung it between two fingers, playing with it. Raff watched the motion, the way the sword glittered in the sun. He wanted to leap out and steal it back, but Sab was in the way, one hand out, hammer barring his path forward.

"Because if you don't, the guards at the Schola and the Shrine are going to notice, and you will be captured, if not killed," Sab whispered. "They tend to attack first when it comes to soulstones in the wrong hands. I'd alert them now if it was only a matter of your insignificant life, but I don't want to risk Raff's life over your stupidity."

Raff couldn't help a bit of a grin despite the tense situation. Aww, I'm significant.

Edith paled, but still hesitated. "You'll take me to the Schola," she said, and Raff wasn't sure if she was asking or demanding it.

"You can hand that sword back and find out, or hold onto it and die," Sab replied.

"Everything all right over there?" one of the guards at the Shrine door called out.

Edith stiffened. Sab looked at her, expression carefully neutral. The moment stretched, seconds slowing. Raff watched the sword. She wasn't paying it much attention now, the way it was dangling from her fingers. If he could just lunge for it, if Sab wasn't in the way, it'd be his again!

She held out the sword, hilt first. Sab dropped his hand, and Raff snatched it away the second he could reach.

"All good," Cecile called, quenching the flames with a flick of her fingers, then giving him a thumbs up.

"Can you get a fucking strap or something, Raff?" Sab asked, as Raff slid his sword back into its sheath. "I feel like other people have drawn the damn thing more than you have."

"Look here," Raff complained, "I don't expect to be fighting sneaky street urchins, alright? I don't think it's going to come up in a real battle."

"And wind mages, none of those either?" Sab demanded.

Cecile snorted. Edith grinned as well, but quickly hid it when Sab glared at her. "And you, stop it with the sticky fingers. I'm of the opinion we ought to leave you right here and go home, but I'll leave it up to Raff. Raff, give the urchin her cap back, alright?"

Why did he have to give her the cap back? It wasn't like he'd meant to steal it from the start, just take it for a second. And she'd taken his whole sword! Raff glanced at Sab. The man arced one eyebrow at him, giving him the look he always gave Raff when he was being immature. Raff looked away with a scowl, but handed the hat back. Edith snatched it from his hands.

"We'll go to the Schola," he said with a sigh. "She did help find my sword. I owe her a debt." Even if she was a little thief, he still owed her his life, and that was no small debt.

"Um... can I go, too?" Cecile asked. Raff and Sab turned towards her. "I've never seen the inside of a Schola before."

Raff nodded. "Sure, why not?"

Sab looked uncertain, but just shrugged. "Are we tour guides now?" he muttered under his breath.

The little party trouped over to the Schola. At the door, the guards looked them up and down, but didn't stop them. They recognized Raff and Sab, and it wasn't like the boys in the dormitory had never brought girls back before. Given, the girls were usually older than Edith, and the time later than breakfast hour, but the guards either didn't notice or didn't care. Maybe they think she's our sister, Raff thought, then scoffed. Whose, Cecile's? With her coloration, she looked nothing like him or Sab. More likely, they just didn't care.

Edith paused at the door. Raff glanced back. "What? The gate isn't going to bite you. Come on. If you get too far from the keys, it might set off."

The gated fence, an imposing set of metal bars which inscribed a circle around the Schola, was spelled. If someone tried to cross it without the keys, unescorted by someone who had keys, an alarm would sound. Mostly it caught underclassmen, who hadn't been given keys yet, sneaking back in from spending a little too long at the Dancing Lights, which they weren't supposed to be at in the first place. Who was going to rob the Schola, after all?

Her eyes went wide. Edith hurried forward and dashed past the gate. Chuckling, Raff shook his head. She didn't need to be so scared of the gate, of all things.

The gate only cowed her for a moment. Barely a dozen steps in, Edith's eyes glittered as she took in the complex, her demeanor one of awe. Raff did as well, trying to see what she seemed so amazed by. The fence was pretty impressive, wrought iron tipped with spikes that circled the whole compound. The main building stood ahead of them, a rich red brick, tall and stern, windows dark at this early hour. The dormitories flanked it on either side, whitewashed wood, narrow, and plain. A few small buildings stood here and there, practice ranges and sporting huts mingling with storage sheds. The music room lurked amongst them, a small brick building with a single wide window. The kitchens, separated a little bit from the main building, were no incredible thing, built for function, not beauty. All around them were interspersed a few trees, while a small, neat garden flanked the front entry. It was a nice complex, he supposed. Not that nice, though.

He glanced back at Edith. For some reason, she'd closed her eyes, fingers splayed by her side. "Can't see the Schola like that," he said, confused.

Her eyes popped open. A caught expression flashed over her face, then vanished, replaced by a smile. "What's in there?" she asked, moving towards the main building.

Raff sighed. "Shall we?" He gestured towards the building.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, he felt exhausted. Edith had wanted to see every classroom, peer in every broom closet. She'd even tried to march into the boy's dorms and had only just been caught short by Sab. "That's not a place for young girls," he told her with a sage shake of his head. When she'd started to protest, he'd continued, "too many naked men," and the bright shade of her cheeks told its own story. Cecile had been much easier to deal with. She'd had almost an academic curiosity, looking at the classrooms and the building's interior with a kind of detached interest. Edith, meanwhile, seemed to be searching for... something. A little trinket to steal, a soulstone just lying around somewhere, he didn't know. Whatever it was, she didn't seem satisfied no matter what dark corner she peered into.

With a sigh, Raff sagged against the doorframe, surveying another classroom. This one was a practical classroom, empty aside from the metal instructor's desk in the corner, the walls bare brick and the ground bare earth, though the earth was somewhat disturbed. Raff nudged a bit of it with his toe. Earth mages needed to clean up after themselves, lazy asses.

"Lunch?" he suggested to the empty room.

Edith's face popped over the edge of the desk, eyes wide with excitement. "Free food?" she asked.

"And a new room for you to poke around in!" Raff added sarcastically.

She stuck her tongue out at him, already hopping over the desk towards the cafeteria.

"How old is this building?" Cecile asked, as they walked into the lunch room. She patted a passing pillar. "It's well-constructed. Some of this even looks like magic joinery, though I heard the skill's nearly been lost among earth mages."

Raff shrugged. He didn't know much about the building itself.

"It's relatively recent," Sab said. "Wasn't here last time around. I think the music room's where the original building was."

Edith and Cecile both looked up at that. "Last time...?" Cecile asked. "Could it be?"

He tipped his head casually in acknowledgement.

Raff rolled his eyes. Showing off for Cecile, was he? "Yeah, yeah, he's a sage. What was that line? Mind of a perverted old man, body of a horny young guy?"

A lifted hand barely hid Cecile's giggles. Grimacing with mock disgust, Sab punched his shoulder a little harder than necessary. Raff shrugged. "What? It's what you said."

"Dining hall!" Edith demanded from the door, already over Sab's revelation. Raff shook his head and took the lead.

Food was the same as ever, a few unrecognizable slops of vegetables and some chicken, it looked like, today. As they headed over to the tables, an arm streaked with familiar pale scars waved them over. "Hey! Who're these?" Giada asked, glancing at Cecile and Edith as Raff and Sab came over. A teasing light shone in her eyes. "Girlfriends?"

Edith faked puking into her veggie-slop. Cecile managed a coy blush and a glance at the wall.

"Just showing a couple of friends around," Raff sighed, sinking down across from her. "Cecile, Edith, meet Giada, and vice versa."

Cecile sat beside him, and Edith beside her, while Sab sat with Giada. Milo was there, too. It took Raff a moment to register the man's existence at Giada's side. He was so... unexceptional. So bland. Harmless. Not overweight or under, not attractive or unattractive. Just... there.

