Page 24 of Strength of Desire

The rockface was the front of a building, built right into the earth. There was a massive wooden door, made of light wood and left rough-hewn so it blended in with the stone on either side of it. It had iron hinges and a brass handle, though, and inlaid in the center was the hand and flame of Hearth Haven. To either side sat windows filled with glass so thick I couldn’t see through it clearly.

There was some device—it looked almost like an abacus—of copper and quartz set into the rock opposite the door handle, the copper weathered to a mossy green that matched the forest floor. Professor Jefferson flicked the counters this way and that, and then turned the door handle.

It looked so heavy, I thought she’d have to tug it open, but it swung open easily on noiseless hinges. Professor Jefferson held the door, then followed me into the building, swinging it shut behind us.

“Oh,” I said, stopping short.

We’d stepped into a cave. Or maybe cavern would have been a better word. The floor sloped down, away from the entrance, and by the time we reached the bottom, the rock ceiling stood twenty feet above us. The floor here had been inlaid with tiles, but the walls were bare rock.

“It’s not much, but it’s home. And the cool temperatures make it a great wine cellar.”

Professor Jefferson cracked a wry smile, and I smiled back. She was one of the kindest people I’d met on campus so far. It was nice to know that Professor Romero wasn’t the single exception, and not all the professors were intimidating like Kazansky or arrogant like Gallo. Or determined to be as cold as possible to me, like Noah.

Stop thinking about him, I scolded myself.

It was hard, though. Noah occupied my thoughts these days. Each of my lessons with Romero was still a struggle, but I’d remembered Noah earlier and earlier in each dream, even if I still had trouble remembering whoIwas.

I didn’t want to keep thinking about Noah, but my subconscious didn’t give a shit, apparently.

I followed Professor Jefferson through a labyrinth of tunnels. I supposed they were hallways, technically, but no matter how straight the walls or how thickly carpeted the floors, you couldn’t get away from the fact that you were walking underground. The floors rose and fell at random intervals, and I began to feel like I was on a rollercoaster.

Finally, we reached another door with the hand and flame of Hearth, but this time the symbol had been burned into the wood, and the flame didn’t cover the palm, but rather danced over the fingertips. Jefferson opened the door and ushered me into a giant…laboratory?

I wasn’t sure what to call it. It was a large cavern, that much was clear. The walls and ceiling were rough, and there were no carpets underfoot here. A fire burned in a circular hearth in the center of the room, but its flames were blue and purple, not the reddish orange I expected, and pink sparks floated in the flames without disappearing.

The smoke drifted up in a lazy spiral to what appeared to be a hole in the roof—I could see moss dripping down around the edges. I wondered if the fire went out every time it snowed.

There were large tables placed around the room, sticking out from the walls at different angles. Some were covered in papers and what looked like engineering schematics. Others were heaped with jewels and bits of metal, wood, and glass.

I recognized a microscope and a set of scales, but what was the thing that looked like a wooden robot, with a glass chest filled with sparkling green liquid? What was the set of interlocking, spinning circles and spheres, like a model of a solar system that definitely wasn’t ours? And what about the cube made out of various metals that hovered four inches above a table, humming softly?

The lab was lit with glowing balls of light above each table, plus a row of windows along the far wall. When I looked through them, I realized they were practically skylights. Bits of winter-brown leaves and sticks had blown onto them. I could see more snow-covered hummocks on the ground, and the base of a tall tree.

Professor Jefferson saw me staring and grinned. “Neat, huh? Well, maybe you’ll apply to Hearth at the end of the semester and conduct your own experiments here one day. But for now, come join me near the fire.”

I followed her, trying not to bump into any tables as I went, wary of knocking something loose. The fire was eerily silent. I’d never realized before just how many sounds fires made, but I missed those hisses, cracks, and pops as I stood alongside this one. It was disconcerting.

“Now, you know what a vocator is, right?” Professor Jefferson asked.

“It’s sort of like magical text messaging?” I said.

She laughed. “Well, yes, that is one of its main functions. To send a message, you’ll actually speak the words you wish to send into the device, but your recipient will read them in the form of temporary ink on their skin. Your vocator will be tuned to the network at Vesperwood, so you’ll be able to contact any other student here that you wish. Faculty and staff can also use them to get in touch, but typically, official communications about coursework and such will be made through the tubes. Your vocator will also serve as a locating device for the dean, as a safety precaution. That way, if you’re ever in any danger, we’ll be able to find you and help you.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even realized there was a network to be a part of, but it made sense. I cocked my head to the side. “How is it able to do all of that?”

“A full explanation would take more time than we have before lunch ends,” she said. “Suffice it to say, the vocator is connected both to you, and to the magical network in which Vesperwood is enmeshed. Further elaboration can wait until you take our more advanced courses.”

She walked over to a basket woven from strips of brass that was sitting next to the hearth and picked it up. It clanked as she handed it to me. I peered inside. It was filled with lumps of metal and stone, even some crystals.

“Have a look at those and pick out the ones you want,” she said.

I stared down at them, then back up at her. “How do I choose?”

Jefferson shrugged. “It’s different for each person. Some people feel themselves drawn to different substances. Some say that the weight of the ore or stone feels ‘right’ in their hands. Some people pick based on nothing more than color. It’s entirely up to you. Just choose your top three and set them on the table there.”

As I began to examine the chunks of metal and stone, I was aware of the professor sprinkling different powders into the fire and speaking to the flames. She waved her hands above them, and at one point even stuck her hands into the fire, making intricate shapes with her fingers. I found myself staring, then remembered I was supposed to be picking out rocks.

I looked back into the basket. I picked up a lump of dark gray metal, rough on the outside. It reminded me of Noah—hard and forbidding—but I wasn’t attracted to it, the way I was to the man. I set it down and picked up another lump, this one a mass of tiny crystalline shards that reflected the indigo light of the flames. It was pretty, but too much like a disco ball for my taste.

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