Arc One: Awakening

Chapter 20: The Soul Mage

"It is good to see you, Professor Quinn," Bartholomew said, welcoming his newest guest with a firm handshake and a twinkle-eyed smile. "I hope your journey was not too uncomfortable."

"Strange, but not troublesome," Azra assured him.

"Your mentor had expressed great admiration for your skills."

"I will do what I can to live up to that," the soul mage promised, following his host deeper into the laboratory. He gaped at the vibrating equipment that sustained the professor's work and the peculiar plants that crowded the garden at the far end. His eyes tracked the room's magnificence up to the balconies, where he spotted the elegant flow of a long-backed coat and the harmonised aura of crimson and lavender. With a book in one hand and the other teasing the tip of her braid, Lilith wandered aimlessly above. She still concentrates the same, he thought.

Acutely aware of the attention aimed at her, she paused in her placid pacing and turned in his direction. In a gesture of surrender, he bent his head, a silent plea for some sign of clemency. When he rose again, the balcony lay bare, and Lilith disappeared up a winding staircase in a flutter of thin fabric and hurt. Though he was tempted to go after her, to talk to her before she stubbornly attempted to avoid him, Bartholomew's assertive voice prompted him to focus on the more pressing matter of the storm.

Azra's inner turmoil passed unnoticed by Bartholomew as he excitedly recounted the knowledge he had gained from researching past explorers of similar weather phenomena. "Am I right in assuming that you have been studying soul magic for some time now?" he questioned.

"Yes," Azra said, distracting himself by an unusually large cluster of zedite. "Almost as soon as magic returned to Solgarde, I found myself drawn to the connection between the living soul and raw magic."

"Ah, well, I would like to hear of your findings. Much has changed, and I am keen to learn about any fresh developments."

"Altair kept copies of all of my published papers. I'm sure he'd be happy to share them."

Bartholomew's fascinated grin remained as he rose from the sheet-strewn surface of the desk he leaned on. "Before you begin your examination of the storm, would you like a tour?" he asked.

"I would appreciate that," Azra answered. "While Professor Bevan provided me with some explanation as to what is going on outside, there are a few things that I need to clarify."

"Of course. This way."

Their voices fading, Altair ensured the double doors beside the compact botanical garden had swung shut before he trudged up the meandering staircases to the highest level. He slowed once at the top and approached the pensive woman as he would a boiling vial.

"A trio of professors," Lilith grunted. "Just what I need." She fought the compulsion to pick at the skin by her nails, clenching and unclenching her fists until the urge passed. Farina would only scold her for it if she saw the flakey mess. 'A mage must take good care of their hands,' her guardian always admonished when she noticed the dry blotches by her fingernails. 'They are the bridge between you and magic.'

Altair relaxed his defensive expression. While in the past he may have reprimanded her for the snarky comment, he understood her current situation left her agitated. After the war, she had been resolute in her refusal to meet with Azra again, and although he was saddened by the rift between them, he respected her wishes. He tried to convince himself that this was different, the nine worlds relied on all of them working together, but the regret of breaking that promise to her still lingered.

"Why don't you return to Solgarde for a little while?" he suggested, reminiscent of the fatherly manner he used to calm her when she tearfully admitted her doubts. "I am sure Farina would be delighted to see you and learn of your adventures."