They Never Come Out of the Castle (Measureless Magic #1): Chapters 1-3

So here's what I've been working on the past month or so to let Apocalypse Parenting simmer a little before I turn back to editing! Title isn't fully locked in stone yet, but I feel pretty confident about it. This story is more of a progression fantasy than a litRPG.

It'll probably be a while before I start posting to Royal Road. I had this insane plan where I was going to really kick my own ass into gear and write just enough that I could start posting in October and then do my best to keep my head above water and do right by my Patreons because I didn't want to start posting during November/December. Then my husband said "Why not just wait until January to start posting and actually build up a really comfy backlog? Your Patreons won't mind." And I thought... you know what? He might be right. So! Let me know if he is, and let me know what you think of the start here. More chapters to follow next week. :) This post is available to all tiers, but I'll put the future Measureless Magic posts for Assisted Strike tier only.

Chapter 1

Fly away, mountain!
Fly away, lake!
The castle will keep us
‘Til you awake.

• Children’s lullaby

Ravel frowned as the wind changed, pushing him against the wall at the edge of the roof. A few feet away, the storm thrashed against the shield, magic so dense it was actually visible.

The magic was beautiful, an iridescent shimmer of colored dust. It felt almost within reach. He couldn’t keep his mind from wandering, a rogue part of his brain encouraging him to stretch out his hand and run his fingers through the beautiful colors.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the urge. Nope. No way. I don’t need claws or extra fingers or a weird lump at the end of my arm. It’s time for graduation, not amputation.

The boy shuddered, wondering what had prompted the mad impulse. 

Maybe it’s having all this space to myself. Maybe if kids don’t have other people around, they go mad. Maybe they could make more nurseries, but they have to keep us packed together to keep the crazy from escaping. 

He laughed. It was a ridiculous idea, but the kind that you couldn’t easily disprove.

The roof was usually crawling with people: herb gardeners, chicken farmers, and kids who’d come to sit on the benches between the rows of plants to enjoy the relative quiet and the open sky above.

But right now, there wasn’t another soul to be seen. 

Even the chickens were packed up inside their coop with the door securely latched. The magic had been raging since last night, and the farmers hadn’t trusted the chickens’ safety to the wire cage surrounding their run. The cage was meant to keep the poultry from being blown away, but it was intended more for freak gusts than sustained storms. 

With the roaring wind drowning out their quiet clucks, it was almost like the animals weren’t there at all.

Privacy was a heady feeling. Despite the danger, Ravel couldn’t resist letting go of the wall, walking out into the middle of an aisle and spreading his arms wide, relishing in the knowledge that there was no one in reach. 

Another gout of wind knocked him to the side. He stumbled against the raised garden bed behind him, partially crushing a young rosemary bush.

He straightened, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and he eyed the injured plant.

Maybe the solitude is making me crazy. If I’m going to stay out, I should be more careful. Unless I want a very final solution to all my other problems…

The thought drew his gaze back out over the edge of the building. To his left were the grandelion fields, the plants growing to heights taller than an adult man, going to seed, and dying in the space of minutes. Usually, harvesters would be careening through the tumultuous fields, darting in when they saw a nearby plant that was perfectly mature, and quickly slicing off bits to throw into a magic-nulled crate.

Now? The fields were empty, and even the closest warehouse was quiet. There were several empty trucks parked nearby, ready to be loaded up when the weather improved, but very few people were out and about. 

Beyond the grandelion fields was… nothing. Well, that wasn’t quite true: there was no land, but there was magic: endless clouds of it. Above, below, around: it surrounded the island in every direction.

To his right, opposite the fields, was the city. All the houses and apartments people lived in once they’d been trained to survive the magical onslaught. Where Ravel would be living soon.

I wonder which one Dad lives in. I’ll be able to visit him. Ravel made a face. If I want to. He can wait until I have my job sorted out. I never come before his job, after all.

Ravel’s eyes fell on a small complex where he knew his aunt worked. Had the storm shut it down, too? 

No: there was steam rising from the center building, where the dye vats were located. The steam was being whipped away by strong winds, but Ravel could still see small wisps coalescing briefly before they were scattered.

If the dyery was working, surely the spinners and looms were as well. There wasn’t much reason they shouldn’t. Was there?

He’d only ever seen the small hand loom Aunt Fi brought home when he was nine. The device had been tiny, too small to weave anything truly useful, but he’d latched onto it immediately anyway, weaving bits of fabric a little larger than his hand. When he’d presented them to Aunt Fi, she had praised him and used them to patch holes in his and his’ cousins clothes. At the time, Ravel had been proud, but now he suspected his aunt of having ulterior motives: he still saw many of those patches every day, so he had plenty of time to notice and critique his own loose and uneven weaves without his aunt having to say a word.

He hadn’t used the hand loom in a few years, but he remembered how to use it and knew all the terminology: the vertical warp strings stretched across the frame at the beginning, the horizontal weft that wove across them, the shuttle that carried the weft through the warp, and the batten, used to push down the new thread against the rest of the forming fabric.

He’d never seen a real loom - there was no space for something so magnificent in the cramped nursery - but he was pretty confident that it wouldn’t be affected by a magical storm. Magic didn’t care much about things that weren’t alive. Even if there was a problem, a mage could put up a temporary shield around the building, no problem.

He couldn’t wait to get started.

Tomorrow, he told himself, although he knew it wasn’t true. 

Tomorrow was the day he left the nursery, yes, but even once you became old enough, you didn’t just walk out the door into the magical storm. A specially shielded bus would take him to a carefully maintained training area, where he could hypothetically learn to interact with magic in smaller, safer amounts. There, he’d be offered two choices.

If he actually wanted to learn to use the magic, to be a mage, he’d have to learn to coexist safely with it: to let the magic into his body while still keeping it from twisting or destroying him. 

Ravel had no intention of becoming a mage. 

Successful mages could do, well, almost anything, but the training could take years or decades, and often left mages physically warped or even dead.

Ravel planned to follow the faster path: that of a Walker. Walkers learned to reflexively gather magic that entered their bodies and push it back out into a protective shield. He wouldn’t be able to work magical wonders, but he’d be able to live outside in the storm without mutating. 

It was also much safer than becoming a mage. 

Usually.

He winced. When his cousin had left the nursery a year ago, Terry had planned to train as a Walker. Unfortunately, word had come back a week later that one of his classmates, some moron from Horse nursery, hadn’t been forming his shield properly, letting too much magic build up inside his body. The uncontrolled magic had burst loose catastrophically, killing six people. 

