Chapter Text
"Ryland Grace?"
Uh oh.
Grace turned from where he was sorting his students tomes. Most of the books had singed pages, a few student notes fluttering halfway out of where they were pressed between the pages in a rush. Despite his many warnings that notes and spells should be bound in some kind of way to avoid any accidental explosions.
"Uh, yes? How can I help you?" He shuffled the tomes in his arms, pushing the students notes back in — and wincing only a little as they wrinkled. He mentally prepared himself for being scolded by an overbearing mother. It's always an overbearing mother.
The half-elf woman before him was perhaps a little older than him, with straight strawberry blonde hair and a serious face, not frowning, just serious. She was wearing a clean black tunic and pants, embroidered with braided thread. There were engraved pauldrons on her shoulders. It gave the sense of something uniform, professional, but Grace also had the impression that there was not a profession for this uniform that required her to wear it.
"My name is Eva Stratt. I am with the Petrova Taskforce." The name Petrova made him hold onto the tomes a little tighter.
"The what?"
"The Petrova Taskforce. It's an inter-kingdom body formed to deal with the Petrova situation. I've been tasked with finding a solution. They've given me a certain amount of authority to get things done."
Solution? Oh that's relieving.
"They? Who's they?"
"Every single member of the Alliance Guild."
"Wait, what? But that's most kingdoms in the realm-"
"Unanimous secret vote. Difficult to explain. I'd like to discuss a paper you wrote."
"Unanimous-What?"
She pulled a bound script from her satchel. Grace's heart sank as she read out loud.
Grace had written it after years of arguing with the other wizards at the tower, it had been a giant middle finger towards all and every wizard who had doubted him. It had earned him the mockery and scorn of his peers, and the discovery that he could whip out phrases like "Staggering waste of newt eyes and frog toes" when he was feeling spiteful.
"An Analysis of Water-Based Casting and Restructuring of Spell-Script Formations. You wrote this, yes?"
"I- How did you-?"
"Very exciting content."
They stood in silence for a moment as Grace put the stack of student tomes on his desk. Much to his dismay, she continued to wait for him to speak.
"Look, I wasn't in my right mind when I wrote that. I'm happier here, as a teacher."
She tilted her head, he noticed her ears twitch, a slight shift beneath her hair. "You spent years combating current water based casting methods. You have an entire section called, 'The Pure Glacier Zone Is for Idiots'. You call out multiple prominent wizards and mages by name and berate them for believing a clarity range is a requirement."
"Well, yes. But-"
"Your magicae is divination correct? Don't most wizards agree that water is necessary for visions to be perceived?"
Grace tucked his hands inside the pockets of his robe, clenching his fists. "There is nothing special about water. It is just hydrogen and oxygen! There is no reason to assume that all realm's have the same conditions as ours. All divination needs is something pure. That definition might change depending on-!"
"On which realm you are in?"
Grace swallowed something hot and mean and clenched his teeth. "The point is… I got mad, I wrote that paper. I left the tower, I learned how to teach, I began to enjoy it. I'm glad no one believed me."
Her head straightened. "I believe you."
"Thank you, but if you excuse-"
"You've been having difficulties divining, yes? You can't see past a certain point, your dreams are filled with red."
Grace paused for a second, hand outstretched towards his bag. He didn't blink, for fear of the red burned on the underside of his eyelids. The blood lit sky, the crimson molasses, the tendrils wrapping around his arms and legs and pulling him down into an ever sinking sea of scarlet.
"How-?"
"Petrova's curse. We believe it was casted through something… other. You're going to figure that out."
He turned and stared at her.
"Hello?" she waved a hand in front of his face.
"You want me to examine the Petrova curse?"
"Yes."
"The entirety of the realm put you in charge of solving this problem, and you came directly to the junior sorcery arts teacher?"
"Yes."
Grace stepped around her and walked out of the door. Stratt grabbed the back of his robe.
"We have samples. Physical samples of the curse."
He paused and turned slightly.
"You will be given full access to a prepared observatory, your ex-peers have assured me that you are — or were — the best of the best in regards to the study of speculative spell-casting. Before Petrova's curse and your outburst at the tower gathering, they believe you would've become quite the prominent figure."
She let go of his robe, hands folding in front of her politely. Grace though her face might've looked smug.
"You will be expected at Roscos Tower tomorrow morning. If you are unable to get there, I will send assistance."
"Assistance."
"This isn't optional is it?"
"Magister Grace, this is Petrova's curse. It concerns everyone. It's eating magic. You and I both know this is not optional."
Grace was hit with a sudden wave of Deja Vu. He had seen this before, in the reflection of his glasses, in a puddle on the street. A passing premonition. Unintentional divination if Grace was being honest. Fortune telling if you wanted to use layman's terms incredibly loosely. Prophesying if you wanted to get theological about it.
A thousand possibilities, intersected like a web, wound together like thread.
A million universes, and in all he ends up here.
Not exactly here of course. It would be different for each one, but generally the same place. The point of recognisable no return, like turning back to see a bridge has collapsed, but the first step is what led you here. Only Grace couldn't decide what the first step was.
For lack of something better to do, and the weight of knowing there was nothing he could do to stop this, he adjusted his glasses and nodded.
Stratt smiled and patted his shoulder as she walked out the door. "Good. I will see you there tomorrow."