I get back to my room two hours later feeling refreshed. On the way back, I fixed a series of bones over my exposed face and under my clothes, insulating me against the dropping temperature and the whipping wind.

I left the wyrm a few hundred feet out from the shore, sunken beneath the waves; I’ll be able to reanimate it without issue if I return. The soul gems are in my pockets, though, since I have a plan for them.

“Hey, you’re back late,” Xander says, waving to me as I enter the room. “You had your first decemancy class.” He leans back in his office chair. “How’d that go?”

I shrug. “It was underwhelming. Nobody there seems to be able to do much. I’m not surprised, given that they all have other primary affinities.”

“Ouch,” Xander says, grimacing. “Well, I’m sure you’ll learn at least something when you’re there.”

I smile. “I’ve already learned one thing, at least. Here: I have these.” I hold up the violet soul gems. “If I crush them, they’ll turn into a liquid. And if I pour them on your eyes, you’ll be able to see vitality.” I grin devilishly. “Want to try it?”

He blinks twice. “Seriously? I thought you said that nobody there knew how to do anything!” He jumps out of his chair and stands at my side. “What are they?”

“Rocks,” I say. Given how valuable soul gems are, I should keep what they are secret.

He gives me a dubious look. “This isn’t going to make me blind, is it?”

“No. It will make your eyes glow violet, though.”

“You can take the, um, rocks out of my eyes, right?”

I chuckle. “Why else would I offer to put them in your eyes in the first place?”

“Fine, I’ll trust you, master decemancer.”

I roll my eyes and crush the stones between my palms. I direct the energy out and spool it into Xander’s eyes.

“There,” I say when the energy has been depleted. “What do you see?”

He blinks a few times. “You look paler, kind of like...you’re glowing. And there are swirls of black around you.”

Whoops. I dispel the energy I gathered over the course of the evening. “How about now?”

“They’re...gone.”

I nod. “Just a residual effect of channeling the energy into your eyes.”

Xander turns around and looks at the trash can. “Holy crap,” he murmurs.

He must be looking at the dead flowers. He turns around again and looks at me. “Is this how you see all the time, now?”

“Yup. It’s a bit disconcerting, but I’m getting the hang of it.”

Xander stares at the floor. “I can see glows coming from below...is that from people?”

“I think so,” I answer noncommittally. “I’m almost just as new to this as you are.”

“This is so cool...” His eyes land on the mirror and he stops moving, staring at his own reflection. “You weren’t kidding,” he says. “My eyes are glowing purple.”

“Definitely don’t go out in public without sunglasses,” I joke. “Okay, you done for now?”

He looks back at me reluctantly. “...I suppose.”

I gesture for him to come close, then hold my hand in front of his eyes and direct the energy out. I subsequently distill it back into the form of two soul gems, placing them on my desk.

“Don’t try to use them without me here,” I caution. “The rocks can be explosive if cracked open the wrong way.” A blatant lie; unless he’s a disguised practitioner, Xander won’t possess the power to break a soul gem. The warning is meant to discourage him from investigating them too closely.

He leans back and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks for the warning.”

I nod, then sit down at my desk and resume my coursework. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a long night.

—

I see Jasmine the next day.

I tell her about asking Laura to the dance, about my glossprog classes, and, in particular, about the new addition to my schedule.

“Sounds like a waste of time,” she says.

“Nobody there had a clue what they were doing,” I sigh. “The professor seemed content to let people mess around with whatever they wanted, so long as they were being safe about it.”

“And they dissuaded you from osteomancy?”

I give Jasmine a severe look. “They said that nobody practices osteomancy.”

“Does that make you angry?”

I sigh and look off at the ceiling. “Kind of.”

“Be honest.”

I look at her. “Yes, it pissed me off.”

“Why?”

“Because...osteomancy’s such a versatile tool. Moreover, I hated how they subdivided decemancy and tried to get me to specialize down one path.” I look down at my hands. “For instance,” I begin. “To make a bone construct, you need first use carnimancy to strip the flesh off any fresh bones. Then, you bind all the bones together using osteomancy. Finally, you use animancy to bind two soul gems to serve as the construct’s core.”

She pushes up her glasses. “So just pursuing one specialization isn’t enough.”

—

Jasmine

“No. This isn’t elementalism,” Ian said, his eyes narrowing.

“How do elementalism and decemancy differ?”

He looked off to the side, his eyes lingering on Jasmine’s steel lamp. “How does controlling water make it easier to use fire?”

Asking me questions, now? “Dehydration leads to better ignition,” Jasmine observed; it was nothing profound.

“How does controlling flesh make it easier to control bone?”

Jasmine thought for a moment. He stopped her before she could reply.

