Corrective classes were held, as always, in the lower reaches of Mistmoon's labyrinthine basements. Supposedly, the chambers I passed had once been dungeons for interrogating enemy prisoners, a rumor that seemed probable until you remembered that the academy had been founded on a peace treaty.
Not that these rooms didn't look the part, I thought as I passed a sealed one. People assumed my powers meant I was never afraid, as if I was somehow immune to normal thoughts and feelings. But when you're trekking down endless dark corridors echoing with the sound of ancient stone settling around you, fire powers suddenly seem like a paltry defense against the phantoms in your mind.
Still, things had improved since my first terrified trip down here. I'd learned to control my flames enough to make a crown of floating ghost lights, which bobbed in time with my hair as they bathed the rough stonework red. Part of me enjoyed these quiet moments deep underground. I could use my powers as much as I wanted without hearing whispers or worrying they'd set anything alight.
Indeed, I was almost disappointed when the familiar double doors emerged from the gloom. Almost, because they happened to herald a certain someone I needed to see more than ever. I took a deep breath, double-checking my appearance as I pondered how best to present myself to him. Or would it matter, considering the day he'd had?
I sighed and turned the handle, willing myself not to beam as I slipped inside. But my renegade smile slipped as I entered. Up and down the rows of dusty desks I looked, but Johan was nowhere to be seen.
"Fire, Ms. Embyrwilde? Not allowed! That's another month for you!"
I quickly snuffed out my flame crown as Mrs. Critchet's wheezy voice sounded from a corner. Forget dark basements, everybody was afraid to get on her bad side. I spun around to explain I needed it to find my way, only to deflate with a scowl.
"Oh, real mature, Johan. They send us here to feel sorry for what we do, not to crack jokes. If Critchet finds out you were imitating her she'll skin you alive."
Johan grinned from beneath the old cloth he was stooped under. Despite being three times larger than the old crone, his rickety parody of her hunchback walk was spot on. I crossed my arms as he hobbled up to me on his makeshift table leg cane, which he thrust at me in a scarily accurate mockery of Critchet.
"Playing dumb won't get you anywhere, missy! I have half a mind to-!"
I nudged the "cane" from Johan's hand with my foot, and he watched it clatter to the floor with brown eyes. He looked back at me, then we both burst out laughing.
"You look ridiculous!" I said after catching half a breath. "Take that stupid thing off!"
I tugged the piano cloth off, and Johan slowly uncurled to tower over me. I made a show of folding the cloth up again, half to control my laughter and half to avoid staring.
If Merylda had a saving grace, it was her taste in men. Of course she'd be interested in Johan, half the girls in school wanted to ask him out. Not only was he a head taller than the other boys, he was built like warrior. There wasn't a muscle on him that didn't threaten to rip his hand-me-down hoodie, and I'd personally witnessed the glory that was watching him strength training.
But as amazing as Johan's body was, it was his face that truly captivated. His pale skin struck an incredible contrast to his wavy black hair, which he wore short in the back and sides and long on the top and bangs. A short but full beard collared his deep jaw and pouting lips, a wild compliment to his strong nose and brows. One might think him a bit of a brute if not for his kind brown eyes and heavy glasses.
Yes, it was the night-and-day difference between Johan's rugged body and his tender heart that truly made him a fantasy come true. I'd never known a man who commanded so much power without it going to his head. Johan wasn't just gentle, he was soft-spoken and always ready to listen to other's troubles. I'd never heard him use so much as an unkind word or even raise his voice.
But he didn't see those things as positives. Not considering how he'd been raised.
"This "stupid thing" is revenge for dropping by to taunt me." Johan said, pulling of his glasses to wipe off the dust. "And don't say you aren't here to do that, because you've done it three times already."
"Actually, I got sent here for setting fire to Merylda." I said.
It was a testament to Johan's good nature that he was able to squeeze a look of sympathy for my chief tormentor. But it was a further testament to his common sense that said look evaporated when he learned only her hair had gone up in smoke.
"What about you? Are you okay? She didn't attack you, did she?"
My heart burned with gratitude as Johan laid his enormous hands on my shoulders. No one ever asked if I was okay, not even my mother. It didn't matter who I went up against in training matches or whatever accident befell me, I was expected to shrug it off and go back to freakdom without a second thought.
I let Johan pull me into a hug, heart pounding as I wrapped my arms around his torso. "I'll live as usual. But Menotha won't be happy when she finds out."
"I won't tell your mother if you won't." Johan said. "About anything."
I buried my face in Johan's chest, inhaling his wonderful forest scent as I fought a sudden stab of libido. I hated how he'd always add that little extra something that turned a completely innocent sentence into an invitation. He probably wasn't even aware of it, and that was what truly frustrated me about our relationship.
I'd known Johan since I was eight, and our misadventures through the intervening decade had made it very clear to both of us that we were madly in love with one another. This wasn't girlish infatuation or "fated love" from cheap novels, this was the real thing.
I just felt so comfortable around Johan. So at ease. And when there were difficulties between us, they only ended up causing us to grow closer together. It wasn't constant burning passion like I'd dreamt of when I was young and naïve, it was a deep bond born from years of familiarity and mutual understanding. We didn't need to say anything to each other because there wasn't anything to say. We were already one.
I shut my eyes as I squeezed Johan harder. At least, I liked to think Johan and I were one, but the truth was it would never work out between us. No matter how great our love, no coupling of caster and mage would stand beneath the roof of Mistmoon.
