Mother of goddamn Crease I am late. There are several reasons for this, but the two main ones are simply that work and job training is eating more of my time than anyone could have expected, and that the burnout from the two of those things are making me spend the rest of that time trying and failing to recover. Ultimately, my apathy, which was always a serious issue throughout my teen years, is now getting so all-enveloping that I honestly can't remember the last time I spent so much time putting this much work into this chapter (to note, the date of this upload is when I put the bulk of the ending scene). Also, I made the mistake of writing both parts one AND two simultaneously. The result was a complete disaster, and I'm loath to try splitting up my attention and energy like that again. Anyway, here's this chapter, and send your death threats via Review. Enjoy.

PS Rattles escaped. Expect him back in a few uploads (so, next December, probably).

Chapter 15 Part 1: Ravenwood School of Magical Arts

October 27th, Commons, Wizard City, Daybreak

"Nicole…"

"Mmmmlphlhl…"

"Nico-ooole…"

"Mrrrm…"

"Nicole, you need to get ready for school," Chrome coaxed.

I curled up, tightening my grip on my blanket, and grumbled, "Still sore…"

"I healed you twice, Nicole," was her matter-of-fact reply. "Plus, you had two days of rest and relaxation. Heck, now that I think about it, you're probably better off than I am."

"But why this friggin' early?" I moaned. "Sun's barely up… can't I get a few more minutes?"

"Okay, I'll give you five, but after that- OH, IT'S A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!"

"Gaaah!" I yelled as I was swung out of my hammock onto the floor. Nothin' beautiful about it from where I'm sitting, I thought as I picked myself off the ground; I would've floated, but my wings (along with the rest of me) were pinned in the blanket I wrapped around myself. Freeing myself, I tossed the blanket on the hammock and made my way for the bathroom when out of nowhere, Chrome shrieked, "Nicole, what the hell!?"

I jumped and whirled around to face her, but she up and dived behind my hammock, her bun peeking up like a periscope. "What?" I asked it. "What'd I do now?"

"No, no, you didn't do anything, but… why are you naked?"

"Because I sleep naked. That a problem?"

"Just, I dunno, give me a warning next time, okay? I was NOT prepared for that."

"And who's fault is that?" I sniped as I stepped into the hall. "Don't throw me out of bed next time." I stopped in front of the bathroom and took in the apartment proper: the main body was the hallway, which had the openings to the kitchen, the den, and the one bedroom all running down one side, with the bathroom at the end. The walls were green with a gold trim running along near the top, and a small chandelier with tiny witchlights illuminated the entire space. I didn't have to go into the rooms to confirm the lack of furniture, save for basic amenities in the kitchen and the lone coffee table in the den; we had to hang up our own hammocks in the bedroom, along with a sheet between the two to separate our spaces.

Entering the bathroom, I scrubbed up as thoroughly as I was able, marveling at Chrome's determination: after my… episode, Chrome wasn't able to heal me, using essentially all her mana on the Bighorn, so she put me in the care of Private Glass while she flew for a doctor. What she found was one Ethan Jadetalon, a Theurgist who by all accounts ("all" in this case meaning "Chrome's") was a cocky idiot who wanted payment up front for the simple work of healing. She instead opted to drag him by the hair to our location and (hopefully figuratively) twisting his arm until he did the job… kinda… my burns were healed, at least. The real problem was that I was still out of it. Ethan's, uh, "professional" opinion was that I was mentally exhausted and needed sleep… so Chrome rented an apartment. Turns out whatever I thought I knew about housing and leases and the like was completely wrong: she talked to the dealer in the shopping district, signed a form detailing the terms, and got the keys in five minutes flat.

