Chapter Nine: Roots of a Relic

“Titaness” the people called them, laying offerings and pleas for a spared fate at their feet, but no acknowledgment came from their song.

Despite her small victory at the end of Common Scenarios, Briddy’s day did not improve as it went on. Doctor Maistwel had given her an indifferent reception in Mystic Comprehension, a blithe “I see” to her claims of difference from her siblings, and seemed unimpressed as a whole by her abilities. Lunch had seen her walking up to the Palisade only to find Niles already holding court with Gail and Tuck in his group, a sneer daring her to ask to join them. By the time she made her way into the enormous dome sunken into the western side of the campus, her entire body felt heavy, like she was carrying a load of bricks.

She had spent the midday break curled up in her dorm, sweating miserably as the air seemed to shimmer around her head and wick every droplet of moisture from her mouth. Even the water left in jugs about the common area was warm, not nearly sating the near-constant thirst that plagued her. An older student Bridget assumed was their houseminder had made a quick appearance, poking a slicked head into the entrance and taking a look at the student's draped over the furniture and withdrawing it after a moment.

Briddy had tried to sit up and ask their name, but by the time she had begun to move, they were already gone, footsteps sounding on the stairs to the top floor.

“They don’t really care to talk to us.” One of the girls shrugged. “Not unless we’re breaking a rule or up after curfew.”

Dragging herself towards the double arches, she noticed that no one else seemed to be trickling in, and briefly wondered if everyone had already arrived. The doors to the inside were made of an old, dark wood, splintered and cracked with age and carved deep with archaic symbols. Pushing tentatively on the middle of the split, Bridget was surprised when they didn’t immediately give way. Straining, she used both hands to separate the doors, releasing a long, high creak that echoed across the interior of the room.

Despite the metallic nature of the rounded ceiling outside, the interior of the room was lined with broad bricks of dull stone, and a rush of cold air slammed into her as she stepped into the classroom, a gust so eager that it sent her Shroud flapping about her body. Eager for the relief, Briddy tucked her textbook under her arm and walked the rest of the way in, the doors groaning shut behind her. As they closed, a glow flickered to life in a bowled sconce near where the wall turned to a dome’s curved. Warm, amber light poured from the rim, matching at least eight others equally situated around the room.

Looking about, Briddy couldn’t find hind nor hushed whisper of another soul, slowly making her way down the recessed steps carved into the rock of the slowly descending floor. As the ground fell towards the middle in tiers, two desks were perched on each layer, parallel to each other and stretching long towards the wall. She thoughtlessly ran a finger across one of the three stools perched behind the nearest desk, gazing at the round, empty floor near the end of the stairs. Where was everyone?

A loud hiss of air made her jump about three feet, her book raised to strike some unseen attacker that her mind put creeping through the shadows. Eventually, she tracked the noise to a series of metal vents set cleverly into the floor, the slits painted the same color as the surrounding stone. Even as she crouched down to hover a hand over the escaping air, beaded water caught her eye, gathering around the slatted opening.

The long thudding groan of the doors sent her rocketing straight up again, spinning so fast that her uniform fanned through the air behind her, the book slightly rising to be clutched against her chest. Blinking away bright sunlight, Warrin stumbled into the room, grinning as he caught sight of Briddy near the opposite wall.

“Bridget! What’re you doing over there! How come you never said hi the other day?” His words tumbled over each other as he spoke fast like his mind ran quicker than his lips could move. As Briddy began to answer, more of their classmates began pouring in, letting out sighs of relief at the cool shade beating back the wavering, miserably hot outside air.

“Sculptor be, why do they not have all of the classrooms like this?” A short-haired girl asked, swatting air towards her face.

“I heard the upperclassmen get their uniforms alchemically treated to change their body temperature any way they like.” Someone else said.

“That’s stupid, why aren’t ours like that then?”

“You tell me, or does Imbar Company have only idiots as supporters?” A small scuffle broke out near the entrance, and Warrin quickly lost interest in Briddy as he joined the crowd watching the fight.