"And Milo," he added after a beat.

Milo waved inoffensively.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you have friends outside of the Schola," Giada said. She gestured at Cecile and Edith. "Where'd you meet these boys?"

Edith mumbled something through a full mouth. Giada pulled a face and nodded, a sure sign she hadn't caught a word.

"Oh, I'm in town for the trials," Cecile said. "We met at the Return, though."

Giada frowned, then looked at Raff and Sab. "You were at the Return? And you didn't say hi?"

"You had your family, we didn't want to bother you," Sab said.

She shook her head, disappointed.

Then she caught sight of Cecile's hands, and her eyes widened. "You're a fire mage?" she asked, shocked. Cecile nodded. Giada caught Cecile's hand and splayed it over hers. She looked at Raff and Sab. "Look!"

"At what," Raff asked, more interested in lunch. Today's chicken wasn't half bad.

Giada held Cecile's hand up. "No scars!"

Both Raff and Sab looked up at that. It wasn't impossible to be a fire mage without scars. It took focus, was all. Extraordinary focus and care. Never getting it wrong, not even once. Or not using your magic, Raff thought. But the way she'd summoned the fireballs in the forest, the careful way they'd moved around the brush and trees without setting anything alight... no one could do that kind of precision work without practice. She'd had her magic since she was an infant, and she had no scars? He glanced down at his own hands, a patchwork of pink splotches and dark blotches. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Sab nudged him. "Might as well give up on High Priest now," he muttered.

"I do have scars," Cecile insisted, a bit of a blush rising on her cheeks. She pulled her hand away from Giada's and turned it so they could see a shiny crescent of skin down the line of her thumb and palm. "See?"

"Oh, one scar, pshh," Giada said, rolling her eyes. "That's amazing."

"Can we go to the old building after lunch?" Edith asked in one breath, interrupting the conversation. Raff glanced at her. There was something about her that was haunting, if not downright creepy. The pale skin and sunken cheeks, the icy hair and long white lashes, the eyes, too-dark, blue stones sunk deep in fresh-fallen snow. But now, her eyes lit up with excitement, a bit of food stuck to her lip, she looked more silly than anything. A clown that had overstepped on the white powder, or a noble lady who'd forgotten her blush.

"The music room? Sure," he agreed. At least that one was small. Couldn't spend too long in there. A quick look around, and they'd be on their way. It looked like he'd have the afternoon to himself after all.

"You have something on your..." Giada started, reaching for her face. Edith gave her hand a look that suggested she might try that next, and Giada halted. She put her hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright."

Edith was the first one to finish eating. She about hovered in her seat waiting for the others to finish, buzzing with nervous energy. Raff watched her with a bemused expression. Why was she so excited about the music room? It wasn't even that interesting of a place. Maybe she wanted to see the instruments? He remembered being excited to see them for the first time when he was a little kid, all the shiny brass and the mysterious polished wood. Poor as she was, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd never seen one in person before.

When everyone else had finished at last, Raff pushed away from the table. He started to nod his goodbyes to Giada and Milo, but they rose as well. "Mind if we come along?" Giada asked.

"I left my violin in the music room," Milo added.

"More the merrier," Sab said, shrugging.

As they walked towards the music room, down the quiet, near-empty corridors and out into the sunny yard, Giada nodded at the girls. "So where are you from?" she asked. "You especially, Edith, with that accent. That's not a Boscan accent, is it?"

Edith shook her head mutely.

"Where, then?" Giada pressed.

Edith mumbled something at her shoes that sounded a little like "north."

A frown clouded Giada's face. "Aren't we at war with the north? That little country, what was it, Ardeu?"

Edith cringed.

"Or no, we conquered them, didn't we?" Giada continued, oblivious. "Can't be from there anymore."

Edith's knuckles went white as she dug her nails into her palms.

"I'm from the next town over," Cecile interrupted, sensing Edith's discomfort. "Or, well, the next city over. Gracciano. It's not as big as Castelfiamma, but it's right on the river."

Giada smiled at that. "I've got family in Gracciano! Just outside, really, but hey. You ever hear of Angleo Spano?"

While the girls chatted, Milo tipped one of the vases by the edge of the music room's stairs, a big ugly thing glazed in a vomit green, and retrieved the key from under it. Raff considered the music room as Milo unlocked the door, taking it in again for the hundredth time. A squat brick building with a heavy metal door, it looked more like a vault than anything. Maybe a prison cell. It was low and square, with slits for windows. It certainly didn't look how he'd expect a music room to look: light, airy, open.

A click caught his attention as the key turned in the lock, and then Milo pushed the door open. It groaned, tortured, ancient hinges protesting the motion. It looked no more like a music room inside than it had out. Though small for a hall, it was large for a classroom, a square, simple shape. The first thing that struck him was the clutter. Chairs were arrayed in a loose double-arc around a repurposed lecture stand that was standing in for the conductor's podium. Around the arc, cases and boxes were strewn, some instruments standing loose, gleaming gently in the light that spilled through the door. The walls were bare aside from the few small windows high in the walls, and a larger one, stained-glass, that dominated the far wall. The end of the Tenebraean war was depicted in it, Lux standing over the fallen Tenebrae, her stomach pierced by the Sword of Light and Truth, black blood pooling at the bottom of the glass while rays of light exploded from her body. Her spear, pitch-black Arrientare, was snapped nearly in half and laid just out of reach in the mud. In the background, the silver and green banners of the Shrine waved proud above as Shrineguards clashed with waves of Tenebrae's undead.

The room was as dark as he remembered it. The small windows never seemed to let in enough light, and the stained glass was too thick to help. The shadows that clung under every table and chair were nearly black. When Milo swung the door open, they seemed to scurry away from the light of day, almost alive. Or maybe that was just the rats. Raff frowned. The music room had always had an infestation problem, as long as he could remember. You'd think they'd fix that, he thought as he stepped inside. Instruments weren't cheap. But then again, rats were wily creatures.

Edith pushed past him. Raff resisted the urge to check his pockets as she darted from one table to the next, one chair to another, investigating every item thoroughly. Cecile looked around with a more curious air, then moved forward, drawn by the stained glass.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, looking it up and down. "It seems wrong to hide it in an out-of-the-way place like this."

"It was the whole Schola, once," Raff reminded her, a fact he'd only learned a few minutes ago.

"And now it's just a music room. It seems like a waste."

Sab stared up at it too. "They want to forget. Make it a fairy tale. Dull the pain. It's already been, what, five hundred years? Give or take? Feels like the blink of an eye."

Cecile peered at Sab. "Are you from then?" she asked.

Raff looked up as well. Sab had never said. Clearly someone knew—the priests who'd confirmed his sagehood, for one—but Sab had never told him. He'd never asked, but out of politeness, not because he wasn't curious.

"Thereabouts," he said vaguely. He nodded at Edith. "What're you looking for, little one?"

Edith popped up from behind a cello case, that same caught expression plastered itself over her face. "Huh?"

He gestured at her and the cello case. "You've been peering under every chair, did you think we wouldn't notice? You're looking for something."

She glanced around, as if someone was looking for her, then bit her lip. "You wouldn't believe me," she said.

"So you are looking for something," Giada said with a smirk.

Edith's eyes darted to her, then away. She shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Sab sighed, shooting Giada a dirty look. "We won't be angry," he said. "You wanted to come in here for a reason. It's obvious. Let us know why, and we can help you."

She licked her lips, hesitant. One hand pushed her hair back, clumps of dust caught in the pale strands.

"I'm really good at finding things," Raff offered.

"He says, to the girl who found his sword for him," Sab muttered back. Raff elbowed him.

Edith breathed out, then looked up at them. "Have you ever heard of the Lost Godstone?"

