“Forget everyone but the heads of each course.” Caelan was about to question that affirmation when Leopold cut him off. “They are a bunch of bootlickers who agree with anything the Masters say and do. I, uh, ‘borrowed’ the records of all previous hearings. Without fail, when the decision got split, it came from the heads disagreeing.”

“Hum… Then, we focus on them and count on the lesser professors following what they decide?” Taking notes, he looked over the long list of people who could be sitting at the table. “What are the chances the Headmistress only brings the heads?”

“If that happens, start praying.” To that, Leopold snorted out of his nose. How a ghost could do that was beyond both their understandings. "Relax. Worst case, you’ve got two heads at the table, and you butter up the right one. Odds of all five Masters showing up? Zero-point-nothing. Unless, of course, the universe hates you. Oh, wait.”

“Yeah, being stuck with you in my head does seem like divine punishment."

Ignoring his complaints, Caelan requested an overview of the professor’s personality. Putting on his traditional smirk, the floating being laid down on his back to give a lecture.

“You’ve met Dorne. Walking rulebook. Doesn’t bend, doesn’t break. If you don’t step out of line, he loves you. You so much as sneeze wrong, he’s got your head on a platter. The man despises me—it’s mutual.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Holt’s a walking recruitment poster. Big, loud, and always talking about ‘grit’ and ‘perseverance.’ Failure’s just practice, he says. Yeah, right. The man could probably give a motivational speech to a rock and make it blush. Flash some puppy eyes, cry a little, and he’ll go to war for you.”

That got Caelan to raise an eyebrow. “Cry a little? That’s your big idea?”

“Back at the slums, tears were a weapon. Made everyone underestimate you. Until shivs got pulled.”

“Anyway, Falkner. Absolute lunatic. Loves anything that explodes, paints, or otherwise defies the laws of sanity. Mention you enjoy sculpting manure, and he’ll call you a misunderstood genius.”

“He did seem like an interesting person."

“Trenith is a bitch. I’m not even saying it for laughs; she’s actually a bitch. She’s worse than Dorne, thinks she’s smarter than everyone else. Might be, too, but she’ll respect you if you can prove you’ve got a brain in that skull of yours.”

Caelan sighed, sitting back to review his notes. “So… we focus on these four, pray they’re the ones called, and hope they’re not all in the room together.”

"Relax," Leopold said, waving his translucent hand. “Odds of that are next to zero. Unless, as I said, the universe hates you.” He glanced at Caelan taking notes. “Oh, we're so fucked!”

"You should work on your jokes. They're starting to get repetitive."

-----

"With all that said, there is a way to face the consequences of this year's events; thus, giving me a second chance.” Caelan paused, enough for those who enjoy theatrics, but not too long for the ones who don’t. “I should be held back a year, undo all the progress made on the back of unsavory practices.”

Another set of exchanged looks among the faculty, as they weighed the words given. A booming laughter came from the Hunt Master. “Well, that would solve our current predicament.”

Caelan would later swear he heard the snapping of bones, with how fast Dorne turned to his colleague. “Absolutely not! Keeping a student with such disdain for the regulations would only serve to disrupt the students worth keeping.”

Trenith crossed her legs, deep in thought. “And yet, losing an entire year of academic progress could work as an incentive to readjust one’s demeanor.”

“Professor Trenith, do you believe a single year’s setback will instill a sense of discipline? In a student who has repeatedly acted with impunity?” Dorne looked around the table before settling on the person in question. “Letting him remain after repeated violations undermines the foundation of our institution.”

“Oh Dorne, as usual, so rigid, so boring.” Gideon Falkner manifested himself at last. “Let’s not pretend expulsion fixes anything. Sturmfeld’s still got the capacity to learn and create—perhaps even more after facing setbacks. Isn’t that worth considering?”

“None of you know this young man as I do. I’ve seen signs of his actions for a long time, only never managed to catch him in the act. And if you think I will allow him to cause chaos among those under my care, you are sorely…”

“Oh, go suck a dick!” Leopold turned upside down, spinning around as he tried to fight his boredom. “Or lick a pussy, if the first is your thing.”

“If I could, professors…” Caelan had the fierce debate interrupted, their eyes once more set on him. “Holding me back a year isn’t the only suggestion I have in mind. If I am to prove myself, offer me a challenge while also accounting for my unique circumstance.”

“Do tell us what you have in mind, dear.”

Taking a deep breath, he revealed his hand. “I believe remaining under the Weaving course would be an impossibility. Both in practice and theory. Not to mention going against Professor Dorne’s beliefs. No, if I am to show my resolve, a new course would offer greater hardships, even more so in light of recent events.”

“I see.” The Headmistress spoke, looking at her colleagues. “Is there any among you who would accept Sturmfeld as a pupil?”

