A few days had passed. I slept through the first day entirely, my nightmares quieter, my body safe. This opportunity to rest and eat well began to noticeably return my strength. My sleep greatly improved as well – the beds here were so luxurious and soft – and having an actual bed to sleep in made a world of difference despite the nightmares. Sleeping during the endless haze on unchanging, unforgiving soil was something I’d never forget, but in contrast, this bed helped alleviate the bitter memory.

The days after that, I began to explore, at first quietly observing the new world around me, then eventually mustering the courage to talk to new people. Two other professors reciprocated my curiosity in my wanderings, both very different from Corbal in both stature and fields.

The first was a slender being my height named Modarres Numerion Calder who taught lithomancy. Lithomancy, as I was told, was the name for borrowing the earth’s physical energy temporarily, paid for by one’s own anima and offered materials. I still didn’t understand most of it. How could dirt have energy? The fields produced corn and crop, but they grew from seeds and water, not from the dirt alone. If they used anima to grow, how did they get it?

I’d always assumed the strength of the earth would present itself in a stocky, hardier body, but they assured me their strength came not from physical form, but through careful training of animatic elemancy. They told me some people have a stronger pull toward animancy naturally, and some people can barely feel it. Everybody has anima, though, but not everyone is trained to draw upon its power. They assured me the RASA’s purpose is precisely that- a place to practice and learn. The staff also researched new uses and applications for anima, as well as new techniques. Modarres was welcoming, but busy, and after our brief meeting, shooed me away to make their way to a lecture.

Another actually met me before I met him: Professor Wesley Piers, an excitable man sporting recent grey hairs in his carefully upkept beard. He was slightly shorter than me, but older. He was sprightly despite his age, evidenced by his taking a moment to settle after lifting something or taking the stairs. He was a man in denial of his age, a man whose childhood sense of wonder never left. He was human, like me, and I wondered if that made him jealous of the longer-lived races.

He told me he felt a strangeness upon my arrival and sought me out as I walked through the halls. He called me “an anomaly somehow born from animatic elemancy without training” and took a great interest in me. The Headmaster instructed me to keep silent about my gift, and I told no one, so I wondered how he singled me out. I asked him how he was able to find me from all the various strengths of students and he said it was like a smell in the air, or an absence thereof, and he made it his mission to sniff out the source. I reassured him I had bathed since arriving here. From then on he took an interest in me, half scholarly and wholly welcoming, which I was thankful for.

He revealed he was especially sensitive to anima as a child, and more so now after honing his detection, so he was conscripted to the RASA and has been here teaching since. He specializes in acumency: the art of improving one’s sense for anima. He thought I may have been born gifted with a stronger sense for anima. He kept prodding, he told me he just had to know. I never revealed my gift, so how he figured it out, I couldn’t tell. I kept the nature of my flame hidden.

One day, after lunch, he excitedly led me to his office. His demeanor was always pleasant. I followed. Unlike Corbal’s office, Professor Wesley’s was intricately organized. A section in the corner was reserved for meditation. It contained a huge, patterned rug – like Corbal used before, but much larger – a small bronze firepit coated with ash, and various bound leaves and branches from different trees. The room smelt like woodfire.

“What is all this stuff? Do you smoke?” I asked.

“I don’t smoke, no- please, have a seat,” he said, motioning me to sit on the small pillow next to the bronze burner.

“Go ahead.” I examined the plush pillow and found it provided more support than I expected. It must get a lot of use. The professor gestured at the assortment of things. “Do any of the branches or herbs stand out to you? Anything seem special?” He fidgeted in his seat like he was struggling to keep a pleasant secret to himself, giddily awaiting my answer with hawklike focus.

“Special? Not really. These leaves here are good for headaches if you chew on them a while, but these are all dried out and won’t work.”

His face slowly shifted to something less than excited.

“Do any of them feel different? Any sort of reaction, any tingling?”

“Not really, no.” I wondered why he was so keen on my answer.

“Huh.” He half-slumped in his chair, his back touching it for the first time since I’d come in. “Really, none of them are exciting?”

“They’re useful for headaches, at least that one leaf there, but the rest I’ve never seen before. Besides how they look, there’s nothing special about them.”

“Hmm.”

He put his hand to his chin and stared toward the corner of the room, mumbled, and turned to another part of the room. I watched the way his mouth moved. It was like he was silently arguing with himself, answering his own questions and shooting down others.

“…huh,” he said once again.

There was an awkward silence. After more thinking, he slapped his knees and stood and announced, “Well, I’m sure you’re hungry, we can talk again later!”

I left Wesley’s office and closed the door. What a strange person. The latch clicked, and I walked maybe fifteen feet when, from the next room over I heard someone’s cry of frustration in a language I’d never heard and decided to investigate. It appeared to come from through a propped door. I was still unsure of my place within this school, and what permissions I was granted – the Headmaster had been vague about accommodations – so I assumed I was free to wander. If I get in trouble I’ll say it was Corbal’s idea. He was held in high regard, one of the highest members of the RASA, he said. I peeked my head around the ornate oak door and snuck a surreptitious glimpse of the source of sound, but I was noticed immediately by an incredibly tall and sleek student.

