AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's a nice long explanatory chapter for you. Just so you know, it's the first of three similarly-named parts which are supposed to occur at pretty much the same time: the second, (O My Brother), is about first Krystal and then Deveric, and the third, (The Man Who Calmed The Storm), is about Felix. I haven't written either of these yet, however, and it doesn't appear I'll have a chance to any time soon.

The reason for this, is that Eyetk has furnished me with the second email I requested. I was kind of hoping that would never happen, but now I'm honour-bound to finish Sealing the Devourer. It's a shame, because this story is just getting to a really interesting part; and I only like the first chapter of Sealing the Devourer, I honestly think it just went downhill from there. It got worse and worse with every chapter. -shudder- Anyway, I won't be updating this again until SD is finished.

Well, I figure I should go about answering some of your reviews, so here I go:
smosthedog: The fight scenes, eh? Good question. I don't really know. I guess I just visualize the scenes in my head, playing them out the way I imagine they would, rather than the way I would like them to. If char A has to survive, and I don't think char A can beat char B ... then they won't fight. Suspension of disbelief is all very well and good, but you can only take it so far. As for description, I just write what I imagine, describing what I see in my mind's eye, as long as it feels natural and flows well.
rrmehta364: It's Latin. I don't speak Latin, though, so it's actually bastardized Latin, which I suppose you could technically say is a derivative. However, if I use a foreign language wrong, I welcome anyone to correct me, as long as they can explain themselves properly.
Eyetk: As previously explained (in Chapter Two: Rain), the school is divided into three subschools. What I didn't explain, but what was implied (perhaps a little too subtly, as it turns out) was that each subschool had a first and second year. So Valis, being a first-year senior, is in Year 11, and aged 17. Liriel is a first-year junior, in Year 7, and aged 13.

Chapter Eight: Recollections in a White Room

Valis stirred between the conscious and unconscious world. He felt his body, in a soft and warm caress, but he couldn’t move, or see, or hear; and in his mind’s eye, he gazed into the black world as through tinted glass, watching its violent upheaval, surreally detached. The earth shook and rolled, and the skies boiled. And somewhere, in that vast, barren realm, there was a figure standing calmly amidst the chaos. He felt its gaze, and a mysterious dread filled him.

What was this calamity?

‘You have opened this realm at last. Very soon, it will take on a new shape. Now it is in the throes of that change.’

That voice again: soothing and melodious, yet also strangely stern and authoritative. The voice of the black realm no longer repeated the same words—that was the first thing that alarmed him. But it also sounded much more human, now, more alive.

Who are you? he thought. Where…? I can’t see.

‘I am the spiritual within yourself.’

At once Valis’ perspective shifted, drawing in towards a figure as impenetrably black as the realm it occupied—a silhouette, with keen eyes of brilliant, shining silver. Though it stood untouched by the chaos, unmoved though the earth rolled and shook beneath it, its outline flowed sinuously, caught by the strange, unfelt wind.

‘You may call me Animus.’

The ‘spiritual’? What does that mean? Just what are you?

Animus seemed to smile, although Valis couldn’t see its face at all. ‘Would it not be better to ask who you are?’

I know that already! I’m Valis Laviard. A … a sorcerer. I know enough to work that out myself.

‘Oh? But that is only the barest of truths,’ Animus descanted. ‘As for myself … you may consider me an “ally”. Do not be concerned over it for now; you will understand before long.’

-----

The infirmary ceiling gradually came into focus. Valis’ arm throbbed dully, and he groaned, squinting and trying to clear away the grogginess. There was something heavy lying across his left side, and he couldn’t move that arm; he didn’t want to move the right, because although it didn’t hurt much, he remembered far too well what had happened to it.

Raising his head a little, Valis looked around the room. Liriel was curled up on top of him, fast asleep—that explained the weight. There were two chairs by the bed, and a book lay on one. Valis thought he recognized it, but couldn’t tell from where. The curtains had been drawn, and from the scant light coming through them he estimated it was around five o’clock.

Valis tried to sit up, but his head began to spin and he felt nauseous, so he gave up and slumped back in the bed. With a little effort, he dug his arm out from under Liriel. For a moment he considered letting her sleep, but there was no one else to explain anything to him. “Hey, get up,” he insisted, shaking her. “What’s going on?”