Giada burst out laughing. Raff couldn't help but to laugh along, and then even stern Sab broke into a chuckle.

"I would say, um, nearly any child knows of the Lost Godstone," Milo managed, somehow able to choke his amusement back to a grin. "But, ahem, I don't think you're, ah, going to find it under a chair."

Raff nodded, reigning back his laughter. He couldn't remember the first time he'd heard the story. He'd heard it so many times it seemed he'd always known it. Long before the Tenebraean war, before the gods retired to the aether, the High Priests had served a simpler purpose: to house the gods when they chose to walk the earth. Since the gods were immeasurably more powerful than any human, powerful enough to incinerate any mortal form within minutes, the Godstones were created to house them and protect their hosts from their power. There were originally seven, one for each god. And the High Priests, once chosen and anointed, would await the day their god overtook them and used their form for something greater.

Tenebrae had never been a popular god, being as her domain was shadow, death, and darkness. As time wore on, she received fewer and fewer offerings, had fewer and fewer followers. She began lusting after Lux's power, his domain of light and life, his position as King of Gods. When Lux began fashioning soulstones and distributing magic to his people, her anger boiled over. Magic was the domain of the gods and their chosen, in her eyes. Ordinary mortals ought not to infringe. Even though Lux was providing light to read in the night, fire to warm a cold house in midwinter, water pure enough to drink, she protested it. What if they blinded themselves, burned their villages, drowned their enemies? Giving out magic was dangerous. Lux should keep to the gods, not move amongst the people.

In truth, she was jealous. Jealous of his popularity, jealous of his domain, jealous that the people loved him more, that he loved the people more. In her jealousy, she saw only one solution. She would overthrow Lux and become Queen of Gods, and return magic to the gods and the chosen, taking it out of the hands of the people. A powerful god in her own right, she gathered an army of undead and called her followers to her, all those who were discontent with Lux's rule, all those who believed, like her, that magic ought to belong to the few, not the many. She fashioned her spear, Arrientare, to break Godstones, sever the connection between gods and mortals, and with it, threatened Terra and Aer into taking her side.

So the Tenebraean war began, the gods clashing against one another with a ferocity never seen before or since. There were countless legends about the war itself, but the legend of the Lost Godstone was the most important of all. Once the war was won, Terra and Aer freed from Tenebrae's influence and Tenebrae herself conquered, Tenebrae's Godstone had vanished. There were rumors that it had been locked away, to keep it safe from those who continued to champion her cause or to save it for her inevitable return at the end of the world. Others claimed she had turned her spear upon herself at the war's conclusion and shattered her own Godstone. Yet others believed it had been stolen, some elusive thief (Night Sparrow being the most popular choice) making off with the prize. Whatever had happened to it, the seventh Godstone had become the Lost Godstone. Only six Godstones remained. Tenebrae's High Priests went without.

Though it didn't matter much. After the Tenebraean war, the gods retreated to the aether so as never to visit such calamity upon humankind again. The Godstones were of the gods in name only. While still extremely powerful soulstones, they had become more symbolic than practical when it came to wielding the power of the Gods. Only Lux retained the ability to cross to the earthly realm and take a mortal body, to watch over humanity and, some said, remain vigilant if Tenebrae ever chanced to return.

It was the kind of story children were told at bedtime, the topic of Shrine-lessons from toddlerhood upwards. That they wouldn't know it was an absurd thought. That Edith would somehow find it tucked away in the Schola yet more absurd. Thousands of treasure hunters had sought the Lost Godstone. All had come away empty handed. And now some kid thinks she can find it on her own? Raff scoffed. And at the Schola, of all places, where hundreds of students passed through each year! He'd gone on a treasure hunt himself as a young boy, and thousands of boys and girls before him. All anyone had ever found were shiny rocks or bits of chalk, maybe a frog, if they were lucky. He crossed his arms. She was a bit too old to believe in this sort of nonsense.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," Edith muttered, pouting.

"Why don't we help her look?" Cecile offered. Dangling from the room's ceiling was a soulstone encased in a glass orb. Both soulstone and orb were circled by the thick wire that connected to the panel, the orb to support it, the soulstone to connect it back to the panel. She moved towards the door and pressed her fingers to a small metal panel, then closed her eyes for a second. A flame flared to life, huge enough to swallow the stone and orb both. Cecile jerked away from the panel, surprised, then pushed her fingers back to the panel and closed her eyes again. The wild flame became a warm one that, rather than dissipating the shadows, set them dancing in an uncomfortable way.

"Don't worry, it does that," Milo reassured her at a mumble.

Raff looked at her. "Do you really—"

Cecile's glare caught him short. Oh. She didn't think they were going to find the Lost Godstone in the music room. But if they played along, then maybe Edith would get bored sooner, and he'd have the evening to himself. Raff nodded. "Right, well," he said, starting into the room. "Might as well."

After a moment's hesitation, Sab nodded and joined in, and Milo ducked into the room with a muttered "have to find my violin, too."

Giada resisted, crossing her arms in the doorframe. "Good luck," she said dryly.

Edith didn't look convinced either, but neither did she complain. She ducked back behind the cases she was rifling through and vanished.

It was dusty in the music room. The school year had ended, but it looked as if no one had bothered to clean up at the end of the year, or bothered coming in since. With how dark it was, it made reaching for things dangerous. He fished in the shadows and came up with a rag stained with oil and who-even-knew what else. Raff made a face. Gross.

Something clattered in the corner. He looked up to find Cecile catching a trumpet seconds before it joined the rest on the floor. She brushed her hair back and huffed out, then began angrily standing the trumpets back up. "Why do you think it's in here, anyways?"

"I just do," Edith replied.

The soulstone overhead flared bright for a second, then died back to a quiet flame. Raff glanced at Cecile and found her smiling, but it was a forced thing. "Well," she said, and that was all, but the next trumpet got thumped into place a little harder than its neighbor had.

Milo winced. "Careful," he muttered.

"There's nothing here," Raff announced, pushing to his feet with the help of a cello case and a nearby chair. "Let's go. I want to take a break before tomorrow's trials."

Milo sighed out in agreement and gathered his robes around him, brushing dust bunnies off his knees. "I've spent long enough here to have found the Lost Godstone if it were here."

"We looked, Edith. We can't spend all day here," Cecile agreed. She put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Come on. We tried our best."

Edith shook off her head. "It's here! I've never felt anything like this before—can't you feel it? There's magic bleeding out of this room. It was subtle outside but in here, in here it's—" She looked around, but only bewildered faced stared back at her. Edith faltered, stepping backward. "Can't you... can't you feel it?"

Raff glanced at Cecile and caught her giving him the same look. Was she feeling the well of magic from inside the Shrine? He couldn't feel it from this far away, and from the looks of things, neither could Cecile, but maybe Edith was more sensitive to it than either of them.

Giada shook her head. "Feeling magic. What kind of nonsense is that? Can't feel magic unless you touch a soulstone. It's not like magic just..." she gestured vaguely, "floats around in the air."

"It does!" Edith insisted. "Well... not, not here, mostly, but..."

"The walls... they're rather strange," Sab said suddenly. He put a hand to them. "And they aren't earthen or wooden or brick. Feel it. That's metal. It's been painted a thousand times, but it's metal underneath."

"The conductor always complains about that. It's terrible for the acoustics, bounces things everywhere," Milo sighed. "The clutter quiets it some, but he's still not happy."

Sab glanced at Milo, dismissed him, and looked at Raff. "Five hundred years ago, the original Schola was built. Immediately after the Tenebraean War. Do you know how precious metal was?"

"Extremely, I'm guessing?" Raff said. What was Sab getting at?

