Galatea and Pygmalion

The corridor was dark, but Feldspar had never been one to fear the dark. Moths fluttered out of the way as he strode towards the Gallery of Monsters. Jade followed close behind, cradling a new porcelain statue shaped like a sailing ship. Tiny human figures were frozen in place on the ship—a captain, a first mate, a cook, and several more.

“I still can’t believe that Charybdis turned out to be a ship. What a dreadful discovery,” Jade said.

“You have to admit that it’s beautiful, though,” Feldspar said, orange pupils lit by the lantern. “Dreadful in nature, ingenious in design.”

“Don’t let Marianne hear you say that. She’ll exile you.” Despite her words, Jade chuckled. “You know, I’ve been thinking about Esther.”

Feldspar paused, then continued at a brisker pace than before. “What?”

“I know thinking about it won’t do any good now. But if we'd just left her in Moss Bottom, or even killed her when we found her, none of this would have happened.”

“It wasn’t our decision,” Feldspar said sharply. "His Royal Highness decreed it. Not even the Head Mage could have overruled that decision."

“I know. But if we’d... I don’t know. I hate to see everyone so angry at you. I know you meant well.” Jade sighed. "Hopefully, this all ends soon."

There was the sound of porcelain shattering into a million pieces. Feldspar’s eyes blazed. He turned as if in slow motion, too late to prevent Jade from falling to the ground. The porcelain ship lay in pieces, the tiny crew members scattered into the dark.

Jade wasn’t dead, thank the stars. He listened to her breathe evenly. Asleep, merely asleep. But if mages could be affected by sleep sickness, then...

His eyes widened. It was only a matter of time before the rest of them fell asleep, too.

Marianne tossed and turned. She’d had a strange dream—the same one she’d been having for the past few weeks. She was a child again, running through the forests of Moss Bottom with Stari. Sometimes Stari spoke to her, reaching out a hand, but Marianne always woke up before she could take Stari’s hand, the words already fading away.

Someone was knocking on her door. At this hour? Even if Marianne was Head Mage, this was ridiculous. She rolled over, hoping the person would take a hint. No such luck; the knocking intensified.

Marianne slipped into her robes and opened the door to see one of her least favorite mages, Feldspar. What was he thinking, coming to Lower II in the middle of the night? He never came here! She ought to complain—but the words vanished when she saw his eyes, pupils extinguished by blue irises. She recognized the despairing expression on his face.

“Jade has sleep sickness.”

“Oh.” With practiced calm, she said, “I suppose this means that sleep sickness can affect mages, too.”

“Yes.”

How terribly awkward! Marianne itched to shut the door in his face. This man, who had foolishly advocated for the monster’s goodness and harmlessness, only to have it kill ten mages, and then refused to kill it and set things right? Who did he think he was?

She did feel bad about Jade. She recognized that name from the Registry of Mages. Hydrangeas—those were Jade’s favorite flowers.

Recognizing that Marianne had nothing more to say to him, Feldspar turned away. “I thought you should know.”

“Wait,” Marianne said, surprising herself. “Since you’re here, you might as well come in for a chat. We have so few opportunities to talk, you and I.” She gave him a grudging smile, which he didn’t return.

“I should return to the hospital wing to watch over Jade.”

“I insist, Feldspar. Please. There’s hardly any point in us fighting, is there? The world will most likely end soon, after all.”

“Monster Studies is cancelled today! All students, please return to your dormitories,” called one of the teachers, wading through the crowd of students.

Nestor frowned as Susie and her gaggle of friends brushed past. “What’s going on?”

Too excited to even attempt a snide remark, Susie said breathlessly, “Mage Pygmalion can’t teach today. Apparently, he’s in the hospital wing.”

Nestor’s heart leaped. He’d never really liked Mage Pygmalion, with his deep blue eyes and orange pupils that expanded when he spoke about monsters. The half-admiring way he talked about monsters was especially creepy. Mages should hate monsters, right?

But Mage Pygmalion was a first-class mage. What could possibly have hurt him? The Lower Palace was supposed to be safe.

Curiosity got the better of Nestor, and without a second thought, he dashed down the hallway to the hospital wing.

The Lower Palace hospital wing was part library, part infirmary. Technically, if your injury was serious enough, you’d be sent to the Upper Palace hospital wing where the non-magical doctors were, but no one had ever seen that happen, according to Susie. Mages in blood-colored robes walked around. Was it Nestor’s imagination, or were the sickbeds fuller than usual?

It took two minutes for a healing mage to notice Nestor. “Do you have a note from your teacher?”

“No, um...” Nestor looked past the mage and spotted Feldspar’s white hair. “I’m here to visit Mage Pygmalion.”

“You mean Mage Galatea? It’s best not to disturb them for now.”

“Them?” Nestor looked closer. Mage Pygmalion wasn’t lying on the sickbed; he was seated beside it, holding the hand of a green-haired woman. That must be Mage Galatea.

Mage Pygmalion turned his head. Though there were no tears in his eyes, his orange pupils had shrunken to pinpricks, like dying sparks. “...You’re one of my students. Why are you here?”

“I wanted... I wanted to see where you went, since you weren’t in class.”

“Ah.” Mage Pygmalion’s voice sounded odd and detached. He usually talked so much more. “I won’t be in class for a while.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Nestor asked hopefully.

“No. Yes. Actually, there is one thing.” Mage Pygmalion reached into his pocket. “Could you destroy this doll for me?”

“What?” Nestor took the doll and turned it over. “Is this Esther?”

A few heads turned in their direction. Either Mage Pygmalion didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter what it is. Destroy it for me.”

“But wh—”

“Give it to Marianne. She’ll know what to do with it.”

“Why?”

“Because it was my fault.”

“What was?”

“If I hadn’t been so blind to the danger, those ten mages would still be alive. Give the doll to Marianne and tell her that I accept the assignment. I’ll kill Esther.”

No, Nestor wanted to tell him. It was my fault she escaped, not yours. It’s because I gave her my book.

He didn’t say anything, though. He took the doll and ran down the hallway, not towards Marianne’s office, but his dormitory. He needed to pack.