Even though the Silent Academy did its best to keep us away from the war, it still showed up in every aspect of our lives. It echoed in Jiaola's absence whenever I swung by Sansen's place for tea. It rang in every word as Mr. Ganrey gave the lectures that Witch Aimes was supposed to teach.

And barely a week into the campaign, it showed up in the middle of our classroom, in the form of a brand-new student.

"Howdy," said the teenager in a fifty-year-old's body. He looked painfully awkward at the head of class, introducing himself as a brand new student when he could have passed for a tenured teacher. "I'm Freio, most of the time. Sometimes I go by Jan, and I'll tell you when that is. I'm, uh, I'm a second chancer. If you couldn't already tell."

Iola raised a perfect hand, then before our substitute teacher could call on him, said, "How'd you manage to fuck up so badly you lost thirty years of your memory?"

Freio winced. "I, uh... truth is, I don't rightfully know. They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask. The way I see it, I went to bed thirty years ago as a teenager, woke up in the modern day." Insecurity roiled around him like a blanket. "I... I'm just glad to have a second chance. I guess. Better'n nothing."

"Alright, class, let's settle down. Freio, find yourself a seat," Mr. Ganrey said.

"We should offer him a place to sit," Lucet whispered from my left.

Meloai, overhearing, said, "Hey, Freio! Want to sit with us?"

Lucet winced, and I sighed. I loved Meloai and Lucet, but Meloai's straightforwardness didn't mesh well with Lucet's shy nature. Meloai had successfully caught Freio's attention, but she'd turned the heads of everyone in the class as well.

"Uh..." Freio looked torn between wanting to jump down a deep hole and wanting to just close his eyes and pretend everything was just a bad dream. I sympathized. "I... okay. If you say so."

Iola turned to watch the old man's body stumble across the classroom desks, the teenager's soul piloting it still confused about why he was half a foot taller than he was used to. His body scrunched up to fit into the wooden school desk, and a few classmates giggled at how ridiculous he looked, knees half-raised to his chest. The humiliated expression on his face burned me to see, and I wished I could do something more for him.

"Now, class," Mr. Ganrey began. "In light of the recent war against the Redlands aggressors, I think that it's pertinent to cover the history of these barbaric savages..."

Ah, that sounded like a perfect time to draw away some attention from the poor second-chancer. Abruptly, I raised my hand. I'd gone with a more confrontational approach in history classes before, but that had gotten me nowhere, so I tried a more diplomatic tone when I spoke up.

"Mr. Ganrey?" I asked. "Your characterization of Redlanders as aggressive savages... doesn't the recent work by Anenne show that Redland culture is no more intrinsically aggressive than any other?"

The class tittered and oohed, shifting their attention from Freio to me, and even though my cheeks burned from the stares, the relief on Freio's face as he was no longer in the spotlight was evident. He flashed me a grateful smile as Mr. Ganrey cleared his throat and began his counterargument.

"Well, I must say you're rather well-read, but consider this: would the Redlanders invade us without provocation if they really were a developed and cultured people? As Chentrenne once wrote..."

###

The classes blurred by, and although Freio stuck out like a sore thumb in each of them, Lucet, Meloai, and I took turns deflecting attention from the school's newest second-chancer. Since the war had begun in earnest, more and more of the second-chancers had been showing up, and it was my hope that eventually, either people would get used to them or the Silent Parliament would stop churning them out.

Regardless of what the future held, however, the four of us were content to spend the present eating lunch in a quiet nook. Freio was still somewhat stunned by what was, from his perspective, a leap thirty years into the future—but Meloai had already gotten him to laugh a few times, and Lucet had bonded with him by sheer virtue of being able to hold a comfortable silence.

Of course, nothing lasted forever, and the momentary respite we'd found in our shady little corner was no exception. Iola and his new cronies—all men who'd been rejected from the war draft for being too young, and felt like they had something to prove because of it—sauntered up to us in a vaguely predatory triangle, fanning out to block the only exit.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the freak squad," Iola drawled. He pointed at us one at a time. "Redlands-fucker. Soulless girl. My ex-toy. And of course, the enemy soldier." Me, Meloai, Lucet, and Freio respectively. Lovely.

