10

"Ryska!"

A voice came from behind her, and the tremor in her hand stilled.

She knew it was him even before she turned and when she did, she saw him running toward her, though he slowed a few steps away and gathered himself before closing the remaining distance.

“Congratulations,” he said, clearing those final steps with a smile. “Ryska Aen.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. “Did you pass?”

His smile deepened as he remembered the Aelthara results, the names etched one beneath another in the order of their standing, he had seen hers at the very top and beneath it his own.

Ryska Aen, Solari, Viana.

Valere Paendrage, Aldaene, Miranda.

The memory pleased him more than it ought to have, and he bit lightly at his lower lip as he looked at her. “I am right below you.”

"You happen to stay at Inn," she turned to look at him properly then. "In your own city, Valere Paendrage."

It knocked his heart, the sound of his own name in her voice, he had to catch himself before it showed on his face. "It's still the nearest," he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, shifted her gaze back to the road, and took in her surroundings.

Two men outside a tavern ceased speaking as she passed. A woman with a basket crossed to the other side of the road without looking at her. Three students saw her coming and found something suddenly amusing enough to laugh over. She marked it all and kept walking, for the cloister was but one turn away.

They took the right turn, and Ryska slowed a little as the street opened before them.

The road was wider here, cleaner and far calmer than the crowded streets behind them. From where she stood, rows of beautiful houses stretched into the distance as far as her eyes could follow, their façades warmed by the evening sun and softened by the cool breeze that moved between them.

About twenty paces ahead, the Kyna Sanctuary stood upon the right side of the road, while the Aethoria Cloisters rose on the left. Both stood among the long rows of houses, their structures were distinct from the buildings around them, yet neither seemed out of place within the quiet street.

Ryska looked around then, the people passing them did not linger upon her as those on the busier streets had. Some glanced at her, but their attention moved on almost immediately, and no one seemed inclined to stop and stare.

Children played along the street beneath the evening light; their voices carried through the gentle breeze as they chased one another between the houses. A woman called to them from a doorway, while an older man sat outside his home and watched the street with quiet contentment.

Ryska took it all in, it looked so domestic, it was peaceful and for the first time since leaving the office, the unease that had settled beneath her skin began to loosen.

Valere looked at her, then let his gaze wander over the quiet street before them. He followed the direction of her eyes, taking in the rows of houses, the children playing beneath the evening sun, and the gentle movement of people going about their lives.

To him, it was only a street, familiar road he had walked countless times before and yet he wondered what she saw when she looked upon it. What made her gaze linger upon such an ordinary place?

He turned his eyes back to her, for a moment, he simply watched her and then he called her name gently.

“Ryska.”

Ryska looked at him when he called her name, for a moment, she held his gaze, and a strange thought passed through her mind. Why did his voice not make her flinch? She had grown accustomed to that instinct, to the quiet tightening within her whenever someone called for her. Yet when Valere spoke her name, nothing in her recoiled, she frowned faintly, as though the thought itself unsettled her.

She shook her head, dismissed it and without another word, she turned and began walking toward the dormitory. Valere followed her without a word, and both stopped near gate.

A crowd of students filled the grounds, and threshold, their voices rose and mingled as they arrived with trunks, bags, and belongings gathered from the inns. Some called to friends, others searched for their names, and a few stood beneath the trees as they waited for their companions.

Ryska, however, had stopped before the gate itself.

Ancient stone rose before her, weathered by years beyond counting, its surface was carved with old markings that time had softened but never erased and above the archway, deep letters had been cut into the stone, Ryska read the name slowly.

THE AETHORIA CLOISTERS

Valere stopped beside her and followed her gaze. “Abbys,” he said.

“My brother studied here,” she replied without looking at him. “He told me about it, though he never told me why the students called it that.”

"Why?" Valere smiled faintly.

“Why what?" Ryska tilted her head.

“Why did he never tell you why they called it Abbys?”

She studied him for a moment, Valere waited, then seeing her frowned face, he gave a quiet laugh and glanced toward the ancient gates.

“Because your brother was merciful,” he said. “Had he told you the truth, you might never have come.”

"What truth?" Ryska narrowed her eyes.

"The old students said the place has no bottom," Valere stepped closer to the gate and rested one hand against the weathered stone. "You finish one lesson, and another waits beneath it. You close one book, and five more appear upon your desk. You survive an examination, and the masters reward you with another.”

"And that is why they called it Abbys?" Ryska stared at the vast stone halls beyond the gate.

“That is the polite explanation," he tilted his head toward her. "The less polite one is that every student who enters eventually discovers that the Abyss does not merely contain endless study, it studies you too.”

"What does that mean?" Ryska frowned.

“It means,” Valere glanced at the crowded grounds beyond the gate, “that after three years here, you will know more than you ever wished to know, sleep less than you thought possible, and probably develop a personal hatred for whoever invented examinations.”

A laugh nearly escaped her, but she caught it. "And when you finally leave?”

“You swear never to return," a softer smile touched his face. “But not for long, you leave, and before you know it, you miss it and then you find yourself wishing, just once, that you could live here again.”

“How do you know?” she asked. “You can only come here once and leave once. You are entering for the first time.”

“I saw my brother miss it,” he said. “He returned home only a week ago, and by the next day, he was already missing this place.”

Ryska stared at the ancient gate again. “Who would have named it Abbys?” she muttered. “And when?”

“No one knows," Valere looked toward the inscription above them. “It has been Abbys for centuries. No one knows who gave it the name, and no one seems to wish to know why."

Ryska looked at the ancient name carved above the gate for another moment, then turned her gaze toward the crowded grounds beyond it.

“The crowd is thinning,” she said. "Let us get ourselves verified.”

They joined the remaining line, and soon the two of them stood before the gatekeeper. The guard checked their names against the academy records, examined their admission seals, and confirmed their identities before waving them through.

Ryska stepped forward, Valere moved beside her, and for a brief moment, they stood shoulder to shoulder before the threshold and then, almost without thinking, they placed their right feet across the ancient boundary together and entered Abbys.