Other students skirted into the classroom, every uniform the green and white of the Heir course. Avoiding the tussle and proceeding to mill about, they explored the large dome with bemused expressions painted across their faces, basking in the cool air. Spotting Niles near the middle of the room, talking Gail’s ear off with his exaggerated gestures, Briddy circled the classroom, selecting a seat at the end of one of the long desks near the middle and settling in.

Pulling out her copy of Prolific Relics: An Ancestry by Professor Jarba Patel, she began slowly turning the pages, taking in the different sketches inked upon them. She was vaguely aware of her peers buzzing about her, taking in their conversations and surroundings. Trying to clear her mind, Bridget began to hum a few notes, the melody weaving into a familiar tune.

Oh joy, why do you fall as tears,

Abandoning us when the end is near

Cry, Sister but you cannot run,

Doom will come.

She stopped, a prickling at the back of her neck causing her to look up from a passage about the founders of the Guilds. Niles was standing a few paces away, leaning forward on the tips of his toes as he read over her shoulder.

“Do you need something?” Briddy asked, closing the book.

“I was just seeing what you were doing.” Niles shrugged, unbothered by his invasive manner.

“Why?”

“I have to keep track of my Cell to make sure everyone is in line.” Niles left her with a smirk, walking back towards his group of friends.

Frowning, Bridget looked back down at the page she had been reading, going over the text several times but finding herself unable to take it in. She tried a few more notes of the Lay of Twins, but even one of her favorite songs was now tainted with the irritation that needled at her mind. How was reading a book before the beginning of a class in any way related to their Cell? Why was he like this? Whatever his faults before, clearly electing himself as their leader had gone straight to that greasy clubhead of his.

“Please take a seat.” A man’s voice said pleasantly, sounding as though he were standing perfectly behind her. Briddy jumped about six feet in her chair, her head snapping back and forth as she searched for the speaker who had invaded her space. It took her a few moments, as her heart slowed its thudding pace, but she saw that her peers were also looking around in bewilderment, turning their eyes in all manner of directions as they searched for the unseen owner of the voice.

“A seat, if you will?” The voice spoke again.

Slowly, eyes still darting about, the students began to move, trickling their way into the two rows of desks perched on the cascading stone steps, claiming stools and pulling out textbooks. As the scraping sound of stools began to replace the murmurs that had filled the air, Briddy looked over and noticed that the other two seats at her desk were still empty, some of the last to be filled. Looking down at her hands, fingers so tightly interlaced that the skin was pale, shaking white, she could see Niles’ triumphant smirk floating in her mind, gloating over her solitude.

Then a long squeal sounded, wood grinding against stone, and Gail threw herself onto the seat beside Bridget, tossing her book on the table and looking over.

“You look pissed.”

Briddy slowly turned her head, raising an eyebrow.

“Or like you’re going to cry.” Gail continued, unflappable.

“Might be both, stick around and see.”

“Yeah?” The other girl gave her a cocked grin, the white of her pointed incisors standing out against her dark skin.

“With how this day has been going…” Bridget let the words trail off as Warrin galloped his way over, scrambling into the final seat on the far side of the desk.

“Now that you’re all settled, please take a paper, pen, and inkwell from the box underneath your desk and pass them down to the person next to you.” The disconnected voice spoke again, waiting for the mutters of surprise to die down as the students complied, finding the aforementioned container near their feet.

“Well then. My name is Doctor Gektu, and welcome to my Relic Lore class. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other during your time at Palanquin University, so I suggest we get along.”

Briddy scribbled on the white paper in front of her. Seeing a lot of each other? We haven’t seen any of him.” Pausing for a moment, she glanced at Gail before elbowing her, sliding the paper over so that she could read it. Leaning in slightly, Gail read the message, snorting quietly as she nodded in agreement.

“Very clever, Miss Vasily. Please do try to pay attention though.” Doctor Gektu’s voice sounded slightly amused, but Briddy still jumped a little. Had everyone heard that? It didn’t seem so, for most of the gazes possessed by her peers were still cast about the room, looking for the invisible teacher, who continued:

“In this class, there will be many questions that we seek to answer. What are the roots of your Relics? From whence comes the wellspring of your power? What is the lineage of the weapon you bear? What are the consequences of its might?” As the doctor spoke, Briddy could feel something, almost like the whisper of air when someone just sidles past you without being touched. Watching the way heads shot up and turned in almost rhythmic succession in a path leading to the middle, she wasn’t the only one.

