A secret, a lie, and a truth
There are indistinct conversations among students. When the door opens, everyone falls silent and stares at the young woman who enters, a green book tucked under her right armpit and a blackish sack in her left arm.
She turns her back to them, takes chalk, and writes on the blackboard.
"Four things God forbade when He created earth: blasphemy, blood-shedding, body modification, and benediction of the orthodox. Yet, in the year one hundred and twenty-three, our Lord August, the first Holy Knight, added another one to the list, so—"
Before she can finish, a student who has been raising her hand interrupts.
"Professor, Professor!" The Professor turns.
"Yes, miss…?"
"Rasha. Rasha Elephantina. I wanted to say that the fifth forbidden is black and white magic. The punishment for transgressors is exposure to sunlight, since normal fire doesn't harm them."
"Correct. Very good. Glad to see eager newcomers. I hope you retain it for the rest of the term."
"That's the fifth forbidden." She continues, "Anyone to repeat them?"
She waits, but no one volunteers. The Professor looks disappointed and is about to choose someone when her eyes fall on a grey-haired girl staring out the window.
"Miss. You. Miss!" she calls, pointing.
"The young grey-haired lady. Yes, you. Please, stand up."
The girl rises, apologises, and explains softly why she was distracted.
"I am sorry. I saw a butterfly caught in a black widow's web. I pity her. I wonder who's going to tend her children." She looks at the window again. "I think it's unfair."
A few students chuckle.
"Silence!" the professor says.
She studies the girl, then asks, "What is unfair, miss?"
"... ignoring the butterfly and letting her die."
"Pardon?"
"I said it's unfair to watch her die. We could help her. The strong should help the weak, right?"
"Emm, miss…?"
The girl smiles. "Euh—how rude of me. I… I did not introduce myself. I am Rheeh Sheisabella. I came from the farther South. This is my first day in the Academy of Magical Art and Artists." She meets a few eyes. "I'm pleased to meet you."
Whispers spread about her hair; some call her the grey witch.
"Pleased to meet you. Now, Miss Shisabella, you know that's just an insect, right?"
"Yes, I do. Nevertheless, lives are equally important. Only God can weigh lives to say which are small or big."
The Professor looks puzzled. "Ehh, I see."
"That's what my nana told me when I was a child." Sheisabella continues, "All lives should be saved, even those we consider worthless. Only God is entitled to judge us—He sees the depths of hearts."
Before the Professor replies, Rasha interrupts.
"Humph—like a butterfly's life is more important than mine." She and her friends laugh. "Nothing in this world is equal. Lives are not equal. We, the nobles, are not like those peasants. We will never be like these disgusting things."
The room quiets. The Professor regains control. "Silence. You are not ALLOWED to speak without my permission. Understood?"
"Sorry." Rasha apologises insincerely.
The Professor continues, "Everyone is important in their own way. There is no difference between the lives of nobles and peasants. Learn to respect others. I will not allow this again. As a punishment, you are to copy the first fifteen papers of the Codex seventy-four times. No outside help. No magical paper, ink, or pen. Class dismissed."
The class ends early. Students leave with crooked smiles. The Professor tells Rasha to meet her in the office. As Sheisabella moves to go, the Professor calls after her.
"Miss Sheisabella—wait. One minute. And close the door behind you."
"Yes, Madam?? I'm sorry—I didn't learn your name; I was in my daylight dreams."
The Professor studies her. "I planned to introduce myself at the end. But I can see that some need to learn about manners before my name. Are you all right?"
The Professor erases the board when Sheisabella answers quietly. "Thanks for asking, Madam. I'm fine. I just pity her. I pity Miss Rasha—her heart seems so clouded."
"Good gracious. You're the strangest one I've seen in my life. Where do you live?"
She replies, still soft. "I live in the woods. Me and my nana. Just the two of us. And a cat, if that counts."
"In the WOODS? Alone? Why?"
"It's better for us. My people prefer to be close to nature. My nana says it keeps us connected and away from unnecessary distraction. I… I must go—my nana expects me."
The Professor softens. "You seem distressed. That's why I called you. If you want—"
Sheisabella interrupts and moves to leave. "I must go."
"Understood. I won't pry. But remember, I can help." The Professor pauses. Then Sheisabella leaves. "And wait," the Professor shouts, "you don't have to copy the Codex—oh, grief! She left. Anyway, it's time to finish my work."
The professor slips her green grimoire into the sack and checks the room; meanwhile, a crow lands at the window and taps with its beak.
At the tapping she freezes. Her face twitches; her mouth trembles; she pales. Her movements are slow and unsteady.
She opens the window. The crow comes in with a cold draught. Its crown is white; its eyes are red, ringed with white. It settles as if at home. She forces a reply, but her tongue falters.
"Grief. What are you doing here? I told you I don't need any help. I'm barely hiding in this place. If the Department of Foreign Magic Arts senses your presence, you'll ruin my plan. I'm not a child to be watched," she snaps.
She turns away and heads for the door, shivering. She lifts her sack and moves to step out when a gust slams the door and the curtains fall.
"Don't turn your back, child! Is this my reward for giving you the power when you were broken? Ungrateful child. I came just to warn you: Les Quinze Sacrés have been alerted to your activity. I met them on the frontiers between Boreas' Mount and Fjord's Inlet. They're coming. They'll come here; it's only a matter of time. And guess who was with them?"
She pauses, unable to move. She breathes and asks, "Who?"
The crow scoffs. "Your old friend."
"What are you talking about? I have no friends! Erm, just leave me be!!"
"Relax. I'm teasing. Nearly a century, no see. I'm trying to make a conducive conversation. Haven't you learnt any manners?"
"Cut it out. I have a mission," she says.
The crow hops to her shoulder and bends its beak like a human gesture. "Very good, child. You know what happens if you don't finish your job in time, right?" It chuckles and moves toward the window.
She pleads. "Please. I need a little bit more time. My last attempt failed because I was followed by a damn hunter. I've been passive for a decade, avoiding exposure."
The crow hangs briefly upside-down, swaying as if from an invisible rope.
They lock eyes. The room feels colder. She sweats and scratches at her pale skin. The crow grins. "You have three moons, Harez. Or—shall I call you by your real sobriquet, the Midnight Witch, Ellil?"
Then the crow rights itself and flies away. "Ah—I forgot, Lord Achever is also coming. You don't want the same history repeated." Then, it leaves.
She sinks inward. Her heart races; she curls like a snail; she rubs her lips and weeps quietly. She remembers always running as a small child.
She knows it's over if they find her. Rage flares, then falters.
"Damn it. Damn it! What have I done? My life is now on high heels. They're coming and will find me quickly. Damn it!"
She stops and cries a little. "It… it's his fault. That wretched man. Everything was going as I planned. Why did this happen? I have nowhere to hide. Wherever I go, that devil will find me. Damn it! DAMN IT, Dabian! Oh—his fault. That Cardinal! He can help me, right? He should help me. If I go to hell, I'll take him with me."
She laughs, a strained sound, wipes her face, takes her sack, and leaves.
TO BE CONTINUED.