A knock on the door made me jump. "I left your robes in the hall," Chrome's voice called from the other side. I dried off and exited, picking up my robes to inspect them once more: simple cotton dyed apple red with a black trim, there wasn't much to them beyond the fact that they were something to wear. I had a vague idea that some clothes could make you stronger, or else act like armor, but I didn't have any specifics. That was something I could probably ask one of the supposedly unhelpful professors Glass was talking about. I tossed the robe on carelessly, and looked around for my shoes, finding the new pair that came with the robe, cherry red boots with black bootstraps. I pulled them on, making plans to ask Chrome where my ordinary clothes were being kept. It wasn't a priority, though; there was no way I could wear them to school, torn half to hell and dissolved by blood and ichor as they were, and I had a feeling I was running late, anyway. I made for the door, and had just turned the knob when Chrome said, "Hold on a moment! Before you go, do you have everything? Spellbook, wand, etcetera?"

I opened my bag and looked through it: Book of Shadows, Scepter of Ignition, quills, inkwell (still stoppered, thankfully)… "Yep, everything: book, wand, school crap-"

"Hat? Lunch? Keys?"

"What, the hat?" I touched my hair automatically: still damp from the bath, it fell straight down, tickling my neck as I ruffled it. "I'm not bothering with that, actually, but more importantly, do you think I have time to pin my hair up?"

"The hat's part of the uniform, and no," she said, tossing it over like a Frisbee. "Just make a ponytail on the way over."

"I don't have a scrunch-"

"'Put one in your pocket while you were washing."

"Ah."

"So, lunch?"

"Chrome, I gotta get to school, remember? Besides, it's, like, dawn."

She held up a paper bag. "No, as in your lunch. You waffle."

"…Oh." I caught the thrown bag and looked inside: house keys. "Oh, VERY funny." She tossed a wrapped sandwich at me with a giggle. "Don't wait up, I'll be looking around for jobs to run after school."

"All right, good luck to you."

"Later."

I looked at the building I just exited, a squat one story house sandwiched between a half-dozen others on the street. However, like many things in the Spiral, it was more than met the eye. That one building apparently housed over a dozen separate tenants, all divided and protected by the same magicks that gave my bag its ridiculous storage capacity, and all accessed individually by a corresponding key. Regardless, I shrugged at the ingenuity and took to the air, making my way for the great tree rooted in the middle of the World.

I tried to keep focused on the upcoming class, but my thoughts always veered back to my latest excursion in the Mindscape. I wasn't sure what happened there, but at least three things were clear. One, there was a terrifying, nightmare being in the Spiral, one I brought in before I lost my memories. Two, I somehow gained access to its own memories through a gap in its mental walls, giving me its true name. The memories seemed off, however, actively altered instead of distorted like I first thought. Three, the memories themselves weren't accessed back then, as in, they weren't part of my own memories. Rather, I felt that my memories were the channel that the Face's memories flowed through to reach me. Which meant that the Face would even now be angry, livid even, that I knew the name. There was nothing stopping it, or him, from tearing me limb from limb except the fact that he didn't know where I was.

Really wish I could talk to Chrome about all this, I surprised myself thinking. It made sense, though: she really was reliable, not to mention smart. There were still some things about the memories that I couldn't sort out, and talking them out with someone might put things into perspective. There was no way I could tell her about it, though. This was nothing short of a disaster, and it was all my fault; I couldn't really go about telling people I unleashed the ultimate evil upon the land, now could I?

Dipping low enough so I could slap a weather vane into a crazy spin, I cleared the inner wall encircling Ravenwood just as the sun began to rise in earnest. Making my landing in the gated area around the dozing Bartleby's roots, I walked the rest of the way to the School of Fire, weaving around other early arrivals traveling in threes and fours and squeaking past the boy who just opened the door.

I took a good look around: I was in the back of a long room with school desks facing the front, where, separated from the rest of the room by a row of cauldrons, a low stage held a lectern, a wall-mounted blackboard, and a pair of clawed braziers on either end. There were a few people already seated, mostly younger looking kids of about thirteen, or even younger in one or two cases. In front of me was a large book on a pedestal. Looking closer, it seemed to be a seating chart for newly arrived students, and judging by it, I was seated in the front row. Making my way to the front, I couldn't help but notice that a few stares were being directed my way. What, is it so weird for me to be here? Regardless, there was no point dwelling on it; I managed to avoid opening my Book of Shadows the whole three days prior despite Chrome's nagging, but now I needed to cram to avoid looking like a complete failure; it was a form of pride, but whether it was born of being a Fae or an idiot was anyone's guess.