Liriel mumbled in her sleep and shifted around. After a few seconds, she inhaled sharply and opened her eyes. “What d’you want?” she groaned. “Just give me a few more …” All of a sudden she sat up, seeming to remember where she was. “Valis!” she exclaimed. “You’re awake! I was just …” Her expression changed from embarrassment to anger. “What in all the hells were you thinking, doing something that stupid?” she upbraided him.

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” Valis said, glowering stubbornly. “And get off me, will you? You’re heavy. What happened, and what are you doing here?”

Deveric was still for a few seconds, and for a while it looked like he was going to try something. After a tense interlude, he stepped back, raising his hands into the air. “Fine,” he said, with the air of someone doing a favour for another. “You win, Felix. I’ll walk away. But this is not the last time. I will never forgive your kind.”

“That’s perfectly all right, Mr. Telyanin,” Felix said indifferently. “I wasn’t expecting a change of heart.”

She flushed slightly in embarrassment and scampered off the bed, onto one of the chairs, adjusting her skirt and her hair before replying. “That boy … Felix, his name was … got rid of those delinquents. And then Mr … Zakhov, was it? He sent everyone home, gave them the rest of the day off.”

“It’s fine, my dear,” Zakhov said gently. “You can leave him now.”

Krystal looked up at the teacher’s kindly face and wiped the tears from her eyes. She nodded, and laid Valis down gently, standing up to allow the man some room.

Bending over Valis’ body, he took something out of his pocket and rubbed it, before pocketing it once more; Krystal caught a glimpse of silver. He muttered something under his breath, and held a hand over Valis’ arm—and when he took it away, she was sure there was less blood, and the wound didn’t look as bad. Valis was breathing more evenly, as well.

“This won’t last long,” Zakhov said, “but it’ll do until we get him up to the infirmary.” He stood and looked up at the crowds of students milling around and chattering excitedly. “Everyone, listen up!” he called out. “School is finished for the day. Go home, all of you are dismissed.”

Valis rubbed his forehead. “So where’s Zakhov now?” he asked.

“Umm …” Liriel pondered for a moment. “He went somewhere with Krystal. I think he wanted to talk to her in private.” She frowned as though in thought, before brightening up again. “Oh yeah, there was another boy brought in here! The one who was fighting with that gang! What was his name…?”

“Mr. Croft,” Felix said dispassionately, hoisting him to his feet. “You’re a mess.”

Harlan swayed a little, and almost fell. He wiped blood out of his eyes with a grimy hand, and smiled weakly. “How nice of you to point that out, Felix,” he said sarcastically. “Of course you’re radiant as usual.”

Felix seemed to miss the suggestive comment—but then, nothing ever touched Felix. He just continued to smile the same serene, vacant, soulless smile; it had unnerved Harlan when they first met, but after a while he had learned to ignore it.

“Harlan,” Valis interjected.

Liriel looked up at him. “Huh?” she said.

Sighing, Valis shook his head in impatience. “That’s his name, you dolt,” he replied. “He was blonde, right? And tall.”

“Yeah,” she exhaled, biting her nails on one hand. “I hope he’s okay. Rose has had a crush on him for a while.”

Valis gave her a sceptical look, but she was staring off into space, and consequently missed it. He refrained from making comment, and so they sat for a while in a silence relieved only by the faint chirping of birds from outside.

After some time, the infirmary door slid open and Zakhov entered. “I see you’re awake, my boy,” he said cheerily.

Valis nodded, still deep in thought. “How’s Harlan holding up?” he asked abruptly.

“Him?” Zakhov laughed, taking out a cigarette and box of matches. “I already treated him, he’s perfectly fine; his injuries were only superficial to begin with. If you must know, he’s presently in a discussion with Felix.”

“Felix …” Valis said, as though testing the word. “Liriel mentioned him before. Who is he?”

At the mention of her name, Liriel looked up from her rumination; after registering what had been said, she fixed Zakhov with an expectant look. She’d already seen Felix, but still seemed as interested as Valis was to know more about him.

Lighting the cigarette, Zakhov took a long puff before replying, the smoke making thin trails in the air. “He’s a sorcerer,” he replied bluntly. “Also, a sentinel. Because of his abilities, he’s classified as elite.”

An elite sentinel? And a … “A sorcerer,” Valis mused. “Like me?”