"Metal is a non-element, like wood. It can be controlled by no one, hence its use in weapons. It conducts magic—" he gestured upward at the soulstone above them, still burning, wrapped in its wire.

"And lightning," Giada butted in.

"And lightning," he allowed. "And heat, and many other things. But it also contains magic. Soaks it up. Swallows it. Build a box of metal, put a soulstone inside, and you'll never feel a thing." His eyes were bright, excitement glittering deep within. "That's why we use it for the circles of long-lasting spells. So, hypothetically, let's say someone had a Godstone. And they wanted to hide it. Lock it away. They could put it in a circle, yes. But the circle would overflow after a while. The Godstones are infinite, and a circle is only as strong as its caster. The magic overflows, but they need to hide it, hide this huge signal. How? Well, what if they reroute it to somewhere magic is supposed to be? A place where people use magic all the time, so that a little extra won't be noticed?"

"The Schola," Raff breathed, following at last.

Sab was on a roll. "Line the walls with metal. It leaks out the windows—unless they used leaded glass, and why not? Leaks out when the doors open, but only a little. People use magic in it all the time, so of course there's magic coming out! Ignis' sake, they might even burn the extra magic up by accident without even realizing! No... that was probably the whole purpose. And now no one's using this room and burning up that magic anymore, so someone like Edith can come along and take notice." He looked at Edith. "Where does it feel strongest?"

She pointed towards the stained glass. He hefted his hammer and marched over.

"Don't!" Cecile exclaimed, stepping forward.

Raff gaped. "Sab!" he protested.

Sab brought his hammer down—not on the window, but on the brick floor at its foot. The bricks shattered under the force of its blow, shards of baked earth flying. Raff jogged over as Sab kicked the rubble out of the way to reveal, set in the earth below, a wide-brimmed forged circle. Around its upper edge, an ancient spell had been inscribed in the Old Language, the language of the gods.

"Holy shit," Raff said.

Edith squealed and punched the air in excitement.

Behind him, Cecile gasped. Milo went pale and wobbled, on the verge of fainting. Giada, drawn in, jogged over and stopped dead at the sight.

"No way," she said.

Sab hammered at the next piece of floor. The floor was old, the bricks fragile and mortar crumbly. It gave, revealing more of the circle. Raff scurried after him, clearing the rubble. More of the circle was revealed, metal blackened but unrusted.

"The conductor's going to murder me," Milo muttered.

Giada shook her head. "There's actually something down there?" she asked.

"Looks like," Raff said.

Cecile hurried ahead of Sab, clearing the instrument cases out of the way of his hammer. "But... why would they go to so much trouble, if no one can sense magic anyways? Aside from Edith," she amended.

"It used to... be common," Sab grunted between blows.

Edith nodded in silent agreement.

The next blow landed with the crack of splintering wood. Sab raised his eyebrows He swept the debris away with the side of his hammer. Below the brick floor, to the inside of the metal circle, was the edge of a wooden panel. A few well-aimed strikes and shattered bricks revealed a slightly-dented trapdoor, leading deeper into the earth. A thick wire stretched from the edge of the circle and vanished under the lip of the trapdoor.

Raff swallowed. No way. Was this really where the Lost Godstone was hidden? Right under the Schola, all this time? He stepped forward, almost drawn towards it. It couldn't be. Right here, right under their feet. There's no proof it's the Godstone, he reminded himself. But what else would they hide so carefully? He reached for the trapdoor.

"Wait," Milo said. Something about the way he said it caught Raff short. He turned and looked at Milo, hand dangling halfway to the trapdoor. "If it's... under the Schola, doesn't that suggest... the Shrine hid it?"

"But... hasn't the Shrine been looking for it since the Tenebraean war? I thought Tenebrae hid it," Cecile said, confused.

"It might not even be the Godstone. What if it's some other dangerous artifact? Some kind of horrible black magic? A lich-king, or something?" Milo suggested, horrified by the idea.

Raff hesitated, caught between reaching for the trapdoor and backing away. If the Shrine had hid it, maybe they shouldn't open it. Milo was right: it might not be the Godstone. Maybe they should tell someone. A teacher, or a higher-ranked priest.

The trapdoor creaked open. Raff glanced back. Sab let it drop to the floor with a thump and glanced up, meeting his eyes. "What, is the Shrine going to stop you?" he asked with a smirk. "Are you going to give up here and go running to the Matron?"

A wicked grin split Raff's face. "Of course not." When had he ever let the Shrine stop him from doing anything? They could go take a look, then let someone know. And if he just so happened to find the Lost Godstone... wouldn't that be a way to stand out from the crowd? How many other candidates for High Priest would be able to say, "I helped find the Lost Godstone?" His eyes darted to Cecile. Okay, so one other candidate would, but if he could lower his competition to one person, he'd be much better off than he was right now. And, worst case, if it was some kind of horrible dark magic relic, no one had to know. They'd... he glanced at the broken bricks. They'd find an earth mage, get this all fixed up, and no one would be any the wiser about their little expedition.

They clustered around the trapdoor. Milo hung back some, while Edith shouldered her way past the taller, older members of the group to stare down into the darkness. If the shadows were deep in the music room, they were impenetrable down the trapdoor. It was as though no light could pass the lip of the door, like a square of black stone blocked the way forward.

Cecile snapped her fingers. A ball of flame appeared in midair and descended into the trapdoor. The shadows seemed reluctant to part, clinging to the walls and making them shapeless, but they slowly melted away as the flames descended. A rough, earthen tunnel was revealed, descending directly into the earth and out of sight into deeper shadows. A rusty ladder clung to one wall, while the wire descended the opposite side. Raff's eyes lit up. This looked like an adventure straight out of the old epics.

"Who wants to go first?" Giada asked.

Raff and Sab exchanged a glance, then both reached for the ladder simultaneously. Raff got his hand on the ladder first. Sab glared and grabbed the other side. Raff narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going to back down. Not with a Godstone on the line!

The ladder creaked. Both boys looked down to find Edith already climbing into the darkness. She glanced up, dark eyes flashing, daring them to challenge her. Sab snorted. "Guess that sorts it," he muttered.

"Are you really going down there?" Milo asked. His voice was shrill, face pale.

"C'mon, where's your sense of adventure? Don't you want to see what's down there?" Giada said.

Milo shuffled back. He glanced around and rubbed the back of his neck. "It... it was probably sealed away by the Shrine. Whatever it was. We shouldn't go down there. We should put everything back and... and tell someone."

"Milo," Giada sighed.

He backed away, shaking his head. "I... I can't. I'm not going down there." His eyes flicked to the door.

"Give us half an hour," Cecile said firmly. Milo glanced at her, and she gave him a nod. "Half an hour. If we aren't back by then, go get whoever you want. Just give us that long to look around and see what's going on. And on our side, we'll want to get back before you leave, right? We'll just poke around and be right back out."

Milo glanced around, making eye contact with each of them. When he met Raff's eyes, Raff gave him a confident smile. "We'll be fine," he reassured Milo.

Hesitantly, Milo nodded, then again, with more confidence. "Okay," he agreed. "Half an hour."

"Let's get a move on, then," Sab said. "Edith's getting away from us."

Raff glanced down. The girl was already out of the reach of the light from Cecile's fire, and from the sound of things, continuing to descend. Before Sab could get onto the ladder, he swung himself onto it. The ladder sagged under his weight, ancient metal groaning, but it held. Slowly, he followed Edith into the darkness.

