There was a pen on the teacher's lectern and some notes. While he pocketed the small book containing her notes, along with her wand that had been lying underneath them, he didn't expect to find anything interesting in them. He spared a minute to look at the wand, noting it had some of the same techniques that he'd already theorized about. This one seemed to channel whatever word the mage spoke or perhaps gestured through one of several runes. There was one for focus, distance, lesser, and greater. Between lesser and greater, there was a rune he didn't know that contextually seemed to be sort of a lesser greater.

Does that one just double an effect or triple it instead of increasing a spell by an order of magnitude, he wondered. It would be a nice thing to know, but right now, it didn't matter. He could study it later and learn more then.

Instead, he focused on the pen, and with a word of metal, he reshaped the thing into a small hand mirror. Then, as he approached the orb for the first time, he said, "Alright, mirror, you there? I'm going to need you to take some pictures for me to review later when I have more time."

There was a long delay, and Simon almost asked again before it wrote, 'I have found you at last and am ready to preserve what you show me.'

Fair, Simon decided with a nod. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a reflective surface in this place. He didn't waste time trying to explain any of that to the mirror. It wouldn't care. Instead, he lifted the mirror and started to take in the orb. "Don't miss a detail", he commanded.

He knew the pictures from a mirror of this size would be a little blurry, so he moved the mirror slowly so that he wouldn't miss anything. Even as he did so, though, his eyes hungrily devoured the complicated patterns. There were at least five layers of runes on this thing. No, six, he corrected himself as he realized the thing was hollow and that some of the marks he thought were on the facets were actually carved on the inside of the giant gemstone and not the outside.

Each of the gold bands he'd been able to see from his seat were elevated from each other with clever standoffs so they didn't intersect with each other, and though he had no idea how the magic that powered the interwoven runic layers worked precisely, he knew why it was done like this. Each layer was sort of a boundary condition to make the rules for the next one. In many ways, what he was looking at was as complicated as a video game console or a computer, but with magic instead of electronics, and that blew Simon's mind.

He'd pondered the idea of making more complicated artifacts than his blades or even his fire-resistant armor. He'd theorized what the crown that his evil twin had might do, but this was orders of magnitude more than he'd ever contemplated. If they do this for an educational toy, what else are the Magi up to? He wondered.

Simon used a word of lesser force to rotate the thing a hundred and eighty degrees so he could explore the bottom. He didn't dare touch it because he didn't understand it, but even that gentle touch of magic was enough to make a scattering of runes light up. Simon knew he dared not linger. He was certain that people would be here to investigate soon.

Even if they don't, Magi Karala might wake up at any moment, Simon told himself, willing himself to move from where he was rooted to the spot with curiosity. He recognized most of these runes. If he could comprehend how this worked, then the things he might be able to make…

Simon forced himself to focus. He even started to put away the mirror, but he didn't. Instead, he realized that there was one more thing he wanted to take pictures of and moved toward the unconscious body of his teacher. She might wake up at any moment. Someone might interrupt them. All of that was true, but he'd never gotten to take a very good look at the amulets these people wore. Even as a vampire, he'd been denied that because of how easily they exploded.

Now, he had a chance, and he was going to take it. He rushed over to the woman and wasted no time in checking her pulse. She was bleeding from the head, but if she was dead, she'd be a cinder by now. Instead, he picked up the amulet with trembling fingers and examined it.

The bronze, lotus-shaped thing was more complicated than any protective amulet he'd ever attempted to make, but compared to what he'd just been looking at, this thing was at least comprehensible.

There was a large Eszloum rune in the center that attached it to the wearer's soul, but the rest— Before Simon could dig too deeply, he heard the sound of someone coming down the hallway that connected the lecture hall to the outside. Without thinking, Simon put away his mirror in his robe as he whispered, "Gervuul Barom."

Simon had used a word of greater light when he'd faced Freya but never a word of greater illusion, and he was surprised at how different they felt besides using the same words. While it might be overkill in this scenario, he'd rather be safe than sorry. The spell burned his throat after not using a greater word in so long, but Simon endured it and slowly slipped away as it took hold.

Illusion magic, as he understood it, was defined by complexity, amplitude, and duration. The more powerful it was, and the brighter it burned, the faster it was used up. In this case, the illusion he was creating was neither powerful nor complex, but he had no wish to be seen any time soon, so he wanted his invisibility to last as long as possible.

He'd need it if he wanted to sneak out of the pyramid, through the courtyard, and into the city, where he might have some chance of evading everything that was going to happen next. As much as he wanted to stay and learn more secrets, he'd reached his limit. He'd always been horrified at the industrial-scale use of blood magic in theory, but to watch children being murdered and molded into monsters in practice was even worse than the images his imagination had already so convincingly conjured.

As he backed away, the surrounding air blurred, but only slightly. His illusion was a simple one, making the light flow like water around him. Only his eyes were immune so that he could still see, which meant that he'd have to close them whenever he wanted to truly disappear. For now, though, he just wanted to reach the pillar near the lectern. He'd hide there until whoever was coming swept the room, and then after that, he'd escape when the heat died down.

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No sooner had he reached his destination that magi poured into the room. Two, five, and finally, eight of them were there. A few cast spells immediately that Simon didn't understand, and one moved to heal the fallen Magi, who did her best to explain what happened.

