When I meet with Laura for lunch, she’s cheerful and easy to talk to. I ask her about her studies and about her family, learning that she’s close to her parents and two younger siblings. I didn’t even know she had siblings, nor did I know that the middle child has low-functioning autism.

Eventually I cut to the chase. It’s much, much less nerve-wracking to ask someone out to a dance when you know they’ll say yes.

“Sure, I’d love to go with you,” Laura says, eyes shining.

“Great. I was also wondering if you’d like to meet up and see a movie this week. I’ve already seen...” What was the movie’s name again? “Surgebreak, but I’d see anything else. Why don’t you choose your favorite movie currently showing–it’ll give me a chance to learn more about you.”

“Oh, it’s a tough choice. I’ll let you know when I pick the movie out, then we can choose a time.”

And that’s how lunch elapsed.

The week carried on exactly as I expected it to. Xander didn’t seem to think anything was wrong, which is good, and nobody asked me if anything had happened. I wonder what factors have made the biggest difference between the last iteration–when everyone was constantly asking after my wellbeing–and now. I reflect upon my general state of mind: After the initial shock of waking up back in Menocht Bay, I’ve regained my usual composure. It’s far easier for me to keep a level head in the loop than in real life.

In reality, there are no restarts.

Laura and I end up seeing The Patient Lock, a detective thriller. The movie goes better than last time, and Laura and I end up holding hands toward the end. After the lights go up, we act as though nothing happened–fine by me. I walk her home, then return to my room. Xander’s working on homework as usual, and I sit down at my own desk and get to work.

He turns around before I get the chance and shoots me a devious smile. “I heard the date went well.”

I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair. “It wasn't a real date."

“You guys ended up holding hands,” he adds. Did Laura tell him everything already? How fast can that girl send a message?

“It wasn’t a real date,” I repeat. “But it went well.”

He proceeds to shake his head. “Also, I can’t believe you saw The Patient Lock without me. How was it?”

“Alright; nothing extraordinary, but it was pretty enjoyable.”

We eventually settle into doing our work. An hour or so later, Xander brings up the topic of the winter formal.

“So, Laura also told me you asked her to the dance,” he says. “Were you guys planning to join my group?”

I nod. “Sounds great.”

“Also, just a note, we were all planning to head to a pregame on the Arts Campus. You’re coming, right?”

I cringe internally. “Of course I’m coming,” I say, mentally adding, to make sure none of you black out.

—

It’s Friday, and I join up with everyone around 6:30 pm to eat a light, informal dinner. Then we head off to the Arts Campus. I know this time to bring a small bag with a spare pair of shoes, to the chagrin of everyone else around me ruining their dress shoes walking through the snow.

This early in the evening, the entrance to the main courtyard is unguarded. As we enter, everyone seems enthralled by the towering, bottom-lit ice sculptures and the miniature fireworks overhead.

The group naturally gravitates toward the drinks table, a table that must be at least eighteen feet long. All sorts of alcohol lines its length, and except for two people standing behind it near the center and scrolling through their glossYs, the table appears unattended. Anyone could probably slip something into any of the drinks here...

I think back to the previous iteration. In general, I trust Xander to be responsible: the guy’s never returned home more than a little drunk. And yet he and the others all somehow got so intoxicated that they couldn’t even move without help? Even when they knew they had the winter formal?

“Hey guys,” I say. “I don’t think we should drink this stuff.”

They turn back toward me. “Why?” Laura asks.

“I heard someone a day or two ago say that they were going to spike the drinks. I didn’t think it would be a problem because someone would be watching to make sure that didn’t happen, but...” I gesture to the unattentive people behind the table. “Anyone could slip something into them.”

Xander gives me a look. “C’mon, don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?”

I give him a dry laugh. “These are Arts students,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t you think it’s a little...naive to trust that they’ve invited regs to this party for the sake of inclusivity?” While I might just be running my mouth, what I’ve said isn’t untrue. It would also explain why it seemed like only the regs were moaning and passing out next to the ice sculptures.

Someone else in the party who I don’t know very well speaks up. “It’s possible,” he mutters. “They’d never get punished for doing something like that, either.”

Xander sighs, giving me a questioning look. “Fine, erring in the way of caution...did anyone else bring a flask?” Xander takes a steel flask out of his suit jacket. Two others also brought flasks, and they hold theirs out. “Let’s share what we brought to start off the night.”

