Chapter Ten: Under | Part 1
By the time Thirtyx reached the headmistress’ office, Professor C and Professor Bavarren had joined the procession. Before Thirtyx even noticed Bavarren, he’d cast enough fancy spellwork to make Thirtyx’s hands useless and his balance questionable, such that he had to lean on Azirenne to remain upright.
Public humiliation. Academic threats. He’d weathered it all, but they’d never gone this far. What was he in for?
And how effective would he be at keeping quiet through it?
Torture, surely, was what they had in store. It was the only explanation for them shoving him into a chair and binding his wrists and ankles to it with spells that seared his skin every time he moved. Meanwhile, Professor Bavarren traced a myriad of sigils on the door.
Even if anyone else learned what was happening, they likely couldn’t break those seals. He was trapped, and Grimmary’s most valuable secret hung in the balance.
Thirtyx didn’t want to provoke Azirenne, but he needed to fight back with every tactic at his disposal—and he wasn’t above name dropping. “You know, as someone currently studying for the Law Comp, I’m fairly certain that both physical and magical torture are currently illegal. When Grimmary hears about this—”
“He will also hear that someone with critical information about his children’s whereabouts withheld that information during a crisis.” Azirenne leaned down to meet his eyes. “He sent those children to my school and entrusted me to keep them safe. Grimmary has been attacked, and his heirs are missing. So you will tell me what you know, or by the Twins, Venmagalion, I will pull it from your head.”
His stomach lurched. He hadn’t considered that the torture might be a means rather than an end—a way to wear down his defenses so they could more easily search his mind. It was all right there. The teleportation. The Pfah magic. Grimmary’s lifelong use of it…
As purple sparks flickered in the headmistress’ eyes, Thirtyx realized three things in short succession. Firstly, she’d used the threat to bring his secrets to the forefront of his mind, because second, screening his surface thoughts would be the easiest way to get what she wanted.
Which meant, third, he had to bury the information immediately.
He’d been trained. Pick a memory. Play it out in detail. Flood it with emotion to make it uncomfortable for the caster to stick around.
Rhea and Benn had learned to protect their thoughts even before they enrolled at Wydewood, and they taught Thirtyx the first time a professor violated his thoughts to humiliate him. He chose that very event to focus on now. Professors Dexerro and Bavarren had teamed up for a unit on how magical regulations had been reshaped after the Veriths’ last fall from the throne. Their hasty retreat back to Everis left many Veriths penniless, and a lot of families had to surrender infants to government support.
“Veriths are selfish by nature, see. And pretty much all babies conceived during the war were given up due to financial insecurity,” Dexerro had said. “It was such a significant influx that naming became a burden. To label them all, they drew from Ancient Draconic to implement a naming system still in use today.”
He stopped in front of eleven-year-old Thirtyx’s desk, grinning down at the boy with barely concealed malice. “Let’s dissect one as an example. Venmagalion, what does your name mean?”
He bit his lip. Even then, he associated attention from professors with bad outcomes. “I was the thirteenth baby given up to the Verith government during a spring when the Emanjos zodiac was in Maghere, and the Cahnbel zodiac was in Erolion.”
“Thirtyx. Venne. Maghe. Olion,” Professor Bavarren recited in Ancient Draconic, his Dragonfolk tongue shaping the words with a precision other mouths couldn’t achieve. “Such clever simplicity.”
Thirtyx remembered thinking that the spectacle wasn’t so bad, for a change. Instead of saying his name like a sneer or offensively abbreviating it, the professors were teaching everyone about it.
Until Professor Dexerro continued.
“Does anyone know the last time the zodiacs aligned in such a way during spring?” At the class’ blank stares, Dexerro turned his beady Troll eyes back to Thirtyx. “It was last year. You really should know this, Venmagalion. We went over the zodiacs last term. But in any case, might that mean there’s an infant Thirtyx Venmagalion somewhere in an Everis orphanage right now?”
Thirtyx shrugged a shoulder. “If… 13 babies were turned in before the zodiacs switched, then yes.”
Dexerro smirked. “I’d say that’s a fair bet. To my understanding, Veriths still enjoy giving up their babies right and left. Why did your parents give you up, Venmagalion?”
Tiny Rhea inhaled to protest, but tiny Benn shot her a warning look, and she fell silent. “I… I wouldn’t know, Professor,” Thirtyx said. “I never met them.”
“So your selfish parents could be out there living a lavish Verith life, and you would never know why they chose that over you?”
Calley Jones 