Zakhov studied Valis, seeming to measure him with his eyes. “No, not at all,” he said after a moment. “He’s very different to you.”

“Different?” Valis asked, confused. “In what way?”

Pausing to think, Zakhov dragged on his cigarette again. “I suppose you’ve heard of the Great Mage Clans?” he queried.

“Yes,” Valis replied. “Who hasn’t?”

“And what exactly do you know about them?” Zakhov asked.

He thought for a moment. When it came down to it, he really didn’t know anything at all; he had only heard rumours, and he knew they kept their secrets close. “I guess I don’t really know anything,” he said, scratching his arm absently.

“Well now, where to begin,” Zakhov pondered. “Well, first I suppose I should tell you what the Clans are.” He waited for Valis to nod before continuing.

“Magic is a very powerful force, Valis. Due to its use, many wars have occurred, and there has been tremendous suffering. But it is necessary to this world, and we could never survive without it. It exists in two forms: the power imparted by the gods, called Divine magic; and the power of the individual will, called Arcane magic.

“Divine magic cannot go against the will of the gods. It is a tool of their servants. However, when Urêl punished many of the gods for their role in the cataclysm at the end of the Third Age, Divine magic almost left this world: the gods agreed to seal their realm away from ours. At first it was disastrous, as theocracies were deposed and supplanted, and disease and violence spread. Eventually, Urêl was forced to relax His policy and allow the gods back into our realm, although only a trickle of their power. That was enough to restore the magic of faith, even if the gods could not incarnate themselves, and is considered the beginning of this, the Fourth Age. However, due to the gods’ distance, there are now fewer and fewer who wish to wield that power, and most of those become healers.

“Arcane magic, however, is very selfish by nature. A wielder of Arcane magic draws on a source of power, either within himself, or from elsewhere, and uses this to exert his will on his surroundings. This can often be disastrous, and in the wake of the Third Age, a way to control its influence was preached and then eventually adopted. This was the Concord of Inheritance: that Arcana should only be passed down within certain bloodlines, and kept out of the hands of the masses. Only those of chosen blood were taught to use it, and this blood was the basis of the Mage Clans.

“The Clans are of noble ancestry, descended from powerful, immortal servants of the gods. Every Mage has divine blood, which determines his talent. The most talented Mages, with the greatest inheritance, are sorcerers. They develop powers without needing to be taught, and while all Mages share certain abilities, sorcerers always acquire unique skills of their own. A sorcerer draws on internal power, wielding magic straight from the blood.

“Those less fortunate, of lesser blood, still have the right to be taught Arcana. These are wizards, who must master magic by their intellect, and must rely on external sources of power. The only advantage wizards have over sorcerers is that they have a less narrow focus, and can master a broader range of abilities. But in general, sorcerers are superior. Of course, all things rely on aptitude, and so a wizard can still defeat a sorcerer, despite having a lower potential. Do you follow me so far?”

Valis wasn’t sure he did; it was a great deal of information to take in all at once. However, he felt that it was most appropriate just to nod and let Zakhov finish.

Zakhov harrumphed and narrowed his eyes, as though he knew what Valis was thinking; he continued regardless. “There are five Clans in total. They can have very different abilities, though there is a great deal that they share. Each one descends from a different line.

“The first is the Tempest’s Heart. Magi of this Clan claim descent from elemental beings, and incarnate spirits of the earth. They can be fickle and capricious. Sorcerers of this Clan call themselves Savants, and are the most diverse group of sorcerers. They display elemental powers, but each individual tends to be strong in only one of the four. Rarely, they may have equal strength in two elements, and there have been a few fearsome individuals who mastered all four.

“The second is the Ascendant Dawn. Magi of this Clan claim to be descended from celestials, and other servants of the good deities. However, and I should stress this point: this does not make them good or trustworthy people. Regardless of inherited tendencies, any Mage can have any outlook. It doesn’t always correspond to the lineage of his Clan. Sorcerers of this Clan are called Risen, and often display powers relating to the Air and Fire elements, as well as powers resembling some forms of Divine magic.

“The third is the Waking Dragon, and I need not explain what lineage they claim. As a Clan they have similar diversity to the Tempest’s Heart, but they tend to be individually stronger. Their sorcerers have the title Draconian, and wield powerful magic, drawing evocations from various elements, and also self-enhancing spells which can make them much stronger, faster, and hardier. They are usually valuable, capable allies, or tenacious and fearsome opponents.