The elders did their best to pretend differently. "There's no rules against it" they'd say. But everyone knew the heads of the six houses didn't need words on parchment to enforce their fragile peace. The wounds of ancient wars between mage and shifter ran too deep for either side to relinquish their grudge. Allowing even one couple could light a spark that would send six centuries of ceasefire up in flames.
And Johan and I were the children of the two most prominent leaders on each side. Our love would end in nothing short of catastrophe.
"I know, Johan. But... sometime I wish you would." I whispered.
Johan's pillar-like arms wrapped around me, as gentle as they were unyielding, and for a moment, I allowed myself to dream of more. I'd been tempted so many times to go beyond what we had, and I'm sure he had too. But we didn't dare to give in, even in secret. No matter how careful we were, our relationship would get out one way or another. Bad luck was a constant companion in both our lives.
"So, what happened with Urlan?" I asked after minutes of silent bliss. Johan unwrapped himself and looked away, shame on his face.
"The usual. He was shooting his mouth off and... you came up."
I snorted. "Let me guess, my runaway powers wounded his fragile ego."
Johan's face grew red as he looked at the floor. "Well, actually, he's... in Fury right now, and he seems to think you'll submit to him if he, uh... conquers you."
"He can think whatever he wants. Fact is I burnt Merylda's hair to cinders without trying and she's water-affiliated. He's wind-aligned and uses a prohibitive amount of product, I'd probably set off a chain explosion if he makes a pass at me. This right here is exactly why you're better without... y'know..."
John turned away with a crushed look, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I have to keep going there?
"I mean, of course Urlan would abuse Fury, he's a big-mouthed idiot!" I added quickly. "When you unlock it, I'm sure that you'll-"
"I'm never going to unlock Fury, or any of the other moon cycles. You know that."
I bit my lip as Johan's defeated voice echoed around the room. In the dim lighting, it carried a terrible weight that bespoke years of toil without reward.
"Johan... I don't care that you're a Null." I said.
"I do. And so does everyone else. That's why I'm the one who got punished even though the others beat me up for defending you. I can't transform. I deserved it."
My mouth opened and closed several times, but I couldn't find the words to speak to Johan's troubles. And really, what right did I have to talk about such things? Because he couldn't shift, Johan had to push himself to his limit every single day. Everything he had he'd had been built from nothing and carefully guarded from the other Graybriars. But with my powers, I'd never had to work for anything in my life.
How could I offer him sympathy from my lofty perch?
"Did they hurt you?" I asked carefully.
"They tried, but it isn't as easy for them anymore. I have thick skin, I'll walk it off."
That was too much to take. I sat down in the nearest chair, tears blurring my eyes as I tried not to cry. But how could I not weep for Johan's suffering? It was so unfair. For all my isolation and the expectation that had been placed on me, I still had it so easy compared to him. I never had to worry about my siblings trying to kill me. I never had to feel shame at being the only one in my family unable to transform!
Powerful arms wrapped around me, and I kicked myself for being selfish again. I should've been quieter with my tears, I should've-
"I'm sorry, Rave. I know it was stupid to fight him, you don't have to remind me."
"What?" I said, looking up at him. "I-I was sad because I wasn't there to help you. I mean, I know I promised to let you fight your own battles, but... come on. I hate how they treat you just because you're different. You're amazing, Johan! You fight so hard every day and you never win! What use are my powers if I can't help you win with them?"
Johan sat down on the chair beside mine, pushing me into his chest as I struggled to reel my emotions back in. I hated myself so much right now. If only I hadn't been cursed with these powers. If only I'd been born a shifter like Johan. Then, maybe then, I would be able to do something for the man I loved more than anything in the world.
Oh fate, why are you so cruel?
"They have a use, just like my condition." Johan said. "We can't see all ends, Rave. But there are no accidents, and someday we'll see it was for the best... and I hate how they treat you, okay? At least I have friends."
I gave him a mock punch as I wiped my eyes. "Oh what? Am I not your friend?"
Johan cracked a smile and a shrug, and I shook my head. Once more, the urge to grab his stout neck and pull his lips down to mine seared like fire, and once more, I pushed it back down. Instead, I wrapped two hands around one of his, letting our different shades mingle as my warmth spread to him.
"You are, Johan. And I don't want to lose that." I said.
Johan's smile grew as he stared into my eyes, and he suddenly went quiet. I knew the look of struggling to say something important, but he never got the chance. The door burst open to admit the correction teacher, Mr. Pibswitch, who glared at us with beady eyes from his mane of wild red facial hair.
"Graybriar! Embyrwilde! You are to report to the aqueduct for disposal in twenty minutes! Be late and it's another week! Move it!"
Dust billowed as he slammed the door shut again, but even the thought of disposal work failed to dampen my spirits. Johan seemed to catch the fever too, as he stood, hand in hand with me, as we walked out the door to follow Pibswitch.
"I, uh... thought we agreed this was off-limits?" I whispered, snapping my free hand to give us light to walk by.
"I never signed anything." Johan said. "Besides, I've been in that dungeon for a hour. My hands are cold and clammy and need some heat."
It was an obvious lie, but I didn't call Johan out on it. I just continued to let his mighty hand cover mine as we trekked back through corridors and up the stairs, letting go only when we saw the fading light of afternoon coming in from above.
I was grateful for the distraction. My cheeks had to be the same color as my hair.