A murmur rippled through the class. I looked around me. Florence’s Magical Foundations section was made up entirely of First Year blightborn students.

My stomach twisted as Professor Wispwood’s words sunk in. I gripped my quill tightly.

“But it wasn’t always willingly,” Professor Wispwood continued. “Sometimes these rituals were performed unwillingly. There are even accounts of this magic being used on dragon riders.”

My heart beat faster. I expected the professor to look right at me, but she was lost in her train of thought. If she’d remembered I had rider blood, she wasn’t showing it. Or she thought it was irrelevant.

Even so, another murmur went through the room.

“Yes, dragon riders,” she confirmed, nodding. “I mean, think of it. By binding their soul to a rider, a highblood hoped to be able to control a dragon directly. There was no other way to do it. The rider’s bloodline, their connection to the dragon, would remain, but the vampire’s soul would be in control. At least, that was the hope.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. What she was describing was nothing short of murder. Reading between the lines, it seemed obvious the vampire's soul purposely overrode the host’s.

“The process was far from perfect,” Professor Wispwood went on. “If the rider was not fully bonded to their dragon at the time the ritual was performed, and not only fully bonded but the dominant party in a very fragile, very complicated relationship, then the bond would rupture. The rider would die. Sometimes, the dragon would, too. It was a dangerous gamble, one that very few vampires succeeded in pulling off. Still, for some the risk was worth it.”

The risk of being able to control a dragon and still possessing all of the power that came with being a highblood.

My thoughts were racing. I hadn’t learned how to free myself from my mother’s soul, but I had learned something else. Something much more terrifying. The longer Orcades’ soul stayed within me, the more I risked losing control.

Professor Wispwood was trying to get back to the original topic of conduits. But I couldn’t hold myself back.

My hand shot up, my mind unable to keep back the question.

“Was there a way for the dragon rider to fight back? To get the highblood’s soul out of them? You said they were often unwilling after all.”

Immediately a ripple of shocked whispers began to spread.

Florence looked at me in alarm, her eyes wide.

But if the question seemed borderline treasonous to Professor Wispwood, she gave no indication of it. Simply tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes flashing with curiosity.

She raised her hand to silence the chatter in the room.

“That’s an interesting question,” she said, her tone calm. “If there was a way, it would have involved blood magic. Blood magic is powerful because it can break bonds that other magic cannot. As you're all aware, bloodmancy is the domain of House Drakharrow. But when it comes to blood magic and soul-bonding, I don't believe it’s much practiced these days. I’ve never seen such incantations myself. Of course, that doesn't mean they don’t exist.”

My heart sank. This was what I already knew. It hadn’t been a direct answer. It was the same as no answer at all.

Professor Wispwood walked briskly to the blackboard, clearly deciding to return to safer ground. “Now, let’s return to the subject of magical conduits. Imbuing power into inanimate objects is another application of conduit magic. Weapons, jewelry, even everyday items can serve as vessels for magical energy, provided the spellwork is precise...”

But I barely heard the rest. My thoughts were spiraling, caught in the implications of all that I’d just learned. Blood magic. Soul-binding. Highbloods using mortals for their own twisted immortality. Dragon riders being harvested for their bodies, being used as vessels for someone else's consciousness...

Take deep breaths or you’re going to keel over, Orcades said gently.

For once, I did as she said, forcing myself to breathe in and out.

Florence was giving me strange looks but to her credit she didn’t stoop to whispers.

The class ended in a blur. The other students packed their things and filed out of the room.

I started wandering towards the door.

“Excuse me, Miss Pendragon,” Professor Wispwood’s voice called from the front, sharp but not unkind. “I believe you’re due for an assessment.”

Florence tugged on my sweater and brought me to a halt. She gave me an encouraging nod. “I’ll wait for you in the hall. Good luck,” she whispered, before heading out the door with the rest of the class.

When we were alone, Professor Wispwood beckoned me forward. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

I walked slowly to the front of the room and watched as the professor pulled out a small box from one of her desk drawers. She placed it gently on the desk and flipped it open.

Leaning forward, I peered inside. Within the box were several objects–a polished stone, a small wooden bowl, and what looked like a shard of glass.

“Magic is not about raw talent, as you probably already know. It’s a craft. A skill that requires practice, just like any other. But before we can begin teaching someone, we have to assess where their potential lies, what kind of magic responds to them.”

She picked up the polished stone and handed it to me. “Hold this and focus. Try to channel your intent into it. The stone will react to your affinity for elemental magic, if you have one.”

I did as she instructed, my fingers closing around the cool surface of the stone. I concentrated, trying to block out my racing thoughts, focusing on the weight of the stone in my hand. After a long moment, I felt... nothing.

Professor Wispwood frowned slightly. She took the stone back and placed it in a box. “No elemental affinity, then. Let’s try something else.”

Next came the bowl. Professor Wispwood filled it with water from a flask. “This test will reveal any aptitude for energy manipulation. Place your hands above the water and try to make it ripple. Focus your energy and your intent.”

I hesitated, then placed my hands above the water and tried to focus. But my thoughts kept drifting. My mother’s soul. The dragon riders. The way the professor had said they could be used and discarded. The idea of my soul being controlled...

“Enough.”

I looked down.

The water remained inert.

Professor Wispwood frowned. “Very well. One last test.” She held out the glass shard. “This shard is meant to reflect magical energy. Sometimes it shows colors, other times images or flashes of light. Focus and we’ll see what it reveals.”

I stared into the glass, my own reflection staring back at me, distorted slightly by the shard’s uneven edges.

You’ll never pass if you can't focus, my mother's voice chided. Your professor reminds me of a tutor I once had. I was her prize pupil. It all seems so long ago now.

It probably was long ago, I grumbled. No doubt hundreds of years. And she's not my professor, she’s Florence's. I’m just here for the test.

“This is rather peculiar,” Professor Wispwood murmured, interrupting my side-conversation.

She took the shard back, placing it carefully on her desk. She drummed her fingers lightly on the wood as she looked down at the three items. “You should have had some reaction to at least one of these objects.”

I swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

The professor picked up the shard and looked at it. “You clearly have some kind of magic running through you. Everyone does. But the usual tests are showing nothing conclusive.” She tilted her head thoughtfully and scanned my face. “You have rider blood.”

“So they tell me.” I forced a weak smile.

“That may be part of the problem,” Professor Wispwood murmured. “It’s possible that’s blocking or interfering with these tests. I can’t say for certain where your abilities lie or if you even have any. You certainly don’t have any clear aptitudes. We’d have to conduct more advanced tests to understand your full potential. For now, I’ll have to put down that your assessment was inconclusive. Perhaps we can try it again next year.”