The ladder continued, and continued, and continued. Under his hands, the rusted ladder felt cold, almost chilled, and the lower he descended, the more he felt that chill against his skin. Cecile descended after Sab and kept the flame floating near her, so he had to descend in night darkness. Not quite pure darkness, which he could see below him, pitch so black his eyes caught imaginary stars sparking through it, but dark enough he could only make out the vague shape of the ladder. More than once, he reached for what he thought was a rung only to have his hand close on thin air, darkness tricking his eyes. When he finally heard the ladder stop clanking beneath him, a profound sensation of relief flowed through him. The bottom was near.

His feet hit solid ground. Gratefully, Raff released the ladder and stepped away, limbs shaking. At last. It was a relief to stand there and not have to worry about the ground giving way beneath him, or missing a rung and falling to his death. He glanced up, curious how far he'd come. The music room was as small as the moon in the sky above. If he squinted, he could just about make out Milo watching from high above. Though Milo's expression was too distant to make out, he didn't have to. He'd have that same nervous, pinched expression he always seemed to have around Raff. Raff snorted. I'm a bad influence, aren't I.

A furtive motion from nearby caught his attention. Raff reached out on instinct and caught Edith's shoulder before she wandered further into the darkness. "Wait, wait," he said, reaching for his sword. His fingers found the soulstone, and he felt the warmth of magic flow through him. A small flame flickered to life in the space above their heads, revealing their surroundings.

They were in a natural cave. The walls were curved, cave shaped like a tube more than anything else. Underneath them, the floor had a texture not unlike the pattern dirt made at the bottom of a stream, with a kind of lip halfway up the wall. Rough, sharp jags of rock bit down on them from the ceiling. Neither high nor low above them, the ceiling stood about ten feet tall, tall enough to walk easily despite the jags. The passage from above was a sharply-defined circle in the cavern's roof, the smooth bore of its walls at odds with the coarse texture of the cavern. Behind them, the passageway extended into darkness too deep for his eye to penetrate. Ahead of them, the cavern branched, three tunnels winding away under the earth.

Though the passageway they stood in was a good ten, fifteen feet in diameter, the branching tunnels were narrower and shorter, more cramped. One dwindled away to almost nothing. The wire that had traced the way down the back of the entrance and down the wall vanished into that tube, disappearing out of sight into the earth. The other two, meanwhile, remained large and tall enough for a man to easily walk down. Raff surveyed them, considering his options. Left, or right? Or... he turned, staring into the void at his back. The wire went in the other direction, though, which made that path unlikely.

Sab joined them, followed shortly by Cecile and Giada. As soon as Cecile's feet hit the earth, she gestured, and three balls of fire materialized and raced down each of the large pathways. The cavern walls lit up as they passed, then fell to darkness again behind them. Each ball moved in its own globe of flickering light. Ahead, one of the paths hit a wall and diverged, while the other took a sharp turn. Behind them, the passageway continued more-or-less straight, a slight upward tilt to it, until Cecile closed her hand and stifled that flame.

"Spooky," Giada commented, looking around.

Raff let go of Edith and looked around. "Should we just choose a direction?" he suggested. They only had half an hour, so might as well make some progress. They didn't have time to waste trying to choose the best path.

"Edith?" Sab said.

She hesitated, then pointed to the left-hand path. "It's strongest that way."

"You don't seem so sure about that," Giada teased her.

"It's weaker down here," Edith said, and sounded almost confused by the fact herself.

Sab nodded. "If they were routing it to spill out into the old Schola building, it makes sense. Wouldn't want it to let off a huge signature all the way back to the source, right?"

"How do you know so much about this?" Cecile asked, gathering the remaining fireballs back with a gesture. The two combined into one and hovered a little above and ahead of them. Their shadows danced across the floor and the walls as though with a mind of their own.

Raff glanced at Sab as well. Yeah, how do you know so much? he wondered. This didn't seem like the kind of information a simple smith should know. Sab had always insisted he hadn't had magic in his previous life, too. Maybe he'd paid more attention in class than Raff had—ha! If anything, he remembered Sab napping more often than he ever did.

"I made some... items for mages back in the day," Sab said. "Couldn't really help but smith magic items with everything going on. And when you hang around mages all day, you pick up a thing or two."

"Still, I haven't even heard some of this," Cecile said with a frown.

Giada nodded. "Yeah, me either."

"Look, magic was different back then," Sab grumbled.

"Different how?" Cecile asked.

Sab shrugged. "Just was."

Silence fell over them. For a time, the only sound came from their footsteps and the echoes of their footsteps, bare rock reflecting the sound over and over again. They continued through the caves, Edith pointing the way at every turn. Once or twice, Raff thought he caught something moving out of the corner of his eye. Every time he turned, it seemed there was another side-cavern, gaping darkly at him from the walls, another half-seen thing, shifting in the depths.

It was unnerving, how dark it was down here. Even the light from Cecile's flame was hungrily devoured by deep shadows. It was as if the shadows were fighting back, resisting the light of her flame. They gripped tight to the walls like bugs, or bats, but every time he thought he'd seen something, he turned and found nothing. Raff shivered and rubbed his hands along his arms. Maybe Milo was right. Maybe they shouldn't have come down here. He glanced back. It wasn't too late to turn back.

No, what was he thinking? This was his chance for adventure! His chance to find something no one had ever found before! He grinned fiercely, banishing his fear with a smile. What kind of man would he be if he turned back because he was afraid of the dark? He was stronger than that!

The caves were ominous, though. He looked around them, taking them in again. With all the stalactites on the ceiling, it almost looked like they were walking down a dragon's maw, all teeth and fang. And the stone itself was so dark, almost black. It'd be hard to tell if there was a pitfall, especially with all the shadows. He glanced at Edith and Sab, walking at the front of the group and pushing the very edge of Cecile's light. There was such a thing as too eager. Not that there'd been any traps yet. He kicked a rock and watched it bounce on ahead, tumbling along the tube's floor. It rolled out of the light of Cecile's flame. The sound echoed louder than their footsteps, clack, clack, clack...

Raff blinked. There was something wrong about the way that sound... ended. More the way it didn't end. He'd kicked the stone hard enough, it should have kept going for a little... while...

"Stop!" he shouted, grabbing Cecile's arm. She jolted to a stop and glanced at him, confused. There was a pause, and then his voice came back to him: Stop! Stop. stop.

"What?" Giada asked, annoyed.

Edith glanced over her shoulder at him and continued, while Sab shook his head. "Getting cold feet?" he asked.

"No, I—" Raff clenched his fists in frustration. They wouldn't stop. Damn it! He slammed his hand on his soulstone and threw his hand out. A sloppy fireball flew out, spinning off flames as it zoomed by inches from Sab's face. It raced ahead of them, but illuminated nothing. The light was too dim, his flame too weak....no. Raff closed his eyes and focused, forcing it to burn brighter. It almost felt like he was pushing against something, as if another magic was holding him back. He grit his teeth and pushed, and the resistance gave way. His eyes opened in time to see the fireball burst larger, hotter, brighter. Bright enough to dazzle—and to show the cliff edge as Edith started to step over it.

Edith squealed and leaped back, scrambling away from the edge. More casual, Sab slid his fingers over his own soulstone and lit a fireball of his own, illuminating the edge in a gentler light than Raff had. "Well, damn," he muttered. "We would've walked right off."

It was a deep cliff, deep and wide. The cave had been just about wide enough to walk two abreast until now, but the cliff split it open to either side, as if someone had swung a giant axe and cleaved a gash in the earth. Cecile split her own fire and sent one half of it off across the edge. It traveled quickly, but it still took it a few seconds to reach the other side and illuminate a sheer face of rock, no ledge, no way forward even if they could cross the cliff. The other fireball she sent downwards, into the depths. It went down, down, down, growing smaller, to a coin, a mote, then finally flickered out.

She sucked in a breath. "Couldn't find the bottom," she reported. "Might not be one."

