Understanding life as it was is not a simple task as some think. Some think you must only acclaim wealth, power, women. But no. No, understanding what life entails was unbeknownst even to Vial, even as he prayed to his lady, Woman of Dreams. She was Woman of Dreams to him and to his children, those who worship her at his shrine, though this was not her name. Her name was not to be revealed except to her most trusted, her High Priest, Vial. Vial knew her name and would never reveal it, even if he laid upon his death bed, grasping the last threads of life that he would ever see, even if he was tortured to delusion by those unknown, he would not, to his dying breath reveal her name. And so, he bestowed upon her an alias. Woman of Dreams. The reasoning behind this was quite simple, the way that Vial thought the reasoning behind most things should be. The way that the Woman of Dreams contacted her followers, her disciples, was through their dreamscape. She, lord of secrecy and knowledge, would not present herself in any other form, to any other man, but to Vial.

Even Vial, her first and only priest, rarely receive such an unknown gift. But seeing his lady, seeing the one who made him who he was, second only to his deceased daughter gave him true serenity in his own world. Her voice was so soft, so quiet, so gentle. Yet, the power that permeated from her, it made him quake. Her will could bore into your soul, reading you, reading your ancestry, your thoughts, your will. Your strength. She ravaged your mind, soul, ravaged what you thought was safe from everyone but himself, scarring you, leaving you so vulnerable that you were emotionally naked. Only one other person, long since dead, could make Vial feel so happy, lower ever front he put up, made him lose all coldness which he displayed to all. His daughter. But such was the way of life. All those who are in this world hide behind a mask. A mask which protects you from pain. A mask which hides your vulnerability. A mask that makes you seem cool, tough, strong. All those on this planet have them, and Vial and his lady among them.

And so, Vial wandered through the halls, contemplating true happiness. He was a man of more than 300 years, and yet happiness was still a concept he could not grasp. Many a night Vial would become a sage in his mind, many a night he would walk the halls of the Academy of Magic Arts, many night he would come up with nothing. But Vial knew one thing. A truly happy man could look upon himself through a medium which portrays someone with all their heart’s desires, and merely see himself, just as he was. Vial did not know how to achieve this image of himself, he did not know what this image would even portray. He didn’t want money, power, sex. He wanted… family. He wanted love, his daughter, a loving wife. All of them Vial desired, and none were within his grasp. Vial longed with all of his being to see himself just as he was through this medium, and so he walked these halls, wandered the bowels of magic, of meaning, wondering what true happiness was for him. He saw all possibility of achieving this image of himself fading… ever fading into an infinite, impenetrable darkness of the land of Dreaming. The land of souls, of dead. The land of the lost. The land of forbidden hope. The land of Dreaming.

Vial looked out the window to see the sun rising just above the horizon. He wasn’t surprised it was morning time. He often walked these halls until it was time to work. In the distance he heard doors closing, young spellslingers as he called them, those who used magic, essentially “slinging” it around, no regulation, and no thought to what they did. Vial saw no point in going to his classroom. He hadn’t had a student in years. The children feared him and his subject of necromancy. But they failed to realize. So naïve they are, they did not understand. Necromancy, bringing back the dead, was not always such a heinous, unholy act as some thought. Vial’s form of necromancy never brought spirits back by force, he never twisted and corrupted them as so many do. Vial made agreements, deals with the dead, or the living, before they died, to bring them back according to their will, and they willingly lent him their aid. Some necromancy didn’t even deal with the dead. Some necromancy could simply use a mass of magic, of pure energy to cause devastating impacts and damage.

The power of necromancy surged through his veins, but that was not the only form of magic that Vial could do. It was merely his specialty, but his knowledge was within a wide range of subjects, from effigy to elemental. Vial was a man of standards, and if he didn't meet them himself he failed himself. In his eyes, life was as simple as that. So Vial wandered to some of the classes, as he often did, finding himself particularly interesting in one of the Alchemy classes. And, so he stayed. One’s knowledge could be limitless, one should strive to know all he could. That was the word of his lady. Reaching out his ever so tan hand, Vial turned the doorknob of the Alchemy class. He walked in, and silently signaled to the teacher his apologies in interrupting his class, and filed himself to the back of the room, watching the spellslingers practice in their magic, watching the professor lecture them and correcting them. Vial determined the subject at the time was transmutation, watching the alloy of the silverware turn from iron to silver, or in the cases of inadequacy, turn to rust, crumbling to the floor.