She didn’t turn to see me, so she must have heard me approach. “You can come in, you know. You’re not a prisoner.” Her voice was feminine, but deep, much more than my own, which seemed natural considering the top of her head was about two feet above mine. A slender giant. Her skin was dark with green undertones, and reminded me of deep lake water. It had a somewhat translucent quality, like there were many layers underneath. She spoke again, and I realized I was staring. “Corbal said you’re from an isolated village- and by the staring and all, you’ve never even traveled, have you?” I supposed I’d have to get used to seeing new peoples.

“Uh, no. I mean, I didn’t know I could. It’s, um, very remote.” It was strange to lie about my home, like I could have told her anything and she’d have believed me. She motioned for me to enter with a nod toward a nearby chair. I scratched my hair and stepped inside. The room was warm and comforting. She was fiddling around with animancy, judging by the orderly assortment of materials before her on a simple desk. This is a school, after all.

“What are you trying to do?” I asked.

“I have a headache I’m trying to get rid of.”

I took a seat on the wooden chair and immediately admired its craftmanship. Very sturdy, very comfortable- far superior to anything I might have made. She was holding her hands above the materials on the desk: a cup of water, a small stone, and some kind of leaf. [She focused, but nothing happened.] With another expletive, though more restrained than the last, she crossed her arms and glared at the desk. “Yield to me, Spirit of Thaelossei! I have a headache and you’re being unreasonable.”

From what little I understood, animancy used domains of elemental gods, but I’d never actually heard anyone talk to them. Corbal remained silent and focused during his rituals, except for maybe a muttering under his breath. I chimed in, “I thought you had to offer your anima to it? Try asking nicely.”

That was a mistake.

“If you think it’s so easy, you get over here and try it! C’mon, it’s easy.” She almost spat the words, but I felt more sympathetic than attacked. I’d also been subjected to the gods’ flippancy. I understood then why she was so mad. Here I was, an outsider, telling her how to do what she’s studying for.

She stepped back; and with both hands aggressively motioned for me to take her place. I obliged. The chair did not creak or complain when I shifted my weight. Very good craftmanship. I stood where she stood, on a small platform just before the desk. “What do I do?” I asked. She scoffed, but besides that stayed silent. Okay, if she wants me to try I’ll try.

I stood with my hands over the materials and focused hard on how it felt to not have a headache. The materials were still and lifeless, and nothing stirred within me. I know when I used my fire I felt hot and energized, but this wasn’t accomplishing anything. After a while, I lowered my arms, dejectedly.

She sighed. “Not so easy, is it?” I wanted to, in a way, brag about how easily my fire came to me, but I remembered the Headmaster’s warning. “Yeah, you’re right.” I looked at the soft-edged leaf. “But you may know that leaf has pain relieving properties, you could probably just chew on it and it would help.” She looked at me, with an expression that portrayed either gratefulness or insult, and snatched the leaf from the table, giving it a long sniff, and shoving it in her mouth.

A few moments later, her face relaxed and I could tell she felt better. She said, “Huh. You may be on to something here.” She stepped closer to me – a short stride for her, but three paces for me – and put her heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m Nebrei.” I felt I needed to reciprocate the gesture, so I stood on my toes and raised my hand toward her shoulder. Fingertips barely grazing her robe, I replied, “You’re welcome, I’m Efrit.”

She turned from me and gathered the other materials, shoving them into a hollow in the wall. “If I do any more of this today, I’ll lose my mind. Let’s get lunch instead.” She had a point. I’d last eaten early this morning, and travel had made me weary. She knew where to go, so I just followed and took in the hall as we walked.

There were colorful pictures on the walls, framed in wood and shining gold, depicting people fighting and lightning and other things. What I stopped to focus on was a massive map painting. “Nebrei, what’s this painting about?” In two strides she was near me. “Oh that? That’s the Great Divide. A long time ago, a huge eruption happened and split the Lyvik into three parts.” She pointed at a spot on the right side. “This is where we are now.” The chasms looked like thick snakes splitting the land into three parts. The largest part was on the right side, mostly trees and fields. The lower left part was water- a greater concentration than I thought possible- with the occasional misshapen dot of land. The upper left part depicted giant jagged mountains of fire and smoke.

I was fixated on the fiery part. I felt my chest warm in a soothing way. It was nice to look at, and-

This is mine. This is my right. This belongs to me. This land is mine alone. Destroy the-

Nebrei shoved me, which I’m sure to her was a light shove, but I had to steady my balance. “Wake up, I’m hungry.” The heat had subsided and I felt normal again.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. What food do they have?” My question was answered when I smelled luscious meats and other succulent scents from between two huge wooden doors.

“I’ve wondered where they get all of this food. How do they feed so many people daily? There were no farms outside, nor crop I could see. Can you use animancy to make food?” I asked between mouthfuls of the best mushrooms I’d ever tasted.

