Isyd woke up. It wasn’t something he did often. His eyes snapped open and he rose to a seating position. He didn’t immediately recognize where he was but he could remember being carried to this bed as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Naeht!” he called out, his voice hoarse.

The girl appeared almost immediately from the wall, her eyes wide and a large smile on her face.

“You’re awake!”

“Do the usual, Naeht…” Isyd said.

“Alright, let’s see… You collapsed right after carrying Kewin and Tekla out of the house,” Naeht began reporting. “People from the Academy had already come rushing in and they gave you a quick check to be sure you weren’t dying then they left you to be carried here in the Spital. No blood was taken. No [Healing Spell] was performed. They put your darkveil here, and nothing was taken from it.”

Isyd nodded. He wasn’t fond of falling unconscious. It wasn’t something he could allow himself, not when he carried something as dangerous as the [Taint].

“What about the others?”

“They are all here in the Spital.”

“Are they alive and well?”

“They are alive,” Neath said, sobering up. “Someone died though. Someone living on the higher floor jumped out of the windows as the fire spread.”

Isyd was not happy to hear that, but he moved in from the emotion before it could take root. The talk of the fire jostled his memory.

“Kewin…,” he began. “How is he?”

“Well, Kewin…” Naeht began but she couldn’t finish her sentence because they both sensed someone approaching.

Isyd recoiled at the sharp headache that sparked in consequence; his senses were dull and painful like a sore muscle that had been exerted too much.

A small woman holding a notebook walked in. She wore a modified version of the Academy uniform, with the white colour in abundance over the red colour instead of the usual opposite. Her long, red hair had been woven into a braid. She had a round face, made even rounder by her large spectacles in front of her green eyes.

“Good Grace, you already awake?” she said when she saw Isyd. “I am the one who asked them to put you here. Quite the accident, wasn’t it? I think everywhere in the city people speak about how you rushed into the burning building!”

As she prattled, she walked further into the room and put down her notebook and began putting things in order: she drew open the curtains for the light of midday to pour in, put back the chairs and watered the flowers on the windowsill. Isyd watched her do with no reserve of suspicion.

“Everything is quite confused and a lot of nonsensical things are being spread around. Ms Dumnchory woke up briefly before we brought her here, but she couldn’t give much of an explanation. The same for Julya Ravasz— Hold on! What do you think you’re doing?”

Isyd was about to leave the bed. She rushed to him.

“You’re still in convalescence, Isyd Wybrany! You are not to leave this bed until I have inspected you! Now, back you go!”

Her hand flew to his chest; Isyd grabbed her wrist before she could touch him.

“I am fine. There is no need to inspect me, though I appreciate the concern,” he said softly.

“I will be the judge of that, thank you very much! As your assigned Apteyk, I demand you to lie back down!”

Isyd did not budge. Nor did the young woman. For three long seconds, they stared each other down.

“I am not comfortable with strangers touching me,” Isyd finally said.

“I am Marzena Tchepwa, 6 th Year and 8 th Opening. Now, is that better?”

“No.”

“Well, it will have to do because the alternative is that you deal with my mother, and believe me, you don’t want that. She’s the Master of the Healing Arts and she won’t let you leave until she’s sure you’re healed.”

She took a step back and readjusted her braid. “Plus, you cannot leave already because people will come to take your testimony. Apparently, there was an Elemental invoked and the Academy is curious to know how that came to be. Did I make myself clear?”

Isyd nodded dutifully. Happy to have won him over, Marzena smiled. “Perfect! I’ll come back in an hour’s time to check on you! Make sure you rest until then!”

She left the chamber.

“You’re not staying, are you?” Naeht said as soon as the door closed.

“Of course not! Come on, let’s go,” Isyd said, jumping out of the bed. He picked up in passing his jacket uniform and his darkveil and headed out.

Tentatively, he searched for the Ravasz in the building and felt their presence further down the hallway. Isyd had read somewhere the Spital was the oldest part of the Academy. Before the Academy was even a thing, people from all around Vilriver would gather, seeking the help and care of healers. This in turn attracted other scholars that wanted to further their studies among other Apteyka. Now the Spital was a place where Pupils could come and learn the Healing Arts as well as a place open to the public to provide nursing, healing and counselling to the sick and needy. In that way, it wasn’t unsimilar to the Atelier, which was also a place of study for the Arcanic Arts as well as open to the public for their needs.

Isyd knocked once on the door and then slid in. Julya, who sat on a stool near a bed, looked up and her eyes went wide when she recognized Isyd. She jumped off and rushed to him, crushing him in a strong hug.

“Thank God, you are okay!” she sobbed against his shoulders.

Isyd froze when she hugged him then slowly, delicately, patted her head in an awkward gesture he wanted to be reassuring. The room they were in was much larger than Isyd’s to better accommodate the couple, with two beds instead of one. Isyd saw Norran occupying one of them, sleeping.

“How is he?” Isyd asked.

Julya stepped back and wiped her teary eyes. “He’s doing better I think. They just finished healing him. The Apteyka had to give him poppy tears because he was in so much pain, so it is better that he’s sleeping now. They said that the stones broke a lot of his bones. They healed him but…”

She let her sentence trail off.

