We had traveled for a couple of hours when I spotted something orange glowing in the distance. It was a flickering pinprick against the dark, like a star had fallen onto the path.

“Something’s there,” I said, pointing forward.

“Not more undead?” Grit asked, peering ahead. “I can’t see anything in this gale.”

We had been under attack most of the way. More undead creatures rose up or ran over the snow to claw at us, but nothing that had been as dangerous as the tiger. Falar had said it was some extinct type of mountain leopard that had lived aeons ago and now we’d never learn more about it, as I had ripped it apart and thrown the pieces into a ravine. Well, boohoo.

He had regained his strength somewhat and between the two of us, nothing had posed a serious threat. The further we got down the mountain, the less there seemed for the presence to dredge through. Its influence had weakened after the tiger had died, or maybe it was because of what I had done with the Null. Falar had still spent the whole way lecturing us against the danger of relaxing vigilance and instructing me on maintaining the balance of powers. It was infuriating, especially as he seemed to know always when my attention started to wander.

“I don’t have Jextor’s nose, but I can see the way your skin pales and the darkness creeps along your veins. Stop frowning at me and let it ebb,” he said.

“Do you think the Chancellor will be fine, Lecturer?” Grit asked. “We did just sort of… leave him.”

“Hah.” Falar’s black robe flapped in the wind. He had his hands in his pockets and had a grim smile on his face as he glanced back up the mountain.

Grit was wearing his winter clothes, the edge of the fur coat swiping the snow as it was too long for her. “No, seriously?” she said.

“The Chancellor will be fine. I won’t set myself up for the disappointment by hoping he wouldn’t make it back,” Falar said. “Still, this momentary respite should be enjoyed.”

I shrugged at Grit. I was worried, but on the other hand, Jextor seemed too annoying to die and the undead had followed us.

Me.

The pinprick of orange came closer. It climbed the path up the mountain toward us, and finally I made out the wooden cart, the fur-clad janitor pushing it through the snow.

“Lecturer, students,” he said, nodding at us. He took the stub from between his lips and threw it into the bag hanging on his cart. “The Principal asked me to come check everything is in order. Thought you might want some company getting back.”

“We appreciate the sentiment, but it is unwarranted,” Falar said. “We would have been capable of finding our own way back.”

“Yeah, he said you’d say that and that I shouldn’t believe you. He said something-something’s out of alignment and that you always mess it up in the same way,” Hector said, then frowned. “Lecturer,” he added with a slight bow, an apologetic expression on his face.

“Preposteruugh,” Falar said, falling on his knees. “It’s been thirteen years since the last ti…” He tumbled over, landing on his face in the snow.

The janitor fished a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his overalls. He tapped it twice on his palm and pulled a cigarette out with his teeth. “Might want to roll him on his side,” he mumbled from the corner of his mouth.

I nudged Grit, who was also watching the janitor with her mouth hanging open.

“You can all hop on my cart if you want. It should carry the lot of you. You’ve been walking around a lot and look like hell,” he said, pointing the unlit cigarette at my leg. The ambrosia hadn’t healed it completely and the pale blue skin shone through the ripped pant leg. “I’ll push you back. Get me some extra exercise. You want to sit on the guy or put him on your laps?”

“Can… I do both?” Grit asked.

“Sure. Tell me when you want to change,” the janitor said, lighting the cigarette.

I sighed and raised my hands in defeat.

Whatever, truly.

“Let’s get home,” I said.

---

“Hector! Put out that cigarette. This is an infirmary!”

“Sorry, sorry,” the janitor said, throwing the smoking cigarette into the cloth bag and nodding at Marcus. “I didn’t think it through.”

I leaned over to look into the bag. It was completely black inside, no smoke rose out.

“Don’t stare too long into it. Might look back,” Hector said, supporting Falar as he rose feebly from lying on top of the cart.