Terry included.

His aunt hadn’t been the same since.

But that was an accident, Ravel thought. It happens, but it’s not likely. Lanat graduated nursery two years before Terry, and she did fine. She was done with her Walker training in six days! That’s fast, but most people do fine, even if it takes them weeks or months. Of the last 200 people to graduate Spider Nursery, only ten have died, and seven of those were doing mage training. I’m not. I’ll get through Walker training safely and quickly. I’m sure there will be a spot for me at the looms… and I’m… I’m sure I’ll be good at them, and…

He sighed, uncertain how to finish the thought. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he hoped for. Things weren’t bad for him, not really. He had a career planned out and some money saved up, much more than most kids. He was in a good place.

It was just…

He shook his head, tearing his eyes from the fabric works.

Unfortunately, this meant his gaze landed on the Castle.

Marynth Castle, technically, but Ravel knew that only from history class. No one called it that: just “the Castle.” He’d known the floating island they lived on was Marynth Isle, but had been surprised to learn that it had gotten its name from the castle. The castle was supposedly ancient, built before the world was flooded by magic. 

A lot of people worshipped it. Prayed to it.

Ravel was revolted by it… though he knew he shouldn’t be.

The city survived because of the Castle’s enchantments—they held the island together and kept out the worst of the storm—but the Castle was capable of so much more. Once, Ravel had seen a tower rotate as a flight of monsters approached the isle. A window had irised open and a brilliant orange beam had incinerated the entire group… and two of the Guardians who had been heading out to fight them. Other times, the castle ignored attackers. Ravel had spent a terrified evening a few years ago waiting to hear back from Aunt Fi after a beast the size of the bus had crash-landed on the island near the weavery and raged for over an hour before it had been put down.

Some kids, terrified that the monster would turn toward the nursery, had prayed to the castle, begging it to intervene. Ravel had considered doing the same, but hadn’t. What if the castle took out the monster, and incinerated the weavery in the process? The monster was frightening, yes, but… was it more dangerous to Aunt Fi than the castle itself?

He’d spent the evening in agonized paralysis, crying in relief when Aunt Fi finally arrived.

“Did the castle take the monster out?” he’d asked.

She’d shaken her head. “No: it took them a while, but the Guardians got it.”
“What did the castle do?”

“Nothing.”

“But the monster was here for hours! It must have done something.”

“Well… it didn’t. Ravel, calm down. I’m safe!”

He’d let his aunt soothe him, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget that evening as long as he lived.

Just look at it, Ravel thought. It couldn’t be reliable if it tried. It’s got all the organization and planning of a remnants pile.

In general, he tried to avoid the castle. He didn’t watch it. Didn’t even think about it if he could help it. It was so… hodgepodge: a collection of scraps haphazardly sewn together with no cohesive style, no thought given to color or form. He’d seen the building change, seen towers move, seen windows emerge and disappear. It didn’t have to look like the architectural equivalent of a snarl of tangled threads, but it did.

How could something so hideous, so random, be what held their island together? How could it be what protected them from the storm’s worst ravages? How-

The noise of metal on stone was audible even over the wind, and Ravel turned to see the door to the rooftop bouncing away from the wall of the stairwell enclosure. Teenagers, almost his age, piled out, swarming around the roof, but congregating at the bins next to the chicken coop.

“They’re locked!” shouted the boy that reached them first. Ravel recognized him: Greth, one of the top Chase players at the activity center.

“Well, what are you going to do, then?” a girl called. “Are you gonna answer the question, or do I think up something worse?”

“Anna,” Greth groaned. “I gave it my best shot.”

“I really don’t think it’s safe for him to eat chicken feed, anyway,” said another girl, a shorter one. Kris. Ravel knew her: she’d been working as an aide in Doctor May’s medical office for the past few years. “Your mom should be back soon with the rootcakes. Why don’t we take a break?”

“I guess,” Anna said. “You’re not off the hook, though, Greth! You-” She cut off. “Oh, Ravel! Hey! Glad you could make it! I didn’t even see you arrive! I thought you’d be at your own party!”

“Oh, uh,” Ravel managed. What should he say? I wasn’t trying to come to your graduation party, I was just hanging around on the stormy roof like a weirdo? No way.

Fortunately, Anna didn’t wait for a response, grabbing his arm and dragging him back toward the staircase. “Come on! You’ve got to try these rootcakes! My mom ordered them from this lady who lives over by Cat nursery and she is serious about cooking. Insisted that they were best fresh, so she’s over at my parents’ house using their oven. She’s making them in small batches that my mom’s bringing up to us.”

“Sounds great,” Ravel managed, which Anna took as permission to drag him down the stairs to one of the meeting rooms on the top level. Either she or her parents had booked the space for her party.

A chalkboard had been set up against the wall with “Congratulations Anna!” filling it with big, bubbly text. Strings of colorful pennants ringed the walls. The table in the center was filled with treats atop a heavily embroidered tablecloth, and four cushy couches surrounded the table. A man - Anna’s dad? - stood against the far wall, a drink in his hand and a proud expression on his face. 

The teens threw themselves down, crowding each couch with five or six people.

Ravel perched on the arm of the couch nearest the door.

Their timing had been good. 

They’d barely had a chance to sit before an adult woman - Anna’s mom? - swept into the room. She set the tray she was holding down on the one empty spot on the table, and then, to Ravel’s surprise, immediately spun to greet him, pressing a jelly-topped rootcake into his hands. “Ravel! So happy you could make it. I’m glad Anna will have company when she gets on the bus. You’re the only other one graduating from Spider Nursery tomorrow.”

“Uh… yeah,” Ravel said, then stuffed a bite in his mouth to cover his awkward response. How did she know his name? Had someone said it just now? Or maybe Anna’s mom had looked into him after she found out he shared a graduation day with her daughter. The slightly bitter taste of the rootcake and the sharp sweetness of the jelly were delicious together. “This is really good!”

“Aw, you’re such a sweetheart. What are your graduation plans? Mage or Walker?”

“Walker,” Ravel said.

Anna’s mom nodded. “Ah, headed to work with your aunt?

“I hope so,” Ravel said. She had looked into him. Or had they met before? Had he forgotten her? He didn’t think so. To cover his confusion, he scrambled for a question. “Is Anna going Walker?”

