This time I manage to shut my eyes before the flare, saving myself from a second blinding. Then the light is gone and there's a great weight pressing me to the stone. A weight that grows as Phoebus transforms—leaving behind all human features and the tatters of his clothes in favor of more fur, fangs, four legs...and sheer size. Twice and a half what he was. Maybe more.

Not even bothering with my arms or legs, he pins what remains of my extra appendages down with his massive paws. Opens his jaws to hover around my throat. In a real fight, this is where he could kill me if he wanted to.

Which means it's over.

"I submit," I pant.

Immediately Phoebus retreats, actually wagging his tail at me. Whether it's because he'd be naked otherwise or because he can't just yet, he remains in the form of freakishly large wolf as I gather myself, using bits of already-shredded fabric to staunch the bleeding of one of the snake’s tails. Before long it stops of its own accord, and the lot of us walk back to the residential side of campus.

My snake-vine companion is wrapped about Overkill's shoulders, hurt but healing. For my part, I feel a lot like I just got hit by an asteroid. Drained of blood and energy and with the remains of my tentacles dragging behind me, I make slow progress. But—to my annoyance—the giant wolf matches my pace. With Artemisia at my other side and Synthe and Overkill at my back, I imagine we make an interesting procession.

"Welcome to Duel Club, I suppose," says Artemisia, brushing some snow out of her braids.

I take a deep breath. "What do I need to know?"

"It meets every day at five thirty in the main arena, first of all. But you only need to show up four times and fight at least twice per week to be an active member. Obviously, though, the more you fight and win the higher your standing, and the less you fight the more other people in the club will call you a casual."

I exhale through my nose. "Oh no, anything but that."

Artemisia smiles.

"Club duels can work in one of two ways—either through random pairing with someone of comparable standing, or through a challenge between members."

"And Phoebus said something about constraints?"

"For that, you're better off pulling up the club rulebook and getting into the details. The biggest thing is never to injure someone so much that they won't be able to make it to class the next day. No ripping off essential limbs, things like that."

"Oh. That's...nice." I look over at her. "Are you in the club? Who else in Lýkos is in it?"

She laughs darkly. "Yes, I'm in Duel Club. Phoebus is, of course. And now, there's you."

I stop without realizing it. Phoebus whines and paces.

"Just the three of us? Really? Why?" I can't help but doubt her, thinking of Phoebus's cronies.

"My brother likes to collect oddities. But to be fair, it's a long-standing tradition of the fraternity."

I frown, not understanding.

"It's a brotherhood where many who might not find a place elsewhere can have one," she explains. "But for most, that place will never be on the dueling field. Hypnos, for instance.” She nods to where the tall Variant walks far ahead of us, side-by-side with their twin. “Their ability is to make others fall asleep, and I think they're working on dream manipulation these days, too. There is no dueling that. And Thanatos? One touch when his power is activated means instant death. As for Kestrel—well, I could go on. But you get the idea."

"Yes, I do." I glance sideways at the restless wolf, gnawing my lower lip. There's more I want to ask Artemisia, but not in front of Phoebus. And not when I'm exhausted and bleeding and famished. We start walking again, my Synthe companions and I breaking away as we approach Asteria Hall, my building.

"Goodnight," call Artemisia and Hind at once as we part ways.

"You too, both of you. And thanks for the rundown on the club."

Phoebus howls, then breaks into a sprint down another of the branching walkways.

I'm just about to open my dorm room door when I realize that the greenhouse would be a better place for the new hybrid…visions of PomPom becoming a snake-meal playing themselves out in my head.

Sighing—and so tired and hungry for blood I could practically cry—I turn on my heel and head for the greenhouse. While Syn stays behind to resupply on Ichor, Overkill remains at my back. I'm half-considering asking him to carry me as I drag my feet on the way out of the greenhouse, snake-friend deposited in one of the nicer trees.

And then. Again. I smell him.

Hades-damned Phoebus.

He steps out of the shadows of a walkway lined by malfunctioning forcefields, an almost apologetic look on his face. My hands fly up, Overkill moves forward, and already I can feel my anger playing out across my face. The other Variant takes a step back.

"I know. I know. I'm always hounding you here. You're sick of my face. I'm sorry. But this is important, and I wanted to say it clothed."

