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He pauses and glances out his window, but I can sense there's more he wants to say, so I keep quiet and wait. "When I was in school," he starts, still staring outside, "my professors had never seen a power like mine before. Other than training me in hand-to-hand combat and forcing me to sit through boring lectures on subjects varying from the history of Dalerin to the economic systems of each kingdom, my lessons consisted of nothing more than pain. They wanted to see how far I could be pushed, how much pain I could endure, how many times my bones could break and mend themselves."
I can't help the horrified gasp that escapes me, but Nyx is so zoned into his past memories that he doesn't react.
"Every magic wielder in Tronovia is ecstatic the moment they discover they have powers. They can't wait to go to school and begin to unlock more of their affinity. The day I discovered my magic was when I fell out of a tree outside my parents' house and broke my arm in two places. My mother sprinted to scoop me into her arms as I screamed in agony, but by the time we made it inside, my arm had already mended."
"That's not possible," my mother had whispered in awe.
"My father came out from his office to see what my mother was crying about, and when she explained to him how I had fallen from the tree, that my arm had been severely broken moments ago, and now it was firmly back in place, my father didn't look scared or worried. Pride beamed in his eyes when he said, 'He's a magic wielder.'"
Nyx reclines in his seat, stroking his fingers through his hair and finally locks eyes with me. "I thought that day was the best day of my life. I had magic. And not just any magic. I was invincible. Even though I could still feel pain, my body always repaired itself. Didn't matter if it was the smallest scratch on my knee, a broken arm, or a burn – I healed and never scarred. But the day I started school, I realized being the first wielder recorded with magic like mine only meant that no one would understand me. No one would be able to properly guide me or give me tips on how to become more powerful. I don't have a Transcendent state. This is it." He motions up and down his torso. "This is all I have. I still don't know if, or how, I can die, and believe me, many have tried to find out."
"Nyx," I finally speak when he's been silent for several seconds. "I'm sorry that happened to you…"
Our carriage hits a bump in the street and jostles us around inside. I plant one hand on my seat cushion and the other on the wall to my right to brace myself, but Nyx doesn't seem to feel any disturbance. There's a ferocity in his eyes that causes my heart to skip a beat. "I didn't give a shit about school because no one in that school gave a shit about me." He reaches out and snatches my hand in his and squeezes. "No matter what they say in there, remember who you are and don't let them treat you like an experiment because they are afraid of you."
"Do you think that's what they'll do to me?" I ask and I genuinely want him to tell me the truth. Part of me wants to be prepared for whatever these professors might throw my way, but the other part of me, the fearful and hesitant side, wants to hit the top of the buggy ceiling and tell the driver to go back to the Harland House.
"They will push you to your limits," Nyx says without hesitation. "Don't let it cost you your humanity."
I don't have time to ask for further explanation or to see if he would be willing to share more about his school days, because the driver cuts a hard left and we pull through a large archway with the words, Magikos Grammata, etched into the cream-colored stone.
"Welcome to Magikos Grammata, Kitarni," Nyx says with a dark hesitancy in his gaze.
I remember passing by the School of Magic when I first arrived in Tronovia and thinking then it was nothing short of impressive. Today, we don't pass by it; we enter through the arched gateway and make our way across the cobblestone courtyard where our carriage eases to a stop. Reluctantly, Nyx slips out of the buggy and extends his hand to help me out. When my feet hit the smooth stone, something deep within me hums. There's an ancientness to this place that I haven't felt anywhere else – well, I take that back – I have felt it before, at the ruins of the ancient Bavan temple where I had my first run-in with Vesper and her minions.
I crouch down, not caring that someone might see me and think I'm insane, and put my palms flat against the ground. Like a warm shock ricocheting through my body, I immediately sense the familiar presence.
"Kitarni?" Nyx's voice is laced with concern. "What are you doing?"
"Was Enver Sol ever here?" I ignore his question, and slowly drag my fingertips across the stones one by one.
"Maybe? I don't know. I didn't pay attention to any of my history lessons, remember?"
"Why can I sense you?" I mumble, as if Enver Sol can possibly answer my question. Obviously, we share some kind of connection through our magic, but I still don't understand how that's possible. How can I sense him? Sense where his feet have trodden years ago? I glance up at the school's entrance as if somewhere inside I will get the answers I need, and I hope my hunch is right.
Magikos Grammata's architecture doesn't fit the rest of Tronovia. It's reminiscent of the old world with its alabaster columns, arched stone doorways, and bright mosaic tile on the walls and ceilings lining the breezeways around the courtyard. As my eyes slide from one side of the immaculate landscaped grounds to the other side, there's something that catches my attention and quite frankly, surprises me.
"Where are the guards?" I ask Nyx as I stand up.
He flashes me a curious look but then, as if something clicks in his mind, says, "Guards aren't needed. Crime in Tronovia is very low and honestly, no one is ballsy enough to attack a school filled with magic wielders."
He makes a valid point.
Nyx beckons me forward with a hand, "You ready, Kitarni?"
I nod and walk with him toward a large, dark wooden door. As he reaches for the black iron handle to push the door open, I curl my fingers around his forearm and say, "Wait."
"Is something wrong?"
"I don't want you putting yourself through this, if you can't handle it. I know your uncle wants you to watch over me, but if this is going to stir up bad memories and depress you, then stay outside and wait for me." By the confused look on his face, no one has ever put his emotional needs before their own and it shows. "I've lied to your uncle before to cover your ass and I will do it again, if I must."
He slips his hand on top of mine and pats it three times. "And let you have all the fun without me?" He clicks his teeth. "Where you go, I go. Uncle's orders or not, you will never be unprotected."
"As long as you're sure you can handle this."
He flashes a wicked smile. "I'm not a student here anymore and because of uncle's orders, they can't kick me off school grounds. I think it's time I raised a little hell, don't you?"
"Whatever you do, don't tell me about it, so I can deny you had any involvement," I snort. "I'm not the best liar."