The older woman shrugged. “We’ll see. She’s interested in mage, but she’s promised to swap to Walker if- Well, I’ll let her tell you! I don’t want to keep monopolizing Anna’s guests! I’ve got to run back home to pick up another batch of rootcakes.”

Ravel took another bite, not quite sure how he’d found himself at Anna’s graduation party. She was nice enough - everyone here was - but they weren’t close friends. I’ll just stay here quietly long enough to finish my cake, and then I’ll make my excuses. Everyone will understand that I’m busy.

He glanced up to see Greth grinning at him. The taller boy slammed his fist into his opposite palm. “Man, I’m so jealous! The two of you get to leave tomorrow, and I gotta wait another 35 days!”

Despite his intention to stay quiet, surprise prompted Ravel to speak. “You’re that desperate to go through mage training?”

Greth made a disgusted noise. “No, man! Forget magic. I’m not gonna train to be a mage. I’m just excited to have some freedom! Maybe sit next to a girl without some old guy giving me the stink eye.”

“Hey, just doing my job,” Anna’s dad called, clearly amused.

Greth froze. “Uh, sorry?”

The man laughed. “No, don’t worry about it. At your age, I couldn’t wait to graduate either. Just make sure you don’t go too crazy when you get your freedom. Mage training is dangerous, and even Walker training isn’t safe.”

Anna snorted. “How many times do you think you need to say that to me, Dad?”

“As many as I can before tomorrow morning! I can’t come with you to training.”

“Castle protect us all,” Anna muttered. “That’s the last thing I need, Dad! If I’m going to be a mage, I’ll need to focus!”

“Why do you even want to be a mage?” Ravel asked.

“Why wouldn’t I? Maybe I’ll even be a Guardian. Defend our island from monsters, push away other islands before they can hit us, protect the city!”

“Because you don’t want to die?”  Ravel said.

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. 

Anna looked shocked, then glared at her father. “You put him up to that.”

Ravel took a deep breath. “He didn’t, but I was out of line. I’m sorry. I… know it’s an important job. It’s just not for me.”

“He’s right, though,” Anna’s father called. “I’d really rather you didn’t go for Guardian, honey. Only half of them make it to retirement.”

“But liked Ravel said, it’s an important job,” Anna said, her teeth gritted. “Someone has to do it.

“It… is,” her father acknowledged. “But I don’t want you to live life just for other people. Guardians spend their whole lives protecting the rest of us, and then they retire, and then what? Most of those go into the castle and try to get it under control, and then no one ever sees them again!”

Anna sighed. “I’m not going to do that, Dad. I just want to be a mage. Do something cool. Who wouldn’t want to be able to do anything? Just think something and it happens!” 

Ravel remembered his earlier urge to reach out and touch raw magic. “I don’t think it’s quite that easy. Anyway, I definitely think too many stupid things.”

Anna frowned. “Well, we’ll see if I even have the aptitude to be a mage. I want to try, but if I’m not making any progress, I promised I’d swap to Walker training.”

“That’s smart,” Ravel said.

Anna shrugged, suddenly downcast. “If I had your talent, I’d do Walker training for sure. You can make a good living with just embroidery, if you want to. You don’t need magic. As it is, I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t handle mage training.”

“There’s always work in the grandelion fields,” another girl said. “Especially if you get good at harvesting the more difficult parts of the plant.”

“I guess that would be fine,” Anna said. “But who dreams of being a grandelion harvester?”

The admission cast a pall over the gathering, a moment of silence as too many people averted their eyes from each other’s faces. Ravel realized with a shock that Anna’s lack of direction was hardly unique: almost none of the kids there had concrete plans for the future. The only other kid who didn’t look uncertain was Kris, the girl apprenticed to Spider Nursery’s doctor. Ravel and Kris shared a helpless look of surprise. 

After a moment, Greth slapped his knees. “Well, you’ll figure it out. This is a party, though, right? Have you thought up a new penalty for me in Dangerous Questions? I’m not going to answer that question.”

“That’s kind of an answer in itself, isn’t it?” Anna asked.

Greth sputtered. “No! It could be… I could like… You don’t know that!”

Oh, hell no, Ravel thought. The last thing he wanted was to sit around while his classmates tried to wriggle out of telling their deepest secrets and pressured him to share his. Plus, he’d only been part of this party for ten minutes, and he’d already been a jerk to the guest of honor. Not on purpose, but he almost wished it had been: then he could be sure he wouldn’t do it again by accident.

He stood, forcing a smile to his face. “That sounds like fun, but I’ll have to pass. I’ve got some things I need to take care of before I leave. Thanks for the cake, Anna.”

“Thanks for stopping in!” Anna’s smile might have been a little stiff, but Ravel was still happy to see it. He’d screwed up, but if she could still pretend to like him, it could have been worse, right? “See you tomorrow morning!”

Ravel nodded. “See you.”

He meandered slowly down the hallways and flights of stairs until he reached the living quarters he and his two younger siblings shared with their cousins. He didn’t expect anyone to be home—classes were done for the day, but Challie liked helping out in the kitchens and everyone else was usually in the activity center at this time—but to his surprise, all five younger kids were waiting for him, and even his older cousin Lanat was there, perched on the edge of Vera’s bunk. 

“Where have you been?!” Lanat asked.

Ravel stopped in the doorway. “Lanat? I thought you’d be working.”

She shrugged. “I went in early today.”

“But… the storm…”

“It’s bad, but I took it slow. Took breaks. I got here just fine.” She tilted her head. “You really think I’d let you graduate without stopping by?” 

He had, honestly, but he didn’t want to say that. 

If he’d been thinking a lot about Terry’s death the past few days, it must have been worse for Lanat. Terry had been her little brother, after all, and Lanat had always looked after her siblings with an almost parental fierceness. 

Lanat had been very suspicious of Ravel and his siblings when they’d moved to Spider nursery: tirelessly watching them, making sure they knew and followed the rules, and never ever wronged her own siblings in the slightest.

Ravel didn’t think Niko and Vera even remembered that. They’d been young when they’d moved in, and somewhere along the lines— Ravel wasn’t quite sure where—Lanat had changed. Or, well, maybe she’d stayed the same, but how the prickly girl had viewed her cousins had changed. In the past few years, Lanat had looked out for the three of them just as aggressively as she did her own siblings.

Belatedly, Ravel realized that Lanat was still looking at him, waiting for him to respond. He cleared his throat. “Well… thanks. Is… is Aunt Fi coming?”

