Eden sat up, staring at Declan like she could drill holes in him with her eyes. “The world wound creates monsters, understand? Now, depending on which asshole you believe, there’s either a god at work or the world’s largest rune array—or a god created the world’s larged rune array, so powerful, most of what gets created dies without ever draining from the world wound.”

  “What doesn’t are burned by rune power, we call them blazed-beasts. The waves are called swarms,” Harris added. “Mana surges on a schedule and we’ve been days from one for…days. Which means it’s going to happen, probably tonight.”

  Declan considered what Instructor Skinner had said. “That’s an opportunity. To kill them and take runes?”

  Roland yawned. “Sure, if you do the loopy-loopy, glowing rock thing. Take Eden, here. Damaged arcsoul. She could Strike a few, sure. But she’ll make more money if she can claim her house was never entered by the blazed.”

  “Thanks for sharing,” Eden said, her voice venomous. “You’re already fucked because Ariloch’s only technically a house, barely a building, and you’ve had three deaths there in three months. Not that anyone gives a shit, since the only reason they’d be in your house is they’re not allowed in theirs.”

  Harris jabbed at Declan’s tray. “Going to eat that pie?”

  “No.” Declan wasn’t hungry anymore. “You can have it.”

  “I’m not going to eat it, I’ll set it out to kill the rats. That stuff’s practically poison.” Harris took the plate reverently. “It’s really important that the moment the notice goes out, you get to your apartment and lock the door. I’ve seen your front. I’ve seen your windows, at least the ones that face our side. Eden?”

  “Other sides’s more broken. No way are you keeping them out, which means you stay in. The ArcCore will come through and clear the campus. You clean up, have Grievers collect the dead, go on.” She shrugged. “Can you do the ‘loopy-loopy thing’, as Rolan so eloquently put it?”

  “No arcsoul. No runes. And no, I failed the orbit test. I couldn’t force my will on the rune.” Declan was grateful he at least had warning.

  “Maybe you failed there,” Roland said. “That wasn’t here. There’s a bunch of hot-shit arcanists who can work magic here, where the mana is thick as pudding. They serve pudding on Seventh Days, that’s something you need to know. When those grand arcanists go home, they can’t do jack. Just because you couldn’t do it there doesn’t mean you can’t here.”

  That gave him hope.

  It also gave him worry. “So I’m responsible for people who get killed in my house. The house with no doors. The house with broken windows. The house with few functioning arcanists.”

  “Sounds like you understand. Lock the damned doors, stay safe, survive. Wormy wasn’t that bad when he showed up,” Eden said. “I think he started floating the vapors harder to get through swarms. Then just to get through the aftermath. Then through the day. We meet every day for lunch. Once a year, the Rush arcanist sees fit to grace us. You won’t see Domine or Tailors or Sunswa. Not that they’re awful, just that they don’t need or want anything to do with the lessers. I’m going to head back and get ready. It feels like we’re close to an swarm and the schedule says the same thing it has forever: pending.”

  Declan thanked them all.

  He was familiar with emergencies. A house on fire. A broken pipe, a baby coming. Years of learning under Pop had given him a strong sense of time and right now it cried ‘not enough’ at the scope of damage.

  The rain had turned to sleet, but there would be hours before nightfall, and Declan had work to do. This was a time to work different.

  First, he opened the front doors as wide as he could. Second, he propped the bottom floor exits wide. If he couldn’t keep the blazed beasts out, he didn’t want to trap them inside either. Better they enter as they would by window or door, be funneled along the side corridors and out the back of the house.

  Next, he worked on closing every door he could in the whole damned house. The kitchen and dining area couldn’t be closed but given how awful it was, he didn’t want to. Several of the bottom floor rooms had no door on the room or had a door but it was currently a pile of splinters, or sitting in the bathtub.

  Another change of class happened, another stampede in and out. Now the fear made sense. House Ariloch wasn’t shelter, it was a prison, but there was safety in the cell, assuming one made it there before the beasts attacked.

  He continued to work, counting rooms, counting damage, counting occupants. The third floor would have to wait. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fix the roof, it was that he couldn’t see without light. Still, he moved furniture out into the hallway and closer to the two primary staircases, tall bookshelves. His plan would require some risk, but it was calculated.

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  To pass the time, he cleaned his apartment, hanging sheets to air dry in the cold and clearing the filth under the bed and from the closet. The next change of class wasn’t just loud, it was terrifying. People shouting, people arguing, and then doors slamming.

  A screaming wail split the air.

  Static electricity popped and the mana grew so dense Declan’s skin ached.

  ::Attention Academy! Swarm eminent. Arcanists, prepare for opportunity. Everyone else, seek shelter.

  Declan ran out the door an up the stairs. The last few doors slammed, then a man began cursing. Declan sprinted down the hall. The doorhandle had broken off, and man with a thick brown beard and smooth shaved head struggled to reattach it. “There’s no time. Get downstairs, into the house arcanist’s apartment.”

  “Fuck off. I said that to the vapor-addict, I’m saying that to you, I don’t need to owe shit to anyone,” he answered, slaming the door again. Furniture scraped against the floor.