“It doesn’t. Each element specialization provides a different skill set to complete the same kinds of tasks. Granted, some are better suited than others for certain situations, but an adept hydromancer will be able to complete any task just as well–and usually better–than a novice pyromancer.”

“If you ask a hydromancer to light a match, could they ever do so better than a pyromancer?” Jasmine asked.

Ian smiled, showing teeth. “Depends on how quickly the hydromancer could draw out water. Anything dry enough will ignite in open air.”

“I suppose, though I believe you’re simplifying things.” Jasmine scratched her wrist. “With respect to decemancy, no specialization can accomplish the job of another–is that right?”

“Exactly.”

I’m not sure I’m convinced. “Say you need to raise an army of dead,” Jasmine proposed. “Couldn’t you animate them with thralling, carnimancy, or osteomancy?”

He paused. “I suppose you could.”

“Or,” she continued, “can’t you kill someone with a flick of a hand–” at least at his level– “with carnimancy, osteomancy, or animancy?”

His expression grew thoughtful. “While I see your point...it just feels different to me.”

“Tell me your thoughts about elementalists.” Jasmine asked, picking up on a subtle hint of animosity.

“They’re abundant and inflexible,” Ian said, now looking at the ceiling. “They’re obnoxious to fight at range, but have limited utility on the whole in a siege.”

“Outside of a conflict, what is your opinion of them?”

He seemed startled by the question.

—

Outside of a conflict?

I haven’t ever had extended contact with elementalists outside of the time loop, obviously. When not attacking me, manning defenses, or assisting me in burning corpses (in the case of Jeremy), I have little personal familiarity with what they can do.

“What do elementalists normally do?” I ask.

She seems surprised by my question. “What do they work as?” she clarifies.

“Yes.”

“They normally join a guild,” she says. “Many of them take up professional dueling due to its resurging popularity. Others go into politics. A minority attend to other professions, such as those involving agriculture, water purification, and so on.”

Taking up dueling...it’s not entirely unsurprising. Going into politics doesn’t surprise me either: The guilds are stronger than ever, and bloodline affinity inheritance was proven over five decades ago. Dynasties of practitioners in politics should be no surprise to anyone–not that having an affinity makes you any better at politicking, of course.

“Why don’t we move on to other updates,” she says, redirecting the conversation. “Tell me about the person you’re bringing to the Winter Formal. Is she a friend?”

“Yes, I’d call her that.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Well, we’ve been acquaintances since freshman year. We have a class together this semester, so I’ve gotten to know her better there.”

“How do you feel about going to the dance?” she asks.

I groan. “Not particularly enthusiastic. I’m only going because Xander would worry about me if I didn’t go.”

Jasmine laughs. “It’s good that you’re going,” she says. “Even if you don’t want to do the things you used to do, you should still get back into the habit of doing them.”

While this sounds reasonable, I still have to ask: “Why?”

She crosses her arms. “You’ve been in isolation for a long time, Ian.”

“Just one night,” I joke.

“You might be inclined to cut people off, and that isn’t healthy,” she adds. “It might seem like work, but you need to put effort into maintaining your relationships with people around you.”

“I’ll do my best,” I murmur. “But I think you’re overestimating how social I was before the loop.”

“Oh,” Jasmine exclaims, looking down at her wrist, then frowning. “I’m sorry to cut us off,” she says, her voice contrite, “but I have another appointment in a minute.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Of course!” she replies. “Are we down for Tuesday of next week?” A week from today.

I smile. “Looking forward to it.”

—

By the time Wednesday rolls around, after attending a few office hour sessions, I’m feeling much more confident in my ability to not fail spectacularly out of school. Now that I’m starting to get my feet back under me, I’ve been questioning what it is I want to do. What’s my big plan? Once I graduate my glossprog degree, what next?

While I disagree with the way Professor Durning teaches her class, I do agree with her on one point–I won’t be satisfied working a desk job as a glossprogger, or even a manager or project director.

Now, whenever my fingers slide over the glosscomp keypad–my thoughts wander to the boat, where this all started.

—

When I get back to my room later in the evening, a note is waiting for me on my desk. Xander isn’t in, so I doubt he saw how it got there. I check the window, but it’s clearly locked.

I open the wax seal on the exterior and shake out the contents.

Mr. Dunai,

practitioner of the Dark Art,

is invited to congregate this Sunday

at the residence of Dr. Sylvestri,

practitioner foremost of the Dark Art

with a specialization in carnimancy,

as well as practitioner of the Lightless Art

with a specialization in cryptomancy.

Food and drinks will be served along

with pleasant and stimulating conversation.

Please mark the box indicating attendance.

At the end of the letter are two boxes: one reads “I will attend,” the other, “I will not attend.”

Even though I know that message has been mass generated by a fabY, the entire thing makes me feel uncomfortable. Meet at a stranger’s house? The letter doesn’t even mention an address.