 Lanat shook her head. “No, she had a custom job to finish. A tartan pattern she’s been working on all week for some bigwig over in the Fish district.”

“Oh,” was all Ravel said aloud, but his mind churned with disappointment. She could have taken a break. Couldn’t she? 

“Here!” Challie had leapt off her bed. “I couldn’t get an oven to make rootcakes—they’re all being used to make casseroles for dinner—but I made these on a stovetop. They’re kind of like rootcakes?”

His cousin shoved a covered basket in his face, a savory smell wafting up through the towel. Curious, he accepted it, pulling back the cloth to reveal a series of flat, breadlike objects.

Challie tilted her head, peering up at his face. “I know they’re not right, and I didn’t get any jelly, but—

Ravel reached out an arm, pulling the younger girl into a hug. “They look great, Challie. Thank you.”

She brightened. “Well, then. Let’s eat!”

…

Challie’s pan-fried rootcakes were terrible. The crisped bottom added to the cake’s natural bitterness, and there was no sweet jelly to offset the flavor. One bite was enough for almost everyone.

Ravel kept eating, even as Challie begged him to stop.

“I should have tried them before I brought them home! I’m so sorry! You don’t have to eat it!”

“It’s delicious,” Ravel said, stoically taking another bite.

“It’s noooot! I know it’s not!”

“I love— His attempted declaration of affection was interrupted as a crumb of overly-dry pastry got caught in his throat and made him cough. One massive gulp of water later, he met Callie’s eyes and repeated himself in a raspy voice: “I love it.”

“Ravel!” Callie snatched her pillow off her bunk to bury her face in.

Eventually, even Ravel gave up, laughing and pulling his cousin into his lap. “Okay, I can’t eat it, but I still love it. Thank you all for hanging out with me tonight.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Lanat said stiffly. “I should have organized a party for you.”

“Yeah, or I should have,” Niko said. “I didn’t think about it until today.”

“Me either,” said Challie guiltily. “If I’d thought about it a few days ago, I could definitely have gotten some jelly.”

“I thought Mom was going to organize a party for you,” Mark said. “It’s the moms’ and dads’ job to organize the party.”

“Maybe she thought our dad would,” Vera said. “I mean, Aunt Fi has taken care of us like a mom, but she’s our Aunt, I guess.”

Lanat cast Ravel a worried look at the younger kids’ words. “I’m sure it’s not—

“Don’t worry about it,” Ravel said. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Plus, I stopped by Anna’s party earlier and I didn’t like it at all. Hanging out with you guys tonight is perfect.”

His words lifted some of the shadow from the group, and Lanat smiled. “Well, that’s good, because that’s exactly what you’re getting! Since we’re done with cake, do you want to do games first or presents? You’ve already gotten Challie’s—

“Don’t remind me!” the younger girl moaned.

“But I have a little something for you, and I know Vera does too—

“I have a card!” Mark shouted, pulling a crumpled paper out of his vest.

Ravel grinned as the younger boy pushed the abused card into his hands. Maybe today wasn’t so bad, after all.

Chapter 2

In ancient times, people didn’t rely on the bells to keep time! Instead, the outside world got dimmer at “night.” 

• Excerpt from Origins (Age 5) history primer

Ravel didn’t have a hard time falling asleep that night—surprising even himself—but he woke up early the next morning, brimming with nervous energy. He found his crochet hook and yarn by feel and started a simple blanket. There was no way he’d finish it in the next hour, but the younger kids knew to leave his stuff alone. It would still be there when he got back, whether that was a few days from now or a few months.

Of course, the whole thing will probably need to be frogged. Even with a simple stitch, I’m not keeping them even in the dark. The yarn will still be fine afterward, though. I can use it for a different project.

Keeping his hands busy kept him from tossing and turning, and the single crochet hook was silent as it moved through the soft yarn. If it didn’t accomplish anything in the long-term, that was alright. It let the five other people in the room keep sleeping, and part of Ravel wasn’t wholly convinced he would have a long term.

Ten out of 200 dead, but only three were on the Walker path. And more than half of the 200 took the Walker path. So my odds are… not bad, I think? A little more than a 1 in 50 chance to die?

The number wasn’t comforting, but there wasn’t much he could do. Everyone had to graduate. Everyone had to learn to live with the magic, even the adults who came back to work in the nurseries later. Ravel could kind of understand. There wasn’t space here, not really, not like he could see outside from the rooftop or the balconies. And that was with the current rules. If they didn’t force everyone to graduate, what would Nurseries be like then? Just walls of cots on every floor with no room for anyone to move?

Two hours later, the peal of the morning bell sounded, faintly audible even through the nursery’s many walls. Ravel flipped on the light. He tugged the curtain across the middle, separating the girls’ and boys’ bunks, as his siblings and cousins dragged themselves out of bed with an assortment of groans and complaints. 

He’d packed his usual clothes in his bag the previous night and laid out his festival finery, but should he really wear it? If people died during training, there were probably injuries, too. Did he really want to risk damaging his best outfit?

“Just put it on, you doofus,” Niko said.

Ravel turned to see his younger brother already dressed. “But what if—

“Then you’ll make another one or replace part of this or whatever. You’ll probably enjoy it. Besides, didn’t you say you messed up the embroidery on the right sleeve?”

Ravel’s hand moved to cover the offending stitches before he could stop himself, but Niko caught it and peered at the garment. “It looks fine to me, honestly—

“Are you kidding? One of the leaves is going at a completely different angle than the rest.”

“They’re leaves, Ravel.”

“It’s a pattern, Niko.”

His younger brother shrugged. “Then wear it. If it gets damaged you can replace it.”

Ravel had no answer to that. He grinned. “Thanks.”

Niko shoved him. “Hurry up and get dressed. We can eat together before I go to classes. I’ll miss you.”

The last sentence seemed to have almost slipped out of Niko, quiet and unplanned.

Trapped, halfway into putting on his shirt, Ravel couldn’t reach out to his sibling. “I’ll come back and visit. Lanat does. A lot of people do.”

Niko shrugged. “Yeah but… not every day. And I won’t see you at all during training. And it’ll be three years until I graduate and I’m not sure where I’ll be working but it’s not gonna be at the weavery.”

“You can still move into my apartment, unless you decide to go work on the opposite side of the city,” Ravel offered.

Niko froze. “You mean that? What if you make new friends, or even a girlfriend, and you want to live with them?”