Raff's rock finally clattered against the bottom, sound bouncing off the walls as it echoed upwards.

"It's a steep drop, anyways," Raff agreed. He took his hand off his soulstone and let the magic die. There was no need to keep up a third fireball with two already burning.

Sab sighed. "Guess we took a wrong turn."

"No, it..." Edith crept toward the edge, eyes locked on the depths. "It's just down there."

"And completely out of reach," Cecile sighed.

Footsteps behind them, soft, slow. Raff glanced back, into the impenetrable darkness, but there was nothing. No sounds, either, other than the beating of his own heart. He rubbed the back of his neck. The darkness was getting to him. "We should head back before Milo gets too antsy," he said, as casually as possible.

"Milo's always antsy," Giada complained, but she started back anyways.

Something groaned in the darkness. Raff stopped dead and looked around. Sab stared back at him, eyes wide. Could it be?

Before either of them could react, Cecile threw her hand forward and sent her flames racing ahead of them. They flew out ten, twenty, thirty feet, and illuminated a man. He wore old-fashioned Shrineguard armor and a heavy helmet with a faceplate, both emblazoned with the silver tree of Bosco. The sleeves of his coat led directly into his gauntlets, his pants, directly into his boots. His face was ducked, leaving the eyeholes of the helmet in shadow. Slowly, he stepped towards them, gait rickety, more at a stagger than a walk.

"Are you alright?" Cecile asked, moving towards him.

Raff barred her path with an arm, drawing his sword with his other. That gait, the old armor... it couldn't be.

"What?" Cecile asked.

"Identify yourself!" Sab barked.

The man continued to shuffle forwards. Raff hesitated just one second longer, then darted forward. His sword moved as one with his body. There was very little resistance at the man's neck. He was right. He had to be. He followed through, stopped, and looked back to confirm. Despite himself, his heart was pounding in his chest. What if he was wrong? What if he'd just killed a guard?

The man's fallen head was nearly skeletal, desiccated flesh clinging in patches. Yellowed teeth gnashed at him. Empty sockets stared at the sky. Raff breathed out. A ghoul. He touched his sword to the man's body and willed fire up from the stone and down the sword's length. The body ignited, followed by the head a second later as Raff directed his attention to it instead. Had they missed a ghoul in this year's roundup? The armor, though... it was nearly ancient. He must have been trapped in the tunnels for years.

"Raff!" Sab snapped. He looked back.

Fire shot by on one side, lightning on the other. He spun and watched two more ghouls in the same rusty armor as the one he'd killed fall to the floor, one burning, the other twitching as lightning coursed over him. More? How many were there? Sab and Giada rushed up to flank him on either side. He turned to face the tunnels ahead. To the left, motion—no. A trick of the eye. To the right. He could see ghouls everywhere in the shadows, darkness now a swirl of hidden motion, something moving in the corner of his eye but never there when he turned. He shifted, uncomfortable. If only he could see clearly!

As if in response to his thought, Cecile's flames grew brighter and pushed forward, illuminating the tunnel. On his way down, he hadn't noticed, but now he couldn't help but miss the four side tunnels that converged on this one just above where they stood, some of them even turned down into the tunnel as if to intentionally make them difficult to notice. Ghouls poured from the hallway, joining the mass that had congregated further down the tunnel. The path back to the Schola was completely blocked with ghouls. Raff glanced left and right, but no escape path appeared. Every tunnel he saw was crawling with ghouls. They were trapped, undead before them, the certain death of the cliff to their back.

He raised his sword. Giada spun her shortsword and stepped forward, ready. With a glance at Raff and the cramped ceiling, Sab choked up on his hammer. "Guess it's time we put our training to good use," he said with a chuckle.

Raff nodded silently. He was too tense to speak. His stomach, his jaw, everything felt tight. He'd never fought in a serious battle before. Never faced real ghouls without an instructor there to step in if things went south. And now hundreds at once. He raised his sword as they advanced. Time to find out if his lessons were worth it.

The ghouls staggered onward. Their faces flickered in and out of the firelight, hollow skulls lit one second, cast in deep shadow the next. The seconds stretched out, tension stretching as the distance shortened. Fear coursed through Raff, growing with every beat of his heart, climbing as his heartbeat raced.

Sab was the first to strike. A sharp crack split the air as his hammer smashed through brittle old bone. The ghoul fell, toppling like a puppet with its strings cut. Raff and Giada jumped forward a second later, meeting their own foes. Claws bit down at Raff's face. He sliced up at the wrists. Weakened tendons gave way. Dried bones clattered against the stone floor. Unperturbed, the ghoul clubbed at him with its forearms. Raff sidestepped. The swing went wide, leaving the ghoul's back open. He cut down at the back of its neck. Dried muscle and skin gave the barest resistance. The head came cleanly off. It fell to one side, the body to the other.

Another ghoul lurched up to take its place. Raff took a deep breath and slid his thumb over his soulstone. Warmth spread through him, magic an ever-welcome presence. He willed it out and into his sword as he stepped forward, inside the ghoul's reach. Fire coursed up the length of his blade. He swung upward, aiming for just under the jaw. As his blade struck, he pushed the flames further, lancing them through the ghoul, an extension of his swing. Long-dead flesh and ancient fabric ignited. The ghoul burned as it fell, last of its unlife gone before it hit the ground. Even as it fell, another stepped up to take its place.

A bolt of lightning lit up the cave for a heartbeat, flashing through a sea of ghouls. Thunder cracked seconds later, startling a small avalanche of rocks from the ceiling. A dozen ghouls toppled at once, but before Raff's heart could even leap, as many stepped up to take their places. The lines continued down each of the smaller tunnels, no end in sight. "There's too many!" Giada complained, even as she cut down another.

"Just hold the line!" Sab snapped. With a short swing, he smashed a ghoul into the wall. It splattered into the rock, putrefied juices smearing as it slid to the floor.

"We can't hold the line forever!" Raff said. He sidestepped a swipe and decapitated another unfortunate soul. "Let's form up around Cecile and Edith and make a run for it!"

"Form up how?" Giada asked. "There's three of us and two of them! That won't work!"

Cecile cleared her throat.

"Or we can die down here, overrun by ghouls!" Raff replied, trying not to sound hysteric. Ghouls weren't dangerous one by one, but there were hundreds, and they never tired, while he and the other mortals would. They'd be overrun sooner rather than later.

"Hold the line! There can only be so many ghouls down here. Don't lose heart already!" Sab said.

Cecile cleared her throat again.

"Is that all you can say?" Raff growled, turning on Sab. He nearly missed the teeth snapping at his arm. A short flinch pulled his arm out of reach; the teeth clacked shut on thin air. Anger fueled his blow as he put his weight behind his next swing and cut the ghoul's fragile skull in two.

Sab gritted his teeth. "Is this the time?" he bit. "I know you're angry I'm not going on crusades with you, but it's really not the time."

Raff laughed harshly. "Crusades? This has nothing to do with the gods-damned appointment you went for—"

The flames lighting the cave burned brighter and hotter. Heat blistered across his skin. Raff flinched back instinctively, unable to stop himself. "Listen!" Cecile burst out, irritated.

A sullen but immediate silence fell between Raff and Sab.

"Go on," Giada grunted, parrying a ghoul's blow with a jolt of electricity up its arm.

"Hold the line for another few minutes. I'll burn us a path to the exit," she said.

Raff scoffed. Cecile was an excellent mage, but she had no idea what she was talking about. "No one can channel enough fire to burn through that many ghouls all at once. You'll poison yourself first."

"They burn easily," Sab interjected. "And they're packed close enough... it's not dissimilar to the Return."