Still...not going would be rude, wouldn’t it? At least that’s how I justify satisfying my curiosity regarding a real decemancer gathering.

I sigh and apply pressure to the box on the left, waiting until it turns a faint green. Whoever Dr. Sylvestri is, he should have received my response.

I open up my glossY and search up the man’s name. Before I do so, I realize I have a few unread messages.

From Laura: Hey, do you want to get a movie sometime this week before the dance? I’m free in the evenings.

From Mother: Call me.

From Germaine: Mother says you’re a practitioner. What the hell!? Care to explain?

I sit back in my office chair and hold the glossY out in front of me. What should I tell my family?

I probably should meet them in person to explain things directly. Even so, I can’t just ignore their messages. I decide to call Mother first.

The line connects almost instantly. “Julian,” she says, her voice clear over the connection despite the distance. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I reply. My hands begin to shake. “I see that the school has informed you that I’m a practitioner now.” I’m surprised: They usually don’t contact parents about anything.

Her bell-like laugh comes over the line.

“Did they tell you my affinity?”

“They sent over your potentioreader results.”

So she knows. “What do you think?”

I can feel her unsatisfied gaze over the line. “I suppose you’re less of a wasted effort than before.”

My mouth curves into a smile. “Thanks.” Her manner of speaking is just as I remember it. Of course she’s still unsatisfied even when I finally unlock an affinity. In her defense, it is officially recorded as a fairly low Death affinity, which is almost less useful than a glossprog degree.

I feel a bead of wetness fall down my temple and quickly wipe it away.

“Though it’s a little late...You’re just a semester away from graduating with a glossy programatics degree.” She sighs. “I’d hate to think you’ve put in all this effort for nothing.” And wasted all your money, I add mentally. She pauses for a moment. “What are your plans?”

“Why don’t we wait until I get home to talk about everything. There’s only two more weeks until Winter recess, after all.”

“Sure, if that’s easier.” She coughs. “I heard that this all...happened because you got into an accident.” Is that a modicum of concern I detect?

“I’ll tell you about it when I get home, okay?”

“Fine!” she snaps. “Do keep in touch if anything happens though.”

“Will do.”

The line cuts off.

I exhale and hold my head in my hands. I don’t feel like starting up another conversation, not with bubbly Germaine. Hopefully Mother will talk to her and clear things up, but I should still give her a message.

To Germaine: I’ll tell you everything when I get home in two weeks. Patience is virtue. I presume you’ll be returning for the holiday?

I finally return to the message from Laura, the one I’ve been avoiding. She wants to see a movie? Based on the way she was looking at me...she intends for this to be a date.

I think I liked Laura before the time loop: she’s cute, with large eyes and a thin waist. She’s also kind and hardworking. Finally, she’s smart.

But now, I’m not up for any serious human relationships: I need time to remember how to be a normal person again. Even so, I think back to Jasmine’s admonishment regarding my anti-social inclinations. I should probably do something: becoming a hermit won’t help me readjust.

To Laura: I’m free tomorrow if you want to meet up.

I frown, remembering that I have my Death Affinity I class in the evening.

To Laura: I’m free Thursday if you wanna meet up. I know it’s the night before the dance, but

I pause, deleting the message again. I suppose we could meet tonight, if she’s able to make it on such late notice.

To Laura: You free tonight? :)

I finally send the message off.

What was I doing before looking at the messages? I turn back to the table and see the opened invitation. Right: I was looking up this Dr. Sylvestri figure.

I plug the glossY into my desk glosscomp dock. Now that I have a larger screen and a full-sized keyboard, I look up his name on the distributed network.

Sylvestri practitioner Dark Art Death affinity decemancer

I submit the request, then look through the results. To my surprise, the first entry seems to be a Dr. Sylvestri living in Portwood, a town only twenty minutes away by hovergloss. I follow the link to his official government profile.

Dr. Arterio Stephen Sylvestri, II, originally of Hacerman, a small city in western Vermut, currently residing in Portwood, Magnestria.

Calling: Practitioner

Primary affinities, in order of strength (percentages currently unavailable): Death, Dark

For more information, contact Dr. Sylvestri’s representative, Vinia Kraft, by registering her quanticode in your mobile device.

Her quanticode image is pictured below, a black and white swirl of lines. I scan it into my glossY, but decide against calling it for now.

Checking my messages, I see that Laura has responded.

From Laura: I’m free tonight! What movie do you want to see?

Since I have no idea what movies are out, I leave the choice up to her.

To Laura: I’ll watch anything. Surprise me! I’m free anytime after 7, so message me with the time and we can walk over to the theater together.

She responds almost instantly.

From Laura: Great~ I picked something out. See you at 8!