We all end up drinking a little, probably about a shot’s worth of rum or vodka, depending on who’s flask we drank from. The shot’s got me feeling a little buzzed, an unfamiliar feeling given how long it’s been since I’ve imbibed alcohol.

We dance for a solid half an hour at the pregame, enjoying the special effects put on by the practitioners. We gather everyone up and leave around 8:45 pm without incident, to my relief. I definitely don’t want to help clean people up again. We get back to Campus Central and head over to the buses, making the bus at 9:00 pm. Soon enough, we’re spilling out of the crowded bus and into the open, walking towards the doors of the venue.

The noise of the inside accosts me: The way that the bass resonates with my body reminds me of Menocht Bay’s firing cannons. I wonder if I should’ve taken some headache medicine beforehand. While the pregame also had music, the speakers hadn’t been nearly as good; there hadn’t even been a subwoofer.

Realizing that my attention was drifting, I shake my head and refocus on my current role, slipping into the shoes of a regular guy bringing a girl to the school dance. I plaster a smile onto my face, thinking of how convenient it is that the venue is so dark and nobody can scrutinize my expression too closely.

When Laura and I start dancing, I flush with mild embarrassment: I’ve long-since been out of practice, and it shows. After a dance or two passes, however, I gain my bearings and get into the groove. The pulsing of the music no longer sounds like a Menocht cannon, but rather like a heartbeat: thumping, ephemeral.

“Ian?” she murmurs. I focus on her face, noticing a worried expression washing over her features.

“What?”

She blinks rapidly. “Nevermind.”

Eventually we all stop dancing and head back to the bus. We all head back to our rooms, with Xander and I walking together.

“What did you think of tonight?” he asks, looking back at me as we pass through the underground hallway.

I run a hand through my hair. “It was great.” Compared to the last iteration, it was paradise.

“Looked like you and Laura were having a good time.”

I chuckle. “I can say the same for you and Elisa.” The pair had been into each other, their bodies pressing together for some of the slower songs. They were classy enough not to grind at the formal while wearing their best clothes, but I could tell that things were really getting hot between them. I’m almost surprised Xander hasn’t taken her somewhere...maybe even back to our room.

He sighs and shakes his head. “She’s fire,” he says.

“How long have you guys been dating now?” I ask. I genuinely don’t remember.

He laughs for a few seconds. Then he glances at me with a seeking expression. “Seriously?”

It’s been a while, I think to myself, somewhat annoyed. At least I would remember for the next iteration. “My memory is crap,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m also a little tipsy still.” Not true, but whatever.

Xander’s lips quirk. “It’s been three months,” he replies.

Right. “Okay,” I reply, nodding. “You think the relationship is getting serious?”

He shrugs. “I really like her, but it’s too early to tell.” He suddenly laughs. “What about you and Laura? Are you guys going out yet?”

I snort. “Honestly, I’m not sure what’s going on. There’s definitely something happening between us, but we aren’t official.”

He knocks me in the shoulder. “She’s hot,” he says. “And she likes you. Though why she’d ever want someone as hopelessly inexperienced as you...”

I bump him back. “Funny, Xander.”

—

On Sunday, I can’t help but think of the decemancer get-together at Sylvestri’s house. Though I know I haven’t received an invitation, and that I need to stay low-key...I want to go. I’m still genuinely curious about Sylvestri and the other decemancers.

Instead, I keep myself busy hanging out with Laura. The two of us study together, working on some of our glosscomp classwork together. I lean over to ask her about something, only to have her ask me something instead.

“Hey, I saw something back at winter formal...”

“Hmm?”

Her eyebrows scrunch together, then she turns away, laughing dismissively. “Just forget it.”

What? “You can tell me,” I say. “Now I’m curious.”

She sighs. “Remember when we were dancing and I looked at you like I’d seen a ghost?”

“...No.”

“Well...do you have any enemies, or something?” she asks, rubbing her arm. “I don’t know what family you come from, but...”

I chuckle. “No, nothing like that.”

She looks into my eyes, expression severe. “I think someone’s put a hex on you.” She pauses to take in my reaction. “Ugh, I know this must sound a little paranoid, but...”