Irritated, Raff cut at the next ghoul carelessly, slicing its stomach open. He pushed with his magic, a burst of fire rolling from his sword over the ghoul. Fire licked up its body, setting it alight as it crumpled. It burned, but not hot enough to set any other ghouls on fire. "It's dissimilar enough," he grumbled, glaring at his proof as it burned merrily to nothing.

"Shut up and hold the damned line," Giada said. He could almost hear the eye roll in her voice. "Or do you have a better idea?"

"If we form up around—"

"A better idea."

Raff shut his mouth and frowned at the next ghoul. When it stepped up, he hacked it apart with two great blows, digging the cuts a little deeper than he ought to. Fine. He'd just shut up, then. Keep killing ghouls. A stray blow nicked his face, ancient fingernails drawing blood. Irritated, he spun back into the fray, feeling magic surge through him even as his sword burned brighter, fire extending beyond the blade itself. The full sensation of the magic wore into hunger, eating at his reserves of strength. He was going to run out of strength if he kept this up, but he couldn't bring himself to hold back. Frustration boiled in the space the magic burned off. This plan was nonsense, and they were all going to die.

--

Heart racing, face flushed with heat, Cecile bent and drew a circle in the dirt on the floor. Could she do this? She had never done anything like this before. But it was worth a shot, wasn't it? She'd seen the Return. Ghouls burned easily. It should be easier than wood, the way it looked. And she'd burned plenty of wood before. Hugo used to make her practice lighting dozens of big, thick logs from a hundred paces. She could do this. She had to. With a huff, she forced her breathing to calm, eyes locked on the circle. She could do this.

Slowly, Cecile rose. She glanced at Edith and gestured for the girl to take a step back, just in case the spell went awry. By all rights, she should add something to the lip of the circle, some incantation or formula or... something, an invocation to Ignis, perhaps, but she didn't have time, and more to the point, she'd never memorized the formulae. A simple circle would have to do.

"A circle is all you ever need," Hugo had told her once, what seemed like a lifetime ago. "The rest, that's all decoration. Pretty words to make us feel better. A gifted mage needs nothing but a circle, on the rare occasions they need more than their focus." But Hugo had decades to train. Picked up at the age of three, she had fifteen years of practice under her belt, but she'd barely begun her journey. And the words, for all they were just pretty decoration, did make things easier. It was a crutch she didn't want to go without, but without the formulae, one she couldn't use. Should've paid more attention during those boring lessons, she chided herself, but rote memorization had never been her strong point.

Her mind was wandering. Cecile shook her head to force herself back to the present. The ghouls would break through the Shrineguards if she took too long, and then there'd be no need to argue at all, because they'd all be dead. Eaten, chased off the cliff, but dead either way. She took one last deep breath, then spread her hands before her, holding them over the circle. Though she didn't care much for the gods, she couldn't help herself. Ignis, if you're listening, guide my magic and save us all, she whispered silently. Then she pulled on the magic stored in the stone on her wrist.

Magic felt different from one element to the next and one mage to the next. She'd heard other fire mages say it felt like fullness, a buffet, the satisfaction of a good meal, but all she ever felt was hunger. Crippling, overwhelming hunger, a hunger that threatened to devour her every time she used magic. Hunger for what, she couldn't say, but she knew without trying that it was a hunger that could not be satisfied. She crumpled a bit as she pulled on it now, folding around her stomach, but forced herself to stand tall despite the ache. Heat and hunger roared through her and out of her hands, pouring from her fingers towards the circle.

It spun there, circulating, languid at first but growing faster as she poured more magic into it, more, more. The spell began to probe at the borders of her control, trying to break free. She felt heat on her palms, though she knew she shouldn't. Dust rose off the floor, magic etching the circle she'd drawn deeper into the ground. As she watched, that circle wobbled, bending out of shape. Cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. The spell was getting away from her. But it couldn't! If it ignited right here, they'd all die. The sheer force of this much magic igniting wildly would burn them all to ashes in the seconds before the cave collapsed on their heads.

She swallowed and reached out, grabbing the magic with her will. With her hands, she tried to stop it, slow it down. The magic fought her. It felt like trying to grasp a red-hot wheel spinning off its axel. Heat burned across her palms even as the magic kicked and bucked. The circle spun unevenly, now arcing up, then down her hands, pushing the red-hot sensation in deeper. She winced back, pulling her hands away. No! She couldn't lose control now!

Hugo's voice sounded in her ear, reassuring as ever. "Magic circulates. Spells like to spin. Even the soulstream spins. If you ever find yourself fighting a spell... spin it."

Spin it? But it was already spinning so fast. Cecile swallowed and closed her eyes. What else can I do? Tentatively, she reached for the magic again. This time, she was ready for the burn. She bit her lip and pushed it instead of trying to stop it. Hand over hand, she spun the magic faster and faster. The magic jumped to life and wobbled further out of control. It leaped ahead, a wild mustang. Cecile's stomach clenched, fear and hunger intermingling. It wasn't working. It wasn't working!

Her eyes flicked to the Shrineguards fighting the ghouls. Raff staggered as a ghoul shoved him back. Light flashed; Giada lunged forward, making room for Sab to strike at another ghoul. She fell back a second later, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She bit her lip. I have to do this. They were relying on her. If she didn't—

Cecile shook her head. I can do this. It's my magic. I can control it.

But how? It was so fast. Faster and faster. The circle glowed with heat. The more she spun it, the faster it went. Against her volition, magic burned down her arm and into the spell, more than she wanted to pull on. Her stomach ached with hunger, emptying as more magic spilled into the circle. How did spinning it help? Cecile's brows knitted. Is Hugo wrong?

No, he wasn't. She was doing it wrong, that was all. Letting the magic get the better of her. Cecile clenched her fist, cutting the flow of magic to a trickle. Magic pulled against her will, trying to rush out of the soulstone and into the circle. It burned in her veins, but her stomach felt cold with emptiness. Sweat trickled down her face. Her grip tightened. She wasn't going to let it do what it wanted. She was in control, not the spell.

The heat died down in her arm as magic stopped pouring from the soulstone. Slowly, she released her fist. The magic didn't fight her, didn't try to pour out again. With less to feed it, the spin slowed. Carefully, she reached out and took hold of the spell again. This time, the spell smoothed, reshaping to something she could control. There was nothing but her and the spell, heat and power spinning together.

Is this enough? She felt the way the magic pulsed with heat under her hands, the speed of the spin. It was more magic than she'd ever worked with at one time before. Her whole body ached with the force of it, the strength of the hunger. Her heart labored, fatigue wearing at every ounce of her, and still she remained focused, carefully regulating the spin of the magic. It fought her control, threatening to break free. If she fed it any more, she'd collapse or lose control, one or the other. It has to be enough.

She opened her eyes. The Shrineguards had fallen back, line faltering. Blood dripped down Raff's face. When she sidestepped a blow, Giada favored her left foot. Cecile cringed at the sight. She hadn't meant for them to get hurt! But no, now was not the time. With every ounce of authority in her body, she drew herself up. "Stand aside!" she ordered.

At her command, they broke apart. Ghouls rushed forward, racing for her and Edith. The younger girl squealed and ducked, but Cecile stood strong. Closer. Closer.

She could smell the rot, see the blackness of their eye sockets. Cecile threw out her hand. Magic leaped at her command. It coiled up out of the circle and around her arm, then surged from her hand. She staggered back from the force of it, then braced her feet. Fire filled the tunnel, burning from the roof to the floor, one wall to the other. The cool tunnel instantly became stifling, hot as an open oven on a summer's day. The first ones burned away to nothing, ash collapsing to the floor. Shadows staggered forward in the flames, ghouls mindlessly pushing forward even as they burned away. They faded back, the shadows growing smaller, more distant. The fire roared through the tunnel, devouring everything.