“Believe me, young ones, there are consequences and costs for this power. So let’s learn to deal with them, shall we?” There was a pause that no one leaped to fill, but eventually, the voice spoke again. “It appears some of you may already know of what I speak.”

Beside her, Bridget felt Gail stiffen, arms going rigid as muscles stood out along her shoulders. One of her thick braids had lifted itself, the end that was tied in green string drooping midair like the wilted head of a rose. Gail’s hand shot up, swatting at the empty air near her head, her jaw clenching to a taut point as she tried to hit whatever held her hair. The braid fell, landing on her shoulder with a soft thump, and she tilted her head to the side, as though listening to someone whisper into her ear. Eyes narrowing, she nodded once, running her fingers through the loose hair on the other side of her head.

“What did he want?” Briddy whispered.

“Empty sentiments about my former bearer,” Gail muttered back, eyes tracking the edges of the room. “Condolences and rot like that.”

“Now, can anyone give me an example of an inherent consequence to being a Relic wielder?” Doctor Gektu continued his lecture as though nothing had happened. Silence answered him, even the scratching of pens on paper dying down as the students searched for an answer. Warrin spoke up, his words fleeing his mouth like a horde of monsters was behind them.

“I mean you become famous, normally.”

“Aha yes! Fame!” Doctor Gektu sounded delighted by the answer. “The flighty child of fable, the coating shine that glosses over the pain of rough edges. Welcome to your legend, all you need to do is survive it, right?”

No one replied once more, and Briddy slowly raised her hand,

“Miss Vasily?” Out of the corner of her eye, Bridget saw Niles’ head snap around, squinting at her from behind his glasses as the teacher called her name.

“Sir-no Doctor, I’m sorry” She stumbled over the beginning of her question.

“Either will do.”

“What do you mean, exactly, by ‘survive’ it?”

“Can anyone tell me what a ‘legend’ is? Mister Demarov?”

Warrin looked up with a clearly guilty expression, shoving whatever he had been doodling underneath his elbow. “It’s an, uh…the story, it’s alive and stuff, yeah? And they can attach to families and pass down generations? That’s what my dad said, anyways.”

“In essence, you and your father are not wrong. Take note; a legend is a collection of stories, of thought, belief, and opinion that has taken on a mind of its own, shaping the world around those to whom it has attached itself to. It wants there to be some sort of a stake in their lives, to be hardship and dramatics, and for growth and triumph to result from the actions of its inheritors, but a legend is not perfect.” Briddy’s pen flew, trying to keep up. “No, more often than not, these ‘actions’, these ‘changes that shape lives’ lead to peril and downfall, which in turn cycles back into a larger victory for those who succeed further down the road. Legends are dangerous things, but powerful all the same, and seem to follow Relics like light to a sunrise.”

“So,” Someone else’s hand thrust into the air, and the boy with golden curls who always seemed to hang around Niles spoke. “Danger is a consequence?”

“Very much so. That should be evident even from the morbid name of your uniforms, these ‘Shrouds’ that both protect and remind you of the risks of the path you pursue. You are brought to greatness, but it is a hungry mistress: a cold hunter and the best prey as two sides of the same coin. Sometimes the worst things happen to those who would rise the highest.” It felt like a pair of unseen eyes swept across the class at that moment, Bridget could feel them peering deep into her very being before moving on. Next to her, Gail shifted, an action mirrored by many of their classmates as they sat in deep and uncomfortable silence.

“You can take too much and be consumed.” Gail’s voice rang out against the stones of the domed room. Her voice was harshened by something unspoken, eyes avoiding all that looked at her as she gazed into something unseen.

“Ah… a rare thing, to be sure, but still, a danger, to be consumed by one’s own relic.” Doctor Gektu’s voice was careful as he spoke.