"Fine," I snap, brushing past him and continuing down the darkened walkway. "Talk."

"I know I'm pushy, and people probably say I'm crazy, or lazy, or both."

I press my lips together and walk a little faster.

"But—the Duel Club really is the best way for you to get stronger, fast. And you need to. It's important. Not just for the frat. For you."

He stops, and to my chagrin—so do I, turning to meet his gaze almost automatically.

And it’s strangely sincere, even intense.

"You have to understand that you're in real danger. Always. And you shouldn't be wandering around with nothing but Synthes for companions. You need other Variants at your side."

Confusion, anger, and exhaustion cast my thoughts into chaos. I can’t deal with this right now.

"I'm going to bed, Phoebus. You might be my superior in the fraternity, but you don't get to dictate how I live. Goodnight." I turn from him to start back down the path.

"Wait—can I walk you the rest of the way back, at least? I won't talk."

"No thank you."

"I'll turn back into a puppy."

"That was not a puppy.'

"You liked it, though."

"I said goodnight."

He sighs. "Have it your way, little queen. Guess I'll just hang back a while, then, since we're going the same way and all."

"Sure." I snap. "You do that."

~*~

The next day starts with General Phys Ed, something I wish I would have considered the night before. While our Variant Orientation classes cover the specifics of our own type, this one is all about the differences and similarities of all the types. Their strengths and weaknesses, the ways in which they impact one another, and generalized training that benefits us all.

I've heard other students call it "Combat Class," and I'm both interested and anxious to find out why.

"As new as you all are to this world, it may be difficult to understand why dueling is such an intrinsic part of our culture. For others, it may be all too obvious," says Professor Biston, a tall Variant with a perpetually furrowed brow, blue-gray hair, and hardened features.

"The same passion, energy, and instincts which have so benefited our survival here can also make us volatile. Distracted. Duels not only force us to develop our skills and hone our ability to control them, but also allow an outlet for our natural aggression. And, as modeled here in our school, they can also serve as a means to resolve certain disputes and to assign merit-based positions. By allowing controlled battle on a small scale, we reduce conflict on a larger scale." He takes a long breath, giving my hand a chance to rest. My fingers hover over my tablet screen.

"It's important to remember, going into all of this, that your peers are your allies—off the dueling field and on it. We are all working towards our own collective good. Please try to remember that as we review Variant weaknesses later on." He pauses to rub his forehead. "And try to remember that I'm not just teaching you these things so that you can target and defeat whomever will be easiest for you. It's also so you know when not to go too far, and in what circumstances another Variant might most need your help."

There's some sinister chuckling at that, and he moves on. I can sense the class's disappointment when he dismisses us without ever talking about weaknesses or even asking us to spar, but I'm grateful to have just a normal, do-nothing first class. My back is still raw and sore, and the last thing I want today is more fighting.

At lunch, Overkill and I run into Artemisia and Hind, and the four of us go out to sit together on the balcony space.

"So. Are you going to Duel Club tonight?" Asks Artemisia as I take my first bite of brie-and-fig sandwich.

"Absolutely not."

She nods. "Good call. Though remember—you don't always have to fight. There's a lot you can learn just from watching."

I swallow my food. "You seem pretty on-board with me being in the club. I don't get it. I thought you didn't approve of your brother's leadership?"

Artemisia's lips twist. "Well, you're in it now, aren't you? You may as well make the best of it. And your doing well in that department benefits me, too. And the fraternity."

"Right," I say, looking down at my plate. "Still, though. I need a night to myself."

"That I understand," replies the other Variant, finally cutting off a piece of her stuffed squid.

~*~

My last class of the day is Wildlife and Ecology, and I've been looking forward to it. Our professor has a permanent re-creation of a riverside rock-pool environment set up at one end of the classroom, surrounded by temperature-control forcefields. Dusk has the most natural biodiversity on the planet—and nowhere is that more evident than in its rock pools.

But I have to wait until the end of class to get a proper look at it. Most of the rest of the students shuffle out, a few lingering to chat with the very likable Professor Enkomi. After clearing it with her, I wander over to the enclosure and push my hand through the gentle field of resistance surrounding it. Letting my finger hover just a little ways away from the nearest cluster of life, I waggle them to see if can I attract any interest. A tiny crablike creature with a turquoise carapace scuttles close, scenting the air with lime-green antennae.