The heat grew. Sweat dripped down Cecile's back from the heat, discomfort growing as the heat grew. Air burned her lungs, throat aching from the heat. She furrowed her brows and pushed onward, stepping forward.

Part of the magic darted away from the main blast. Curious, she turned toward it—and almost lost control of the spell in the same instant. The blast surged, hotter than before, growing wider. Someone yelped—one of the men. Cecile turned all her focus on the blast and choked back on the magic, no time to spin, only for brute strength. It died down, back to its original strength. Weaker. Startled, Cecile backed off, letting the magic run wild again, but it was too late. It died off quickly, from a blast to a stream to a pitter, and then it was gone.

Cecile staggered in the absence of the spell, the sudden loss of so much magic at once. She felt burned. Burned like she'd spent too much time in the sun, her face hot with it, burned like a hollowed-out log, nothing left inside. Exhaustion roiled through her, fatigue of the hunger and the lack of magic both tearing her apart to nothing. Her eyes dipped shut. Rough hands caught her, and then she was being guided along the tunnels, half-led, half-dragged. "Hurry, hurry, before they come back!" Raff snapped.

Cecile mumbled incoherently in his arms. He glanced down at her. Her eyes were half closed, her face limp. She wasn't helping much. When she managed to walk, her legs trembled under her. Burns reddened her palms, and worse, bruises traced the veins along her forearms. They darkened as he watched, spreading under her skin. Raff grimaced. Magic poisoning. He'd been right after all.

But so had she.

He hadn't thought it was possible. A blast of fire that large... it should take more than one mage, and longer than the few moments she'd required! If he'd tried... no, he already knew it. He couldn't possibly have summoned that much flame. The intensity of it, too... she'd not only set them on fire, but burned them to cinders. He could burn one ghoul away, but that many? It was impossible. Should have been impossible.

Ghoul ashes crunched under his boots as he ran, little slivers of white poking out of the blackened soot here and there where teeth or bones had survived the blast. He glanced back as he dragged Cecile along with him, arm under her shoulder while her body sagged towards the floor. More ghouls were crawling out of the tunnels, but the tunnels were behind them now. For all that they were ferocious and untiring, ghouls weren't known for their speed. Especially ones as old and starved as these.

Soot choked him for a moment. Raff coughed and thumped his chest, pushing Cecile to run on her own. The ghouls were going to catch up like this! Edith and the others were fine—especially Edith, who was so far ahead she was practically out of sight, but he and Cecile were going to get caught! He grimaced. Typical, him getting stuck with all the hard work.

Sab paused and looked back, then waited for him to catch up. He slid under Cecile's other arm and took some of her weight. "Let's get out of here," he muttered, jabbing his hammer into the air, and the small flame Raff hadn't even noticed lighting the tunnels hung back. Only when they'd caught up did it dash forward again, keeping pace. The ghouls' groans echoed down the hallway after them, footsteps an avalanche, but with Sab's help, the ghouls didn't get any closer.

The tunnel seemed twice as long on the way back as it had been on the way there. Every turn felt like the final turn, every twist seemed as though it should hide the ladder. When the ladder finally came into view, relief flooded through Raff's body. At last. They were going to survive this stupid adventure!

"How are we going to get her up the ladder?" Sab asked.

Raff looked at him, then at Cecile. She could barely stand up, let alone climb a ladder. "Put her over my shoulders," he decided.

"I can walk," Cecile protested weakly. She fought his grasp with what little energy she had, reaching for the ladder instead.

From just out of the range of Sab's fire light came a groan, loud and hungry. The ghouls were catching up. There was no time to waste. Raff nodded at Sab and bent at the knees. Sab picked her up and hefted her into place. She was warm and soft, hair tickling his arm as her head nestled against his shoulder, and then Sab let go. All her weight fell onto his shoulders. Raff's knees dipped, one almost touching the ground before he compensated and caught himself. With a grunt, he caught himself, then slowly forced himself upright. Damn, she's heavier than she looks.

"Got her?" Sab asked, uncertain.

"Well enough," Raff huffed, waddling to the ladder. He shifted her legs and feet out of his way and grabbed on. With the extra weight, he couldn't pull himself up. Raff tensed, adrenaline surging—I'm stuck down here, I'm never going to get out, they're going to eat me. Then his feet found the rungs, and he found the power to push them both upwards. He ascended slowly towards the distant circle of light, Edith and Giada ahead of him, Sab behind.

They were only a few feet up the ladder when the ghouls reached it. The undead creatures clawed at the rungs, almost latching on. One found a grip and started crawling after them, but before it got more than two steps up, its bony feet slid off the rungs and it toppled back down onto its fellows. Raff let out a quiet sigh. Safe. He tipped his head back and watched the circle of light grow closer. A little light had never looked so beautiful.

He emerged into the light and found a sword leveled at his neck. Raff froze. His eyes followed the length of the blade upwards, towards a hand, up an arm, to the impassive face of a Shrineguard. The room was full of them, weapons flashing. The man nodded for him to emerge. Raff did so, slowly, putting his hands up as soon as he could. Someone grabbed the sword out of his sheath. Raff's heart leaped, and he reached after it. Not his soulstone!

The sword at his neck pressed closer, almost drawing blood. "Stand still."

Raff obeyed.

Another set of hands hoisted Cecile off him. A woman started checking her over roughly, looking for weapons or soulstones, or maybe both. "Right wrist," Raff offered. His eyes flashed around the room. Giada met his eyes and grimaced, a pained expression on her face. Edith was sobbing silently in a corner, tears streaming down her face. Sab emerged after him and was met with a sword to his neck as well. Where was Milo?

By the door, a guilty expression on his face. Raff's eyes narrowed. It hadn't even been half an hour yet! He should've known better. He started for Milo. Cold metal pressing into his neck stopped him dead. Raff bared his teeth instead, not willing to give him the victory. "You little snitch," he spat. "Couldn't wait to go running to the teachers, huh?"

"He did the right thing," Priest Matteo said, stepping out from behind the mass of Shrineguards. "The rest of you, now." His eyes wandered the five of them, lingering on Raff, then on Cecile. "Oh, my. Aren't the two of you trying out for High Priest?"

"We thought—the Lost Godstone might be down there!" Raff protested. Didn't the Shrine care about that?

Matteo sighed. "A baseless fairy tale lured you into destroying Shrine property? I didn't even know it was associated with Castelfiamma."

Raff bit his lip. It wasn't, nothing about the myths surrounding the Lost Godstone were. But didn't that explain why no one had found it?

"Is this what our next High Priest should be doing?" Matteo tutted. "It's a lucky turn for you that we can fix this. Guard Roberto, if you will." He gestured.

One of the Shrineguards stepped forward and closed his eyes, fingers feathering over the soulstone set into the shaft of his spear. Bricks reformed and scooted forward across the ground. One by one, they placed themselves firmly back over the circle and the trap door. Raff sidestepped onto solid ground as a brick narrowly avoided slamming into his heel. The mortar that had been crumbled to dust solidified around the bricks, and as he watched, the floor rebuilt itself. When it was done, there was no sign that Sab had ever cracked the floor at all.

Raff's eyes flicked to Sab. The man was staring straight ahead, eyes dead, face devoid of any emotion.

"What's down there?" Giada asked. "Besides hundreds of ghouls?"

The priest turned towards the door. "Nothing," he said. "Except for a night in the cells for all of you. We'll discuss further punishment later." He nodded to the Shrineguards. "Take them away."

Cold iron closed around Raff's wrists. His heart dropped as he was hauled upright and marched into the courtyard. No! This couldn't be real. It couldn't. A nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. But for all his wishing, the iron never left his wrists, and he never woke up, but simply marched out into the light of day.