“The fourth is the Broken Veil, drawing power from the spirits of life and death. They are the only Clan with no elemental talents whatsoever, but their unique skills make up for that deficiency frighteningly well. This Clan’s sorcerers are called Deathless, a title far from being inappropriate; their magic manipulates life-force directly, extending or extinguishing life as they see fit. The most talented heirs of the Broken Veil can retain their awareness after death and continue in a semblance of life.

“The fifth and last Clan has the most dreadful reputation, and is called the Profane Eye. They share the blood of demons and other monstrous spirits, and have power over them. Therefore there are those in the Clan who worship and serve demons, spreading terror and misery; and there are those who influence the fiends with their power, hunting and banishing them. Only vary rarely does an heir of the Profane Eye not follow one of those two paths. Their sorcerers are Diabolists, often with strength in Earth and Fire, and with a talent for summoning, and for controlling mortal minds.”

Valis shuddered at the last phrase: controlling mortal minds. It was such a dreadful, insidious power. But wait … “Then what Clan am I from?” he asked, with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

Zakhov took a last puff of his cigarette, before grinding the butt out on the sole of his shoe and placing it in a small metal bin against the wall. “The only way to know for sure is to ask your parents,” he said. “But there are indications that you’re a Risen. Deveric thought so, and I do as well. You see, Valis, a sorcerer is marked by his appearance; often, it is possible to distinguish Clan by a glance, and usually one can at least make an educated guess. Hair and eyes are the most common giveaway, and yours bear the hallmarks of celestial influence.” He let that statement sink in.

“But …” Valis began, thinking about the fight. “What happened before, when my hair turned silver? I felt so much stronger than normal, and everything was so clear it was astounding.”

“That was your first experience of the hyperstate,” Zakhov explained. “It’s a form of heightened awareness achieved when a sorcerer taps into his magic. In the hyperstate, lineage becomes more pronounced, as you yourself experienced when your hair and eyes became silver and metallic. Metallic colours suggest celestial or draconic descent.

“In the hyperstate, one’s mind accelerates, improving judgment and reaction time. This can be dangerous, though: however tempted you may be to believe that your body is faster, that is merely a deception and an illusion. The body is no faster than before. So you can dodge a knife, or a punch, with apparent ease—but these are things moving at the same speed as you. Even those can still harm you if the opponent is truly skilled. Your maximum physical performance is not improved.”

That explained why he did so well against Charlie—who was wounded and exhausted—while Deveric was able to catch him easily.

“There is one great benefit of the hyperstate,” Zakhov went on. “Some powers will have a continuous effect, without requiring incantation or even concentration. What powers you may exhibit in the hyperstate I cannot say; it is different for each person. But they tend to be the powers closest to your nature and predilection.”

“Wait a minute,” Valis said, wondering about it for the first time. “How is it that you know all of this?”

“That’s easy,” Zakhov replied with a wry smile. “I’m a wizard of the Tempest’s Heart. But if you ever tell that to anyone outside of this room,” he said, winking, “I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

“But…!” Liriel piped up, adding to the conversation for the first time. “That’s not fair! Everyone’s already seen Valis use magic, and Felix too! What’s going to happen to them?”

Zakhov grinned. “I imagine the knowledge can only do your brother good. Sure, there’ll probably be more people who hate him, and more who want to kill him, but I don’t think anyone will have the guts to actually try it again. They’ll be far too afraid. Sorcerers are deadly, terrifying monsters in the eyes of most people. As for Felix …” he paused, and twisted his mouth in discontent. “It’s up to him, and I imagine he’ll want to withdraw from the school now that his secret’s out. It’s his last year, and he’s already a sentinel, anyway.”

Valis laughed bitterly. “I don’t care about that. Everyone thought I was a monster to begin with. Now I can get some of my own back.”

At that statement, Zakhov gave Valis a warning look. “I should make it clear to you, if you cause unnecessary harm to any student of this school … the retribution will be swift and unmerciful. I will see to that myself. Restrain your violent impulses, Valis.”

Valis glowered at Zakhov. The man was just being difficult; what good was sorcery to him if he wasn’t allowed to use it?

How irritating.