“What ‘if’ I make friends, he says,” Ravel grumbled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Niko laughed. “Yeah, okay, probably not. It’ll probably take you a year just to stay hi to someone new.”

“I’m not that bad,” Ravel said. “But even if I get a roommate, it would have to be someone who’d be okay letting you stay with us after you graduate.”

“No take-backs?” Niko said. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Me too!” Vera called from behind the curtain. “I get to live with you too.”

“I’ll graduate before either of you,” Challie retorted. “Maybe I’ll go stay with him and turn all his extra space into a bakery.”

Ravel laughed, adjusting his clothes and pushing past the curtain into the hall. “Any of you can come stay with me, but I never agreed to live in a bakery! Come on, let’s get to breakfast. I can’t miss the bus!”

Vera rolled her eyes at him. “You’re the slowpoke, Ravel. Everyone else is ready!”

Breakfast was good, but over too quickly. It felt like only moments before Ravel was hugging his siblings and cousins goodbye.

He headed down the stairs out of the cafeteria, through the activity center that took up the first floor. It was full of kids on the night schedule, burning off energy at the end of their day: they splashed in the pool, raced around the track, climbed the jungle gym, or played games in the open area.

On the far wall, a heavily pregnant lady sat in a comfortable chair near the door to the garage. She watched him as he approached: with his finery and his knapsack, it was clear he wasn’t here to exercise.

“Name?” 

“Ravel Lion-spider.”

She consulted her clipboard, then raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a Ravel Lion-spider. I have a Dolovan Lion-spider.”

He hunched. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“Hm. Can I see your medallion?”

Ravel unslung the heavy piece of jewelry from his neck. With the animals of his parents’ nurseries engraved on the front, and his name and birth year on the back, it served as his identification. It wasn’t something he usually wore, or needed to wear, but he’d been warned to have it with him today.

The attendant flipped it over to check the name, then motioned him through the door. “Okay, you’re good to go. Stay behind the white line until you’re told to cross it.”

“I know,” snapped Ravel. 

The lady stiffened, clearly offended by his tone, but Ravel just pushed through the door, too wound-up to apologize.

He’d been in the garage before, but not frequently. Once a year, there was a “Danger of Magic” demonstration, where a luckless chicken was pushed through the magical barrier in front of a few thousand horrified kids. Once outside, it usually took only seconds for the chicken to begin mutating. Growing larger was common, as was getting faster, but reasonable changes like these were almost inevitably followed by a steadily-decreasing loss of cohesive shape, until the former chicken was nothing but a pile of writhing goo that died on its own.

Only twice had the Guardians had to step in to put the chicken down themselves, and only once had Ravel seen the chicken stop changing while it still looked anything like a chicken. The farmers had released a second chicken that year, just so the kids would be adequately frightened. Ravel thought the grotesque form the first chicken had mutated into was sufficient deterrent, but no one had asked him.

As much as he hated those demonstrations, they were still better memories of the garage than the first time he’d been in this one. He—

“Ravel!” Anna’s shout was a welcome distraction from his unpleasant thoughts. The girl actually looked excited, not intimidated at all by the danger that lay ahead of her. Her mom and dad stood with her. He still didn’t know their names, but they waved at Ravel too, echoing their friendly daughter.

Other than them, the garage was mostly empty. There was one delivery truck unloading the day’s shipment of grandelion heads, stems, and leaves, and a few attendants. 

That was it. 

No one else.

“Come stand with us, Ravel!” Anna’s mother called. “I heard the bus is probably running a few minutes behind schedule: the weather this morning isn’t as bad as last night, but it’s a little rough.”

“Oh. Thanks for telling me.” He offered her a tight smile. 

Anna didn’t look happy to see him, and Ravel quickly figured out why, after her father grilled Ravel about his plans for Walker training.

Monosyllabic answers didn’t seem to deter him, and Anna slouched further and further in irritation.

Anna’s the one who’ll be with me in training, Ravel thought. A moment later, he turned to her dad. “Look, Anna wants to try to be a mage. You don’t want her to. That’s between you and her; don’t make me a part of it.”

Anna’s father gaped at him, and Ravel suddenly realized how rude he’d been.

“Oh. Uh, sorry?”

Ravel shrank away, poised for Anna’s dad to explode in anger. Instead, the whole family started laughing. 

“Hah! Take that, Dad!” Anna said. 

The older man raised his hands. “Fairly said, Ravel. I’m sorry. Anna’s our only, and it’s possible I’m being a little too overprotective.”

“You think?” Anna muttered.

“He has his reasons, dear. When you were a toddler, you snuck by the watch post at the activity center three times. Thank the castle the garage attendants caught you before you made it outside!”

Ravel stared at Anna. “How?! That door is heavy. A toddler couldn’t even open it.”

Anna shrugged, unrepentant. “We’re not sure. I wasn’t a big talker at the time. Best guess is that I snuck through with groups that were allowed to exit.”

“That’s hardly the only thing you did!” Anna’s mom said.

Anna’s mom launched into a series of tales of Anna as a small child. The stories got increasingly difficult to believe. Apparently Anna had been something of a terror, unbound by rules, good sense, or propriety.

Anna took most of it with aplomb, but after a story about her walking through the cafeteria with the entire family’s underthings hanging off her arms, her chagrined gaze tracked to Ravel.

He shrugged. “There’d be just as many stories about me, if anyone was here to tell them.”

The comment was meant to be comforting, but Anna’s brows drew up in concern. She glanced around the garage, as if only now realizing that Ravel was here alone. He could almost see the thoughts take shape in her mind, and suddenly regretted his charity. He’d been perfectly happy to just exist, without anyone focusing on him. 

“Where is your family?” Anna asked.

“In classes, mostly,” Ravel said.

Anna shook her head. “Not your siblings. I’m asking about—

Anna’s father placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, his expression severe. Anna glanced up at him and wilted.

“Sorry!” she said. “I didn’t mean—

“It’s okay,” Ravel said. “They, um—

He hesitated, not knowing what to say. Anna’s embarrassed look and her parents’ concerned ones didn’t make it any easier. 

“The bus should have been here by now, shouldn’t it?” Ravel asked, desperately turning to scan the road. As anxious as he’d been about magic training, life-threatening danger seemed preferable to his current circumstances. He actually felt relief when he saw it in the distance. “Wait, is that it?”

He sagged in relief as their eyes followed his pointing finger away from him and down the road. 

“I think it is!” Anna said. 

