Mastering astral projection turned out to be a royal pain in the neck.

Quite literally.

Every time I tried to cast the spell, some dark-haired, pale, skinny Royal bimbo decided to break out into a hysterical fit of squeaky laughter. No amount of glaring would make her shut up. Every time my magic failed, my cervical receptors burned as though someone had set them on fire.

Clearly, some people didn't realize the purpose of a library.

"This is pointless," I said to Peter in a frustrated whisper. "It's never going to work as long as that nitwit's here."

"We could go to a private, secluded study room," he replied.

"No, thanks."

"They have windows, you know," he said with a sigh. "You wouldn't have to worry about my intentions or your reputation. The walls and furniture are all bare. No distractions."

"Fine." I sighed when the fool cackled again and squeezed her boyfriend's bicep. "Maybe that'd be for the best."

We packed up our stuff just as she began to make out with her Barbarian boyfriend right in the middle of the reading hall. Only a Royal could get away with such nonsense. If she were anyone else, a librarian would tell her off quicker than you could say, Stop eating his face!

"Ugh, seriously," I muttered.

"The nerve," Peter said, his eyes twinkling.

"Doesn't that annoy you?"

"After eighty thousand years, give or take, you learn to ignore annoying people." He shrugged. "Or you become a murderer. I chose the former."

We closed the door to the study room and sat at the narrow desk. "Ah, peace and quiet," I said, closing my eyes with a sigh of relief.

"Snug and cozy," Peter smirked as he scooted closer to me.

"Don't push your luck, old man." I pointed at the chair opposite. "Sit across from me."

"Pfft, old man." He pursed his lips. "Technically, I'm only two years older than you."

With a heavy sigh, I cupped my forehead. "Right, so how do I draw enough mana again? I keep failing at the crucial moment."

"Try this," he said in a serious tone. "Imagine your power is located in a deep well. Can you picture that in your mind?"

"Yes," I said, my eyes closed.

"Now, get a large bucket and lower it into the well until you hear a splash."

In my mind's eye, I envisioned a large, empty keg. Adjusting it to fit the mechanism, I lowered the bucket into the well. A glugging sound echoed as water rushed into it.

"Good, Liselle. Now turn the crank to raise the bucket and drink the water."

"All of it?"

"Yes."

Grasping the bucket in both hands, I gulped the icy water and grimaced. To my surprise, the liquid burned all the way down, turning into a raging fire inside my chest and stomach. The sensation made me dizzy, and I gripped the edge of the desk to keep myself steady.

A painful tingling like tiny lightning bolts coursed through my veins as my magical power raced towards my receptors. "I feel it! I feel it, Peter!"

"Good, good," he said, his voice laced with enthusiasm. "Now draw it towards your hands until they begin to burn inside. When you can't hold it in any longer, say Avian sight."

With a nod, I followed his advice. My hands pulled on my mana until a point of spongy pressure grew inside my palms. As the tension increased, my receptors began to tingle, then burn like a raging fire.

"Yes, Liselle! You've got this! Ready?"

I nodded.

"And...now!"

"Avian sight."

My soul began to peel away from my physical form with a series of little rips and tears, like someone slowly peeling away an adhesive from a half-scabbed, weeping wound. The harder I tried, the more it felt like someone skinning me alive.

"Peter!" I cried as involuntary tears poured down my face. "I can't! It hurts too much."

"Yes, you can!" he exclaimed as he grasped my hand. "Keep going."

After a final series of rips, my soul finally tore free. A pained cry escaped from my lips as my spirit floated to the ceiling. My essence peered down at my physical body, sitting there with Peter, tears trailing down my cheeks. Peter was holding my hands with a look of tenderness and pride.

"Yes, you did it!"

He gazed up at me--at my pure spiritual essence--and gasped. "You're beautiful, Liselle."

Without a physical form, I couldn't respond, but my soul watched as a faint blush spread across my cheeks. My essence detected Peter's unadulterated joy like sunshine on a cold winter's day.

"I've never seen a soul so pure before," he whispered. "It's alabaster, like the purest light."

He stared for a while until he turned his head and cleared his throat. "Now return to your body, Liselle. If you stay away from your body too long, it puts too much strain on the system."

When I tried to dive towards my physical self, I couldn't move from the ceiling. No matter how much I pushed or pulled, strained or pressed, neither my spiritual nor physical form could move.

My soul began to panic. How do I return?

Peter furrowed his brow and shook my hands. "Liselle?"

Straining against the ceiling, I willed myself back to my body. No matter what I tried, I couldn't move.

Am I dying?

"Wake up!" Peter yelled as he shook my hands. "Come back!"

I can't! Help me!

"Grab the tether, Liselle." Despite his efforts to keep his voice calm, my soul felt a tinge of panic emanating from his essence. "Do you see it? It's a chain linking your body to your soul."

My essence frantically searched for the chain. Once I found it, I pulled myself along until I reached the ground. With a forceful leap, I sprang back into my physical body.

My eyes flew open with a gasp. "Oh, gods!"

"You made it!" he exclaimed, exhaling a sharp breath.

Peter tightened his grip on my hands, and a jolt of energy surged between us as though I'd grabbed hold of a spear of lightning. Tiny white sparks danced across our joined hands and trailed up our arms.

When I yelped in surprise, he let go of my hands, and a faint blush swept across his cheeks.

"What was that?" I asked, breathless.

He cleared his throat and straightened his collar. "Congratulations, Liselle. You've just mastered the hardest spell this year."

