Fall of Ima (Cycles of the Lights series)

Chapter Eight

Songbird- 9743 Jeman Year

Vesper's hand slipped. Stiff brush bristles dug into her palm. She paused to inspect the area, ears burning for the sound of footsteps. If Cleodell heard her pause, a tantrum would ensue.

The scratches were light. Pulling a sleeve over the irritation, she grasped the tool once more. Pushing from her shoulders, she continued to scour wood. She was in his private study. Cleodell called on her at random hours of the day. He never used the door to her room, rather summoned passage through walls. Vesper suspected he planned something where he needed the rest of the school blind to their allegiance.

The first time he appeared, Vesper feared he'd intercepted her letter and the Euterpe bird. She'd bribed a mage to send the items to Ima. She poised ready to defend with her tongue. Fear of consequences from the hex prevented her from confronting first. Yet, he made no mention and Vesper dared hope they've made their way to Meliora.

He'd put her to work, performing menial tasks. She sensed he tested to see how far he could push before she broke. Vesper had done similar chores as an apprentice in Priletoria. But years of living as royal and stiffening joints made them a challenge. Unsatisfactory results led to scolding. Each insult made the hex ignite. She repeated tasks until Cleodell's standards were met, willing to bear all if it led to the Seed of Life.

Her around-the-clock servitude continued for six weeks. When initiates' break ended and apprentice training began, Cleodell limited his visits to nighttime. Vesper wished to focus on studies with Master Ramona, but Cleodell's demands made it difficult. Worse, during the clandestine visits, he pried about Ramona. Vesper didn't know what he sought and wanted to keep silent, but the hex prompted her to answer every question.

A habit of Cleodell's irked Vesper. Guarded around others, he grew careless when they were alone. He often organized thoughts aloud. Perhaps he felt secure knowing she couldn't betray the hex. At times she nearly blurted, "Why're you pestering me?" Yet wishes to avoid a fit from him kept her silent. Vesper sat through endless tirades. Through them she learned there was more to the world of Masters than meets the eye. There were two factions, those who believed only light magic should be practiced and those who reveled in dark power.

According to Cleodell, light and dark were "sides to the same coin." Magic was used to serve a purpose, and his was domination.

"I've been hatching a plan for quite some time. You're the last piece I needed," he announced one night. Vesper had been training with Ramona for two months. "You see it wasn't by coincidence you were assigned to Ramona. I saw to it. She's been conniving against me. With the details I'm not certain," he waved his hand as if Ramona's plot was inconsequential. Vesper doubted the kind woman truly did such a thing.

"What I needed was someone who could successfully grow close to her. The last few apprentices were discovered and met an unfortunate end." Ignoring Vesper's wince, he gave a sinister smile, "Which brings me to this: Do you know how one becomes a Master? Not only must you conquer a form of sorcery, but also consume an existing Master."

Vesper's lip trembled. "I don't understand."

Cleodell moved to sit beside her as if they were cohorts. Vesper turned away with disdain. Paying no mind, he leaned into her personal space. With stinking breath he spoke, "You'll soon witness history. Forget these silly basic spells." Cleodell swiped. Scrolls and instruments clattered to the floor as Vesper jumped. "Let me show you real magic!" Cleodell circled a wrist. The motion repeated as he waved arms madly. A hypnotic chant rose as his eyes glimmered with insidious intent. A green cloud formed and words crescendoed. The mist swirled faster, growing dense until finally he held a solid ball.