"Hey! Raziel! Wake up!"
A hard hit in the ribs knocked the air out of him.
Raziel jolted in his chair, and his hands went straight to his chest, instinctively searching for the wound the sword had left.
But there was no blood, there was only his wrinkled novice robe and in front of him there wasn't a mad goddess with red eyes, but Lucian's bored face, watching him with one eyebrow raised.
"Well then, sleeping beauty," Lucian whispered, with that smug little rich-boy smile that says he knows he won't get punished. "You were mumbling strange things. Dreaming about girls again?"
"What...?" Raziel looked around and a few classmates were laughing quietly.
"Brother Raziel," Sister Elena's voice sounded from the front. "Since your companion was kind enough to bring you back, could you tell us what is so exciting in your dreams that you felt the need to interrupt my lesson?"
Raziel sank into his seat.
"Sorry, Sister," he murmured, lowering his head. "I did not sleep well last night."
"It shows," she said, adjusting her glasses. "Do not let it happen again."
Class went on, but Raziel couldn't settle down.
'What a foolish nightmare,' he thought, trying to control the tremble in his hands. 'It was probably yesterday's stew, it tasted strange.'
"Hey," Lucian nudged him softly. "Truly, you look terrified. Are you certain you're well?"
Lucian, with his whole "nothing matters to me" attitude, looked so normal, so... alive.
"Yes, I only dreamed that I died," Raziel admitted. "There was a mad girl in the cathedral and... forget it, it sounds ridiculous."
Lucian gave a small laugh and leaned back in his chair.
"Too much studying, friend. I told you to come to the tavern with us instead of staying to read those martyr tales. You're cooking your own brain."
Raziel was tense from the initiation exams, he ate poorly and slept little, it was obvious his mind was going to collapse soon.
'Yes. I only need to calm myself,' he told himself, taking his quill and trying to copy what was on the board.
But when he fixed his eyes on Sister Elena's back, the air seemed to tremble.
For a second, blue pixels flickered in empty space.
[TIME REMAINING: 4 YEARS]
Raziel rubbed his eyes hard, blinking fast.
"What in the world...?"
When he looked again, there was nothing. Only the black board and white chalk.
"What now?" Lucian whispered, looking at him like he had lost his senses.
"Nothing," Raziel answered too quickly. "I believe I need glasses."
***
As soon as the bell rang, Raziel rushed out.
He ignored Lucian calling after him and hid in the back of the library, in the History section.
He sat on the floor, trying to convince himself he was not losing his mind.
'It was stress,' he repeated. 'The nightmare came from my nerves about the exams.'
So he would not look suspicious if someone passed by, he grabbed the first book he saw on the lower shelf and opened it on his legs.
"That third-century farming treatise is fascinating, if you enjoy counting turnips."
Raziel looked up at once.
Sister Seraphina stood at the end of the aisle, with a stack of scrolls in her arms and an ink stain on her cheek.
She was not looking at him, but at the book in his hands, with an expression of mild disgust.
"Sister Seraphina," Raziel shut the book and stood up clumsily. "Forgive me, I... I was only looking for something to read."
"In the wrong section and holding the book upside down," she said, coming closer to set a few volumes in order on the shelf.
Seraphina was a Young Scribe, one of the Church's keepers of knowledge, and she always seemed to find students more troublesome than rats.
"I was distracted," Raziel murmured, feeling foolish.
She paused and, for the first time, looked him in the eyes.
"You look unwell, novice. You are pale and your hands are shaking." Seraphina tilted her head, curious. "As if you have seen a ghost in the halls."
"It was only a nightmare in class," Raziel said quickly, wanting to leave. "Lucian says I study too much and I need more sleep."
Seraphina let out a snort that almost sounded like a laugh.
"Ah, young Valerius. For him, the cure for everything is sleeping or drinking." She went back to her work, turning her back to Raziel. "But sleep does not heal what you have, boy."
Raziel frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Guilt, or fear." She slid a thick book into place. "I have seen that look before in old priests, not in novices and you stare at this library as if you are searching for an answer you already know is not in these approved books."
Seraphina finished arranging her things and brushed dust from her hands.
"If you are going to hide here, at least do not ruin my order," she said coldly, starting toward the exit.
But she stopped as she passed the great black iron gate that separated the common library from the Restricted Section.
"And some advice, Raziel," she added without looking at him, running a finger along the cold bars. "If your nightmare felt so real that prayer books cannot calm you... perhaps it is because your mind is searching for truths the Church prefers to keep under lock and key."
She tapped the gate with her knuckles.
Clang, clang.
"Sometimes, to understand the world, one must dare to break rules and look where we are forbidden."
Seraphina turned, her robes rustling, and walked away down the dark aisle, disappearing between the shadows of the shelves.
Raziel watched her back, confused, his heart beating in his throat.
'What kind of advice is that for a novice?'
His gaze dropped to the gate's lock. It was a heavy black iron mechanism, carved with protective runes to keep curious students from prying where they should not.
But then he saw something that made his blood turn cold.
The bolt was not set.
The iron hook rested only barely on the frame.
"Sister Seraphina!" Raziel called. "Wait! The gate! You forgot to set the...!"