I took my seat and pulled out the book. A student, the same boy who opened the door, sat down next to me. A pasty, tubby adolescent with broken and badly repaired glasses and a noticeable overbite, he nevertheless had a definite aura of smugness that was really hard to tolerate. He leaned over to me and whispered conspiratorially, "Didn't do the required readings either, I see."

I turned to him with a formidable glare. "Just you, pal. I'm reviewing." With that, I buried my face in the tome, wondering why I wasn't absorbing any of what I was reading, but at least assured that that was the end of the interruption.

"Uh-huh, yeah." Apparently not. "It's really clear from here. I mean, you even figured out a revolutionary study method: reading it upside down."

"Huh?" I looked at it again: sure enough, upside-down. Shit, do I even know how to read? I genuinely couldn't remember doing so in the past few days. Righting the Book, I checked again:

The DexterGram® Pacer Test is a multistage stamina capacity test that gradually gets more difficult as it progresses. The 5 shot pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the red line. The recovery period starts off lenient, but gets shorter each minute after you hear the gong. A single, 5 shot volley should be completed each time you hear the gong. Remember to hit the target as accurately and as quickly as possible. The second time you fail to land all your shots before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, rubber baby buggy bumpers.

Yep, I could read. Also, dafuq was that last thing? "Ah…"

"Well, even if you didn't," the guy continued, "I wouldn't worry. Professor Falmea is really hands on, but she only really focuses on the day's lesson, which is great when you already know what you're doing, but good luck if you're already struggling; you're going to need it."

"How would you know?" I snapped irritably. "Actually, don't answer that. Just, I don't know, stop."

"In answer to your question-"

"I don't want it."

"-I've been attending Ravenwood School for about a month now," he continued regardless. "You can call me Sandler."

"Sigh… Sandler what?"

"Just Sandler," he confirmed, his odd pride in the choice apparent. "Didn't much care for the, uh, "true" names that old guy's book gave out, so I just skipped that step."

"Don't you need a Wizard name to talk to other Wizards telepathically?" I asked despite myself, remembering Jaime the Diviner's quick explanation on the subject.

Totally worth it, though: Sandler blinked a few times, at a complete loss for words. "…You can do that?" he finally asked.

"Ye. Also, I heard that you need it to teleport." I actually had no idea if that was true; I really only said it to screw with him.

"That's what you need!?" He exclaimed, only to be hushed down by a nearby student. "I just thought they had an item I missed out on," he continued in his indoor voice (which was still a mite too loud for my ears, but it was a nonissue).

"Well, you could always get a name after class," I reasoned. "A Diviner named Jaime's holding the book while the Headmaster's setting up the tournament."

"Aw, man, the DekaStar Tournament," Sandler hummed to himself, completely switching gears. "I'm so gonna take home the gold in that."

"You? Really?" I asked, in earnest mind you; Sandler had been so sporadic and prideful this entire time that I had a hard time discerning if he was actually joking or not.

"Yes, really," he said in a way that was probably meant to be lofty and arrogant, but instead came across as rather petulant. "I've done my research, maximized my deck's potential, and, uh… did some other third thing, whatever. So I'm entering the tournament."

I couldn't help but check out his aura, if only to see how outmatched he'd be in this tournament. In the past few days, I learned that many of the entries were Adept Wizards, with a few Magi thrown in the mix, so I used Will Starspear as a baseline, since he was an Adept, as well as a Sorcerer like Sandler. Even considering Sandler wasn't pushing his power to the fullest like he would in an actual Duel, what I got… wasn't promising. The exact opposite, in fact: he was hovering about MY level, of all things. All his talk of research and decks was blinding him to the fact that he was WOEFULLY underpowered for something like this. Not to mention that whatever cards and strategies he developed would be rendered moot by his opponents simply having better spells and, as followed, better strategies. Oh, you poor, sweet summer child. I thought, feeling an odd surge of sympathy for the blustering rookie. What I said out loud was, "So you said you did your research. I assume it was on your potential opponents?"