"What were those sparks?" I asked, staring at my tingling hands. "Did I cast another spell?"

Peter averted his gaze. "It's just...residual effects from avian sight."

I cocked my head and furrowed my brow. "Why are you lying?"

"It's nothing." He rose and began to pack his things. "Don't worry about it."

"Did it happen because you're a Risa today?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Focus on what's important."

"Sorry, I'm just trying to understand," I muttered. "Why do first-years have to master such a complicated spell anyway?"

"Initiates must realize from the very start that the body and the soul are separate entities." He shrugged. "Many Healers struggle with the idea."

"Why?"

"It's illogical," he said. "People often don't believe things they can't see, and not everyone can cast that spell."

"No?"

Peter shook his head. "You're fortunate. Those who fail must leave Healing and choose another class, like Wizardry. You have to find out early on if you have the sight."

"The soul does exist," I said, astounded by the revelation. "It's an actual presence."

"Precisely." Peter squared his shoulders. "After the fiasco yesterday, you can't blame me for thinking you'd struggle more with it. You're still bound to this physical plane and its trappings."

"Give me some time," I muttered. "Both of my parents were strict Academics. No religion. No ideology."

"If you didn't have any ideology, you wouldn't believe ribbons and colors defined your peers."

"You know what I mean." I rolled my eyes. "Religious doctrine."

"The soul and its purity have nothing to do with religion," Peter insisted. "Religion can help people stay pure, but it's just a means of envisioning the intangible for those who can't see."

I nodded.

"Treasure this moment," Peter said. "Remember it. Many would give everything they own to see as you do."

"Will I have to go through that agony every time I cast the spell?"

"Definitely not." He returned to his seat with a twinkle in his eye. "Watch this."

Peter snapped his fingers, and his soul leaped to the ceiling in a stunning kaleidoscope of patterns and colors. I gasped in wonder as a thousand fractals of light spun above me. A few seconds later, his spirit rushed back into his body, and Peter's eyes flew open.

"You see? Easy."

"Stunning," I breathed.

Peter quirked a brow, amused. "Sorry?"

"Nothing," I snapped. "I mean, it's amazing that you can do the spell so easily."

"Ahh, yes." He leaned back in his seat. "After the first few times, it feels as natural as breathing."

"How do I get to that point?"

"The same way you learn all things," he replied. "Practice. You can be proud you succeeded on the first day."

"Really?"

"You're an unusually powerful and gifted Sorceress, you know." He checked his timepiece. "We should go now. You need your rest."

I nodded and began to pack my things. "Thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome," he said with a genuine smile. "Oh, Liselle?"

"Yes?"

"Never practice without me nearby," he said, his gaze locked on me. "You could lose your soul if the spell goes wrong."

"I promise," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Hey, Peter, can I ask you about that?"

"Ask me anything."

"Is it true that the Gatál use astral projection to conquer people?"

Peter froze, and his expression hardened, his eyes turning to ice. "Why do you ask?"

I recoiled at his sudden change in mood, and I shrugged. "Couldn't we use astral projection to fight the Gatál instead of creating demons?"

"Firstly," he growled under his breath, "never discuss the Fireborn in public. It is a strict confidence. Is that clear?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it. It's just--"

He lifted my chin until my gaze met his, his voice eerily calm. "Is...that...clear?"

"Yes, it is."

"Secondly," he continued in a grave voice, "the Gatál defile our magic by using technology beyond our ken. That's why Shadow Riders are almost invincible."

"Almost?"

"Thirdly, the correct term is Fireborn, not demons," he said. "If I have to tell you again, I will let you flounder on your own like a fish out of water. No more tutoring. Are we clear?"

I folded my arms. "Crystal."

"Good." He opened the door to the study room. "Keep it that way."

I closed the door, and Peter narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing, Liselle?"

"You said almost. Can you sever an astral tether?" I whispered.

"You're too intelligent for your own good." Peter directed his cold gaze at me. "If you commit that crime, it's first-degree murder. It's branded on a black ribbon that can never be removed."

"What do you mean never?"

"You wear it for life, Liselle," he said with a scowl. "You lose all your other colors and become classless. The Free World will shun you forever--if you care about that sort of thing."

"A person can't live without a tether?"

"The body can't survive without a soul."

"How?" I whispered. "How do you sever it? Can you kill a Shadow Rider for good?"

Peter scoffed and reopened the door, gesturing for me to leave. "If you think I'm going to tell a first-year how to commit astral murder, you're insane. Go back to your dorm, and just forget it."

But I couldn't forget. What if that brought the peace? Without the Shadow Riders to maintain order and terror, the Gatál Empire would collapse.

❄️🔥❄️🔥

When I returned to my dorm, I found Bragda cleaning her battle ax at her workshop table. She eyed me with a wary glance, and my heart leaped into my throat.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a gruff tone.

I pursed my lips and stared at my feet. "Bragda, I'm sorry. Please believe me. I didn't mean to hit you. I'd never..."

Bragda grabbed me in a tight embrace before I could say anything more. "I know, sis. My friends said it was a miracle you'd never lost control before. It happens all the time to Sorcerers."

With a nod, I wiped away the moisture gathering in my eyes.

She backed away and curled her lip. "Next time your magic explodes, just try to point it the other way, all right?"

I gave a strained chuckle in a vain attempt to hold back my emotions.

She clapped my shoulder. "Now, let's grab a pint at the pub. You look like you need it."