(no subject)

"You can't just bring that thing in here! There are delicate experiments in progress!"

Zeke looked up from his lab station and gave the speaker, a very bleary look. He'd been in the Purple laboratory for hours already simply because there was never anything happening in it. Purple students congregated in the library, that was why they were Purple. The laboratory was frequently used for storage, or to try and repair some of the older texts.

Decimate looked up from his cozy spot in the corner to yawn, conveniently baring all his razor sharp teeth and causing the young man in the pristine robes to shift nervously.

"He's not bothering anyone. Go away. I'm working." Zeke grunted after a few throat clearings. He was fairly sure he'd worked out the basics of the preservation charm they used, but it was highly flawed for his purposes. It preserved the natural elements of the books, namely the paper, vellum and leather, but it ignored many glues and inks which had to be reapplied or bound by a separate spell entirely. Zeke wanted one simple spell that would stop the decomposition of all parts of the book.

Perhaps he was looking in the wrong place.

"Familiars are not allowed in the laboratories! It's against the rules!"

Preservation was simply a means of halting decomposition. A static field around each book might halt the passage of time in that small field of space... but that would be immensely complicated to key to each book, and making a static field move as the object moved would entail fixing space and time to a point of matter....

"The rules only apply to students." Zeke pointed out distractedly. He could ask some of the Green if they'd thought about fixed space/time points and what the effects had been. It was prohibitive for something as small as a single book but perhaps around an entire library you could mass preserve the texts....

"And who do you think you are if not a student? You're only a Wizard on technicality!"

Decimate slowly stood up and shook himself awake, fur and feathers shooshing and sending up dust from the unswept floor.

They really could use a Clara or two down here.

Couldn't the halting of decomposition also be a Black application? Surely those who raised and used corpses for menial labors had to have some kind of preservation to keep the things from rotting and falling apart as they worked, otherwise what was the overall point? Granted the motion of animation would slow down the effects of larger carrion and insects but you still had mold, bacteria and the environment to consider...

"I'm Zeke. Thank you for your help, I think I have some leads now." He grinned at the young man, idly wondering why he seemed flushed and sweaty. Standing caused a few things in his spine to crackle and pop. "Come on Deci, lets go ask Kavinak and what's his name? Shuld? Skoold? That Green fellow some questions."

Decimate smiled, rumbling lowly in pleasure.




"Do I really have to do this?" Zeke rolled his eyes at the robes Neph held out for him.

"It's tradition, do try to have at least some respect for it, no matter how senseless. Have you bathed?"

"Of course!"

Neph gave him a rather disbelieving look. "Sometime in the last week?"

"Be picky why don't you?" Zeke muttered. He ignored Decimate's snort of amusement and Neph's faintly pained expression.

"Go bathe. Scrub. Wash your hair. Do not come back until you both look and smell human again."

Zeke rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "I thought you were in a hurry for me to get here dress and get on with the whole thing."

"I was. I think the Circles will understand the delay however, when the opening ceremony involves burning those rags you insist on wearing."

"These are my best traveling clothes!"

The look on Neph's face spoke volumes, none of them approving and some quite horrified.



Zeke's skin was the color of well oiled rosewood when he came out of the bathwater. His hair, once properly cleansed and dried, curled in blue-black ringlets around his head. Looking in the crystal clear quicksilver mirror of Neph's parlor, he tried to remember his brother's features. Vence had been lighter, his skin ruddier, like dark baked clay. His face had been rounder, softer, where Zeke's was high cheekbones and sunken eyes. Zeke recalled he'd had softer, courser curls, often braided close to his scull and decorated with cheap wooden beads and bits of colored thread. Mostly Zeke remembered his eyes, the only thing that marked them as true brothers. They shared the same gleaming golden eyes, but where they were strange and startling in Zeke's dark drawn face they were kind, open and warm in Vence's.

Vence who always smiled, voice that ringing tenor that beckoned one to conversation just to hear him speak more. Vence who was the only person overlooked and ignored more than Zeke in their house, and deserved it so much less.