A sunray glared through the big window and dazzled him for a second, whilst he was stepping through the large corridors of the 2nd floor. He had been wandering around aimlessly since he got up early in the morning, his diffrent-coloured eyes on every detail of the impressive archtitecture he had been so impressed with since the night before, when Kyle first guided him to the majestic building. Marcurio despised decadence and even though the Academy's pompous appearance was dripping of it, he couldn't help but feel deeply impressed. Every detail seemed well placed and every corner seemed to serve a purpose. The Telvanni Tower, although very similiar in style, felt cold and empty, compared to the liveliness in the Academy's hallways.

Marcurio pulled a crinkled sheet of paper out of the pocket of his similiar crinkled pants and unfolded it. It was a list of all classes and their respective teachers the freshmen were supposed to attend. The allure for any of those classes was non-existent for the supposed Telvanni prodigy, as he had attended all those subjects before in Telvanni Tower, still, there was something dragging him to the Necromancy Class of a certain Professor Cairnthyn. The name struck him familiar, the very first time he flung his eyes on it. He was certain that in the vastness of his education by his grandfather that name must have fallen somewhere. If he recalled correctly, which usually is the case, Vial Cairnthyn is one of the best, if not the best, Necromancers to ever exist. Maybe he could help him solve a matter that has been bothering him since he first left Fiore Island.

The young man suddenly stopped, scratched his hairy cheek, and realized he had absolutly no clue where exactly in the building he was. "What a surprise. I am lost again.", he whispered, followed by a hearable sigh. Ever since he was 15 years old he had been in the wilderness or on small farms and towns, so whilst he could tell the cardinal direction and time by simply looking at the sun, he was hopeless when it came to orientate himself in big cities or larger buildings. He once got lost in the Louvre Museum in Paris and ended up in jail for the night, because he did not manage to find the exit and instead got himself into some private, personal-only rooms. "Maybe I should just ask someone for directions...", he thought to himself, looking over the corridor to find a group of 4 girls, noisy chatter and giggling included.

He approached them with sure steps, taking the hood of his head in the process: "Oi, girls! Could you help me?", he asked loudly, with a friendly pitch in his voice, and then proceeded to add a more silent and intimidated "I'm lost."
The chatter stopped abruptly and the hallway was draped in silence. The girls, all around his age, maybe a year younger and all of them very sighty, opened the small circle they were forming and examined the incomer very closely, from head to toe, till finaly the blonde one stepped forward and said: "Of course we can. I assume you are a new teacher, right? What do you need?"
His eyes didn't seem to bother her. "I'm a freshman, actually.", Marcurio replied with a comforting smile on his face. He was used to people assuming he was older than he is, so it was no suprise for him to be mistaken with a rookie-teacher in his early 20s.
"Wow, you look pretty mature for your age then!", she exclaimed. Another meaningless phrase, but this time, she did not try to hide the admiration in her voice, or maybe she just did not manage to. The other 3 girls, that had been watching and listening closely, started the chattering again, this time more of whispering. Likely about the statement the young man just made, or about the man himself.
"So, could you then help me? I am looking for classroom 209, and I just can't manage to find it."
"209? Hm. I don't think I have ever been there, but if the numerations are right it should be right around the corner. Follow this corridor and then go right whenever you have the chance to. If it isn't there, then I doubt you'll ever find it!". She giggled at her own joke and looked up to her interlocutor, which felled compelled to show a sign of appreciation and amusement, forcing a smile onto his face. "Thank you! Much appreciated! See you later!, he said and stepped past the girls, now with an aim. "I hope so! Come by room 342 in the east wing dorm if you need anything else!", he heard the girl holler behind him.
"Maybe I will and most certainly I will have quite a bit of fun in this place.", he thought to himself, whilst a big smirk broadened on his lips.

....

Minutes later he reached his destination. Room 209, closed by a heavy wooden door. He knocked and got no answer. Again, and still no answer. He sighed again, and decided to just step in, no matter if he would or would not interrupt anything happening on the inside. The door was lighter than it seemed and swung open when he pressed against it. He was expecting a class full of students and instead he got the opposite. A completly deserted classroom, not even the teacher was to be found.
"Might as well wait.", Marcurio said, louder than expected in combination with a yawn so big, it could have have teared his facial muscles appart if it lasted just one second too long.

