Chatter, talk, blabber and yakking filled the room to the brim, like the roughly thirty students in it, sitting tight by tight on the simple wooden benches on the simple wooden tables, eating a simple stew from simple bowls with simple spoons. The Houses of Mysteries did not pride themselves on an opulent outfit, even though the tuition was rather high. No, the students here were prized with unique and deep secrets that one could not find anywhere else.

Nannade had her bowl of stew and moved to sit down at a table mostly seated but with a few seats left. As she sat down, the other students of lower rank all inched away just the tiniest bit. Nannade could tell, but could they. By now she knew what was going on. She could tell she was being avoided, sized up and deemed unworthy of company. It hurt, somewhat, but she did prepare for this, for a long time. She was the one who still considered herself an abomination, despite her trial finding her to not be one.

She ate her simple stew with old bread; this would do. She had to focus towards this evening, when she would have another meditation with Master Paramonos in front of the other two. She came to hate them, she didn’t know what exactly Master Paramonos was hoping to gain there. She was no longer given questions to answer ahead of the meditation and all the other two wrote down during the meditation was not for her eyes. But still, Master Paramonos insisted on doing them and Teacher Garetas insisted on Nannade following his instructions.

She had finished her lunch and got up. Classes would begin soon. She was looking forward to linguistics and alchemy today, but the first block of the afternoon would be history.

They were getting to the newer history of the city, how the royal family had granted Saint Izillian the right to erect his own terrace for his growing communion. This royal permission was seen as the founding of the cult of the Bearer of the Flame, which until the had existed more as a nigh-heretical branch to the Church of Her Holy Radiance. Sometimes it was interesting to know these things, but most of the time it was No more than pleasant noise.

The old languages of the bay sea were a big bunch, similar in their familiarity as the languages of old Sturreland, Nisumski, Cintezzio, Etuse, and the quarrelling Kingdoms. Some words were basically the same, the rules were similar and the scripts were interchangeable. And below all of them was the runic tongue, well of all words, source of all truths and all lies. Once she had learned the different perspectives of different languages, she started to appreciate the words that words formed with each other, not by themselves, the meanings between the lines that could so eloquently be weaved into poetry, that any fool merely listening to rhymes and melody were deaf to.

The softness of the matter around her was truly a joy to discover. How an alchemist could simply take two substances and could create a multitude of different from them, merely by changing heat, application and geometry of glass vessels. It reminded her a tiny bit of her own body’s “softness” that it had acquired ever since that day in the Glade. And there was so much to do with it. Not just creating cures or poisons like Elissa had taught her. Hardening of iron, transforming tree sap into an elastic mass, making soap from ash, creating explosive liquids; the power seemed boundless. If only they had been in Teacher Phinilla’s workshop again instead of the boring classroom. She wondered what she could do with more unorthodox materials and a more ‘malleable’ understanding of ‘matter’. It ignited a fire in her, a yearning to be let off the leash and finally be allowed to leave dusty books behind, be back in the action again and do what she did best, ex-

“Miss Nannade!”

Teacher Philinna tore Nannade from her thoughts. She stood up reflexively. “Yes Teacher!”

“Please come here and complete this.” Teacher Philinna was pointing to the blackboard where she had written down a simple alchemical formula for the most common alloys. It wasn’t hard, but something still drew her away from this waking moment. As she wrote down the correct symbols – sulphur, iron, nickel – she noticed he had already drawn two wrong strokes. She quickly erased them and completed the task.

“Not quite right, Miss Nannade, but please, take a seat for now.”

She returned to her place in the back of the class, the other students already started to blur away. As she returned to her wax tablet, she saw that she had absent-mindedly scribbled something down. Most of the symbols were familiar, like the first few strokes of some runes, but one jumped at her right away, it was the symbol she had almost written on the blackboard. Then it came to her. The sinner’s brand! Upside down, but one only needed to tilt one’s head and it was immediately obvious.

She had to get a grip. And keep her guard up.

The lessons were eventually over and she returned to her sleeping chambers. Korinna was just on her way out with a dismissive “Don’t be late to the lessons!” But Nannade didn’t even want to think about them. She wanted to flee into the minutes and seconds that lay between the now and the inevitable, ugly then that was to come.

The ugly then came and again, she was in meditation, in Master Paramonos’ study, trying to find her centre. It was red, hazy, blazing.

“Just tell me when you find it, child. Your balance is important for this.”

Trying to find balance felt like juggling five flaming knives on a seesaw on a rolling boulder right now. Whenever she tried herself to align with the Serpent, the Serpent tried to get the upper hand again. The Serpent did not want to co-inhabit this body, it sought something else, there was only one way this could go for Nannade. She tried to push herself free from the Serpent’s grasp, tried to kick her away, when suddenly, she felt someone seizing her head with both hands.

Master Paramonos spoke those words again, but woven in with the known cantus were new parts, each syllable striking Nannade’s mind like a smith’s hammer, sending sparks flying to all sides. His hands were like forceps holding her mind, keeping her where he wanted to her. His words grew in intensity, the Serpent was writhing ever stronger against his strikes, but the material would not yet yield. His fingernails started to poke deeper into her scalp, she tried to block it out, but it was too much.

Her hands shot forward and slapped his arms away. She opened her eyes and stood up, backing away from Master Paramonos. He seemed perplexed, almost offended, then he relaxed and stood up himself.

“Well I guess we have learned something today.” He turned to Korinna and Timaeus. “Review here in one hour.” He stepped closer to Nannade. “Don’t worry, we will work it out eventually.”

“Work what out?” Nannade hated how all of this left her in the dark, but she hated even more how that seemed to be on purpose.

Master Paramonos put a hand on Nannade’s back and led her out of the study. “How your issue can be fixed, how the Serpent can be brought to heel.” He excused himself and Nannade was again lonely in the hallway.

Those last words stuck with her into her dreams. Wild, angry, pulsating dreams, thirsting for release from the captive mind.

She wanted to turn around and confront Master Paramonos about this again, but had shoved the other two students out as well and locked the door. Busy steps were heard from behind it. Korinna pushed past Nannade towards their bedroom with an angry glare. Timaeus put his hand on her shoulder and put on a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry. I know you are strong enough to overcome all of this. I believe in you! If there is anything you want to talk about, feel free to come to me!” he looked deeply into her eyes, hut she had no patience for his sorry attempts.

“I will.” She said and moved out of the reach of his hand. All she wanted was to be left alone. She couldn’t be in the bedroom, Korinna's spiteful glare was waiting for her there. Maybe the gardener’s terrace. In full public view. Maybe Soos had room she could rent, just so she could cry in peace.