“Today, we’re going to focus on the necromantic concept of Cold,” Ernesto lectured. “Owen, Oscar, I know perfectly well how proficient you are with Cold spells, so please remain available for demonstrating for everyone else.”

  The two last-minute additions to Maeryn’s crew nodded their acquiescence; they knew better than to argue. The pair knew they were on thin ice as it was. They’d been necromancers under the direct employ of the Zephyrian Research Council until Maeryn and her team had defeated them in heated, deadly combat mere months ago.

  The only reason Owen and Oscar had managed to keep their lives was the undeniable reality that Zephyria and Geova needed trained necromancers. And no one was under any illusions that their amnesty would last past the first time they stepped out of line.

  The King and Queen of Zephyria had effectively stated that Ernesto’s word was law when it came to holy magic. He was, to date, the only person who had successfully inverted necromantic mana into opposite, holy mana—which was a key requirement to powering the magical rune sequences capable of purifying the mutative Mist back into unaligned mana.

  Ernesto could ask for basically anything and it would be instantly given to him without argument or delay. So, naturally, he tried very hard not to take advantage of that.

  He looked out at the crowd of fifteen… disciples? Acolytes? Apprentices? Students? He had no idea what the right word was for this.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. It didn’t matter what he called them. He needed to make them understand things that had taken him years learning from his old Master to appreciate, and they didn’t have years to spend doing it the right way. The right way involved careful exposure to the graveyards of Mount Peace to awaken their instincts and mana sense, guided one-on-one teaching of how the necromantic Cold concept differed from how ice mages understood it, instilling an appreciation for how death was simply a part of the cycle of life… but that took time, and that was a resource he simply didn’t have.

  Ernesto opened his eyes again to look at his students. “The concept of Cold is misleadingly simple. Those of you who have traveled, you might think of the ice or snow at the top of mountain peaks, or the bite of a winter’s wind in the dead of night. But that’s not a necromantic Cold.” He raised a hand, channeling his mana and forming an icy blackish-blue aura around his hand. “Chilling Touch,” he announced. “Reach out with your senses. This isn’t the ambivalent cold that exists regardless of whether you’re there. This cold hungers. It’s… almost alive in a sense. It digs into a victim, and tries to extinguish them. You must have discipline, or it will turn on you. Give it just a little too much mana, and you might find bloody ice erupting from your own hands.”

  Owen and Oscar flinched—that had been the fate of one of their comrades, in that climactic battle on Zephyr. Right before Terrance Nightshade had ended the man’s life.

  Their visible reaction, perhaps predictably, carried more weight than Ernesto’s words, judging from the way that a number of his students unsubtly glanced at them before taking him a lot more seriously. Which was, of course, half the reason Ernesto had insisted on them being there for every lesson. Sure, he was their teacher, their Master effectively. But people rarely deigned to take one man’s word as gospel… especially someone as young as he was. Having living, breathing examples to reinforce his authority helped more than he cared to admit.

  Maybe it was cruel of Ernesto to force his allies to deal with what had to be painful memories. But honestly? He still held something of a grudge. They’d tried to kill him, to kill his team, and they had only defected to save their own hides after Ernesto beat their trump card and literally created holy magic for the first time in the middle of a fight. If he’d gotten it wrong, Terrance would have died horrifically.

  So yes, he made them deal with the whispers, the sidelong stares, and the weight of those memories. It was the least they could do. Maybe in a couple more months, if they kept helping, he could find his way to being kinder to them.

  After giving everyone a few more moments to appreciate the demonstration, Ernesto nodded. “That said, with proper practice, Chilling Touch and other Cold-aligned spells can be used outside of combat for simple lifestyle improvements. Just like any branch of magic, necromancy can be used for good or for ill. Personally, I like to use it to chill my drinks. Very nice on a warm day like this.”

  With that, he cut the mana off from his spell and gestured towards a table that he’d set up nearby, laden with dozens of cups of water. “So, show me what you can do. If you can freeze the water, well done, you’ve got a basic grasp of the spell. But I won’t consider your spell mastered unless you can give me a proper cup of ice water.”

  Ernesto barely restrained a grin at the dumbfounded expressions on his students’ faces. This was the same challenge that his Master had given him when he was learning the spell, and it was surprisingly fun to be on this side of it.

  “But… how do we actually cast the spell?” one brave soul asked.

  That took some of the wind out of Ernesto’s sails. His natural mana affinity had been necromancy, which meant that he’d taken to the beginning spells—Chilling Touch, Lesser Acid Spray—with relative ease. But how was he supposed to convey something that was almost instinctive to him at this point?

  Even so, he had to try. “Meditate on the concept of Cold, and what I’ve gone over today. Owen, Oscar and I will make our way around for demonstrations and to allow you all a closer feel for how necromantic mana flows. Once you think you have grasp of it, focus your intent and imbue the mana within you with necromantic cold, pushing it firmly—but not wildly—to your hand. Stay focused, and keep your intent steady.”

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  “It helps if you firmly want it,” Owen volunteered. “Like, if you’re starting to sweat and you start thinking, ‘Skies above, it’s hot. I wish I could cool off a bit,’ then the spell comes a bit easier.”

  Oscar snorted derisively. “Of course the spell would come easier for you like that. You never put any higher thought into your spellcasting.”

  Owen crossed his arms confrontationally. “Funny, considering that we’re capable of the same spells! Sounds to me like your so-called higher thought doesn’t actually do much for you!”