Marcurio sat down in a chair, leaned against the wall and looked out the window. With eyes wide-shut he let the sun embrace his face, as he slipped away into the depths of his thoughts.

"Who are we? What are we? Why are we here? What is our…purpose?" Some might consider these questions pointless, or rather; trivial in the fact that they cannot be answered with certainty. Why the hell not? Someone once said "Every question has an answer," and this is partially true. For the simple fact that when asked a question, "I don't know," can qualify as one's answer. Does every question have a relevant or definitive answer? To this we cannot be certain, not yet anyway. Questions are near infinite, one could argue that can provide a suitable answer to what is our purpose. That it is of questions and answer still to be asked, or answered. A man by the name of Voltaire once said "Judge a man by his questions rather than his answers." Indeed. For it is our questions, that lay a path for us. One can interpret it like this. The answers we know, form the road behind us, that which we have traveled. While the questions we seek answers to still form the road we currently travel. Ky understood this philosophy well. He lived by it; for Her sake.

Who was She? She was perfection. Hell, who wasn't she. Have you ever found yourself awake in a cold sweat, clinging to your pillow in a dark room? Alone. Silent. Only to have been ripped from paradise. I cannot say what your paradise is, but perhaps it involves a field of flora. Brilliant colors and a banquet of scents intoxicating your senses. Perhaps it is instead a beach, with the sand cushioning your bottom and the waves lapping playfully at your feet. In either case maybe its dawn, with the sun just cresting over the horizon spreading its golden light over the land for the first time on a new day; representing rebirth. Perhaps it's midday, and everything is bright and colorful. Or maybe still it's dusk, and a hazy twilight veils the land and all within it. In any case, She is always there. All these other pleasantries suddenly made trivial by her simple presence. She is perfection beyond words, and no matter your strength, your pride, your ego; before her you are always humbled. She is the Woman of your Dreams. Literally. Alas, she never stays, always ripped away upon your return to this cursed conscious world. Well, that's who s She was. Only She was a dream come true, that very same Woman taken corporeal form. For a moment, Ky was happy. Then they took Her away.

If not for guilt he would have died with Her, perhaps taken his own life or set down a road of destruction until this fickle world did it for him. It just seemed to selfish, so easy to just end the pain, a pain he felt daily. Ky came off as a bright, brilliant, hard working young man but truth was inside, he was troubled by Her thoughts constantly. He was stuck, stuck in Her memory… "Kyle, can you please demonstrate to the class what I mean?"… It had taken him a moment to react, causing an awkward silence to fall upon the class room. In his little day dream, Kyle had heard everything, including the question, he'd even noticed the unknown teacher enter the room but he'd not given it much thought. Slowly, he rose from his desk and headed towards the teachers.

There was a flask, which contained a very lethal mixture of water and poisons. The question had been. "Can any of you explain some of the more advanced uses of this, how can one turn such a dangerous substance into something useful." A scenario had been given, where you are starved and thirsty and faced with a threat be it an enemy or some sort of trap. Your only nearby resources being this poison. "Simple…" Ky said to the class as he began to use chalk to draw a circle around the flask. "Let's start with what most of you likely assume to use this for, offense. Perhaps to hunt game in the nearby area. In which case…" Ky place his hands on the circle and the liquid rose out of the flask, took the shape of a knife and then froze solid in that shape. He quickly reached out and grabbed the substance. "Now you have a very lethal hunting knife, but remember, your dying of thirst as well, how is this going to help you get water? Also easy, it's made of water." Ky made a slight change to the circle, and placed the knife back in the flask which upon activation of the transmutation circle the blade returned to a liquid state. "You drink it…" He said, erasing the former circle and drawing a new one. "Remember, transmutation is only one of the principles of alchemy, there are actually many this class doesn't even cover, but that is for you to learn outside of your education, for now, let's speak on transference, or moving matter from one place to another." Ky activated the circle a clear orb of liquid began to form above the flask as tiny droplets accumulated. Leaving behind a toxic green liquid with purple hues throughout. "Careful, as a common mistake can be made here. In the wild, you may not know what is in the water, so attempting to purify it by removing the dangerous properties would be foolish, what if you leave something behind? Your beverage becomes lethal." A few members of the class laughed, but Kyle was not joking. "By removing only the water, we know it is safe, if It were me I would now drink this, to which you say what do we do about food. Simple again."

