An Erosion Diagram - that was what Caldra called it, though Elara still found her own descriptor, tracing the steady transformation of a human into a monster, far more telling.
The new name sounded ominous enough, however, to make her grip the edges of the manual tighter and push it toward her mentor.
“I checked another apprentice’s manual. The rest of the pages are identical, but she doesn't have this illustration,” she explained, forcing her voice to stay steady despite the mounting tension. “Someone swapped my diagram. I don't know who had access to the book, but someone clearly wants me to harm myself.”
“And what do you expect from me?” Caldra asked, looking down at her with unwavering calm.
“Help, Mentor. I can't determine on my own what else has been tampered with.”
Caldra furrowed her brow, her gaze lowering to the girl standing before her. She stayed quiet for a moment, as if weighing whether an answer was worth the time she had already refused to spend on an extended conversation.
“The world of magic does not consist solely of pleasant, wondrous things. To seize power or attain knowledge forbidden to others, certain individuals will do whatever they deem necessary. You must learn to function in this world instead of constantly seeking someone to protect you.”
Elara swallowed the sharp retort that rose to her tongue.
She hadn't come here for a lecture on getting better at dodging death, but picking a fight with the only person capable of aiding her right now would be an exceptionally foolish way to conclude the meeting.
“I understand the principle of survival of the fittest,” she said cautiously. “Except I’ve only been an apprentice for a few days, and servants and other students have already been turned against me. Now I find a page in my manual that shouldn't exist.”
She pressed her forearm against her stomach, where hunger had curdled into a gnawing ache. This time, she didn't have to feign vulnerability to appear convincing.
“Today, I was terrified to eat the lunch brought by a maid.”
“Survival of the fittest…” Caldra echoed, arching an eyebrow. “Your knowledge is lacking, but you certainly don't lack for vocabulary.”
She studied Elara for a moment, then sighed and glanced back down at the open manual.
“Regardless of who is behind this, using the Spire's servants and apprentices for such schemes crosses a line. I will handle it. No one should be tampering with your issued supplies or daily provisions.”
She rested her hand on the girl’s head, keeping it there for a brief moment.
“The most important thing is that you avoided the trap of the Erosion Diagram. Return to your room, eat something, and apply yourself to your studies; you will need strength if you hope to survive here. In time, you will find that far worse things await on the path to becoming a Magistra than someone plotting behind your back.”
Elara looked up, but Caldra had already withdrawn her hand and turned toward the door, clasping her hands behind her back.
She clearly considered the matter settled, and the plea for protection had exhausted whatever time she intended to grant for inquiries.
The girl watched her go, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.
She had secured a promise of intervention regarding her supplies and meals, but the mentor hadn't offered to track down whoever was responsible or stop them from trying again. If Sylvara was truly behind it all, she could still seek another avenue.
At least I won't have to fear every bowl of soup.
For a start, that's already more than I could manage on my own.
If Sylvara was resorting to intermediaries and clandestine traps, she was likely constrained by rules Elara didn't yet understand. A second-rank apprentice shouldn't need such convoluted schemes to eliminate a novice, after all. That realization offered a glimmer of hope, though not enough to make the girl test the limits of whatever protection tower membership afforded her.
She had to capitalize on the time she had just bought and find a way to expand her own capabilities. Until she could stand against Sylvara, her only option was to identify threats early and refuse to let terror paralyze her.
She returned to the desk and opened her unfinished notes. Her quill moved swiftly and smoothly across the parchment; even the more intricate Veyl Script glyphs no longer brought lengthy pauses. Focusing on their forms was far easier than dwelling on who else might want her dead.
At seven o'clock, she gathered her things and stepped out of the workshop.
Almost simultaneously, the adjacent scarlet door swung open, and a woman in her early twenties emerged, bearing the insignia of a first-rank apprentice on her robes. Her work garments draped loosely beneath a full bust, and the confident stride with which she moved down the corridor suggested she knew this place far better than Elara did.
She cast a fleeting glance at the girl before brushing past in silence. Elara stepped aside, letting her take the ramp first, and only then turned her gaze toward the dark red door at the far end of the hall, where the first stage of corpse processing was supposed to take place.
With no deliveries today, she had expected that worker to emerge soon as well. She wanted to at least catch a glimpse of the person responsible for the most hazardous portion of the process, but after nearly ten minutes, the door remained firmly shut.
In the end, she adjusted the books under her arm and set off toward the Glass Wing, deciding that curiosity was not worth delaying dinner any longer.
***
Caldra was in a foul mood, and the exchange in the Pale Ossuary had done little to improve it.
None of the new apprentices met her expectations, even if each possessed at least one quality that had initially seemed promising.
Deyra sensed darkness motes well and possessed decent magical aptitude, but her mind worked too slowly and lacked intuition entirely. Caldra found herself repeating the same explanations over and over, while the girl would get stuck on a few basic runes, as if simply staring at them would eventually substitute for comprehension. It was difficult to hold high hopes for someone who stumbled so heavily over the fundamentals.
