A Blossom of Flames

News of the room searches quickly spread through the university like wildfire. Valentina heard the first rumors at lunch – students whispering about Emberwardens ransacking rooms, slashing mattresses, confiscating books and destroying personal belongings.

"They took all of Oleanne's correspondence with her betrothed," a third-year student hissed, over her soup plate. "Private letters! Imagine what a scandal it could be if they read them."

Valentina exchanged a worried glance with Innogen. "Are they searching every room or just certain ones?"

"It seems pretty random," the third-year student replied. "But they're concentrating on the upper floors of the residence right now."

Valentina's heart skipped a beat. Her own room was there. She felt a sudden, deep sense of gratitude that she had long since hidden her most dangerous possessions – the forbidden books and the stolen Distilled Essence – deep in the forest. She resolved to buy Master Lucian an expensive gift at the next opportunity.

After eating, she hurried back to her room, only to find that the corridor was already blocked by Emberwardens. One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped in front of her.

"Name," he demanded gruffly.

"Valentina of Palewood, I live here in the attic," she replied with a calmness she didn't really feel.

The Emberwarden consulted a list in his hand, then nodded. "Wait here. Your room is being searched right now."

She stood there for half an hour, watching helplessly as other students entered their ransacked rooms and emerged in tears or suppressed anger. Ginevra's reaction was particularly heartbreaking when she discovered that the Emberwardens had torn up a small doll – a memento of her late mother – because they were looking for hidden items inside.

When Valentina was finally allowed to enter her own room, she was met with a scene of devastation. Her clothes had been torn out of the wardrobe, her books scattered on the floor, the mattress of her bed pushed to one side. Even her small supply of Essence had been opened and inspected, but fortunately left intact.

"I'm sorry about that," said a soft voice behind her. It was Silva, the student from the room closest to hers. Her eyes were red from crying. "They took all my letters from Thomas. All of them... from three years… all gone."

Valentina put an arm around the trembling student. "What did they say? Why are they taking personal letters?"

"Evidence of immoral behavior," Silva sobbed. "Thomas and I... we're not married, but in his letters... he sometimes writes about our future. Our plans. Our... feelings."

Valentina swallowed hard. The idea that strangers were reading, judging and punishing other people's most intimate thoughts and feelings filled her with disgust.

"It's a strategy," Vyxara whispered in her head. "Control through exposure. They take away your secrets and your dignity."

~

In the days that followed, life at the university became increasingly restrictive. There was now an Emberwarden at the entrance to the library with a list of banned books and subjects. Students who wanted to consult certain works had to submit a written request, which was often rejected without explanation.

Pamphlets entitled "Signs of Demonic Corruption" were distributed in the corridors, describing in gruesome detail the supposed symptoms of demonic corruption. Unusual dreams, sudden mood swings, special talents that developed "too quickly", violent, promiscuous and secretive behavior, sudden wealth, strange noises someone was making – all sorts of things were described as suspicious.

Professor Veilford, whose theoretical work on Essence resonance was now under particular scrutiny, was desperately fighting to be allowed to continue his research and Crispin's involvement in it in particular. Valentina observed a heated exchange between him and Illuminator Eastwald in the corridor.

"This work is purely theoretical, Illuminator," Veilford affirmed, his usually calm voice strained. "It has nothing to do with forbidden practices."

"Theory all too easily becomes practice," Eastwald replied coolly. "Especially in the hands of young, undisciplined minds."

"Then monitor us," Veilford suggested, a trace of exasperation in his tone. "Assign one of Illumination's Essence Weavers to keep an eye on us or something. But let us get on with our work. This research could be of great benefit to all Martyrdom."

Eastwald seemed to consider, his deep-set eyes fixed on Veilford like a predator on its prey. "Very well. You may proceed under supervision. But any deviation, any unexpected result will be reported immediately."

Veilford bowed stiffly. "Of course, Illuminator. I thank you for your wisdom and grace."

The bitter undertone in his voice was so subtle that only someone who knew Veilford well would notice it.

In addition to the academic restrictions, there were also practical changes in daily life. Evening gatherings in students' rooms were banned to prevent "immoral behavior". Essence lights in public areas were extinguished earlier, forcing dark corridors and an early retreat to private rooms.