"I-I was about to fail a student who was proving to be too gentle," she explained, making Simon's grip tighten in anger. "When suddenly I was struck by a wave of force, and… I'm not sure."

"Do you think it was the student in question?" one of the new Magi asked.

"Impossible," she exclaimed. "He was still in the dream."

"What's this about the God-King's disapproval?" another one asked. Simon had his eyes closed, but he was sure they were all looking at him, or at least the pillar he was hiding behind, so he dared not open his eyes.

Magi Karala had no idea what he was talking about, but as they explained it to her, she grew horrified. "It can't be the truth. It must have been some mischievous illusion!"

"Acolytes know the words of force and illusion," the first man agreed. He sounded like he was some kind of authority. "But this would have required more power than a minor word can command."

Magi Karala slowly got to her feet, and the half dozen of them proceeded to have an animated conversation about everything that they'd experienced and what it might mean. Was this the work of another Magi? Would that be better or worse than a student who was more than they seemed? Might someone have released a demon to cause mischief?

Several times, they got close enough to the truth in their conversation about infiltrators, spies, and intrigue that he was afraid they might guess his existence. "The divinations will tell us the truth," the first man said finally, with a note of finality. "I will go to—"

He paused, speaking then. They all did. It took Simon a moment to figure out why. Another Magi just appeared there, he thought with the sudden realization that there were seven people standing there now, not six. There's been no flash of light or magical glow. One second, he hadn't been there, and now he was. The newcomer didn't look any older than the rest, but he was dressed in golden robes rather than the red, blue, or green that everyone else was wearing.

"Someone has infiltrated our inner sanctum? And profaned our master?" the man asked in an icy tone. "We will find them, and after we have torn every answer from their throat, we shall shred their soul unto oblivion."

Simon watched, but only because everyone was looking at this newcomer and not at him. What did I get myself into? He wondered. Who is this guy?

There were no answers. No one addressed him. They were all obviously afraid of him, though.

That silence only lasted a moment, then the man began to chant, while he moved his fingers at the same time, showing, at the very least, that two-layer spellcasting was possible.

Simon tried to listen, but the individual syllables were too faint. What he could hear, though, was that the spell was much longer than any spell he'd ever cast before. The man wasn't saying a handful of words. He was saying a sentence or two. How much of that is ritualistic mambo jumbo, and how much of that is complex words of power? He wondered.

While Simon hoped for the former, he feared it was the latter, and those fears were born out a moment later. A cluster of twinkling lights appeared in front of the man and began to align into the shape of an arrow. An arrow that was pointed right at Simon.

He ducked behind the pillar just as everyone looked in his direction and tried to decide what it was he should do. Murder was probably the only answer he had. He'd been planning to run for it. He'd thought that he left too little evidence behind for them to track him, but apparently, he'd been wrong. Is it because I'm still so close? Is it because I touched her?

His mind was racing, but he only had seconds to decide what to do, and he felt increasingly painted into a corner. You said you want to bring the pyramid down, he decided after momentary deliberation. Let's bring it down.

"Spread out!" the newcomer shouted. "Whoever did this is still in here with us. Leave some part of his body intact so we can—"

Simon was in a young body, with decades of life in front of it. He was almost tempted to try a triple major word but decided against it at the last moment. He didn't have a hundred years of life to give, and he didn't want this to fizzle. Instead, he went smaller and said, "Gervuul Gervuul Vosden."

Simon considered force instead of the word of maximum earth as he'd come to think of it, but he wasn't sure he could shatter a ten-foot-wide pillar of basalt even with that much power. Instead of trying, he was converting a huge swath of it into something that could never hope to hold the weights that were much too massive for anything but the hardest stone: quartz.

He knew from his time as a painter that the veins of the two ran together. One often contained inclusions of the other, which told him they were pretty similar. Truthfully, he probably didn't even need to spend ten years of his life to do the damage he needed, but there was no point in skimping.

Even before the pillar transformed, he felt the power surging painfully out of him. It rippled out into the giant carving, transforming the black stone to milky, translucent quartz crystals as some of the Magi began to fling fire and lightning at him.

Even as those elemental forces splashed against Simon's cover, though, the thing was already cracking. It wasn't until someone hit it with an ill-advised bolt of force in an effort to reach whoever it was that was behind all this that the thing shattered, making the room that they were in rumble precipitously.

Simon knew that he should run, but his massive word of power had sapped him of energy, and all he could do was watch as the magi that opposed him were shredded in an avalanche of razor shards. The gold-masked magi, alone, survived with a hastily erected shield, which made Simon smirk. He doubted very much that would be enough to save him when the roof started to collapse.

Still, just to be sure, Simon managed to croak out one final spell before the first stones of the ceiling fell. "Dnarth Uuvellum," he rasped, making it hurt all the more for how hard it was to pronounce after he'd just torn up his throat so badly.

He didn't care if it hurt, though. He just cared that whoever this prick was didn't make it, and word of distant nullification would do exactly that. One second, he was casting another spell safely from behind his shield, and the next, the shimmering shapes around his hands were fading.

Simon's last thought as the giant stone blocks of the ceiling caved in on all of them was of the brown-robed children at the pinnacle of the pyramid. We hoped they'd been evacuated before everything came tumbling down. The idea that he might crush everyone around him and everyone beneath him to death was one thing.

People in the depths of this place had almost certainly done unconscionable things and deserved whatever they got, but the new kids? They still had hope.

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