Angeline fared better; she was sharper and held solid potential, but she couldn't settle down and focus on her studies.
Her wide, pale blue eyes were constantly scanning her surroundings, as if hunting for shortcuts or checking whether someone else was gaining ground. She tried to navigate even tasks that demanded patient, steady effort through petty schemes, apparently convinced that an innocent expression veiled her intentions.
Caldra had little taste for intrigue and even less patience for students who substituted politics for labor.
She had known people who climbed the ranks among apprentices through such methods, but when the time came to cross the threshold into full Magistra, exploiting the weaknesses of others was no longer enough. At that stage, one needed genuine knowledge and power - neither of which could be forged through clever conversation.
Besides, Angeline reminded her of another girl - one who was very likely paying the price for her choices right now.
With Elara, the problem took a different shape.
Initially, Caldra hadn't intended to grant her much attention, viewing the acceptance of a child with such pathetic magical aptitude as a waste of tower resources. She suspected connections or a paid favor had greased the wheels, assuming the first evaluation would swiftly put an end to the failed experiment.
Then the girl's extraordinary sensitivity to matters of the soul had come to light, though Caldra couldn't honestly take credit for an accidental discovery.
Someone had explicitly instructed her beforehand to test Elara along those exact lines.
She walked slowly along the sloping passage between the sixteenth and seventeenth floors of the Ash Wing, where the mentors' quarters were situated, when she caught movement at her feet.
The lantern light remained steady, yet the shadows cast against the stone began peeling away from their origins, fragmenting into tiny black motes. For an instant, they resembled startled insects scattering across the flagstones, darting into crevices along the walls.
Caldra halted, her facial muscles tensing involuntarily. She slowed her breath and raised her eyes, well aware that the rank of Magistra offered no shield against dread when someone sufficiently powerful stepped into the hall.
Morwen Noxaris descended from above, her arms hanging rigid at her sides. She stepped solely on her tiptoes, keeping her heels suspended high above the stone, as though loath to let any more of her feet touch the floor than strictly necessary.
Dark pink bandages bound her tall silhouette from head to toe, leaving only pale gold eyes visible.
Caldra bowed deeply before the mistress drew level with her on the ramp.
“Tower Master.”
Morwen answered with a low hum and drifted past without pausing. Caldra had just begun to exhale her held breath when, two steps later, the rustle of bandages ceased. She turned instantly, refusing to keep her back to her interlocutor.
“The little one is suited to handling the cadavers, isn't she?” Morwen asked in a mild voice that clashed jarringly with the suffocating tension in the corridor.
“Yes, Mistress. Her sensitivity to matters of the soul is exceptional. On her very first day, she identified viable material that I had overlooked myself.”
“That means you weren't looking closely enough,” Morwen countered with quiet amusement.
Caldra twitched, but made no excuses. She stood with head bowed, waiting for the mistress to speak, trying not to watch the sections where the bandages shifted in rhythms unrelated to breathing.
“Give this to her. It will help her master the craft faster.”
The strips of cloth across Morwen’s abdomen parted, revealing a dark fissure. The mistress slipped a long, slender hand into the opening and withdrew a small, silk-bound book, handing it to Caldra as casually as if pulling it from a pocket.
“Of course,” the mentor replied, accepting the volume with both hands.
Only then did she recall the manual Elara had presented in the workshop. With Morwen taking a personal interest in the child, concealing the matter would look far worse later than addressing it now.
“There is one more matter, Mistress. Someone tampered with her meditation manual, replacing one of the leaves with an Erosion Diagram.”
Morwen tilted her head slightly, and Caldra felt the weight of those pale eyes settle upon her.
“Did she meditate with it?”
“Unlikely,” she answered after a heartbeat of hesitation. “A novice initiate should not have survived that. She likely sensed something was wrong and only brought it to me today.”
A cold draft drifted down the corridor, fluttering the loose fringes of the bandages.
Morwen swayed faintly, still poised entirely on the tips of her toes, while Caldra waited for a response, holding the book motionless before her.
“I will not permit it. The apprentices belong to me, as do the manuals and the servants.” The mistress’s eyes narrowed into a smile, and after a beat, she added just as softly, “The laboratories as well, for that matter.”
Caldra felt a cold dampness at her hairline, but did not lift a hand to wipe it away. She didn't know why Morwen had brought up the laboratories specifically, and she had no intention of asking a question that might enlighten her in the most agonizing way possible.
“Find the culprits and make sure they pay,” the mistress commanded, turning away to resume her descent.
Caldra remained frozen until the tall, bandage-wrapped figure vanished around the bend.
Only then did countless black specks begin seeping out from the crevices in the stone, crawling across the floor to knit back together and gradually reform into ordinary shadows.
She looked down at the silk-bound book, trying to fathom why Morwen had personally chosen a study aid for a newly inducted apprentice.
First, she had ordered her abilities tested; now, she delivered a primer and demanded punishment for those who sought to harm her - when not long ago, Caldra had planned to discard Elara at the very first evaluation.