  Ernesto tried, he really did, but he found himself rolling his eyes. They always ended up arguing like this, nitpicking one thing or another… though Ernesto was pretty sure Oscar started it more often. Some days he wondered if those two were even friends. “Enough you two. Everyone’s got their own way of learning magic. Let’s get moving.”

  He was trying to think of yet another way to convey the way necromantic cold felt inside of his body when, mercifully, a familiar voice cut through the air. “Hey! Ernesto!”

  The necromancer’s head shot up, and he broke into a smile as his eyes verified the findings of his ears. “Captain!”

  Maeryn strolled down with a devil-may-care grin, her Zephyrian Captain’s jacket blowing lightly in the wind. It looked like she still eschewed the traditional tricorn hat that went with it, which was a shame. The hat looked good on her, in Ernesto’s opinion, but she didn’t like it for some reason. It didn’t really matter; she was very obviously a Captain with the way she talked and moved. Someone who was used to having her opinion heard and respected.

  And considering that Maeryn had not only reunited him with his Master, but then taken and protected Ernesto himself afterwards? Being there to listen to his worries, offering solutions and support for his problems? She was his Captain all the way, and he couldn’t imagine a day when that would change.

  Ernesto just wished one day he might have half of her charisma and confidence.

  Maeryn reached him and pulled him in a quick but tight hug. “It’s so good to see you. How’re things going with this batch of students?”

  “Not much luck yet, but considering the last batch decided to a man that necromancy was too hard…” Ernesto trailed off with a sigh. “I’m just getting them started with Chilling Touch.”

  Nodding along, Maeryn narrowed her eyes in focus for a moment before manifesting Chilling Touch for herself, obviously just to keep from getting rusty. Necromancy wasn’t her natural element—fire was—but she’d put in the effort to learn some basic necromantic spells before they’d parted ways months ago.

  Ernesto was drawing from his experience teaching Maeryn when trying to work with his new students, but apparently he’d been spoiled by the woman’s talent and tenacity. Then again, she was a Geovan hunter who’d gotten so fed up with the incompetence around her that she’d led a team to save the world by herself, so maybe Ernesto was expecting too much of his students. Maybe.

  Come to think of it, why was Maeryn here? Last Ernesto had heard, she’d been dealing with things in Geova. He cleared his throat, immediately getting Maeryn’s attention. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but, um, what’re you doing here?”

  His Captain nodded understandingly. “Well, one, I’ve got more students for you from Geova.”

  Ernesto barely stifled a long groan, but judging from Maeryn’s sympathetic face, it was a worthless effort. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand why things were the way they were, but he was already struggling with the number of students he had. “How many?”

  “Just six,” she admitted. “I was able to convince the Elders that they’d get faster results with fewer students.”

  Ernesto rubbed his temples and barely withheld a sigh. Six… six was manageable. Barely. That would put him at twenty-one students. “Hopefully at least one of them has a natural necromantic affinity—it’ll take forever to get anyone up to holy magic otherwise.”

  Maeryn frowned, then jerked her head at Owen and Oscar. “What about those two?”

  “They’re making headway,” Ernesto admitted reluctantly. He’d worked with them in private over the last month, despite his grudge, for the simple reason that the sooner he wasn’t the only holy mage around, the sooner he could get away from them. That didn’t mean that he liked praising them, though. “They can make an unstable variant, but I’m not sure which holy magic concepts they’re struggling with.”

  Maeryn raised her hand to her face, tapping her cheek thoughtfully. “Heat, Restoration, Protection, and Mortality, right?”

  Ernesto blinked, momentarily caught off guard before a tiny smile graced his face. Of course she remembered. She was Maeryn. She listened, and retained information after it’d been explained to her, even if it wasn’t her specialty. He nodded sharply. “Exactly.”

  Maeryn visibly considered it for another minute. “Well, basic spells exist in order to familiarize someone with the concepts, right? Have you come up with any basic holy spells? Then you could narrow it down.”

  Ernesto flushed. “I, um, no. I haven’t really had much time to figure that out,” he admitted. “I did get Purify Mist into a spellform instead of having to carve it onto tablets, so I can cast it, but that’s kind of advanced, I think.”

  Maeryn let out a low whistle. “Impressive! That’ll be super helpful when we explore the surface again. But in the meantime, well, you are talking to a fire magic specialist. I’m good with Heat. I think that between the two of us, we can probably work out a holy magic variant of Flame Dart. What do you think?”

  The necromancer pondered it for all of a second before nodding enthusiastically. “Sounds great! We’ll call it Sacred Dart. Just give me a couple of hours to wrap up today’s lesson, and I’ll see you after?”

  “Works for me. I’ve got a couple of errands I need to run, so I’ll meet you at the Tipsy Seagull?”

  Ernesto nodded. He knew where that was—Cloudreach wasn’t that large, after all. “Until then, Captain.”

  Maeryn raised an eyebrow at him, but he could tell she wasn’t offended. “Still no chance of you calling me Maeryn?”

  Ernesto smiled. “Not yet, Captain.”

  “One day,” Maeryn promised with a wagging finger, before she turned on her heel and left to take care of her other business. Ernesto watched her go for a long moment, once more admiring her confident stride, before turning back to look at his class. They’d stopped working to eavesdrop on their conversation, and now were looking at Ernesto with another layer of respect.

  Apparently being on exceptionally good terms with a Zephyrian Airship Captain was enough to raise his estimation in their mind. Well, Ernesto would take what he could get. “Don’t tell me you all have your ice water already?”

  Startled back into motion, the students got back to work, and Ernesto began making the rounds once more. Just a couple more hours, and he’d be working with Dan and Maeryn again.

  He couldn’t wait.