From the transcript of the interrogation of Florian Quinn by the Academy Prime: “What could the Rotforces possibly want with me?”

  “Put your hands in mine,” Lawrence commanded, holding both hands out, palms facing the ceiling. The high cheekbones of the Second reflected the torchlight making her face look more angular then usual. Florian unclenched his fists having recovered his breath and placed his hands in hers as directed. They were softer than he expected. He couldn’t explain why, but he’d expected her hands to be rougher, less feminine.

  Once she saw his rather quick obedience, she nodded and moved ahead. “This is going to be the most important lesson we do together, it’s the foundation on which all other lessons will be built so you will listen and you will listen closely. It concerns mentality. All affinities are unique - this is not a surprising thing - and ours is no different in that respect. There is some overlap between affinities, sure, but for the most part the core functions of each affinity are different from each other. Our affinity will produce more madness, more depression, more people who flunk the curriculum and more of those prone to the influence of the Rot than any other. This is not to say that the other affinities don’t have these things, just that ours has more of it. Do you know why?”

  Florian frowned, wracking his brain for the answer. He didn’t realize that Death Dealers were disproportionately affected by all those things. Madness? Depression? “I don’t know, Professor,” he admitted.

  “I thought not. The issue at its core, Mr. Quinn, is that our affinity exists to take away. The Life affinity gives to the world, the Sensory, Storm, and Energy affinities are neutral or slight givers which is more than enough to keep the emotional effects of the magic at bay for them. We take and take and take. Let me give you an example of what I’m trying to say. Answer this for me: what have you been working on during your first weeks in the Academy?”

  “The decay of simple objects. Leaves, branches,” Florian responded without thinking.

  Professor Lawrence nodded her head, her hands relaxed underneath his. “Yes, exactly. Can you guess what the Life affinity is working on?”

  Florian reasoned it out. “The growth of simple objects.”

  “Indeed. The Life Witches and Wizards are primarily healers to be sure, and that particular trait is valued above all others in their affinity. But that’s not all they do. The flowers, for example, are tended by Ruthann and her staff but when they need a hand…”

  “The Witches and Wizards?”

  “You catch on quickly,” Lawrence said with a hint of sarcasm. “Clear your mind. Picture a flower bud, a dozen flower buds, a hundred. More. Then the next moment you are the one responsible for the beautiful, full formed flower beds you see at the Academy entrance. Think of the colours. The reds, the blues, the whites, even the purples that you seem to have taken a liking to.”

  Florian’s hand twitched at that comment but Lawrence pretended not to notice.

  “Describe to me how that makes you feel. What are the emotions you’re experiencing being the one who gave that to the world?”

  “Great, actually,” Florian put himself in the middle of the image Professor Lawrence described. It did feel great. “I feel a sense of pride at creating something so beautiful, a sense of accomplishment because before me there were no flowers and a sense of shared enjoyment with my peers who also appreciate the aesthetic.”

  The Second actually smiled. Rot, he wished she wouldn’t do that, it looked so unnatural on her face. “Exactly right, Mr. Quinn. Exactly right. Now take those flowers and kill them,” she snapped and he winced. “Destroy them. Salt the soil so nothing can ever grow there again, urinate on the salt to add insult to injury and then for good measure make an obscene gesture of your choosing to anyone who dares question you. Now, how do you feel? What are those emotions?”

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  “Terrible, I feel awful. I ruined them and told people to go fuck themselves. Everyone hates me. Heck, I hate me.”

  “Right again,” Lawrence said. “Now ruin those flowers over and again for years, every day, every time you pull from the Death well.”

  Florian’s face darkened and he thought for a fleeting second about removing his hands from hers. “I see. So what do we do about it?”

  “And we come to the apex of our lesson,” Lawrence encouraged. “Have you ever wondered why there are so many females in our affinity compared to males? Compared to other affinities? The Warriors, for example, have four females in your class and six males. There are only two other men alongside you and that’s on the high side for the Dealers.”

  Florian didn’t notice. He didn’t much care, he respected everyone regardless.

  “It’s because women are - speaking generally - more in tune with their emotions. They can recognize the sadness more acutely than men can and can process that information at a deeper level. Of course this isn’t true in all cases but over a large enough sample size these trends are undeniable.“

  Florian supposed what Lawrence said could likely be true, but he failed to see the relevance. What was the woman getting at?

  “The outliers among men, such as what I believe you to be, have the capacity to weather the more intense emotional storms. More turmoil. It is men like you, Florian, who are the ones who lock your teammates outside the Rotden while you turn and face the monster within with all your remaining might. When all hope is lost and your team is vulnerable and they want to turn away, it will be you who must accept their despair for them and shoulder it for no other reason than you can. This is your role. This is our role.”

  The shudder that ripped through Florian involuntarily had nothing to do with the torches flickering on their last embers.

  “Are you ready for the practical demonstration?” Lawrence whispered.

  She didn’t wait. Her hands squeezed Florian’s and he felt everything. He felt the shame and the self-loathing of the flower destruction, the disrepute of the walkway after he finished his ruination but that rush was of a hypothetical beginning. The real world surfaced. The hurt he’d locked away from his parents abandonment started bubbling along with the fear of failing his entrance exam, the fear of nobody even speaking to him once they found out about his disgraced name. It continued and Florian had to slam his eyes shut. Abject terror rose to the surface, an intensified replay of the agony that consumed his mind, body and soul as he tried to save Madeline from death that day weeks ago.

  Then, he began to sense the raging tempest of pain coming from the Second and he nearly wept. Oh, how did she even wake up in the mornings? If he had that much pain inside him he would cease breathing, it would swallow him whole and dissolve his organs. He didn’t understand if he should know about the things she’d done to survive her youth in Kraken’s Deep but the vague impressions left an imprint on him, as did the things she’d been unable to change - the great loss she experienced during the birthing process and subsequent yearning, no- desperation, for a child of her own - and somehow even worse, the things she felt she had to do to reach her goals in the present day.

  He felt murder in her past.

  Before anything else could flash through him, another deep dread emanated from Professor Lawrence for the things she had yet to accomplish and the cost she’d bear to ensure success. It coalesced into a pain that set every nerve ending of his brain ablaze with sadness.

  Florian wondered what this exercise was telling Lawrence about him.

  With a start and a wrenching feeling, the emotions came to a halt. Lawrence shook melancholy from her quiet voice. “Do you see? The price we must pay for greatness? The things we must do? The positions we must put ourselves in to have things done to us?”

  Alone. Florian only felt alone.

  Lawrence noticed the tear on Florian’s cheek and let it fall without comment. “You have the power level to become a strong Death Dealer on ability, but to be the type that makes your father rue the very day he ever deposited himself inside your mother for conception rather than enjoyment, you must find a way to use the pain of the past and your future. It must become your strength.”

  Florian had no answer for that which didn’t matter because Lawrence continued. “Very bad things are going to happen to you,” she whispered. “And you will cause tremendous harm to those closest to you by your very nature. It is the price the Death Dealers must pay for excellence and you will pay it with a smile because the alternative is so very much worse. The Rot cannot win.”

  In that moment, with the magic aiding his understanding, he knew she told no lies. He said nothing, despairing under the truth of her whispers.

  Lawrence spoke next. “The legends find a way to process the hurt. To get knocked down a thousand times and still stand up. This is what I demand of you, Florian Quinn. You must rise, no matter what.”