"I miss you." He murmured to the memories in the glass, looking away before his heart tried breaking out of his chest altogether.



Landier had stood before them once in Green robes edged in all the Colors of the Circles, and pronounced himself capable of miracles. Although Zeke was technically a Wizard of the Red thanks to his binding of Decimate, he had never undergone the Trials to be formally acknowledged. Red was the only Circle that could or would take a Wizard without proper Trials.

The robes Zeke wore now were Red only along the shoulders and upper chest. Each Color had a stripe of equal length, following the Spectrum from Dark to Light, stitched together with Pink thread and edged in the Color of Harmony. While following the dictations of tradition, these were robes unlike any other set. Neph was rather proud of them, the simple and controversial statement they made would set every one of the Circles in a tizzy before Zeke even opened his mouth.

Whether Zeke actually passed the Trials or not, that he'd made the attempt in robes declaring each Color equal would go down as one of the boldest and most bizarre events since the founding of the Akademy.

Zeke of course was completely oblivious, which just made the whole situation sweeter.

"Can you please explain to me why I have to do this barefoot? The stones are *cold* and hard and at the very least a pair of slippers would be appreciated." Zeke complained, struggling into the yards of dyed linen.

Neph arched a brow. "What are you doing in those leggings? You can't wear those with the robes, not at all."

Zeke made a sound like an angry goose. "Why not?"

"You're a Wizard Zeke, Wizards wear robes, and those things leave terrible lines in the linen, take them off."

"You want me to freeze into a eunuch just because a bunch of old cronies in the Halls can't get it up anymore?!"

Neph blinked. "Haven't you *ever* worn underwear? Ever? Oh dear."



Zeke tried very hard not to think about the fact he was wearing Neph's under things. Or that his toes were aching, his heels were bruised, and the chill in the central chamber hall had his nipples tight enough to poke through the thin robes he was very sure were some form of perverted punishment. What was wrong with thick wool? Or leather? There was absolutely no reason he should be standing here without at least shoes and a woolen shift, no matter what Neph said.

Decimate wasn't any happier than he was, about the whole affair, since he hadn't been allowed near the young Wizard since his bath. Neph had fussed over his hair and done something with a bit of oil and a leather cord that made the ringlets drape elegantly back from his face over his shoulders, and then powdered his face with ground pigments and little brushes to some effect Zeke was unaware of since he hadn't been given a spare moment to check the mirror since. He hoped he didn't look like a fool, but between the robes and the cosmetics he feared he resembled some cross-dressing lantern street dancer.

A color blind and poor one.

With bad judgement of friends.

And no shoes.

"I'm going to let Decimate do something horrible to your rooms Neph. I'm letting you know now, so that when it happens, you're aware of who, and why, and that you brought it about upon yourself." Zeke muttered, trying not to fidget.

"Oh hush, you look wonderful and once the magic gets going no one's going to care what you look like, as long as you don't blow them up. *Try* not to blow up anyone." Neph grumbled back. He was dressed sensibly in Yellow velvet robes edged in Red, waterfall of ebony captured in gold and ruby combs. He also had slippers, thin silk and leather soled ones, but better than nothing at all.



The Central Chamber Hall was nothing more than a great big open tower domed in glass, with ranks of seating along the walls in tiered rows. Those closest to the ground were the newest students, while those in the Circles sat nearer the ceiling. Undoubtedly the higher seats were safer, but they also required the watchers to use Sight spells or enchanted lenses to see what the initiates were doing. Often said initiates tried to make their effects more impressive in order to counteract this discrepancy which put the students in yet more danger, so intelligent students wore easily washable clothes, and kept ward spells at the ready.

Zeke, arms over his chest and shivering had no desire to entertain anyone, much less a bunch of perverted old men who thought these Trials were somehow indicative of skill or study. Magic was not some spectacle to be shown off for all and sundry, it was a simple tool to achieve certain ends and those ends could often be quicker and more easily accomplished with a little hard work and initiative.

