It’s Sunday evening and I’m watching the Sylvestri manor from the boughs of a tree two-hundred feet away. At 5:01 pm, the first of the guests start to arrive. Surprisingly punctual.

After the tenth guest enters, I have a clear understanding of what Sylvestri’s representative said about wearing something as a show of power.

I make a fist and draw out bones buried in the ground. Based on the wholeness of the bones and their...packaging, I think an owl must live nearby. Little bones are actually perfect for what I have in mind: something simple on the surface that will only attract the attention of people skilled in osteomancy.

While I know it’s probably a bit reckless to publicly display power in such a way...I’ve been thinking a lot about my future as a practitioner, especially since Mother brought it up. Even though I’ve already sent out applications to programmatics guilds and corporations, I haven’t built up any decemancer network whatsoever. This party might be the perfect opportunity I need to find my way into a practitioner guild.

I head down to the front doors of the party, feeling somewhat inconspicuous when I realize I’m the only one to pull up to the entrance without a hovergloss. The two door keepers smile and usher me in, expressions surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Dr. Sylvestri’s manor!”

“The pleasure’s mine,” I reply as I step through the threshold. I follow a few other guests forward into a sizable parlor where the rest of the party-goers are sipping wine and sampling fine meats and cheeses.

What am I doing here? I wonder to myself. How did this Dr. Sylvestri even know to invite me? Everyone else at this party seems to be wealthy and at least past the age of thirty. Based on the swirls of death energy surrounding their “symbols of power,” they’re also fairly skilled in the Dark Art...especially in comparison to everyone at Academia Hector.

As I stand awkwardly at the center of the room, a woman in a patterned green dress approaches me from behind. She grabs my right hand and rubs her fingers over my bone gloves.

“Who is this young face?” she asks, giving me a coy smile.

“Julian Dunai,” I say as I raise her hand to my lips. “Will you give me the pleasure of hearing your own?”

“Helia.” She fingers a pendant hanging over her chest. “Helia Damas.”

I haven’t heard of her, though I didn’t really expect to recognize any names here. Decemancers tend to avoid the public eye.

“How ever did you secure an invitation to this party?” she asks while she grabs a glass of wine from a passing waiter.

“One was delivered to my living chambers.” Why, are the invitations difficult to obtain?

She lets out a dry laugh. “You do realize,” she says, “that to even open the invitation, you need to have a Death affinity in excess of 65%.” She takes a sip. “Did a parent or relative pass the invite off to you?”

Maybe coming to this was a horrible idea: Someone as young as me shouldn’t have such high affinity; or at the very least, someone as unknown and as young as me shouldn’t.

“My professor, actually,” I say, pivoting. “Her primary affinity is Death, and she’s good enough to secure a teaching position. However, she has no interest in parties, so...” I grab a wedge of dried salami from a passing waiter. “She passed her invite off to her best student.”

Damas laughs. “So you’re still in school? What year?”

“Oh, we have an academic amongst us?” another person calls out from the ahead. A man in a charcoal pinstripe suit and a red tie turns and walks over, dragging two other gentlemen along with him. “Helia, who’s this?” Though he says Helia’s name, his eyes wander to my bone gloves.

“This,” she says, gently placing a hand on my arm, “is Julian Dunai.” Then she gestures to the man in gray. “And this is Antonio Cesar.” She introduces the men on his sides as Bradley Lomefeld and Marcus Hoffmann. “I was just asking Julian what year he is in his studies.”

I beam at them as I finish chewing. “I’m a fourth year at Academia Hector.”

“He says,” Helia begins, giving me a knowing look, “that he’s best in his class at decemancy.”

“Oh-hoh,” Cesar bellows. “Can we expect to see a demonstration later tonight?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Later tonight?”

Helia smacks Antonio’s arm playfully. “Don’t disorient our newest guest,” she chides. “There’s to be a dueling tournament in the pavilion after dinner.”

I clear my throat. “Why, exactly, do people participate in this tournament?”

“The stakes are generally reputation and political standing,” Cesar admits. “Though for a young, unheard of student like yourself, the duels may be the best kind of way to gain attention.”

Suddenly, the man to Cesar’s right, Marcus Hoffmann, clears his throat. “Julian, might I see your gloves?”

I hold out one of my hands. He doesn’t seem particularly powerful, or he wouldn’t be standing obediently at another’s side.

“The workmanship,” Marcus begins, “is exquisite. Where did you buy them?”

I give him a knowing smile. “What kind of decemancer do you take me for? I made them.”

“So you specialize in osteomancy?” Helia asks.

“While I’m proficient in each domain of the Art, I personally prefer to work with bone.”

“A rarity,” Cesar notes. “You know who you should talk to...” He turns around and scans the crowd. “Therius Spiracor. Here, let me introduce you.”

Cesar has a firm grip over my arm and before I know it, I’m standing behind a thin, somewhat-frail looking older gentleman in a black suit with coattails.

“Terry,” Cesar booms.

Therius turns around, wineglass almost touching his lower lip. “Antonio,” he murmurs, his voice low and dry.

“I have someone I think you’ll be interested in meeting.”

Only then does Therius seem to notice my existence. He walks forward, grabs my hand, and begins to massage it in his own. “Lovely craftsmanship,” he says, more to my hand than my face. “Your reagents...mammals of the forest, correct?”

“Correct.” My face lights up. Someone who might actually give me interesting conversation...

“I’ll leave the two of you,” Cesar says as he backs away into the crowd, leaving Therius and I alone.

“How did you learn osteomancy?” he asks. Straight to the point.

“On my own.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “What can you do?”

