Page 103 of On Wings of Blood

Florence punched him. “There are no dragons, you ninny. So they’d have to call it something else.”

“The Dragonless War,” Naveen deadpanned. We laughed.

I thought of a civil war between the four houses. What would happen to the three of us if something like that happened? “How did Blake’s father die? What was his name?”

“Alexander Drakharrow,” Florence said. “And that’s the funny thing. No one really knows. At least, none of us blightborn.”

“How can no one know how this Peacebringer guy died?” I asked in disbelief. “Wasn’t he the most famous lord of the land? Wouldn’t his death have been investigated?”

“You’d think so,” she said thoughtfully. “But it happened when he was at home with his family. I’ve always thought it was some sort of an illness. Or something kind of embarrassing that they didn’t want publicized. Like a freak accident.” She looked up at the clock on the wall. “You have a spare now, right? Are you still coming to my Magical Foundations class?”

I nodded.

It was still strange to me how differently magic worked in this world. Back in Aercanum, my fae abilities had come almost effortlessly. There had been no real work involved in their conjuring. I was born fae and thus I was born with certain skills. It was hardly even magic at all. Just a part of who I was.

But here in Sangratha, magic worked very differently. Mortals could potentially wield it, for one. But few had the innate talent or discipline. Magic in Sangratha required discipline and precision. The finest spellcasters, alchemists, and arcanists were good not just because of intrinsic talent but because they’d put in the work. Spells were complex, requiring perfect timing and specific incantations. Mistakes could lead to embarrassing failures or catastrophic outcomes. Performing magic was physically exhausting and mentally draining. Which was whyso few students at Bloodwing wound up as actual arcanists, even though they were highly valued. Especially ones who could perform elemental magic.

Of course, Florence had an interest in many disciplines. I’d lost track of all of the classes she was taking and the potential career options she had ahead of her. But it was clear that if she wanted to become an arcanist, the path was available to her.

When I’d arrived here, I’d been reborn as a blank slate. I’d felt the absence of my powers at first as a conspicuous gap. But now I hardly noticed their absence at all.

It was clear if I did ever want to wield any magic again, I’d be starting from scratch. Which was part of why Professor Rodriguez, who had become something of a faculty advisor, had instructed me to attend a class with Florence and have her instructor give me an assessment afterwards. I might have enough of an aptitude that would make taking some spellcasting classes worthwhile; I might not.

I had my own reasons for wanting to attend the class.

When we entered Magical Foundations and took our seats, I got my first look at Professor Elowyn Wispwood. I eyed her curiously as she set some books on her desk. Florence had told me the professor was a halfborn. A rare thing, a hybrid child born to a mortal and a high blood. In this case, Wispwood’s mother was a blightborn. When it came to a mortal woman bearing a half-highblood offspring, usually such children didn't survive birth. When they did, they lacked the suite of vampire powers that highbloods possessed. They didn’t require blood to survive, but neither did they live as long.

Professor Wispwood was tall and willowy with pale blonde hair that she kept in a smooth twist. But her hair was where her similarity to a highblood ended, so far as I could see.

Florence said Wispwood was absolutely obsessed with magic, often drifted off into daydreams during lectures, but was nevertheless whip sharp and incredibly astute when it came to evaluating her students. I could tell she was one of Florence’s favorite professors.

I watched Professor Wispwood write on the board, her handwriting small and neat. How strange it must have been to live between two worlds. To look like a highblood but not be one.

Florence had told me it was unusual for halfborns to attend Bloodwing and even rarer for one to be a teacher. Like sellbloods, they had a tenuous place in Sangrathan society, with highbloods preferring to believe such unions between vampires and mortals never took place at all.

Had Professor Wispwood been accepted and welcomed by her vampire father? Or had he abandoned her and her mother?

The lecture began. Professor Wispwood moved gracefully across the platform as she spoke, a pastel rainbow skirt swirling around her long legs. Her voice was melodic. Soft, but poised. A few minutes into her lecture it was clear to me that she was obviously brilliant. She spoke effortlessly and passionately, without notes, constantly gesturing with her hands.

Florence had told me this class would be on the topic of magical conduits. I’d jumped at the chance to attend–and it wasn’t long before I saw my opening.

“...And, of course, as we’ve discussed, conduits can be found in nature, in objects, or even in living things.” Professor Wispwood traced a diagram she'd sketched on the board and gestured for us to copy it down. “In rare cases, a magical conduit can even be something as intangible as a soul.”

My heart skipped a beat. This was coming closer than I could have hoped.

Professor Wispwood continued, “Souls are, of course, one of the most dangerous conduits to manipulate. Soul-binding magic is incredibly volatile. The risk is not only to the integrity of the soul being moved but also to the spellcaster.”

My chest tightened. I glanced at Florence, who was furiously taking notes. After a pause, I forced my hand up.

Professor Wispwood’s eyes flickered in my direction. “Yes?” Her tone was encouraging at least.

I hesitated for a moment. “What about magic that binds souls together? Where two souls exist in one body? Is that...possible?”

Florence shot me a curious glance, but I ignored it.

Professor Wispwood’s brows furrowed thoughtfully. She leaned back against her desk, crossing her long legs in front of her. “Ah, soul-binding. That’s a very specific and dangerous field of magic.”

She tapped the piece of chalk she held against the desk and looked at us all doubtfully. “This is a rather advanced area to get into, but as Miss Pendragon has asked the question and it’s a fascinating topic, I’ll take a few minutes to answer it.”

---