No jobs he'd ever had to do involved so few layers for example.

(no subject)

Decimate couldn't talk, not in any human language, but he was very good at making himself understood. A tilt of the head, a rustle of wings, the clicking of claws or baring of teeth and a huff appropriately timed spoke well enough for him.

Zeke was the one who understood him best, but not for the reasons others assumed. While the steel collar around his throat did bind him, and the blood and bone in the lock that held it closed were Zeke's, there was no magical communication or telepathy. Zeke read his moods in his behavior, in the way he shifted or growled, his impatience with his meals or the unsubtle jostling of elbows with a velvety muzzle.

So to did Decimate understand his Wizard, though he also listened to the words that Zeke muttered to himself all the time. Decimate couldn't speak, but he had the blood of dragons in his veins and so the gift of understanding all tongues spoken under the great burning balls of fire known as the suns.

Decimate knew Zeke's scents, his tones, the myriad of gestures he would make when speaking to the walls and world. Decimate could smell the changes in his Wizard when he became exhausted or hear the edge of mania that signaled too long on a single problem. The twitches that signaled the cusp of brilliance were distinct from those that heralded a short collapse from hunger. To Decimate, whose world was comprised of a giant ball of dirt filled with people and animals that called to his instincts as dinner, Zeke was the only one worth paying attention to. Zeke was the only living creature with significance or importance.

Part of Decimate remembered times when this wasn't the case. Enough of Decimate remembered love, friendship, packs, laughter, and a desire to belong to others. Within Decimate still lay a small fragment of psyche that labeled itself Vence. Vence wasn't sure who, or what he was, within Decimate. Vence existed mostly as an idea, the ghost of memories, with just enough solidity to bear a name and a fixation upon Zeke.

Decimate is made of many small bits like Vence, but Vence alone had a name within Decimate. Despite his inability to produce words, and his bestial, monstrous appearance, Decimate was fairly intelligent. Enough to have taken and passed any test set before him if such tests could be prepared. He knew he was unique, and that he was un-natural. He knew that he was a chimera unlike any other, and that what he was trumped the idea of him also being a who in human thinking. He was smart enough, in fact, to read the complex mystical texts Zeke poured over day and night and he knew what his Wizard ultimately wanted to do with his arcane powers.

Zeke was going to destroy him. At the very least he would kill him in trying to destroy him.

The intelligent thing to do would be to kill Zeke, before he gained the knowledge and courage to go about his plans. The clever thing to do would be to lead Zeke astray, watch over him, and make sure no one else got it in their heads to do the same, or worse.

Decimate was both intelligent and clever, but neither trait kept him close to Zeke. Zeke was his Wizard. Zeke was the only living thing that Decimate cared for, and the only one that cared for him. Zeke knew not just what, but who Decimate is.

Greater than intelligence or cleverness was loyalty, love, and compassion. All these Decimate had for Zeke. If and when Zeke tried to take Decimate apart, Decimate would allow it.

Zeke loved Decimate, even if he wanted Vence back. Decimate loved Zeke, even though Zeke would destroy him.





Decimate remembered his birth, or more accurately, his creation. He remembered that before that night, he had been many lives, many creatures, many selves. After, there was only one self, with bits of memories and ghosts of names. Decimate, looking back on that night, can't say for sure if he would have chosen to kill his creator if he'd been capable of rational thought and restraint. Landier was a faint coloring in Vence's memories, and Vence was but a wisp of identity. Decimate did not, now, have any emotions about his creator.

It seemed, in retrospect, like an inevitable byproduct of the act of Decimate's creation. In fact, according to some of Zeke's more private notes and calculations that amount of chimerical magic in an enclosed space burned up the life energies of the surrounding mages. According to the accounts of the students who would deign to give accounts of that night, they'd had terrible dreams, and woken drained, sluggish, and terrified.