Blessed silence descended as the four watched the vehicle grow larger and larger, and finally pull up beside the garage. Attendants leapt into action, moving a flexible enchantment into place to create a temporary magicless tunnel between the garage and the door of the bus. 

Anna’s parents gave her hugs and offered tearful farewells as Ravel started plodding forward. He’d almost reached the tunnel when something stopped him. Had he heard… his name?

The sound repeated, a little louder this time. He looked out into the magic storm to see his aunt pelting toward the garage at a dead run, a bundle of fabric in her arms. “Ravel!”

He stared at her, confused and dumbfounded. “Aunt Fi?”

She didn’t slow until she’d almost reached him, stumbling into a hug that was almost a tackle. “So sorry I’m late! I was trying to finish this and I didn’t quite manage, but then I saw the bus coming and, well…”

Ravel felt a lump rise in his throat. “You didn’t need to make me anything, Aunt Fi.”

His aunt looked stricken. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more lately. I hope your father—

She stopped in the middle of the sentence, her face horrified as she craned her neck to peer around the garage. “Don’t tell me my brother didn’t show up this morning.”

In her arms, Ravel shrugged.

“And I wasn’t here either.”

Ravel shrugged again.

Aunt Fi scowled, her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry, Ravel.”

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “It’s really good to see you today.”

“Thanks for— “ Aunt Fi sighed. “I don’t deserve your thanks! But… Listen, things are going to be better from now on, okay? I’m really looking forward to having you at the weavery.”

“I’m looking forward to being there,” Ravel said.

“I’m not just saying that, you know,” Aunt Fi said. “Some of our stuff is rush orders, but I’ve been putting off a few long-term projects that will be good for teaching. I know you’ll pick it up in a flash.”

“You think I should learn on things we’ll sell to customers?!”

“It’s just a rough muslin for bags to hold grandelion flour. It’ll be perfect. You’ll see.”

Ravel grinned. He’d missed Aunt Fi. He’d missed learning from her. “Okay. If you’re sure."

A loud voice made them both turn. “All graduates, on board now! We have two pickups scheduled here and I see two teens, so let’s get things moving! We’re behind schedule and we’ve got fifteen more stops to make!”

Obediently, Ravel started to pull away, but his aunt stopped him. She pushed the bundle into his arms and put her hand on his cheek, and looking deep into his eyes. “Just… stay safe for me, okay? I love you.”

Ravel nodded. “Love you too, Aunt Fi.”

She let him go.

He climbed aboard, leaving his childhood behind.

Chapter 3

While magic can do almost anything, it cannot be used within the nurseries. Thus, it is important to keep the ancient arts alive.

• Introduction to Electricity, an age 10 science primer

Just stepping into the bus was a shock. 

He thought he’d known what to expect - he’d ridden it before when he’d moved from Lion Nursery as a child - but only the shape of the vehicle was the same.

Before, the bus had been nearly empty, with only himself, his two siblings, and his father riding inside. The driver was outside the bus, of course, riding atop the vehicle; since the inside was shielded, there was no way a mage could use magic from inside of it.

The bus was only a third of the way through its stops today, but even so, there were people scattered throughout the entirety. Four of them were adults, two perched in seats near the back of the bus, and two more at the front, but the rest were teenagers.

People his age.

People he didn’t know. 

A cheer went up as he entered, and Ravel blushed as he heard a few approving shouts.

“Woo, snappy dresser!”

“Nice hair, Spider boy!”

“Looking good, Spider!”

The shouts seemed sincere, but they made him feel awkward and self-conscious. He handed his medallion to one of the adults near the door, who gave it a perfunctory examination and ticked his name off a list. 

“Intended path?” the man asked as he handed the medallion back. 

“Walker,” Ravel said.

“Hm. You should at least try the mage path, see if you have any aptitude. We always need more mages.”

No chance in hell, Ravel thought. He made a noise that could have meant anything and turned to take a seat. He’d thought he would sit with Anna, but he could already see her at the back of the bus seated next to a tall, black-haired boy. The boy actually had his arm around her, and the adults could clearly see them and didn’t care.

Ravel had assumed they were there as chaperones, but they obviously weren’t.

That’s right, Ravel realized. We’re out of the nurseries now.

Should he sit near someone who’d shouted compliments at him? 

Was it rude not to? 

Niko would be laughing at me right now if he could see me.

The bus lurched and Ravel stumbled, catching himself on an empty bench. Gratefully, he took it as an excuse to sit, flashing an apologetic smile to the rest of the bus at large.

He was relieved when the bus stopped at Turtle Nursery a few minutes later and the crowd erupted in cheers again. In fact, they did that every time a new passenger boarded. 

About half the graduates would gleefully return the shouts and prance to the back of the bus, but the other half didn’t. Instead, responses ranged from embarrassed smiles, to confusion, all the way to abject terror. 

The passengers formed a gradient of excitement, with the back benches literally bursting into songs between stops, the middle of the bus watching the back with more subdued interest and sometimes joining in, and the front of the bus filling with the more anxious and overwhelmed passengers, culminating with a boy in one of the frontmost seats who had literally curled up into a ball, not responding to those around him. Ravel couldn’t even see his face, just a shock of orangeish hair and unusually light skin above a vest with better stitching than most.

Paradoxically, seeing that boy’s fear made Ravel feel braver. He might be worried, but he was handling it relatively well compared to some people. A girl who had boarded at Urchin Nursery was literally shaking! 

Gradually, Ravel began to relax. This will be fine. I’ll be careful, and it will be just fine. Lanat was fine. Most people are. 

He suddenly remembered the bundle that Aunt Fi had pushed into his hands as he’d left. His gift? He’d been so tense, so focused on his situation and the other passengers, that he’d half-forgotten he was holding it. Whatever it was, it was surprisingly heavy.

Curious now, Ravel unclenched his fingers from the mouth of the cloth bag and stretched it open to peer inside. 

The first thing he took out of the sack confused him. A bundle of sticks? Thin strips of dried grandelion bark had been separated, smoothed, and cut to the same length. Ravel stared for a moment, flummoxed. The stiff sticks were tied in a bundle. What could they be used for? They were far too stiff and inflexible to weave. Maybe they were part of a loom or replacements for part of a device used for dying fabric or something and they’d been included here by accident.

Shaking his head, he set them aside and pulled out the other large object in the bag. 

