Page 57 of Magic in My Bones

Ren frowned up at me. “You know him.”

The fire crackled low, casting long shadows in the lab. Ren’s familiar began inching his way up Ren’s side until Ren scooped him up to rest contentedly in his palm, as if sensing the tension in the air.

I sighed. “That I do. Once upon a time, he was among the most promising students I'd ever had the pleasure and frustration of teaching. In some ways, you remind me of him in those early days. He possessed an insatiable curiosity matched only by his aptitude for the arcane. Like you, he came from modest means, and like you, he very much deserved his place here. Yet they say madness and brilliance are often two sides of the same coin. That was true in Alistair’s case, unfortunately.”

“What happened?” Ren asked quietly.

I hesitated, the memories of Alistair’s descent not easy to recount. But Ren deserved the truth, and perhaps by voicing it, I could finally come to terms with my own failings. “Alistair was always ambitious. He was brilliant like you, but without your compassion, your innate understanding that death magic is about honoring transitions, not controlling them. His ambitions grew darker as he became obsessed with the idea of transcending death itself. Not in the gentle way we guide spirits, but in forcing his will upon the natural order.”

Ren shifted slightly, drawing closer, as though bracing himself against the chill of our conversation. “And you didn’t stop him?”

I smiled sadly, a bitter edge to the expression. “I tried. We all did. He was brilliant, but damaged in ways I couldn't heal.” My voice softened with old pain. “I thought I could save him with love and guidance, the way my grandmother had saved me after my parents' death. But some wounds run too deep, and some hungers can never be satisfied.”

I felt Ren's magic reach for mine instinctively, offering comfort. Where Alistair's power had always felt like jagged glassagainst mine, Ren's was like warm honey, soothing and sweet. “He was drawn to the idea of eternal life," I continued. “But unlike my parents, Alistair's desires twisted into something far more perilous. He sought not just longevity but transcendence beyond mortal confines.”

Ren stirred, and his familiar, Grim, responded by uncoiling slightly, his soft, segmented body wiggling in Ren’s hand. Ren reached down to stroke the caterpillar absently, his fingers smoothing over the creature’s fragile body.

Ren stirred against me, his movements small yet weighted with empathy and curiosity. “He wanted to become a god?”

“In essence,” I replied softly. “Alistair's ritual was complex, far beyond anything I had ever seen. He sought to commune with a dark god, an eldritch being from the deepest reaches of the abyss. A god of hunger and madness, whose name is spoken only in hushed whispers by those foolish enough to seek its favor.”

“Dagon,” Ren guessed, and I nodded.

“The ritual went horribly wrong. Alistair's body was not strong enough to contain the essence of the dark god. It twisted him, warping his flesh and mind until he was barely recognizable as human.”

Ren's breath hitched, his fingers tightening around mine. “He survived?”

“In a manner of speaking. If you can call what became of himsurviving. Ultimately, he was expelled from the academy and blacklisted from practicing the arts. He was stripped of his honors and banished from civilized society under threat of arrest by the magical council.”

Ren sat up straighter, pulling back to look at me with wide, worried eyes. “But if he was banished, how is he back? And why would he target me?”

I sighed heavily, the weight of my past mistakes bearing down on me. “I fear it may be my fault, Ren. In my arrogance, Ithought I could guide Alistair, temper his ambitions. I saw so much potential in him, just as I see in you. But where you have compassion and a sense of ethics to ground you, Alistair had only an all-consuming hunger for power.”

Ren's brow furrowed. “You can't blame yourself for his choices, Dorian. You see the best in people,” Ren said softly, his dark eyes full of understanding. “It's one of the things I lo—” He caught himself, cheeks flushing. “One of the things that makes you such a good teacher.”

I caught his hand, bringing it to my lips. Even this simple touch sent our magic surging, creating patterns of light and shadow that danced across the walls. “You make me want to be worthy of that faith, mo chroí,” I murmured against his skin. The endearment slipped out unbidden—my heart—more intimate than any I'd used before.

Ren reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. “You're only human, Dorian. You did what you thought was best. Alistair's actions are his own, not yours.”

I leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his steady presence. “Thank you, Ren. Your kindness means more than you know.” I took a deep breath, refocusing on the task at hand. “But now we must face the consequences of Alistair's choices and make some of our own. The spirit gave us some cryptic instructions on how to find this ritual site, and once we do, we must disrupt Alistair’s plans for you…and whatever else he’s up to.”

Ren nodded. Grim slowly unfurled from Ren’s hand, his segmented body stretching and twisting in slow, deliberate motions. Ren carefully cradled him in both hands, and I watched as the caterpillar slowly moved up to his shoulder, curling in a loop there as if nesting against him. Ren didn’t flinch, only giving the small creature a soft, affectionate smile before turning back to me.

Ren nodded, his dark eyes filled with a fierce determination that belied his youth. “I'm ready. Whatever it takes, we'll stop him together.”

Grim let out a little squeak of agreement.

“Together,” I agreed, squeezing his hand. “But first, we need to decipher the spirit's clues. A place where the boundary between land and sea blurs, where the tides of time have swallowed dreams...”

Ren frowned thoughtfully. “It sounds like a sunken city, doesn't it? Somewhere that was once thriving but has been lost to the sea.”

I blinked, surprised by his insight. “You may be onto something there, mo stóirín. And the spirit mentioned the Blackstone, where the first seeds of knowledge were sown. That has to be referring to the academy's origins.”

Excitement sparked in Ren's eyes as the pieces began to fall into place. “The academy was originally built on the coast, wasn't it? Before it was moved inland to its current location. Maybe there's something left of the old site, some ruins that have been reclaimed by the sea.”

I nodded slowly, my mind racing with the possibilities. “It's worth investigating. The academy archives might have some old maps or records that could point us in the right direction.”

Ren's fingers curled around mine, his gaze still bright with determination, but I could see the exhaustion creeping in. The shadows of the lab stretched long as the fire flickered low, casting a soft glow on the cluttered workbenches and ancient tomes.

---