Getting the ranked Wizards to talk was impossible. Either they were aware at the time, and didn't want to be held culpable for not stopping Landier when they had the chance, or they were so ignorant that they couldn't see the signs under their noses and wouldn't believe them until they'd been hashed out and recorded by others first.

Had Landier knowingly endangered the ignorant and mystically inclined body of the Akademy to further his personal studies? Undoubtedly. What was left to question was whether his actions had at all been sanctioned, and if he knew how very close to death his peers would come.

A Black Wizard would have been able to answer those questions. The Akademy council declined the Black Circle's offer, choosing instead to mark the incident as an accident. Landier was a prodigy, they proclaimed, and one who had overstepped himself and tripped, paying the ultimate price, his memory should remain untarnished for future students to aspire to.



Neph looked into his ornate quicksilver mirror and smiled. Just hours ago Zeke had stood before this very mirror and looked into his own eyes, on the way to stand before the Circles in the Trials for his Color. Now the glass showed a great cavern of fire and lava rock. The very air glowed with heat, the images shimmering as if a mirage. The figures inside were barely recognizable as human, writhing eternally in tormented agony as they were.

The mirror was not just a pretty bauble to reflect reality, but a window to all realities, or at least, all those that people such as Wizards could travel to, whether they wanted to be there or not. No few Green Wizards would love to study the magnificent incantations woven into the quicksilver, if they were aware such an incredible object existed.

Neph himself wasn't entirely sure how the mirror worked, it was not a doorway, as the Green Circle kept theorizing and trying to create. The mirror did not allow travel, it did not even allow the viewer to hear what lay on the other side. The image was held at a fixed point, exactly ten feet away from a single victim. Neph had his hand in that little piece of spellwork, though he'd never imagined it would led to where it did. The mirror wasn't supposed to show him other worlds, it was supposed to show him specific people. It just happened, this time, that the person he viewed was in the fiery realm where demons dwelt. The realm called Hell in the common tongue.

"Oh Landier, did you see him? Did you realize what you were seeing? Did it fill you with rage and longing and misery? Are you capable of feeling those now in that pit? I hope so. I so sincerely hope so. When I think about you Landier, when I watch you, I hope that everything that goes on here is available there as knowledge you can not escape from." Neph murmured to the beautiful young man in the glass.

He had placed his special little spy charm on Landier early in their acquaintance. He regularly spied on those he considered worthy of the attention, who would not think to scan themselves for such charms. Ranked Wizards were generally a paranoid lot, especially those in the Circles, so trying to ensorcerele them was a poor idea for one's continued health. Students on the other hand were idiots. Many of the younger guard, those Neph had worked his way close to, were even aware of their little watcher, and thought it part of Neph's unique perversion.

Neph was perverted. He would readily admit that he loved to surprise and shock those who believed they knew him. He liked that he knew things about love and sex that others couldn't fathom. He loved having that upper hand, even in something so simple as a tumble between the sheets.

His charms didn't work on many though, especially those who were very good at scanning themselves for magical signatures, and those that were so busy using magic their spells interfered with the relatively simple little spider web of Second Sight.

Neoh had tried multiple times to spy upon Zeke and Decimate, but while Zeke had no sure penchant for self scans, Decimate was a creature comprised of magical energies and his very *will* seemed to change the shape of magic around him. Anything that could effect Zeke that Zeke didn't want didn't *happen*, even from a distance. Whether Zeke or Decimate were aware of the creature's effect was unclear, and Neph had no desire to test his boundaries. Decimate killed, that was simply what he was.

Decimate destroyed. Decimate killed. Decimate was the creature that others feared and respected and prayed never turned his fangs on them. Decimate was a monster.

That was the lie that filled the school, that Neph himself perpetuated because it suited him. If people avoided Zeke and Decimate they stayed safe and if they stayed safe then Neph stayed safe.

Zeke and Decimate were friends, but more than that, greater than that, they were investments Neph had made into the future of the Akademy. The future of Wizardry as the world itself knew it.