"That one's my favorites," says someone behind me, making me jump. I'd been too focused on the habitat before, barely even registering his presence.

"Her name is Puk." Adds the other student as I turn to look at him. He's lanky and fine-featured, with green-gold eyes that sit at a sharp angle over his high cheekbones and medium-length hair in several shades of brown.

"It's nice to meet her," I say. "How do you know each other?"

"Oh, uh yeah, it's not my first time taking this class, in case you couldn't tell," he says, chuckling as a hand goes up to muss his already mussed hair.

I feel my eyebrows shoot up. I didn't get the impression this was that kind of class.

"Really? Is it that hard?"

He cracks up. "Oh Daimon, no." Lowering his voice to a whisper, he bends at the waist a bit to get closer to my ear. "I failed on purpose. It's just really nice, you know? Seemed a shame to only take it once. Besides," he adds, straightening. "Puk would miss me if I didn't come back."

He sticks a hand through the forcefields and Puk scuttles over, immediately pinching it with both her claws.

"Ouch," he hisses through his teeth. "Love hurts."

I snort a bit at that. "Alright, well...I'm going to head to dinner now."

"Oh really? Figured you were lingering here to avoid the whole broo-ha-ha in the dining hall."

"Broo...haha?"

"Yeah, the semester kick-off party. It's one of the First Week events. Big school mixer kinda-thing where they have special food and entertainment and stuff."

"Oh," I say. "I completely forgot about that. That actually sounds kind of nice." And here I told Artemisia I was going to take time to myself. Well, I can go down there, have dinner, linger a bit...and then go isolate myself and think about how to help my sister.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," I say. He smiles and gives a little mock-salute. It's not until after I've left the classroom that I realize I forgot to ask his name.

I enter the dining hall with Overkill at my side to find the place festooned in school banners and flags. Several tables are filled with fancy finger foods and fizzy drinks. There's also a bunch of red synthes I've never seen on campus before wandering through the crowd. As I watch, one of them—horned and with back-bent legs much like Syn's—approaches a cluster of Orchidéa students. One of them steps up almost immediately to embrace them, burying her teeth in the matte material between their neck and shoulder.

As I navigate my way through the space—trying to decide what I want to eat first—Minthe emerges from the mass of students at my back.

"I heard about your duel with Phoebus," she says, lip quirking up to one side.

"If you're going to tell me I'm stupid for even trying, I already—"

"Uh, no. A duel is literally the only thing he’d take seriously. You made the best move you could."

I stare at her for a moment, taken aback.

"Oh. Well...thanks."

"Sorry you didn't win, though," she adds, eyes sparking.

I shrug and change the subject. "What's with all these new synthes, do you know?"

"Them?" She glances over her shoulder quickly, strawberry blonde curls dancing around her face. "That's the Order of the Crimson Heart. They go around and offer the full feeding experience to Variants who can't get a hold of a personal Companion. Usually it's free, but the university pays them to come to these events. The proceeds help fund their charity. They're pretty great, actually."

I shift a bit uncomfortably, feeling both grateful for and guilty about my regular and exclusive access to Syn. I should have guessed his kind would be rare. The Ethical Intelligence Generation guidelines are stringent, and I imagine it's unusual for the system to generate an AI who naturally and willingly commits to the life of a feeder. At least, apparently, not for the sake of one Variant alone.

"Wow, that is really good of them," I say after a moment, voice quiet.

"It's a spiritual thing in their view," adds the upperclassman. "It's how they fulfill themselves."

I'm trying to think of a way to politely extricate myself from Minthe's company when one of the Crimson Heart synthes takes notice of us.

"Hello," they say, in a low, musical voice designed to soothe. "Would you care to feed?"

"I—no thank you. I'm not ready yet."

The synthe’s head tilts slightly but very suddenly to the side before righting itself again.

"Would you care to feed?" They repeat.

Something's wrong. I take a step back just as the Crimson Heart synthe lunges for me. In the next instant Overkill moves to block it, reaching out to grasp the other synthe's head in one behemoth fist before lifting it off its feet.

"Behind you!" shrieks Minthe. I whirl in time to meet the gaze of a second Crimson Heart just as its hands whip out with lightning speed to wrap around my throat.