He drew another circle around a new flask, empty, which he then moved the water to. "Deconstruction" Ky placed his hands on the circle, and spoke again. "Bad idea, what I am about to do, if done this way would most likely kill you. However, all of us should know there are certain items; charms, rings, watches, a number of things that can increase the range at which we can perform symbolic alchemy, and again there are other forms that use technology entirely." Ky walked some distance away from the desk, towards the back of the class room and spoke yet again, this time holding onto a locket which hung around his neck. "Now, consider the flask of water, instead, the poison. I would have drunken the water, and then set the poison on an animal path or in an area I had baited, then deconstructed the particles to cause them to evaporate and create a gas when some prey walks by." His locket began to glow and the water turned to steam due to the thermal energy then quickly became hydrogen and oxygen. "Following the series I showed is the most effective way of achieving the goals needed to pass the presented situation. Please, keep ALL aspects of alchemy in mind, not just transmutation."

Ky returned to his desk, and was rather quiet though the teacher looked surprise and stated that his presentation was "Excelent". Perhaps he thought of only demonstration what transmutation alone could do, anyway, Ky didn't much care. His job was done, and his thought returned again to Her. Her almond hair, hazel eyes and tan skin. He could almost smell her scent… Intoxicating.

Vial sat in the classroom, watching the teacher’s lecture. He was fascinated. Never had he seen such a diverse and useful form of magic. He had never explored the possibilities for such a branch. The uses it had in survival, Vial could only imagine so many others. He sat in quiet thought, watching the Alchemy Professor’s presentation. Almost unnoticeably, Vial noticed the focus of the classroom switch, from the professor to a… well… student. One who was paying zero attention to his professor and even less to everyone else. “Tch. The people they let into this place in today’s world. Someone like him who doesn’t even pay attention in class wouldn’t have been even considered for invitation, much less worth the trouble of transporting him.” All of this, he said to himself, within the depths of his mind. Vial’s opinion didn’t last long, for the finally responsive student stood up and gave a… why a BRILLIANT performance. When he heard the professor speak his name, a though struck him, closely followed by an idea and an opportunity which he could not ignore. Was this… was this the prodigy? The one that the entire professor staff spoke so highly of? His face was hidden under his hood, but Vial stared hard at Kyle. So many uses and possibilities for Alchemy… none of which Vial would have thought of.

Vial bent over on the desk he was sitting at and started writing on a piece of parchment. And he wrote, “Kyle. I am professor Cairnthyn of the Necromancy class. Come to my classroom as soon as possible, and I will have you excused from your classes for the rest of the day. We need to speak.” And so, silently, Vial stood and walked past Kyle, slipping the note onto his desk and exiting the door of the Alchemy class. He wondered. It was just an impulse, just a sudden whim, but Vial had a sudden desire. Well, three to be exact. He wanted this child to teach him Alchemy. In Vial’s honest opinion, this child was more qualified to teach him than any of the professors, not because of his skill in the magic, because that was yet to be seen. But because he was resourceful with the magic. His second interest was to, with the help of Kyle, perform some sort of spell on his prized katana, that which was slung across his back, strengthening, preserving, and enhancing the power and magical capacity of it. His final desire was to SPAR this spellslinger… no. Vial caught himself short. He was not yet sure whether this was a spellslinger with no wisdom to guide his hand. His final desire was to spar this STUDENT to see Alchemy in action.

At the very moment Vial stepped outside the door, the golden watch on his wrist burned. Hah! So someone DID show up to his class. His watch burned whenever someone entered his class and it became ice cold when someone exited. Vial quickened his pace, moving down corridors, down grand extravagant staircases, into the deepest part of the academy, on the first floor.

Vial proceeded to become closer and closer to his classroom, getting deeper and deeper into the heart of the Academy of Magic Arts. Vial walked past a group of four girls, all of them quickly jumping out of his way. And so was the life of the Teacher of Death. The Priest of Secrecy. He who defiled age, he who outlived his daughter who died of old age. He who was obscured in loneliness. No one understood him. He wasn’t some monster, some creep. No one understood Vial’s profession, his purpose. Everyone assumed the worst of his position, of the art of bringing back the undead. Of necromancy. He didn’t want to drift off into thought again, not with this interesting evening ahead of him. And here he was. Vial walked into his classroom, taking no notice of the student at first.