“And you! Again with this!” Marcus said, pointing a finger at Falar. “I can feel my soul draining away already. Get into quarantine.”

“Your soul is safe and you know it.” Falar tried to stand up straight, but his knees buckled and he grabbed on to the janitor’s arm again. He panted for a couple of breaths and let go again. He smoothed the front of his robe. “Unless you continue talking to me in that tone, teacher.”

“I apologize, Lecturer. But shoo, go on. I’ll have my hands full looking after these people without you making it worse.”

“Do I need to go in too?” I asked. I had worked the Null out as slowly as I could while walking and getting closer to the Academy. No more undead had risen and tried to attack us after the janitor had found us. The scrapes hurt and burned, my ears felt like they would fall off from being so badly frostbitten, but at least my leg held together. The scab itched like hell, though, thick and black and brown.

Marcus squinted at me and drew some runes in front of my face. His shoulders relaxed and he breathed out. “It’s fine. The lingering effects of the ambrosia probably dispersed the Null and helped to contain the damage. Impressive control, really.”

“Great, I’ll be off then. Did we miss breakfast? How long until lunch?”

Marcus grabbed on to the back of my robe, stopping me mid-step. “But you’re still not going anywhere. I need to make sure none of the near-lethal and half-cured wounds get infected or open up again. Sit down, Lina.”

“Uh, okay,” I said. Guess the potato-nose had a backbone somewhere after all. Probably a few, knowing this place. Grit sat next to me, mouth pursed meekly.

“I’ll need to check up on the boiler room,” Hector said. “Marcus, everyone.” He nodded and stepped outside, opening the door by pushing his cart against it.

“Now, let me check those wounds. This was an official field trip, so I have carte blanche to use whatever ambrosia I need to make sure you will have no lasting injuries or scars, unless you want to keep some for aesthetic reasons.”

“No thanks,” I said.

Marcus rubbed his hands together with a grin on his face, eyes crinkled. “And the best part is that the cost will be the responsibility of the faculty members who were present on the trip. I always enjoy making those two squirm and grovel.”

---

I was half lying down on one of the beds, reading the book I had taken on the trip and brought back. Basic Reanimation. It was all diagrams and balancing the matrix holding undead together and all the runes that went on the fingers.

Marcus had fixed everything up, but told me to spend at least the rest of the day in bed before going anywhere. He’d threatened to put me to sleep when I immediately tried to sneak out, so I had obeyed for now. I wasn’t ready to see what awaited me in my dreams.

The ward around my neck was gone. I had no idea what it would mean.

The door slammed open and Fek rushed in. “You two!”

“Hi,” I said, snapping the book shut. After Embodying Death, this one was dead boring.

“Fek!” Grit said. “Heard we’re here?”

“Yeah! I bumped into Hector and he told me. The word isn’t out yet officially, but I think people will start arriving soon.”

I put the book down, glancing at the door. “People? Why? Who?”

“Everyone!” Fek shouted, beaming at me. “This is going to be the talk of the whole school for weeks.”

“Damnit,” I muttered.

“Anyway, how are you feeling?” he asked, jumping to sit on Grit’s bed.

“Pretty good, all things considered,” Grit said. She had a bandage around her head. It was more to dry her hair than for any practical reason. The ambrosia had taken care of the nicks, but she said she wanted it to look like she had been through an experience as well.

Marcus had grabbed us two new black robes. Lying in a white infirmary bed in a black robe felt silly, but it would have been even sillier to keep wearing the tattered clothes still wet from melted snow and stiff with clotting blood.

“We got jumped by undead,” I said. “We found the thing causing all the trouble. Or it found us, because those three doofuses started poking at it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about at all,” Fek said cheerily. “But you’d better save the explanation when the rest of the people come. Otherwise you have to do it right again. Unless you want to practice, make sure to get the dramatic parts right?”

“No thanks,” I said.

“That’s a great idea!” Grit said. “So, there we were, in the middle of a blizzard…”

---