Chrysopoeia

Chapter 7 - Only Being Polite

The Map Chamber was still and quiet, the glassy, blue floor absolutely pristine-no trace of Goblin invasions, battles with dragons... or dead professors. Cassia closed her eyes and swallowed hard before entering, flashes of Professor Fig pulsing through her memory. Her footsteps echoed as she descended the stairs and approached the four tall portraits.

Except for their elaborately painted backgrounds, the portraits were empty. Cassia approached the second from the left and touched the canvas, uncertain what to say.

"Professor Rakham?" She said quietly. Silence. Then, a little bolder. "Professor Rakham!"

She looked back and forth at the portraits. Each one remained unmoving. She took several steps back so she could see them more clearly.

"Professor Rookwood? Professor Fitzgerald? Professor Bakar?"

She clenched her hands nervously and bit her lip, the room so hushed she could hear her breath. Not even the map below twinkled to life.

"I need help. My Ancient Magic-it's been acting up. I can feel it growing inside me right now, and I'm afraid something bad will happen. Yesterday, on the train, it caused a snowstorm. Please, I need you to help me control it."

She waited, but there was no response.

"Are you not going to say anything? After the trials and-and the Repository... haven't I proved I can be trusted? I sealed it away, didn't I?"

She folded her arms, wondering if they knew about the Dark magic, about the things she had dabbled in. She thought of the green flashes and forcing Goblins to fight for her. A knot tangled in her stomach.

"If-if you're worried about what I think you're worried about... I haven't touched it since. I don't want to be that kind of witch. And I'm sorry-really sorry-that I ever went so far. But you must help me, please, because I don't want anyone to get hurt."

The tingling in her body ebbed until it remained only in her spine, climbing up and down. It was a relief and, yet, a disappointment. Perhaps if the Ancient Magic were to manifest in that very moment, the Keepers would understand what she meant.

She continued to speak with them, to plead for their assistance, but they failed to appear. She wondered if, now that they had completed the roles of their creation, they had drifted away into nothingness. But something felt wrong as she scuffed her shoe against the floor, her mouth dry. An unsettling feeling in her gut told her they remained distant on purpose.

"Well, I suppose I'll go then," she whispered slowly, more to herself than anything.

She sauntered along, a stony disappointment settling in her chest. The Ancient Magic had gone for now, but it would soon return, and she still had no means of preventing its destruction.

***

"Of course, they didn't answer," Sebastian said the next day at breakfast. "They put you through the wringer, then just abandoned you. They always were withholding."

"Now, wait for just a moment, Sebastian," Ominis said, blowing on his tea. "Perhaps their portraits had been destroyed just like Isadora's had."

Cassia stirred her porridge across from them. "No, I don't think so. They were entirely intact."

"Well, some other reason, then," Ominis said. "They said it was their duty to protect Ancient Magic, right? Then, if it's becoming dangerous, they have to help. There's no way they would simply disappear."

"Their duty was to protect the Repository and keep Ancient Magic a secret," Cassia said. "If they don't tell me anything, then they've done their job."