She replied, “I wish! Transmutation has been disproven, and the woman claiming to have done it has lied on every paper she’s ever done. Kind of a fraud.” She stabbed her fork into a juicy fried tenderloin. “Horrible person, too.” I nodded, agreeing with no context. She seemed adamant in her beliefs.

“So animancy needs materials, then?”

Nebrei nodded and continued cutting her food. “So what would happen if you used an animal for the material? Or a person?” Her eyes widened, and immediately she shut my thought down, reprimanding, “Don’t joke about that. That’s a horrible thing. Though I have heard rumors of some people in the south using animals. It’s barbaric, but less so than using people.” Curiosity unsated, I pressed the issue briefly before she threatened removing my fingers if I kept speaking. Nebrei could be intimidating. I complied.

To lighten the mood, I asked her what she thought about the RASA. Around a spilling mouthful of breading, she said something I couldn’t make out. I smiled, sipping on my water. Another student approached her, a stocky human woman with a youthful face and a charming smile, wearing the same robes Nebrei did – literally the same, I assumed, as the shirt was far too large for her figure, and the kiss on Nebrei’s food-full cheek betrayed more than friendship.

Nebrei’s face lit up and she put an arm around the student’s waist and hoisted her fluidly onto the bench next to her. Nebrei’s partner might have almost been my height, but shorter. Her shiny, copper-colored hair was even longer than my own, and her face was very pale. I’d never seen eyes so blue. Then again, I’d never seen a gnome, or a mearle, or any other race before. It was a big, undiscovered world, and there was so much I had yet to learn.

She nuzzled up on Nebrei’s chest. Nebrei’s green-tinted skin made her partner’s red hair appear to glow, and she ran her massive hand through it, gliding gently. It was strange to see Nebrei so gentle, especially now, considering she’d threatened to dismember my hands a minute prior.

Nebrei introduced her, “This is Ghardi. She keeps me sane when animancy fails me, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all my life.” She waved at me. “Hello, you! What’s your name?” I couldn’t discern whether her interest was genuine. She spoke to me as though I was a pet or some passing attraction. Regardless, I replied, “Efrit, from the eastern village.” I dared not give more information, not because of safety concerns, but any time spent thinking about my village made my heart feel strange.

At this point, she did seem interested, asking, “From the East?” and with a smile, she turned back to Nebrei, continuing, “Oh, bit of a xenophile, aren’t you, Neb?” Her face grew as red as green skin could, and she hurriedly assured Ghardi it wasn’t like that. I had no concept of any eastern village except my own, and I only knew it was east from the RASA. I was confused about what she meant, so I asked, “What’s a xenophile?”

Nebrei was quick to redeem herself, and I was left wondering. “Ghar, sweet thing, it’s really not like that. This boy is from a trip Dean Corbal went on some time ago.” Dean? Ignorance had already canvassed my self-esteem, so I decided to retain my ignorance further, and keep my question to myself. Ghardi looked at the clock face in the wall of the dining hall, and excused herself after giving Nebrei a short embrace. She waved back, and continued stuffing her face with breaded tenderloin, now cold.

There was one thing about the encounter that lingered in my mind as I picked apart the uneaten stem of some vegetable. It wasn’t Ghardi’s assumption, and it wasn’t Nebrei’s gentleness. I guess wasn’t as hungry as I thought. Nebrei and I put our plates in the section they belonged in and walked back to the atrium. As I took two steps to her one, I mostly watched the floor. “What did you think?” she asked, breaking my thought, or lack thereof. I thought a moment, focusing on the unevenness of our footsteps’ echoes on the walls.

“You’re both women,” I finally answered. Nebrei stopped, and hearing the silence, I stopped as well, and turned to see her. She looked more than offended for a moment, her face a little twisted. Then after a second, her face softened as she stared at me, and somehow also through me, and I felt as studied as when the Headmaster did the same. But when Nebrei examined me, I felt the like subject of pity.

After carefully choosing her words - a rare occasion - she sighed, and said, “Efrit, you don’t know, do you?” Once again, I was lost.

“Know what?”

“You poor thing. No wonder you seem so gloomy.”

She kept walking. Confused, I followed her down the hallway, gradually surrounding myself with the pitter patter of mismatched footsteps as students crossed paths and made room. She walked me to my room and said goodnight before leaving.

My chamber was a resting room for students repurposed for long-term living. What I’d learned is that animancy, for those new to it, is exceptionally draining, and leaves the user exhausted. They built this wing when they constructed the building with that in mind, so tired students could get a quick rest. Why they chose to place the night screamer here, I had no idea, but nobody angrily shushed me. Perhaps they themselves were too tired to care or notice, or maybe they only occupied the space during the day. I laid down on my bed and thought about Nebrei and her partner. What did she mean by what I didn’t know? Eventually, sleep overtook me, and today faded into tomorrow, and tomorrow faded into the next week and onward.