Vale… Is Not a Vampire?

I stared at the doctor in front of me, at the man that had told me that my attempt at amputation should have killed Uncle Tare. He had been utterly embarrassed only a second ago. Yes, I might have wanted him to cut the niceties and get to the point, but this was abrupt, even to my standards.

Should have died?

How? What?

Uncle Tare was not dead, so how? I had no idea what this doctor was getting at. I had weaved a little Metzus, but surely he was not referring to that. As far as I knew it was impossible to detect the used weaves after the fact.

What did I do after I magicked my brain out?

“How?” I stammered, incapable of voicing this any other way.

Reya had warned me I was not supposed to draw any undue attention to my idiosyncrasies. This was the complete opposite of inconspicuous, and I did not even know what I had done wrong. I studiously avoided Reya’s gaze. I was certain that if she could kick me under the table without the old man noticing she would punt me straight through the wall.

“The amount of magic control required to keep a man stable under those conditions is phenomenal child.” He reassured me with a smile. “It should be… well… I was merely wondering how you managed? To believe I would find someone of such talent out here…”

“Um… I…” I stalled.

Assuming that he was speaking the truth, it was reassuring to know that he had not somehow detected the limited amount of Metzus channeling I had performed during my treatment of Uncle Tare. Yet I had no idea what to reply to this compliment. I knew my magic control was good, beyond good even. But that was merely the result of herculean effort, a desperate attempt to offset my near-complete lack of affinity to Tonaltus energy. It should not have been enough to be noticed like this. The only thing that came to mind was how he must have noticed that the amount of channeling performed did not match what a regular hunter should be capable of.

“Um… layering?” I eventually confessed. It was the only possible explanation I could think of. Years and years I had practiced on the technique. On seeing his confused look I elaborated. “Sorry, I am not Academy trained so I do not know the proper terminology. When you create a weave, the power drain is relative to size and complexity, right? But when you…” I started tracing a pattern on the table to accompany my stunted explanation. “… then you can… re-use…” I faltered.

“Ah, interweaving,” he rescued me, sudden interest apparent as he leaned forward. “You do it supra-collapsed or interspersed?”

“Um… sorry, I have no idea what those two terms mean.” I frowned. “The way where you can repeat the process?”

“Twice!” he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. “You interweaved twice? As in a super-imposed tertiary structure?”

“Ah… yes?” I startled. I also had no clue what a superimposed tertiary structure was supposed to be.

Isn’t a weave just a weave?

Perhaps this was not something the average person was capable of, especially someone as young as he probably thought I was. I wisely chose to keep to myself that I could layer… um… interweave… thrice instead of twice. Or that I did it blind, before pulling out the weave. I did not even want to know what kind of magical Academy vocabulary he would start spouting if I told him that. Besides, Reya stared at me like she was about to develop telepathic powers capable of throttling me from a distance.

“Could you show me?” he asked.

It was the wrong thing for him to ask. Reya nearly shat herself at the prospect of me shitting out my intestines. She was still doing a commendable job of restraining her fury to her gaze, but I feared it would not be long before she would take hold of the table and tear it in half.

I had to somehow indulge this man’s curiosity while reassuring Reya before she was the one that drew his attention. All her previous glares at me had been subtle, only noticeable by me because I was looking for them. This reaction was not. The only reason the doctor had not noticed yet was his utterly inexplicable fascination with my weaving.

“I can not do Tonaltus as there is nothing to heal here,” I explained. “But I could do Atlus? Atlus is safe.”

All of that was aimed at Reya, but worded in a way that the doctor would not notice. No healing because of the association Reya made with it. I even blinked slowly and deliberately right at the mention of the word safe. I prayed she would get the hint.

Apparently she did, as she relaxed her posture.

“Alright. Great! Atlus is fine. Do Atlus,” the Academy doctor beamed.

“Right.” I suppressed a wince, his overly bubbly excitement was nothing if not annoying. “I will need to focus for this, just a simple campfire spell, nothing that will burn this place down.”

“Take your time.” He gave me a reassuring bob of his head.