"What do you mean, enemy?" Freio whispered.

I winced. Meloai shook her head. "You don't want to know this one, Freio," she warned.

Iola tsked. "Ah-ah-ah! You're not the one in control here, soulless girl. Whaddya think? Wanna know who you used to be, freak?" Despite Freio's body being nearly a head taller, he backed down, intimidated, as Iola grabbed him by the shirt.

"Don't touch him," I snapped, starting forwards, but Iola just kept speaking.

"You used to be an enemy soldier," Iola crooned. "You were a prisoner of war. And the powers that be decided it was more trouble ransoming you than wiping your memory to when you were nothing more than an impressionable child and re-educating you into their very own killing machine, so that they could fire you right back at the enemy they'd stolen you from."

"Iola, that's enough!" I snapped, and shoved him backwards.

With an ooh of anticipation, Iola's new cronies stepped back, giving Iola space as his face twisted into a jitterbugging, lopsided, manic grin. Meloai stepped forwards, flexing a fist that went tick-tick-tick, but Iola said, "Kino? Lantenne? If that thing lays a hand on me, disassemble it."

I held out a hand as Iola's goons stepped forwards. The Cienne of two weeks ago would have simply gotten beaten into a pulp, but I was done with letting people strongarm and manipulate me. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I warned. Freio snapped back to his senses as Lucet grimly got between him and the staredown, salt-crystals of sorrow precipitating around her soul like bracers.

Iola scoffed, and through my enhanced soulsight, I saw him ready the same bizarre, mutated light spell that had cooked that poor vole from the inside out. Simultaneously, oil-drops of passion streaked into Kino and Lantenne's palms. "You know, I'm not sure why I was ever mad about getting booted from the army," Iola said. "If I want to kill a Redlander, I've got a domestic supply of them right here."

In response, I simply took a deep breath in, one of my new attunements flaring to life as I gathered misty calm behind my nostrils.

Then I exhaled, and my steady, rolling calmness spread out across the tiny alleyway, eating at and weakening every spell present.

Lucet shot me a startled glance as the icetouch she was preparing was disrupted, and from Meloai's sudden stiffness, I gathered that I'd accidentally weakened the magic that animated her body, too. Uh, oops. Just because I had a half-dozen attunements now didn't mean I was proficient in their use. I'd used up my reserves of calm, too, and now I was jittery and nervous. Plus, Iola had the raw power of an elf; I was pretty sure my little calm spell had barely shaken his magical abilities. Man, I really needed to get better at casting spells; if I couldn't even shoo away Iola, I'd have no chance if—when—Odin returned to wrench the secrets of attunement out of my head.

I had scared the fuck out of Kino and Lantenne, though, who had suddenly found themselves holding fistfuls of nothing as their spells fizzled out. That was good enough for now. They took an uneasy step back, and Iola must not have liked the odds of pissing off all three of us without any backup, because he shot me a glare and stepped back, drawing the feverish, corrupted joy back into the core of his soul.

"Piss off," I said.

Iola just grinned wider. "Fine. Enjoy hanging out with a mind-wiped enemy soldier. I look forward to him snapping and killing you all."

Then he spun around and left, laughing to himself as if he'd told the best joke that anyone had ever heard, leaving us alone with a stunned, horrified Freio.

Hesitantly, the three of us moved closer to Freio. The shock on his face had morphed into something bleak and empty.

"Is that true?" Freio asked. "Am I... am I really just... a prisoner of war?"

"It is," said an elderly voice from behind us.

The four of us spun to see Mr. Ganrey stumping towards Freio, and his clouded eyes seemed sharp as a tack for once.

Freio balled his fists. "How can you... how can you do this to me? To us? How can you get away with this?"

"Like this," he said, and tapped Freio on the forehead once.

And just like that, the last three minutes were wiped from his memory.

"We're at war, kids." Mr. Ganrey gave us all a warning look. "Sacrifices must be made. Don't forget it."

The substitute teacher walked away, leaving three faces grim and one face confused in our shady little corner of the Silent Academy.