I shake my head.

“I saw a cloud of darkness around you,” she murmurs, frowning. “It was only for a few seconds, but I know it wasn’t a trick of the light. I could feel it.”

A cloud? “What did you feel?” I ask, voice filled with concern.

She shudders. “It made my skin crawl.”

What she’s saying...it shouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t have just circulated death aura like that without knowing...maybe a little bit I could believe, but enough for even a reg like Laura to notice? But the idea that someone had hexed me was doubly laughable.

“Thanks for telling me,” I say, voice low. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

We finish up our study session an hour later. At the end, as she’s about to go, I ask her out. It took absolutely 0 units of courage given that I already knew she wanted me to ask her and that I was stuck in a time loop, but still...it was my first time.

“You don’t mince words, do you?” she laughs.

“What?”

“I’ve never had someone ask me out by literally saying, ’Do you wanna go out?’ There’s usually some other kind of roundabout phrasing, something more...poetic.”

I make a mental note to make things more “poetic” next time. “Well?”

“I’d love to go out with you,” she replies, grinning. “When should we have our first official date?”

I cock my head. “How about Tuesday night? We can get dinner.”

“Sounds good to me,” she says. “See you in class!”

I wave goodbye, wondering to myself how much longer this layer is going to last.

—

The next two weeks pass without incident. Laura and I continue to meet, which is good, I guess. If this part of the loop is testing whether I can fit back into normal life, having a working relationship should be a boon. The strategy has been working well enough, considering that this iteration has lasted two weeks longer than the last.

With each day, the burden of abstaining from my practice weighs heavier upon me. When I lose my concentration, especially when I’m tired, sometimes, I start to practice the Art without thinking. People generally don’t notice because they’re just regs and can’t detect Death energy except for when it manifests itself in large quantities, but I’ve had a few close calls: the dance with Laura, for instance.

Once I was going over a problem in my room. Xander was also working on something, but he wasn’t paying attention. Before the loop, I had a nervous tic where I would scrunch my hands into fists over and over. I was doing just that as I thought over the problem, except that with each open and close of my fists, death energy was circulating around my body. I snapped out of my problem-solving state only to realize that a cluster of dead insects and even a dead bird were either already in the room or trying to claw their way into it from the outside, be it the window, door, or vent.

I dispelled all the energy in an instant, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down my temple. I glanced over at Xander, expecting him to be looking at me and freaking out. Somehow, the scratching at the window and the buzzing of insect wings hadn’t been enough to seize his attention.

From that point on, I began to reserve private study rooms in the library. That way, even when I accidentally drew in death energy, nobody would see.

This week, though, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that complete abstinence isn’t sustainable. If I literally cannot live without somehow exercising my incorporeal decemancy-muscle, I need to find a place where I can practice without drawing attention.

I intend to make a few soul gems. I won’t bother with selling them–if they get traced back to me, it might trigger a loop restart–but I can hide them away. Moreover, unlike a bone construct, they aren’t forbidden, and shouldn’t prompt any kind of investigation.

I end up taking a public bus to a forest preserve around twenty minutes away. I hike for about a half hour until I come across a small cave. I don’t sense anyone or anything larger than a mouse inside of it, which is good, if unexpected–I’d expect a cave to be an animal’s den.

I stretch out my arms, then begin to circle the ambient energy of the winter forest. The release is euphoric, like stepping into a pool of soothing, hot water after wading through a half-frozen pond.

It takes very little effort for me to spin the ambient energy of the forest into soul gems, so much that I churn out ten of them in half an hour. I snort at the amount of money the pile must be worth.

It shouldn’t be this easy–making soul gems from ambient energy is difficult, even for me. It’s far easier to make one from a whole animal’s energy, like that of a recently-deceased (or living) human. Even making soul gems from groups of insects, like that one student I met who was studying decemancy, is prohibitively difficult; let alone making a gem from the melange of lifeless leaves and frozen carrion coating the forest floor.

I smash the soul gems to pieces, scattering their oily energy back into the air. Their liquid pools like a viscous miasma, the concentrated energy needing time to dissipate.

“Damn it,” I curse, crouching down onto my knees. I glare balefully at the energy in the corner. “99% affinity...” I sigh, looking down at my hands before standing back up. “What’s the point?”