Briddy looked over at Gail, who was a mask of cold neutrality, though a muscle still twitched in her sharp jaw. She knew something was wrong, that some unknown hurt was tugging at this girl. She felt a kinship towards her, but Bridget herself felt at a loss as to how to balm it. Hesitating, she slid her arm over to where Gail’s elbow rested on the desk, notes abandoned halfway through a word. Their skin met, and Briddy gently pushed her forearm against her friend’s with a nudge, the tall girl giving a slight start.

Looking down briefly, she pushed back for a moment, but picked up her pen and continued writing once Gektu’s voice began speaking once again. Bridget followed suit, catching the small, diminished smile the other girl shot her way before bending over the paper once more.

“Not a common occurrence, and not one any of you should need to worry about until you have the full name and form of your relic at your fingertips. Now speaking of, how many of you can summon at will? Let me see a show of hands.”

Heart leaping, Briddy’s head snapped up, looking around the room. The way the question had been worded…did that mean that she wasn’t the only one who struggled just to bring her relic into existence? Was she not as far behind as her father said? The risen hope fluttering up her throat took a swan’s dive back down as nearly every hand in the room went up, leaving only her and the girl from Weapon Proficiency with the fluffy hair.

“Well, more than I had thought.” The invisible teacher mused in that too-close voice. “Though with some surprising exceptions.”

Even though he didn’t elaborate, Briddy could feel several pairs of eyes looking around and settling on her as she studiously flipped through her textbook, avoiding them. That bitter taste of failure was back, tinging her mouth and burning shame into her cheeks. It wasn’t for lack of trying that Vex wouldn’t come to her.

“Now summoning, in its most ephemeral sense, is the manifestation of your bond to a relic, objects made sentient through a magic long lost to us since the Twin’s Fall. It chooses its heir, often passing down generations, changing both the relic and its bearer.”

It was becoming harder for Bridget to pay attention to the teacher as he spoke, her mind whirling with consequences and costs in a neverending loop.

“-But you both still need to learn of the other. You earn its name through strengthening the bond-”

Death didn’t weigh as heavy a price for power when you faced it on both sides of a choice, but it was still a looming shadow that colored each of her failed attempts to summon. Briddy wasn’t sure if that certainty made things better or worse.

“The question you will all need to answer, before the end, is why are you worthy? What about you is worth choosing?”

No one offered a reply, the class looking off in different directions with shadowed faces and creased brows. Even the scratching of Warrin’s doodling had stopped, the half-finished feather under his pen bleeding ink down the paper.

“That is what you’re here to find out. Don’t feel lesser for not having an answer yet.”

A set of rising chimes rang out from somewhere, startling the group out of their reverie and sending a clatter of gathering supplies up in place of speech and casual conversation.

“Remember,” Doctor Gektu’s voice said in their ears, “Your roots are part of the key to understanding your relic, and in understanding, you can find control. Homework is a three-page essay on the difference between derivative and intact relics, extra credit to those that can track the lineage of the bearers before them.”

This finally elicited sound from the class, a soft groan rippling through the bodies halfway through escaping the classroom.

“Oh, you’ll survive. It won’t be due until the end of the week.” Briddy thought she could hear a note of amusement in the invisible man’s tone.

Gathering up her things, Bridget left the room, regretting the cold air that was almost immediately wicked away by the dry heat reflected off the sand of the surrounding dunes. Death still painted a pallor over her thoughts, but the danger of being an heir only served to make her feel more alive. Her heart beat faster at the thought of risks and triumphs, of becoming worthy of a story and her father’s legacy. Could she do it? The thought didn’t seem as impossible as it once had.

“Bridget! Wait!”

She turned to see Gail’s long silhouette loping its way towards her, those two thick braids bouncing to a rest as she caught up.

“Relic Mastery next, yeah? Want to walk together?”

Briddy looked up at her, head cocked slightly to try and discern whether or not the other girl was being sincere. “Relic Mastery.” She agreed, finding no trace of subterfuge in Gail’s sharp features. Together, they made their way through the heat of the campus, and Briddy felt that even though the shadows looming over her were larger than before, she no longer felt quite so small.