This one made more sense to him, a thick twill vest in a dark red, long enough to stretch past his waist and cover his upper thighs. It seemed to have two separate layers. The outer layer was covered in applique and the beginnings of embroidery.

Unfortunately, it was unfinished. Only a few inches of the embroidered pattern were complete, and the appliqued fabric around the collar had been tacked down hastily, with exposed edges that would fray eventually.

The bag wasn’t quite empty. A glance inside revealed several carefully-coiled skeins of thread and a set of needles in a small pouch. Had she just… grabbed her project bag and chucked it at him? It really seemed like it.

Aunt Fi did say she ran out the door. I guess she meant it! Still, why was she in such a rush to give this to me before I went? She could have kept working on it and given it to me when I got home. She hates showing people unfinished work even more than I do, usually.

Curious, Ravel explored the garment, looking for clues. The knee-length vest was a style he’d seen before, occasionally, but he’d never owned anything similar. Was it something men at the weavery wore? No, not necessarily. He’d met a few of his aunt’s co-workers and most of them didn’t dress like this.  

When Ravel’s fingers closed on the lower layer, he started in surprise. This is thick! Wait… this is two pieces of twill quilted together? What was she thinking? Twill’s already a thick fabric. With the top layer and this, that’s three layers! It’s going to be swelteringly hot!

When he flipped the upper layer aside to look at the lower one more closely, his confusion only deepened when he saw that the “quilting” wasn’t really quilting, but rows of thin vertical pockets. It was such an insane construction that Ravel didn’t immediately correlate it to the bundle of sticks he’d found at the top of the bag. 

When he did, he was dumbfounded. Armor?! Aunt Fi made me armor?

He had no idea if armor would help him avoid Terry’s fate - probably not, since no one else on the bus was wearing any - but he was touched by his aunt’s care. She might not have been stopping by much, but she’d still been thinking of him.

His fingers brushed the unfinished decorations on the upper layer. His aunt had even tried her best to camouflage her work and keep him from looking silly. She hadn’t gotten it done in time, but…

Hm, we just left Vulture Nursery, so we’ve got twelve more stops to go. That will take at least another four hours, probably more. She gave me her whole project bag… Ah, why not? It will pass the time.

He threaded the needle and got to work.

It was late in the day before the bus made it to Horse Nursery, its last stop. One tall girl with a combative expression and hair shaped like a grandelion puff got on and smirked calmly at the wild cheers, sashaying past Ravel to drop into one of the last empty seats in the middle of the bus.

As soon as she was seated, one of the attendants at the front of the bus clapped his hands. “Okay, listen up! The whole class is here -” he paused as the bus, predictably, cheered this “-so we’re headed to the training grounds!” More cheers. The attendant grinned. “Now, don’t get too excited! We’ll be exiting the bus into a magically-shielded building very similar to the nurseries you came from to let you all eat dinner.”

“We’re not going to start training tonight?”

Ravel glanced back at the indignant outburst, and wasn’t shocked to see that it had come from the girl who’d just boarded. She was leaning forward in her seat like she was ready to spring into action. To do what, he wasn’t sure, but he scooted away from the aisle anyway. A girl like that should be given space.

The older man laughed, not bothered by the girl’s aggressive reaction. “You’ll get a quick introduction after dinner. We know you won’t sleep, otherwise. Eat up quick, then line up by the stairs in the corner when you’re ready!”

The enchanted tunnel was connected within seconds of the bus parking, and the moment the doors opened, there was a rapid exodus. Ravel got his sewing supplies packed away quickly, but he was still one of the last to leave.

Some of the graduates were already lined up by the staircase, apparently skipping dinner. Others had gotten plates and sat down at the tables spread throughout the hall, but no one seemed to be relaxing. It was pretty quiet, the crowd of teens foregoing chatter in favor of demolishing the food in a workmanlike manner.

Despite his late departure from the bus, Ravel was in the middle of the line. He’d felt a little alarmed to see kids already lined up before he’d even entered the dining hall. The sight had made him briefly consider skipping dinner entirely. But he’d promised Challie he’d eat well, so he’d thrown meat into a tortilla and devoured it grimly, not knowing or caring how it tasted. 

It was kind of weird how the adults didn’t interfere. They didn’t make the kids who’d decided to skip dinner go eat. They didn’t encourage anyone to eat more slowly. They didn’t even step in when those in line started to shout at the few still at the tables. It was bizarre to Ravel, but he supposed that they were all adults now? Kind of? Technically?

As the number of people still eating dwindled, the pressure on those remaining increased. Finally, the last few graduates abandoned plates half-filled with food and hurried into line, cheeks still bulging with one last overlarge bite. 

As soon as everyone was in line, two attendants, a tall older man and a young cheerful woman, moved to the front. The woman cupped her hands around her mouth. “Are you all ready for some magic?”

Ravel felt his belly clench, but tried to smile. The line of teens erupted into cheers;  even those who’d seemed terrified were trying to put on a brave face. 

The lady smiled at them kindly and began going down the stairs, her body turned sideways so she could talk to them as she walked. “Alright, follow us! I’ll take you to a one-Avalon level chamber. I know some of you are excited, and some of you are nervous, but there’s really no reason to be either!”

Her words prompted confused laughter.

“No! Really! I’m serious.” The lady glanced over her shoulder to flash them a smile. “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about how dangerous magical training is, and it’s true! But accidents come later in training. The room we’re taking you to will have magic, but it’s at a very low level. Even an infant or a plant would almost certainly be safe here, and there’s zero chance of someone your age undergoing spontaneous mutation. Once you start learning to sense and manipulate magic, you’ll have to be more careful, but the start of training is very safe. Once you can handle yourself well, we’ll move you up to a two-Avalon density, then three, and so on.”

“So Avalons are a measure of density?” Ravel asked. “How many do you train us to handle?”

“Great question! Our training rooms go up to twenty Avalons.”

“Density goes much higher than that, though.”

It could have been an innocuous comment, but the words were spat out suspiciously, like an accusation.

Ravel wasn’t surprised when he glanced back and saw that the statement had been made by the girl he was now thinking of as Grandelion Puff. It was the second time he’d heard her speak, and the second time he’d wondered if she was about to try to fight an adult trained mage with her bare hands.

The friendly lady leading them down the stairs paused for a second, rocking as the kid behind her ran into her back. “Uh, yes… that’s true. But if you can handle yourself at twenty Avalons, you should be able to move around Marynth Isle in relative freedom.”