“Such a challenge would be a delight!” Holt got up from his seat, eyes brimming with excitement. “Give me a year, no—just six months, and none will recognize young Leopold here!”

“My, my, Sturmfeld, you do have a way with words. In ‘practice and theory,’ you say? Tell me, is this charming ambiguity your idea of strategy, or are you hiding something deliciously scandalous?” Despite the sweetness oozing from her tongue, Vaedra’s eyes had a frigid air to them.

Caelan cleared his throat. “I was just getting to the part, ma’am.”

“Oh shit, here it comes.” Leopold joined his hands in prayer.

“I’ve been told this in private by Dr. Moreau; it shouldn’t even be on the medical record yet. Whatever the accident that afflicted me was, I have been crippled in a unique manner.” He waited for his words to have sunk in. “I have become unable to manipulate essence in any way, shape or form.”

A tense silence followed the revelation. “Excuse me?”

-----

Hand pressed against the orb, Caelan focused all his being into… to be honest, he didn’t know what. Leopold had tried explaining several times already, much to his growing frustration. Yet, the displaced continued to fail to grasp the concept.

“It’s all right, Leopold, let’s stop.” Doctor Moreau placed her hand over his shoulder. “I think we can both agree this isn’t working.”

The young man looked away, frustration sinking in. “I’m sorry, I… don’t know why I can’t do it.”

The medic invited him to take a seat while she went and picked a glass of water for him. While he drank, she pulled a few papers from her briefcase. She then asked if he knew what the purpose of the tests was. After giving her a negative answer, the older woman sighed before looking into his eyes.

“Leopold, when I examined you, I noticed something unusual. Most people would never even think of looking for it in the first place. And if not for my stronger sensibility to essence, neither would I.” She waited for him to absorb all her words before moving on. “What do you remember about the way Aether works?”

Using his knowledge from the games (and some help from the actual Leopold), he explained, as best as he could. How it consisted of an energy that formed the fabric of all that exists. Every living being had essence and could manipulate it in some manner. But only the Awakened could use it for combat purposes. In fact, the purpose of Hollowbane Academy was their training.

All so they could better fight the Hollowborne.

“Good.” She paused, a mixture of subtle emotions showing up in quick succession. “Leopold, you aren’t… normal.” Moreau’s voice softened, but her eyes bore into his as if searching for something deeper. “Most people release essence without even thinking about it. You don’t, at least not anymore. Your essence is… silent.”

She hesitated, her hands tightening around the papers. “To be frank, it’s almost as if it isn’t there at all.”

A numbing sensation crashed over his body. Leopold’s ghost form had his eyes wide as plates. “What do you mean?”

She held onto his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I thought it strange, feeling nothing from you all this time. It made me wonder why you would try to conceal your essence like that. But after the exams, my conclusion is that you either don’t have essence inside you, or something is blocking it.”

A numbness crashed over Caelan, like cold water thrown over bare skin. For a split second, a voice in the back of his mind screamed, "This complicates things." But he clenched his jaw, pushing it aside. Feelings could wait. Plan first, worry later. “I see.”

Moreau explained how the more advanced tools could detect the energy inside of him. Yet nothing he did let him access nor manipulate it in any form. Then, after some hesitation, she explained that some forms of deep trauma could trigger it. Although there wasn’t enough data to support such a claim. “Leopold… do you know what the ‘accident’ you had truly was?”

A glance at the silent specter, who hadn’t moved an inch after facing away from them both, would be all Caelan needed. “I’m not sure of the details… but I think I can guess what happened.”

“With time, you may recover from it. I can refer you to an amazing therapist to help you with all the physical and psychological effects of such a...”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but could I… have a few minutes to myself? It’s… a lot to take in.”

Once they were alone, Caelan looked at the small form of Leopold, who had hugged his knees. His companion broke the silence first, before the widower could say anything. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

A sigh came out of the obese body they now shared. “We don’t know that. It could be just an effect of our unique problem.”

“I knew," Leopold finally muttered, his voice a fragile whisper. “Spending your life feeling it, you know the moment it’s gone. But… I just… I didn’t want it to be true. Like so many other things.”

He let out a dry laugh, bitter and hollow. “Just another fuck-up to add to the pile, huh?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Too much shit going on all at once. You probably noticed, but my life has changed a little bit in the last few days.” His body trembled a bit. “I just… hoped I was wrong. Like always.”

“You’re right—your life’s gone to hell.” That had the younger man retreat further into himself, as if he wanted to disappear. “But mine as well. And beating yourself up about it won’t help either of us.”

He moved towards the front of Leopold, meeting his gaze with determination. “We don’t need essence to think or fight. And the hearing? This could be the best card we’ve got. A ‘cripple’ who wants to prove himself makes a more compelling picture.”