Vial looked around the class, as it had been days since he had entered the place. There were no desks. Instead there was an altar in the middle of the classroom, but not to Woman of Dreams. No, this was an altar which made it easier to contact spirits, souls, and manifest them. It wasn’t mandatory for such a job, but it was mandatory in learning to perform such a job. It was an all-black, four-pointed stand, embellished in rich carvings and etched with glyphs. It was made completely of human bone, and on the top of the stand lay an open book. This served as both a text book from which he could lecture and a sort of a spell book… as well as possessing many other uses and purposes. Behind the book was a mystical green ball, sort of like an orb of energy, though it was made of crystal. At least the outside. The inside was created and stored by his lady, Woman of Dreams herself. On either side of this orb was three skulls, this more to keep the look of ominousness than to serve any sort of purpose. Vial, when he had students, often taught from this altar, and it was probably the single most valuable object seen in… well, centuries. It had never been taken, and Vial chuckled. He knew why. One of his students had once asked, “If this thing is so valuable, why is it not locked up?” To which Vial answered, “If someone attempted to steal this… well what do you think would happen, were you to attempt to steal from death?”

In the very back of the classroom was five tall bar stools. Vial never took more than four pupils, he refused to do so. These were nearly featureless, the only notable characteristic was they were wooden with clawed legs. On either side of the class were books. Books upon books upon books. He was the Priest of Knowledge after all, and as such owned many books. On the left hand side, there was a bookcase completely full of volumes where Vial Cairnthyn, Vial himself, had been mentioned in history. Vial was famous in both the magical world and the nonmagical world, in the nonmagical for the numerous battles he had won for the British, leaving the British army long before the American Revolutionary War. There were even a few biographies which focused on Vial alone. The books which mentioned him in the magical world were not as numerous, but nevertheless he had quite a collection. Vial was mentioned for some of the breakthroughs he had made on necromancy, some just listing or mentioning him in books which told about the greater mages in history. And one tome… ONE told of Vial as the high priest of Woman of Dreams. The room was clouded in some sort of darkness, even though it was well-lit. It was not a darkness of lighting, it was… something else. Finally, Vial turned to the freshman who had entered his classroom, focused on the strange differently colored eyes. And so he spoke. “Shall we get started? Before this, do you have any questions?”

Darius landed on the school's main courtyard, he had already seen his classroom and thought about the different books and weapons they had supplied him with. True there were many weapons there with magical powers and the tombs were filled with history and power but they didn't hold a candle to what he had learn under his lady once he finish his ritual. The tattoo on his back tingle as if she knew he was thinking about her.

He started looking around the school activating the pendant around his neck that gave him the power to be less noticeable that way only if someone had train themselves to notice the slight changes in light as he move he would be all but invisible to the naked eye. As he wonder around the academy he started to hummed a Hymn to Shu the air god to help him gather information about the academy and the people that live here by communing with the air and not use his own magical powers he didn't want anyone to detect him until he had a full scope of the place.

As soon as he started humming the air shifted around him and started telling the history of the academy he falter and had to put his hand on a wall so much history and power was pouring into his brain it took him awhile to get use it, but he finally found a way to walk while he process the information. However he could only do it for five minutes since the academy was so filled with history he had to stop, but at least he had a scope of the academy if not the people who live here.

He wondered around until he walk into what he guess was the Alchemy classroom he made his way to the back and just saw how the students interacted with the teacher but what caught his attention was the man on the back. He didn't look anything special if only a little creepy but it was his aura that caught him of guard. He was an old soul but this didn't look like a case of reincarnation.

He open his eyes to the flow a magic a skill that his lady gave him it help when he open himself to her justice magic that allow him to judge a soul with her scales and let him summon Ammit, The heart eater if the judgment prove to be guilty. When he did this his eyes swirl with green and blue hues. What he gain from his observation was that he was right, this man in front of him was 300 years old such a thing was unheard off how can a soul last so long without ever going to the Duat and the Hall of Judgment?

He watched as the man left and he decided to follow him, he lead him into a windowless room with an altar in the middle. He seemed to be waiting for someone so Darius settle himself to the back and waited as well.