7. Chapter Seven

I expected the arcane brand to hurt more than it did.

According to the sailors I had befriended on the ship, tattoos in general were supposed to hurt like Hel. Many of them had artwork that had been needled into their skin with ink, and had grimaced when I asked about the experience of receiving such marks.

This was no ordinary tattoo, though.

Upon receiving unanimous approval from the Convocation to be granted entry into Sophrosyne and the Studium, the Speaker had beckoned me forward, asking me to extend my dominant hand.

The aether behind her eyes flared brighter when she murmured an incantation in the Elder tongue, running a single fingertip over the inside of my wrist in such a way that almost felt intimate.

“This will serve as your key to the city and the Studium, young Lightbearer,” Elura had explained, her melodic voice soothing as a flash of sharp pain hit. Within an instant, the pain was gone.

One by one, the circles began to appear, overlapping in red, carving out the space for themselves just beneath the skin. There were no needles, no ink, no physical act whatsoever placing this sigil. It simply appeared, by the sheer will of the Elders before me. I could feel the depth of the arcana the Speaker was using as the symbol was created—binding, ancient, and powerful beyond words or understanding.

“It will allow you to pass through our wards safely, and it will prove your status as a Conduit anywhere in the world. Whether you remain here for just a few quarters, or for many years to come, those who carry the Seed of Creation are always welcome in Sophrosyne.”

I watched in wonder as the tattoo began to glow with the quicksilver sheen of pure aether.

Whether it was my own, or that of the gods binding me in that moment, I did not know—but it was a fascinating sight to behold. After the glow settled, the glimmering silver remained as if the geometric pattern had been painted on—but I knew it was permanent.

I was officially marked as a Conduit.

After receiving the arcane brand, I returned to High Scholar Wallace, who took down the details of my acceptance for their records. Once the paperwork was complete, the kind scholar ran me through all of the next steps of my residency here—housing information, my pre-allocated appointments for academic counsel, when my courses would start, where I could go for supplies, how to recognize members of the Elder Guard in emergencies, etcetera.

Truth be told, it was all a bit of a blur. I did my best to retain as much information as possible, but I think I was still in shock, wrapping my head around the fact that this was all real. I had made it to Sophrosyne. I had passed my trial. Me, the little orphan girl from the woods, accepted into the most prestigious arcane university in the world. I knew she had never doubted me, not even for a minute—but I still couldn’t wait to write Amaretta, telling her everything.

My hands were full as I made my way back through the annex, trying to keep my bag from sliding off my shoulder while juggling several tomes and a stack of papers, pamphlets and maps. There were attendants who could guide me over to the Student’s Quarter and show me around, Wallace had explained, but I was also welcome to explore the city on my own. He had also pointed out where we were on the city map, as well as several key points of interest, all of which I was eager to visit. But first and foremost…

I had a letter to open.

I found a quiet, sunny corner outside of the annex and withdrew the now-weathered parchment envelope that Amaretta had given me the day that I left home.

“Don’t you dare open this until you’ve made it to Sophrosyne, missy. And only after you’ve passed your trial,” she’d threatened me before I left. “I’ll know. I always know!”

She always did have an uncanny ability to recognize whenever I was up to no good.

I began to open the envelope with hands still trembling from the excitement. I had to pause a moment to admire the way the new silver sigil on my wrist glinted in the sunlight, taking several deep breaths as I began to process that this was real.

Once I was ready, I took a seat on the closest bench and melted at the sight of my mentor’s handwriting.

My dearest Arken,

I trust that for once in your life, you’ve been a well-behaved young woman and are opening this letter upon completion of your entry trial at the Arcane Studium. You wouldn’t dare peek, so allow me to be the first to say—congratulations, my love. I knew you would get in.

I know that I gave you a hard time about this journey before you left, and I hope that by now, you’ve grown to understand that my intentions were never to hold you back… only to make absolutely certain that you were ready to walk this path. But you were—you are. And I am so very proud of you.

Enclosed in this envelope, you will find a pouch that contains both a key and an address to my old research studio. Though the Studium will offer you student housing, I would strongly prefer that you stay at my studio apartment instead. It’s likely a bit dusty, but it’s warded—and very safe. Please, make yourself at home there—if only for this old woman’s peace of mind. Consider it yours, now.

Besides, I spent a great deal of time building that celestial orrery inside, and it’s about time someone else appreciated my efforts! The brass was far too heavy to take with me when I left the city, but you always did enjoy stargazing, now didn’t you? Take good care of it.

You will need to have the wards refreshed within a fortnight—head to Graham Kepler’s arcane supply shop in the Market District and tell him that Scholar Sinclair sent you, he’ll know what to do, as I have sent him a letter with detailed instructions.

Now, within the studio, there are also hidden coffers beneath the floorboards in the first closet on the left. The Lyra stashed within is for emergencies only—but remember what I told you. Trust your instincts. Keep your secrets.

And do keep in mind that I still have connections within the city. If you don’t write to your poor, aging mentor on a regular basis, I have my ways of tracking you down, girl.

Be safe, my love. And be well.

Amma

Tears pricked at the back of my eyelids as I realized that as excited as I was to be here, I would miss my mentor so very much. For the first time in twenty two years of life, I was entirely on my own. This journey had been my choice, and what I made of it was entirely up to me.

As the elation and adrenaline from the trial began to fade and I followed the map to find Amma’s studio, I began to realize how terrifying that was, in the grand scheme of things.

I had always been a fairly solitary creature, so I wasn’t too concerned with the fact that I was alone in Sophrosyne. Not exactly. Back home, I had often enjoyed the comfort of my own company more than I had enjoyed being around others. It was a learned behavior, sure—but the learnings lingered, as they do when you grow up… different.

I suppose what made this all so frightening was the fact that I had no definitive strategy for what came next. I had no master plan, and no mentor to hold my hand through the process, or make me a cup of tea when my nerves threatened to eat me alive.

You’re ready, Arken. It’s time.

All I really had was that voice in the back of my head and this hunger in my heart, this desperate thirst that had haunted me all my life for any and all knowledge that I could get my hands on, particularly when it came to aether, arcana, and Resonance. It was all-encompassing and inescapable, a byproduct of twenty-two years worth of abandonment wounds, dangerous secrets, and never quite fitting the mold of what others expected of me.

I didn’t think this was a fear of failure, though. Quite the opposite, actually. I think I was afraid of what it meant now, to have everything I ever wanted. I was already falling in love with Sophrosyne and it had only been a day. As I traversed through what I believed to be the Academic Quarter, my eyes wandered greedily, taking in every possible detail of this city and its sights to behold. At every turn, Sophrosyne was bustling with life and energy and stunning architecture.

It was a strange thing, to be afraid of my own happiness. But as I found the front door to Amma’s old studio apartment and took out my key with a trembling hand, that dawning realization was becoming undeniable.

Life was a little more frightening when you had something to lose.