"Uh, duh," was his reply. "No one I can't handle, though, especially that retard, Keith." His expression soured even as he said it, the name having the same effect as a bite of rotten fruit.

"You mean Keith Bandit?" I asked. "Big guy, bandana, Pyromancer?"

"The one and only."

We both jumped in our seats at his voice, and whirled around to see Keith himself, leaning back on his his chair with his feet propped up on the back of Sandler's. He flashed a peace sign at me, his trademark sneer hitched n his face as usual. "Don't get too close, bug: it's been five minutes since Fluff's eaten AT LEAST."

"Shut up, Keith!" Sandler hissed, red-faced, as several students in the now almost full classroom snickered quietly. I heard whispered comments along the lines of "He should be proud: he's not covering his food in gravy anymore," "That Dark Fairy's so dead when she turns her back," and "Wonder what the owner's gonna say when he gives them back the wings." From what I heard, I could infer that Sandler was not well liked by the School of Fire, and probably quite a few other Schools as well.

"The offer stands, Bucky," Keith shrugged. "One-on-one Duel, and if your loss isn't an utter embarrassment, I might consider you above my brand of reproach. As is, you're worth less the bug in my book, and she actually comes with a price tag!"

I had to speak much louder than normal to be heard over the resulting laughter: "Oh, good job, Keith, belittling someone at least four years younger than you. Hey, if all this bullying makes him cry, could you do us all a favor and not show us the boner it gives you?"

It only lasted for a second, but the silence was so complete I half-thought I went deaf. The peal of laughter that rose up from the class just about made that a reality, though. Keith opened his mouth to give me a no doubt stunning retort, but a voice from the front of the class stopped him and every other student, dead: "I must ask that you all settle down now."

I righted myself in my set to see: Oh, I'm gay now. Huh.

That bit of thought vomit didn't pop out of nowhere: A skin-tight, vermilion dress with gold and carmine accents that flared out at the hemline to resemble dancing flames as she sauntered over to her desk was the first thing that caught my attention, with her flame-like hair and deep ruby eyes the same shade as her lips following shortly after. She continued, "After all, it's time to begin our lesson." The deep GONG of a giant iron bell sounded out immediately, as if bending to some undetectable, irresistible magic in her warm, yet imperious voice. Her lips quirked up in a small smile as she said, "And it seems we have a few new students today. To you all: there's no need to be alarmed if you feel unready for the material. Simply ask for assistance, and I will give all of myself to you."

I was already sitting straight up, attention rapt. This is gonna be a good day.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND that's it for now. Some info: Sandler the Sorcerer has a weird origin: Dawn Somewhere, a YouTube channel I frequent once I got past all the Pony stuff (and indeed got me into SOME pony stuff (but not the show itself, oddly enough)) has a series called Personal Time with Greg, a sort of vlog series where Greg, the effective face of the channel, talks about things like roleplays, science, dating, basically anything and everything he can think of. A mini-series within that was Children of the Sandler, a tale he tells of a campaign he did when he was a teenager with a group of friends, including a one Sandler,the GM, who by all accounts was an insecure, arrogant blowhard who was awful, petty, and condescending the entirety of the campaign. I really wanted to have a character like that in this story: a big talking, infuriating Jerkass who, due to his ultimate ineptitude and arrogance, would never amount to much and would constant get crapped on by everyone who hated him, which was damn near everybody. Either way, none of this matters at all, as you're probably disgusted with me for that last paragraph. Well, there's a perfectly good explanation for why that was included... by!

Also, 15 Part 2's coming out next week.