“And how are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine, better than all of you I think. Only a few cuts and bruises. Norran… Norran shielded me before pushing me out of the way…”

Isyd could see that she was still distressed but he couldn’t afford to lose more time.

“Did any Tutor come to see you?” he asked her.

“No… I mean not exactly. The Spital is under the jurisdiction of Dana Tchepwa as the Master of the Healing Arts. No Tutors can simply come in until she allows it. So, except for her, I haven’t seen any Tutor.”

“And what did you say?”

Julya met Isyd’s eyes and she immediately understood what he was really asking.

“I remained vague in purpose. I just said that we were all part of a Commission for the Atelier and that Ms Dumnchory had come to visit us to discuss some details with us. That’s what when we were attacked. I didn’t say who they were, or what they took, only that we were attacked.”

Isyd nodded. This is what he had hoped for, waking up.

“Do you still plan on keeping everything hidden? After all that has happened?” she hissed, dumbfounded.

Isyd grabbed her by the hand and led her to the window. “I have a plan,” he said in a low voice. “I know where the thieves are heading and I know where I have to go to retrieve what they stole from us.”

“But…”

“We just learned who was behind the attack, right? It is the Kazkan! If the Academy get involved, it will turn into a political issue. I can stop it from happening. I can make everything right before it devolves any further than it did. I just need three days for that.”

“But the danger! You’ve seen what they’re willing to do. Think about the danger you’ll walk into alone! This is madness, Isyd! They invoked an Elemental of Class C for God’s sake!”

Isyd did not feel necessary to point out that technically the Elemental had been an incident and not the direct result of an [Invocation Spell].

“But I stopped the Elemental, didn’t I?” Isyd said calmly.

She looked up at him. In truth, she had not seen him take down the Elemental. When she had escaped, Tekla had still been the one facing it. And yet, as she saw Isyd standing there, calm and collected, almost unaffected by the crazy events of this morning, she knew in her heart of heart that he’d indeed been the one who defeated the Elemental.

“You did…” Julya sighed and there and then, she knew that she couldn’t do anything to stop him.

Isyd gave her a smile, a timid one, a genuine one. Julya suddenly felt like it was the first time she was really looking at him. Isyd Wybrany was probably the strangest person she had ever met.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked him.

“Keep on saying the same thing to whoever is asking: you do not know who attacked us and what they wanted. If you want you can even mention the Blysht as the subject of research — the secrecy is all but void by now. Most importantly, downplay Tekla’s role as the traitor. Do not mention anything regarding her or her actions except that she was the one who protected everyone from the Elemental.”

“You don’t want credit for it?”

“No, it’s best if nobody knows. It would attract too much attention at once.”

Julya nodded and hugged him once more. This time, Isyd saw her coming and didn’t freeze.

“For the love of God, be safe out there, Isyd! Remember, only three days!”

After a final farewell, Isyd took his leave. Once outside, he called for Naeht.

“You know where they put Tekla, right? Go to her and check if she’s awake if you please.”

The girl winked and disappeared through the thick walls. Isyd kept on walking as silently as possible, hoping not to meet any Apteyk on his way, or even worse the Master of the Healing Arts herself. As he was about to pass by an ajar door, he overheard a voice he recognized.

“… nothing to be done?” Jadwia was saying.

“He will wake up in due time, Junior,” Marzena said. “But right now, his body is still too weak, trying to wake him up would only be detrimental. We have healed his burns, but he will most likely be left with scars.”

“You said something as well to your colleague… that he’s broken beyond repair…”

There was silence. “The boy is lucky to be alive…,” Marzena finally said softly. “But I’m afraid to say that… he’s now Disgraced.”

Jadwia whimpered audibly. “How… how can this be…?”

“It is as they explained it to you in your first classes when you enrolled. The Holy Grace can be a dangerous thing to use. You must imagine our souls as delicate, porous vessels. At any point, we are partially filled with the Holy Grace as stated by the 1 st Law of the Arts, but we can also draw more inside us. This is what allows us to cast [Spells] and activate [Arcanes]. The quantity of Grace you can draw and use is dependent on your Openings, but it is possible to draw more Grace than your soul can hold. When this occurs, two scenarios are possible.

“The first is that the overflow of the Grace breaks your soul entirely. This results in death in a matter of days. The second possibility is that the overflow does not shatter your soul instantly, but still damages it beyond repair by introducing fractures in it. The soul becomes a leaking vessel, unable to retain the Grace that is drawn in, and thus the Artyst becomes unable to cast [Spells]. The Holy Grace flees from the person so we called them… Disgraced.”

“Is there no hope to heal those… those cracks?” Jadwia said difficultly.

“No. I’m sorry, but no Disgraced has ever been able to use the Grace.”

Naeht came back and saw Isyd standing, listening with a grim expression. She understood immediately and wanted to say something, but Isyd shook his head.

“So, Tekla?”

“She’s awake,” Naeht said.

“Let’s go then,” Isyd said, leaving toward the stairway. “It is due time for Tekla Dumnchory to answer for her crimes.”