  ::Swarm active. Only the ArCore may hunt outside. Arcanists, begin extermination! The alert echoed through his mind.

  He rushed back to the stairs, wasting precious seconds to move one bookcase and then another, blocking the easy paths. Far more likely anything would stay below, possibly. Probably.

  But as he made the final adjustment, a sound like sizzling fat rose outside, and an orange light flickered through broken windows and open doors.

  It was one thing to hear of rune-blazed creatures. It was another entirely to see them, as a monster dragged itself through the wide-open front door. It looked like someone had chopped the top half of a gorilla off, but the gorilla hadn’t died. No, it had grown a second mouth at the bottom of its torso and walked on arm-legs, tasting the floor under it as it went. The skin was purple, and burned tracks of cracked black covered it like a puzzle.

  Declan didn’t run, he jumped off the stairs, aiming for the door to his apartment.

  The monster also jumped, but it was built for jumping, sailing through the air in an arc that would intercept him, torso-mouth open wide with short tentacles grasping at the air for food. Perhaps it had thought him a better jumper, because it passed inches over Declan, digging teeth into the wall.

  He struck the ground and sprinted, throwing the door shut behind him and then locking each lock. Outside, the blazed beast snuffled back and forth, thumping the door and slurping at the cracks with heavy breaths.

  Other thuds sounded, other not-feet on the stairs. Then the crash of one bookcase and another falling, and something screaming. There was nothing he could do about the blazed beasts, so Declan picked up his pack and drew his mana bearing. The others felt cold, but this was warm to the touch.

  At home, the cycle was simple. Press in with what mana he had. Wait for it to fill slowly and repeat. But here, every breath felt heavy and thick with mana, like breathing in a steam bath. He pressed inward. The bearing was still stubborn. Still rock solid. Still just as resistant to mana as before, but here, the air pressed with him, and for the first time in forever, he felt it give, taking just a sip of mana.

  Each time took minutes. Each sip was smaller. Each time, the mana bearing felt hotter, and impossibly heavy. A man’s scream ripped his attention away, followed by heavy blows that thunked along the ceiling. The scream continued, trailing down the stairs and just outside.

  The silence was worse.

  Many hours passed, before he heard the new broadcats.

  ::Attention Academy, the swarm is nearly complete. Please do not leave shelter until ArCore calls clear.

  The voices of men and women grew louder. “ArCore clearing. I want ground and top covered, report as you clear, don’t pass an open room, don’t miss a single blazed beast.”

  Declan knew that voice and rushed to the door, opening it. Outside in the commons, Rohan Tailer stood, surrounded by three runes in blazing yellow. He glanced to Declan, first in concern, then recognition. “House Arcanist? Please stay safe until we’ve finished and escorted any wounded to medical.”

  Declan stepped back inside, pulling the door somewhat shut and waited. A smear of blood down the left staircase matched every thunk he’d heard.

  “ArcCore Arrow calls clear,” said a woman. “They propped the doors open, there’s nothing left in here. We had two Thunpers in the library and one in the rear stairwell that seemed hurt.”

  “And?” Rohan asked, as thunder shook the building.

  “Two runes and a bunch of shards,” she answered with a laugh. “Permission to hunt in the alchemy labs?”

  “Given.” A moment later, Rohan knocked on the door. His runes faded away, back to his arcsoul, and he stepped through. “Tegan said you got in. This was a shitty way to spend your first night at the Academy.”

  “I tried to get them to shelter,” Declan said.

  “Try harder. If you’re going to be a house arcanist, it’s more difficult than being a regular one. We just force our will on stones. You have to force it on people. Talk to the house arcanist for Drevond, her name’s Proctor. She can help.”

  Declan looked about. “How many more waves?”

  “This was a tiny one, it’s done. They won’t be out tonight, though. These people hide. They don’t fight back, they just survive. The academy’s meant to be somewhere you thrive.” Rohan turned and walked away, stopping near the door. “Good plan, letting the blazed beasts out. A better plan is keeping them out.”

  If he could, Declan would. But for now, he emerged and began assessing the damage. The bookcases had been tipped over and smashed down the staircase. With his hammer, Declan broke them into boards and stacked them to the side. The books were moldy and probably wouldn’t burn, but they would cause someone to fall, so he stacked them to the side.

  But when he moved the other bookcase, he found the crushed corpse of a thunper underneath. The body was bruised and leaked purple blood. But when he touched it, something deep inside him resonated. He slid his hand along the thunper’s chest, the resonance growing stronger with each moment. When he reached the gaping top-mouth in the ape head, he knew what to do.

  He forced his hand into the mouth and brushed cold stone. Deep inside it lay a chunk of rock, glittering arcite ore. And a single carved line lay on one side. A rune shard. Declan slipped it into his pocket and dragged the corpse out. It already stank.

  Just as they’d said, two more lay dead in the kitchen, these had their heads pulverized. No doubt, their shards claimed. There was always work, and Declan could hear Pop saying so as he removed the dead and closed the doors to block the wind.

  By morning he’d repaired some of the damage. By morning he’d gained a few hours sleep. By morning, he’d come to a new conclusion. This house was barely surviving. He could do better than that. He would do better than that.