The kind of question I was hoping to avoid. “Do you have a challenge?” I ask, trying to get a gauge on the man’s expectations.

“You made those gloves, if I’m not mistaken,” he says. “Can you form them into a mask?”

How difficult should this be? I don’t want to make it seem too easy. “I should be able to manage it.” I hold out my hands. Then, I bring them together and pull them apart. In between my two palms I cup the bones, then turn my hands to the side to deposit the bones on my right hand. I bring that hand up to my face, then wave my hand in an upper diagonal swipe. The bones press to my face in a random, unpleasant pattern, but I feel like any more will be overdoing things.

“And you’re self-taught?” Therius confirms. “Truly impressive. I figure you’ve already got all your guild internships lined up by now.”

I chuckle. “I’ve actually run into a bit of difficulty with my applications. Apparently there was something wrong with my system connection and several of them didn’t arrive by the deadline.” I sigh. “I’m currently trying my best to find anything.”

Therius’ eyes flash. “Have you applied to the Rosemast Guild?” he asks. I notice that he has a lapel pin with a rose made of white bone scapulas.

“No,” I replied.

“Well,” he says, giving me an amused look, “I’ll see what I can do. Your name is Julian...?”

“Julian Dunai.”

—

I continue to mingle with guests, finding conversation to become increasingly more interesting as people get tipsy and begin to discuss scandals and politics. Before I know it, a bell sounds and we’re herded into a dining room with three large, circular tables arranged for the guests. A projector turns on and shows a list of names on the wall, separating people into their various tables. The tables themselves have little white cards at each spot with peoples’ names on them.

I discover that I’m sitting at the same table as Dr. Sylvestri, who, to my knowledge, has not yet made his appearance.

Just as I sit down to dinner, the lights go out. All of them–the candles and the electric lamps all fall dark.

Nobody seems alarmed, so I figure this must be business as usual. Dr. Sylvestri’s invitation did say that he had a secondary affinity in Dark.

I smell the scent of something burning that sets me on edge. Even though I can see the vitality of people around me in the otherwise oppressive dark, the space makes me feel claustrophobic.

When, I wonder, is this dinner starting?

“Welcome, guests, to Dr. Sylvestri’s manor. He hopes that all have enjoyed the appetizers and company.” A light emerges, shining on the form of a man at the front of the room. Is he at a podium?

“Welcome, all,” he cheers. “It’s nice to see you again in time for the holidays. In case we haven’t before met, I’m Arterio Sylvestri, the man responsible for throwing all of this together.” He pauses for light applause. At this point, I notice that the room is slowly growing lighter.

“Before we eat, I’d like to outline the evening’s plan. First will be dinner, to be followed by desserts and duels in the pavilion. If you wish to enter a duel, you need only say so to any of the staff.” He adjusts his tie and looks around the room. “Duels shall last an estimated two hours. Immediately following them shall be an exhibition in the parlor room, to be set up while others are in the pavilion. If you have any special requests regarding how your research or product is displayed, voice them to any of the staff. The open exhibition will last one hour. Finally, we will all gather on my terrace to watch a fireworks display.”

He smiles and raises his hands, causing the room to assume its previous level of brightness. “Without further delay, dinner is served.”

Applause follows, this time loud and spirited. I follow Sylvestri’s form as he makes his way over to our table, smiling and clasping the hands of guests as he goes. Finally, he sits down and gives us all a look. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” he admonishes. “Let’s eat!”

Thank you, Mother, for teaching me the mannerisms of a gentleman. I honestly never expected to use them.

I grab a fork and begin to eat the first course, a salad, while others engage Sylvestri in conversation. It comes as no surprise to me that the man is the table’s center of attention. The spell he just pulled, bathing the room completely in dark, was powerful. That Dark is only his second degree affinity implies that his decemancy must be comparably more potent. He’s likely one of, if not the, strongest person in the room, excepting myself.

I listen in on the conversation, but remain quiet, eating. They’re currently discussing winter gardening, a topic I could honestly care less about. The food, at least, is delicious.

Somehow, the conversation leads to me. I nearly jolt upright in my seat as Sylvestri mentions my name.

“...Ignatius Julian Dunai, our newest companion. Still a student at the university,” Sylvestri says, winking at no one in particular as his eyes rove around the table. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Hello,” I begin, unsure exactly what they’re expecting me to share. “I’m Julian Dunai, a fourth year at Academia Hector.” I fiddle with my hands under the table, though keep my gaze sharp. Just like in the loop, my performance here is being watched.

“I grew up in a small city in Shattradan and come from a family of small repute. I entered university after taking a gap year traveling, and have been studying since.” I smile politely. “Is there anything in particular I should expound upon?”

Sylvestri appears thoughtful. “How did you unlock your affinity?” he asks. “All of us have our own...unique stories, I can guarantee you.”

The way he’s looking at me...seems predatory. Sylvestri seems to be a dangerous man, or perhaps one with a voracious curiosity. Perhaps the two are one and the same.

I ponder what I should tell them. Sylvestri seems the type to not take no for an answer...

Maybe I’ll just say the closest possible thing to the truth.

“I unlocked affinity after the worst nightmare of my life,” I say. “Horrendous things were done to me, and I did horrible things to others. For the first time ever, I felt no guilt over my actions.” I give the table a half-smile. “When I woke, I had the affinity, just like that.”

Every head angles slightly toward Sylvestri, as though everyone is gauging his reaction before giving their own.

“What an interesting story,” Sylvestri nods. “I’ve never heard of anyone unlocking their affinity in a nightmare, but as you said...whatever loosens the shackles of guilt, works. Confronting guilt is, at least for the majority of us, a significant factor in unlocking a dormant Death affinity.”