Grandelion Puff scoffed. “Marynth Isle always stays below 20 Avalons?”

The lady shifted. “No. It’s usually around 20 though. And by the time you can handle that, you should have a sense of what’s safe for you and be able to keep things together long enough to reach shelter, even if it spikes much higher.”

“What about outside of Marynth Isle?”

The lady peered back up toward Grandelion Puff. “If you’re planning on becoming a Guardian, you’ll do more training with them after you finish here. If you’re not, that shouldn’t matter to you.”

Thankfully, the answer seemed to satisfy the aggressive girl, and the line got moving again. The tall man led the way silently, letting his gregarious partner continue to field all the questions. 

To Ravel’s relief, Grandelion Puff didn’t interject again. Other kids asked fairly easy stuff: How often do we train? How long do we train for each day? How do you know we’re ready to move up to another training room?

Ravel didn’t learn anything he hadn’t already heard from Lanat, except that the dorms they’d be staying in tonight were underground: a relief considering they’d already walked down at least three hundred stairs and down about five minutes of hallway at the bottom. 

It struck Ravel as odd. Why would the bus park so far from the training area? 

Maybe the bus always parks at the same spot, but kids go to different areas. If there are accidents sometimes, it makes sense to keep the training areas separate. 

Ravel shuddered at the thought and tried to find something to distract himself with. The clothes the other kids were wearing? They weren’t bad, honestly. Most kids had come in their festival finery, and it was overall nice stuff. Not well-tailored to them, usually, but that wasn’t too surprising. You could get a job anywhere in Marynth City after graduating, but a lot of people wanted to stay close to family, or the friends they grew up with, so there were definite trends: more than half the workers at the weavery had grown up in Spider or Raccoon nurseries. 

Hah, he probably comes from Raccoon nursery, Ravel thought as he noticed the boy in the green vest again, the one who’d spent the bus ride hunched up in terror. If it was just one article of clothing that fit him perfectly, it’d be one thing, but it’s all of it: his shirt, his vest, his pants. I wonder if he fixed them himself? 

Ravel sped up slightly, encouraged by the thought. It’d be nice to have a friend who shared his interests. He caught up, but as he started to introduce himself, he paused.  He’d assumed the boy - who he was thinking of as Green Vest - was doing better, and had shaken off his terror. He’d gotten off the bus, eaten dinner, and gotten in line, after all. But one look at Green Vest’s face made him rapidly reassess that assumption.

Green Vest had fairly pale skin, but the color he was now couldn’t be healthy, could it? It would be a fine color for the inside of an eggshell: nearly white with hints of yellow.

It didn’t look right on a human face.

Ravel put a hesitant hand on Green Vest’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Green vest shook himself. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I chose to be here.”

You didn’t, Ravel thought. All of us had to be here.  He kept his comments to himself. Green Vest was clearly struggling; if his belief was helping him move forward, Ravel wasn’t going to nitpick it.

Ravel kept pace with Green Vest. Someone should be ready to catch him if he faints.

Finally, after several more minutes and a multitude of unchosen turns and unopened doors, the group stopped. The hallway dead-ended into a decorative door. 

Their cheerful guide woman unlocked it and pulled it open, standing aside and gesturing the kids past her. “Here we are, kids! Time to see what you’re made of!”

There was a surge as most of the group rushed past her, spreading out through the room. Grandelion Puff and a number of others sat down immediately, arranging themselves in meditative postures and shutting their eyes, not wasting a second as they tried to reach out and touch the magic.

Green Vest didn’t join the stampede. He moved forward slowly, almost weakly. Ravel hung back. This kid did not seem well. 

Ravel called to their guides. “Hey, is there a doctor around? He doesn’t look so good.”

For the first time, the lady’s cheerful demeanor broke down. She peered at the boy with confusion and concern. “Well… Wait, Koby, is that you? You’re not supposed to be here.”

Green Vest - Koby? - had been the picture of terror for hours, but that fear suddenly disappeared beneath a burst of anger. He stood up straight and glared at the woman. “I literally am, Miralene.”

Ravel frowned. Was there some kind of debate about Koby’s age? Maybe he’d been born right on the boundary between one week’s set of graduates and the next? But the intensity of the pair’s emotions didn’t match such a mundane explanation. The woman - Miralene, presumably - looked shocked. Koby looked furious.

Maybe a lot of emotional baggage for some reason? This has become some sort of big family argument? Ravel struggled to imagine why that would be the case. 

Miralene seemed prepared to keep arguing, but their other escort, the older man who’d been silent the whole journey here, laid a hand on her arm. “Too late now, Mira.” 

The tall man stared at Koby with an expression that was hard to parse. Anger? Disgust? Guilt? Then he seemed to dismiss them both, jerking his head to the right. “Come on now, both of you get inside. Everyone else is.”

Koby stomped through. Ravel followed reluctantly, lowering his voice as he kept pace. “Hey, Koby, right? What was that all about?”

Koby straightened, looking over Ravel’s shoulder. “We were the last ones, right?”

“What?” The apparent non sequitur threw Ravel for a loop.

“So it’s fine.” The boy seemed to relax all at once, slumping as the tension left his body. He grinned at Ravel. “It’s fine. It’s nothing. I’m sorry. Thanks for looking out for me.”

There was a thunk from behind them, a long low sound of struck metal. Ravel might not have thought much of it if not for the quiet gasp and the “No!” that followed.

If not for the fact that Koby, who’d relaxed mere seconds before, had frozen as stiff as a dressmaker’s mannequin.

Ravel turned to see that bars had slid across the open doorway. Behind them, the cheerful woman, Miralene, was staring at them in horror. 

“No!” she whispered again.

The older man put his hands on her shoulders. “Go on, Mira. Your first time, right?”

“But Koby’s in there!”

“It’s always someone. Go on, go back to the dorm. I’ll witness.”

“Witness? Witness what?” Ravel asked.

No one answered him. Miralene cast Koby one last anguished look. 

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Then she bolted down the corridor like she thought the enchantments were about to fail.

Ravel turned to Koby. “What’s she sorry for? What’s with the bars? What’s going on?”

Koby just stared ahead in apparent shock, his forehead beading with sweat.

Ravel whirled to the older man still standing behind the bars. “Hey! What’s going on?! Why are we locked in here? Why are you out there? Do something!”

The sadness on the older man’s face was chilling. His eyes tracked to meet Ravel’s for just a second before he wrenched them away.

He didn’t answer.