Most humiliating, however, were the physical searches at the entrances and exits of the university. Every student leaving or entering the campus was thoroughly searched by the Emberwardens – a process that was particularly humiliating for the female students, as the searches were conducted exclusively by Emberwardens, all of them men.

Valentina watched as a first-year student burst into tears as the rough hands of an Ember Warden slipped under her skirts, ostensibly searching for hidden items.

"They take pleasure in it," Edgar muttered beside her, his normally jovial face hardened with anger. "They enjoy humiliating us."

Valentina could only nod silently. A suffocating atmosphere had settled over the university – a feeling of constant surveillance, constant danger. Students hardly spoke to each other for fear of being overheard. Professors censored their lectures, avoided controversial topics and innovative thinking.

Crispin, who had once discussed his theoretical ideas so animatedly, became quieter, his eyes constantly darting around nervously. Even Innogen, whose aristocratic background offered her a certain protection, became more reserved, her usual directness replaced by caution.

"They are breaking the spirit of this institution," Vyxara remarked gloomily. "Just as intended. When people are too busy being afraid, they don't start to think or ask uncomfortable questions."

On the evening of the sixth day after Eastwald's arrival, Valentina stood at the window of her tidy room and looked down on the almost deserted courtyard. The atmosphere was oppressive, as if the entire university was collectively holding its breath.

She knew she couldn't wait any longer. The noose was tightening and it was only a matter of time before she herself would be summoned for questioning. And then there was another, almost equally unpleasant task that she could no longer put off.

"It's time to see Professor Horne," she thought grimly.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Yes, it's overdue," Vyxara agreed. "Better to end things on your terms than for Horne to do something stupid in his desperation."

With a deep breath, Valentina prepared herself for the coming confrontation. The night was going to be long.

~

"You know this visit is necessary," Vyxara murmured in her head as Valentina stood hesitantly at the foot of the stairs that led to Professor Horne's quarters. "The longer you delay, the more dangerous it will be for both of you."

"I know," Valentina thought as she climbed the stairs. There was no way out – her earlier agreement with the professor had to be terminated. In the current situation, it was far too dangerous to stall Horne any longer. He already seemed desperate, and desperation made people unpredictable.

She had planned her visit carefully. The Emberwardens patrolled in somewhat predictable patterns, and there was a brief period between the end of the evening watch and the beginning of the night watch when the western wing was left unguarded. Valentina took advantage of this gap, darting through the shadows and activating her Essence Listening to make sure no one was around.

A faint light shone from under Professor Horne's door – so he was still awake. Valentina hesitated before knocking. Their last encounter had been a few weeks ago and she had deliberately avoided him since then. The memory of his hurt, desperate looks still haunted her.

"Don't hesitate," urged Vyxara. "Be firm, but not cruel."

With a deep breath, Valentina knocked softly on the door. There was silence for a moment, then a hesitant "Who is it?"

"It's me, Professor," she replied quietly. "Valentina."

She heard a hasty rustle, then the door swung open. Professor Horne stood before her, and the sight startled her. In the few weeks that had passed since her return, he seemed to have aged years. He was unkempt, deep circles framed his eyes, and his robe hung crumpled and stained on his emaciated body.

"Valentina," he breathed, as if he couldn't believe that she was actually standing in front of him. "Come in, quickly!"

He hastily pulled her into the room and closed the door. As he wove several Essence patterns over the door – feeble attempts to ward off eavesdroppers – Valentina took in her surroundings.

Professor Horne's office was in chaos. Books lay open and scattered on the floor, empty wine carafes piled up on the desk, and the air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and sweat.

"You came," he said, his voice a mixture of relief and fear. "I thought you'd never... Do you want some wine? I have another bottle of southern wine here somewh-"

"No, thank you, Professor," Valentina interrupted him gently. She noticed how his hands were shaking as he nervously played with his robe. "I'm here to talk."

Horne slumped heavily into a chair. "Of course, of course." He cleared his throat. "You must know I've missed you. Our... meetings. They've been a bright spot in my otherwise monotonous life." He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Valentina sat down opposite him, but kept a clear distance. "Professor Horne," she began, her voice firm but not unkind, "we need to be realistic. The Illuminator's presence changes everything."

