The students of the Cathedral of Occult Arts gathered in the grand lecture hall, their anticipation palpable as they awaited the arrival of their esteemed professor, Calcaw, the Maiden of the Night. Today, she would be delving into the intricacies of the Transmutation Collumnae, a pillar of witchcraft that fascinated and intrigued them all.
Tafucht looked at the restless Mazigh and said."You are late today, where have you been yesterday night? Did you celebrate Mardi Gras?"
He then replied."I had a restless night, I will tell you all about it when we are done with today's lessons."
As Calcaw entered the room, her regal presence commanded attention. Her long, flowing robes swirled around her as she took her place at the front of the class. With a graceful gesture, she signaled for silence, and the room fell hushed.
"Good morning, my dear students," Calcaw greeted them, her voice carrying a melodious tone. "Today, we shall explore the wonders of the Transmutation Collumnae. Transmutation is the art of transforming one object into another, manipulating the very essence of matter."
As he listened, his mind wandered back to the events of the previous night, a lingering hint of the macabre passion shared with Erebus stirring within him. Though distracted, he made a silent vow to focus on his studies and unlock the secrets of the pillars, eager to understand his place in this enigmatic world.
She proceeded to explain the theory and principles behind transmutation, detailing the different techniques, symbolism, and the intricate balance required to execute successful transformations. The students listened intently, their minds absorbing the knowledge like a sponge.
To put their newfound understanding into practice, Calcaw presented each student with a simple task. "Now, my dear students, I want you to transmute this pen into a bird. Show me your mastery over the Collumnae."
The room buzzed with anticipation as the students concentrated on the task at hand. Some struggled, their attempts resulting in mere illusions or minor alterations. Others, however, demonstrated their proficiency, their pens transforming into fluttering birds that took flight around the room.
Aman, with his natural affinity for transmutation, excelled in the task, his pen effortlessly turning into a graceful sparrow that soared above her head. Tafucht, always one to impress, amazed everyone as her pen transformed into a miniature phoenix, emanating radiant solar energy that left the class in awe.
Then came Mazigh's turn. He focused his energy, his pen shapeshifting into a raven crow. But before he could celebrate his success, the bird unexpectedly transformed into a puppet—a puppet eerily reminiscent of Mezzatino, the deranged jester. The puppet took a few steps forward before a pen, seemingly animated on its own, stabbed it, causing it to collapse.
Confusion and concern filled Mazigh's eyes as he tried to comprehend the bizarre occurrence. The class ended, and Calcaw, noticing his distress, called him into her office for a private discussion.
"Mazigh, please have a seat," Calcaw said, her voice filled with compassion. "I suspect that what you experienced today may be a result of the events that unfolded yesterday. It was a stressful and emotionally charged encounter, which could have affected your control over the Transmutation Collumnae."
Mazigh's mind whirled as he struggled to recall the details of the previous day. However, a veil of haze seemed to shroud his memories, leaving him with fragments of scattered images and emotions.
He hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "Maiden, I remember your cause, and I assure you that I am not against it. However, I need concrete proof that the elders are corrupt, and time to process and think. If you can provide me with such evidence, I will join your ranks."
Calcaw's expression softened, and she nodded understandingly. "Mazigh, I respect your skepticism. The path we walk is not one to be taken lightly. Trust must be earned, and proof will be presented when the time is right."
With their conversation concluded, Mazigh left Calcaw's office, his thoughts swirling with questions and a newfound determination. As he walked through the hallways, he happened upon Tafucht, who seemed unusually observant.
"You smell of a woman's perfume," Tafucht remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of jealousy.
Mazigh blushed, his mind briefly wandering back to the passionate encounter with the mysterious blonde clown. "Yes, I had an eventful night at a masquerade with a certain enchanting individual."
Tafucht's eyes narrowed, and without another word, she turned on her heels and left Mazigh standing there, pondering the complexities of his relationships and the challenges that lay ahead.
And so, the wheels of fate continued to turn within the Cathedral of Occult Arts, with Mazigh unknowingly caught in the intricate web of secrets and revelations.