“I can’t be sure how accurate my guess is, but I do believe it looks rather harmless on the surface,” continued the mouse.

  The trio entered the dormitory lobby in their ragged clothing, exhausted bodies and worn vessels. The light of the mana-lamps flickered shadows across their tired faces.

  “You should take a proper look at your soul after you’ve recovered somewhat, Aurelius. It’s inadvisable for a spirit like me to approach any corruption of the soul.”

  “Yeah right, and die for looking at the mark of a god wrong? I don’t think so!” Aurelius shot back.

  “Pft, Aurelius, you worry too much. He clearly has a use for you if He took the time of day to talk to and bless you,” Seraphine interjected with a half-smile, her voice light despite the weight of their journey.

  “I’d say He has taken quite a liking to you. The mark on your soul is the only hint for you to understand what’s going on anyway,” Sylven smoothly elaborated, his calm tone soothing Aurelius’ anxiety.

  Aurelius felt complex. Did he even have a choice in the matter?

  Sighing, Aurelius, Seraphine, and Sylven slipped into their respective dorm elevators. They each inserted three copper coins into the small basin of water that stood beside the lifts. The coins dissolved into the water as if turning illusory, rippling outward until the metal grates slid sideways with a hiss.

  Waving goodbye and promising to meet them again after their unsolicited three-day break, Aurelius stepped into his elevator.

  The cool breeze of the ride to the third floor was quickly forgotten the moment he entered his room. His roommate had returned, munching on the snacks he had snuck from the dining hall. Leaning back against the wall on his bed, Anderson was reading, one leg bouncing absentmindedly as his eyes flicked across the page.

  He looked up, the chip in his mouth dropping as he exclaimed, “What the hell happened to you, Aurelius? You look like you’ve been dropped in a volcano!”

  Aurelius snorted and waved his hand in an exasperated, dismissive motion. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out his snack bag, its crinkling louder than usual in the quiet room.

  He took a packet of beef jerky, dry bread, and a juice box, then responded in a tired voice.

  “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

  He jumped onto his bed with his feast in hand and bit into the bread. To him, it tasted divine, perfectly moist, sweet, and delectable beyond words. Every chew spread warmth down his throat, as if the simple food alone was healing him more than any magic could.

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  By the time he slipped off his shoes, he had already scarfed down the rest of the bread.

  Anderson was still staring when Aurelius’ head hit the pillow, food still in hand.

  His body sprawled in the most awkward position imaginable. His legs overlapped, twisted at odd angles, his arms crookedly pointing in unnatural directions.

  Yet none of that mattered, as Aurelius immediately fell asleep. His breathing deepened in seconds, the exhaustion of the past day dragging him into unconsciousness with ruthless efficiency.

  The punishment would come tomorrow, along with the muscle aches from the day’s tension and the less-than-pleasant symptoms of recovery from two healing spells. But that was for the future Aurelius to worry about.

  “Did you fall asleep? Wha—you smell bad! What kind of trouble did you even get yourself into to forgo a shower?” Anderson muttered. But he let the boy rest. He looked far too pathetic to be disturbed.

  ???

  Aurelius woke to the consequences of his actions.

  “HO-HOLY DRAGONS! AHHHHHHHHHH!” His groans pierced the afternoon air as his limbs twisted with cramps. He shot up to nurse them in horror, flailing like a fish stranded on the shore.

  The sun hung midway across the sky, dimmed by clouds that warned of impending rain. The pale light seeping through the window did little to soften the heaviness weighing on his body.

  Aurelius’ throat was raw, and his nose twitched at the foul odour clinging to him.

  Sweat, unwashed clothes, and unbrushed teeth had fused into a stench so potent it was almost unbearable. He nearly gagged, covering his nose with the crook of his elbow, but that only trapped the smell closer.

  Almost retching, Aurelius forced his aching body to his desk, pulled out a toothbrush and toiletries, and dragged himself down two doors to a communal toilet.

  His legs spasmed with each unsteady step, clattering together like mismatched drumsticks. His face was ashen from the effort, his teeth clenched with each movement.

  He finished his hygiene half-heartedly, arms leaden and sluggish. It was a miracle he managed to get shampoo on his hair without drowning or dozing off. The steam curled lazily around him, warming his bones but fogging his mind.

  The warmth of the showers soothed his clunky legs. Carefully avoiding a fall, he stumbled back to the welcoming embrace of his blankets.

  “Dammit, I should try looking at my soul now, shouldn’t I?” Aurelius muttered as he sank into the comfort of his bed.

  He fished out the packet of beef jerky poking him through his blanket and nibbled on it. With outstretched arms, he found his juice box, sucking vigorously until it was drained.

  Never had he felt more grateful for his tastebuds, as the symphony of flavours danced across his tongue. Almost dying apparently made food taste better.

  Finishing, he balled up the trash and tossed it toward his desk with the vague intent of cleaning up later. Folding his aching legs cross-legged, he straightened his back as much as it would allow.

  The dorm was quiet, most students in class, offering Aurelius the perfect atmosphere to focus. The silence pressed gently against his ears, broken only by the faint rattle of rain beginning to tap against the window.

  Taking a deep breath, he dove into himself. He felt the warmth of his blankets, the faint air currents brushing against his skin. He became aware of his toes, his feet, his legs, until his awareness encompassed his entire body.

  And he felt the flow of mana in the air, tugging and being tugged in harmony with his soul.

  Using the ambient mana as a guide, he dove inward, toward his soul with practiced ease.

  His consciousness sank, his heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Silence wrapped him as his ears picked up nothing.

  At first glance, his soul looked normal. An almost perfect circle.

  Then he looked closer—and froze.

  Faint, intangible lines spread across his soul. Impossibly complex, beautifully patterned.

  They extended outward, no longer flat but towering into intricate, breathtaking designs.

  It was beautiful. And it hurt to look at.

  It was a blueprint.