I focused inwards, pulled out a strand of Atlus, and began weaving. It was weird doing it with a captive audience, but after years of my dad’s tutoring I was used to being scrutinized. The biggest challenge was the simplicity of the spell weave itself. I had never layered this one before because it was literally just for the lighting of kindling. I did so anyway, and one ‘superimposed tertiary structure’ later I had a tiny flicker of flame that I snuffed out almost as soon as it had appeared.

The Academy doctor studied me. The tiniest flutter in the pit of my stomach made me admit to myself that I might just be a little bit nervous. This was a trained mage judging me, someone who had studied the craft for decades. He could not be compared to my usual circle of peers, bounty hunters, and sellswords who scraped by on tatters of third-hand magic ragweaves.

When his scrutinizing lasted a little long I began to wonder if he could perhaps see through me simply by the way I had interweaved. If I could do it so effortlessly, then maybe it was not because I had trained so hard at it but because I was different. Gods knows I did not think like a person at times.

What if I weave differently as well?

What if he can tell?

“Hmmm…” he eventually offered. “Have you considered joining the Academy child? I’d gladly sponsor someone as gifted as you.”

Eeeeeeh?

Yes! Yes! Yes!!!!

I had no words. This was insane. Even Reya seemed absolutely flabbergasted at this sudden offer. Yes, it was probably based on the faulty assumption that I was a barely literate ten-year-old street urchin. But even then, out of anything I could have expected from this conversation, this was not even remotely on the list. I wanted to say yes. I had to say yes. To do anything else would be utterly foolish. Yet I could not. I was a demon. I could not go to the Academy. They would never accept something like me. And yes, they absolutely would find out eventually, no matter how good I was at hiding my true nature.

Aaaah… they’d kill me on sight!

“No… No, no, I’m really not– I doubt the Academy would accept... someone poor like me.” I hastily brushed him off.

“But child, do not be so hasty, please think about it.” The old man seemed as put off by my refusal as I was by his offer.

I wanted to rudely brush him off, to storm out. The Academy was the greatest institution of learning in the country, perhaps even the continent. To be granted a chance to study there was exceptional. A sponsorship meant going for free. One would have to be insane to deny when offered the chance. Yet I had no choice but to decline, not because I did not want to, but because I literally could not go. I wanted to scream, needed to absolutely and utterly destroy something in the most violent manner I could.

This isn’t fair!

Why?

Why can’t I just be normal!

Rarely had I been happier with the complete control I had over my body, enabling me to keep all of this bottled inside. Instead of throwing a tantrum I managed a very diplomatic “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

The man repeated his offer twice more. He assured me he would be here another night, that I had the remaining of the day and all of the night to think about it. I just needed to tell him in the morning. He gave me a way to contact him, any time, anywhere, in case I changed my mind.

I thanked him again and again, told him I could not take him up on his offer, that I had some things to take care of first, that he would be the first I would contact should I reconsider. All of that were lies.

Once he had retired to his room it was just me and Reya left. She gave me a frightful glare and held it for several seconds without speaking. Then she spread her hands out on the table and slowly pushed her chair back, standing up without breaking eye contact. “Vaaaaaale…” she hissed, rounding on me.

What did I do now?

I thought I handled that well?

It can’t be my fault that he’s so excited?

Or is this about before?

She’s aware that the Academy doctor is upstairs and can hear her if she shouts, right?

Reya grasped my shoulders and shook me violently. I expected a severe scolding, a long diatribe on all the tiny little suspicious things I had done during the conversation, a step-by-step recounting of every lie and every single moment she had wanted to throttle me.

“Divine’s dung! Why did you refuse that?” she snapped in utter incredulity. “Who refuses the sarding Academy!”

I let her jostle me about a little. Even this shocked about my refusal she was still her usual brash, indignant self. When she had calmed down somewhat I took off one of my borrowed gloves, revealing the claws hidden underneath. Letting a rare amount of hurt manifest, both on my face and in my voice I whispered very quietly. “Can’t…”

Letting my head hang I hoped she would hug me. She did not. A click of the tongue was all I got, then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me along. “Come on, off to Rafe with you.”

Reya shoved me through the door, into Rafe and Eryn’s living quarters, then followed after me.