"The Illuminator," Horne repeated bitterly. "A plague, that man. He haunts our university, scours our minds and imputes the worst intentions to everyone." He lowered his voice. "Do you know what would happen if he found out what happened between us? We'd both be pilloried. Maybe worse."

"That's exactly why I'm here," said Valentina. "Whatever was between us, it has to end. Here and now."

A shadow flitted across Horne's face. "You can't mean that. After all I've done for you? I'm sure you enjoyed it too, I know you did. You did-"

"Professor," she interrupted him again, this time in a tone that brooked no argument. "That was a different time. Circumstances have changed. The Illuminator – he looks for every opportunity to punish a moral lapse. Especially with professors who should serve as role models."

Horne's face contorted into a grimace. "I understand. You're afraid of being associated with me. With an ageing, pathetic man whose career is coming to an end anyway."

"Don't fall for his pity party," Vyxara warned. "He's trying to manipulate you emotionally."

Valentina sighed. "It's not about your age or your status, Professor. It's about the safety of both of us. If the Illuminator finds out what happened between us, he may punish me harshly, but he'll destroy you."

These words hit their mark. Horne slumped, with all defiance leaving him.

"You're right," he finally whispered. "The Emberwardens have been going through my books. My notes. If they had found my... personal writings..." He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. "He's already asking questions. About my relationships with certain students."

"About me?"

"About you, yes." Horne's voice became quieter. "And about others. Your name is on his list, Valentina. He has records documenting your sudden progress, your surprising success at the Greystone Competition, your connection to the Duke of Dusktown. The Illuminator suspects... something immoral behind your rapid rise."

Valentina felt her heart racing, but tried to remain outwardly calm. "That's just conjecture."

"Don't underestimate him," Horne warned, suddenly surprisingly sober. "Eastwald isn't just a fanatical fool. He's experienced at ferreting out the hidden. There are rumors... rumors that he himself once fought a demon. The burn scars on his face are said to be from that."

"What nonsense," Vyxara commented dryly. "But the story gives him a certain... dramatic authority, of course."

"What do you advise me to do, Professor?" Valentina asked, her voice calmer than her inner self.

Horne leaned forward, his eyes sharper than before. "Don't show your extraordinary abilities… the secrets I shared with you. Keep them hidden. Stick to the simple Essence patterns. And above all – don't ever give him answers that might raise more questions."

He stood up, went to a small cupboard and pulled out a vial of shimmering Essence. "Take this, please," he said, handing her the vial.

Valentina hesitantly took the vial. "Professor, I can't take that."

"Please, for the sake of our time together. Think of it as an old fool's last gift," he interrupted her, a sad smile playing around his lips. "I had hoped that we would... but it doesn't matter anymore. You're right. Our safety is more important."

There was silence between them for a moment.

"Thank you," Valentina finally said quietly.

As she stood up to leave, Horne gently held her back by the arm. "Valentina..." His gaze searched hers, a final plea in it. "Was it... did it mean anything at all to you?"

She looked into his decayed face, saw the lonely old man behind the once authoritarian facade. "It wasn't all deception, Professor," she finally said, choosing her words carefully. "You helped me. I won't forget that."

It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either. Horne seemed satisfied, let go of her arm and nodded.

"Farewell, Valentina."

Valentina scurried to the door, checked the corridor with Essence Listening, then slipped out. As she turned, she saw Horne standing in the doorway, a lonely, broken figure against the dim light of his room. In that moment, she felt an unexpected wave of pity for him – a man trapped in his own weaknesses, now facing his worst fears.

"You're too soft-hearted," Vyxara commented as Valentina hurried down the stairs.

"I probably am," thought Valentina as she slipped through the shadows. Back in her room, she carefully stowed the vial away and sat down on her bed.

Despite all her caution and fear, Valentina felt a growing sense of defiance. She would not let this Illuminator break her. Not after everything she had been through. Not after all she had achieved.

"Good attitude," Vyxara murmured approvingly. "And now you should get some rest. I have a feeling your own encounter with the Illuminator isn't far off."