The death zone wing was no different from the others, high windows, stone arches, heavy doors. And yet there was something. A silence that was more than just the absence of noise. A coldness that wasn't caused by the weather.
Corin had entered the room late, perhaps too late. He wasn't alone when he sat down in one of the seats at the back and let his gaze wander. Books were lined up on an antique shelf, labeled with terms such as zone boundary, resonance fields, aether wounds. None of this meant anything to him, yet.
He had only worked through a handful of the basics, barely enough to be able to follow at all. But it was one of the few areas in which he had no grounding. And Viviana had hinted at it: if you want to survive outside, you have to know it.
The door opened with a slow creak. The man who entered was old. Not just gray-haired. But old, as if he had grown with the academy itself. His robes were a deep blue, his face furrowed, his eyes a strange, pale green.
He didn't introduce himself. He went straight to the blackboard. With a precise gesture, a hidden mechanism opened, a map became visible, large, with engraved lines and symbols. The contours of the world of Serastra.
"As you know... our world is in constant conflict with corruption."
The voice was raspy, brittle, but every word was clear.
Corin blinked. Corruption. A new word. Not an ordinary term, more like... a feeling. Unspoken, but threatening.
"The death zones," the teacher continued, "are wounds of this world. Places where the fabric of the path is thinner or completely broken and corrupted."
He pointed to two places on the map.
"The first, most significant death zone is in the far north, above the domains of Bear and Anvil. An ancient region. Deeply frozen. And yet... Alive in its corruption."
He continued, this time with a thin pointing stick, which he moved across the lower part of the map.
"The second and largest lies southeast of Thalassar. You may know it as the Kingdom of the Narwhal Domain. Once a place of light. Now... A borderland of silence and constant war."
He was silent for a moment, as were the students. Only the wind buffeted the windows.
"Other death zones exist, in the desert of Iskar, in the trenches of Nirn, on the black beaches of Velka. But these are smaller. Controlled. Avoided."
Corin leaned forward slightly. On the map, the zones weren't just marked, they looked... Eaten into. As if they had been burned into it. No color. Just deep shadows.
"In these regions," the old man muttered, "the path is... disturbed. Divided. Those who enter them must not only fight for their lives. But also for the memory of oneself."
Another student raised his hand. "What's causing it, sir?"
The teacher did not look at him. He looked at the map.
"That's a question for your first partial exam. Everyone needs to hand in a essay therorizing about the cause and effects in 2 weeks. Therefore you will get the time of this lecture and the next two weeks. You can work together, use the library or even cheat. Whoever cheats will have no chance at the final exams anyway."
A strange, quiet tremor passed through his voice. Corin remained calm. But something was nagging at him. Not just that he hardly knew anything about it. But how... little they all seemed to know.
'Damn, i already have enough on my plate.'
The old professor had left the room, the map remained open. A few students were still standing around, whispering about what they had heard. Corin stepped through the heavy wooden gate into the hallway, cool air, still. The shadows from the windows cast long stripes on the stone floor.
He was lost in thought.
Death zones. Corruption. Zones where the path breaks. Where you could lose yourself.
"Those who enter them must also fight to remember themselves..."
"Serious topic for this time of night."
Corin raised his eyes suprised. Florence stood there, leaning slightly against the wall. Her uniform perfect, her hair immaculately braided as always. She held a small notebook in her hand, her finger between two pages.
"You were listening," he replied calmly.
"A little." A smile. Open, warm, too warm for the chilly surroundings. "I did my compulsory lessons last year."
He stepped closer, not quite sure whether he wanted to stop or keep walking. "Did you have them with him too?"
"Of course." She glanced at the door. "He's old. But his words stick, don't they?" Then, with a quick sideways glance: "Did you like what you heard?"
Corin thought about it. "It was... disturbing. But interesting. I hardly know anything about what's out there."
Florence nodded slowly. "Then you'll quickly realize how little we actually know in here. The Academy talks a lot about strength, rankings, titles... but out there, none of those count."
She spoke calmly, but something in her voice was sharper than usual. An undertone, not bitterness, but clarity.
"And you?" Corin asked. "Have you experienced much out there?"
"Enough." Her gaze became indistinct for a moment and then the smile was back. "But that's a story for another day."
She took a small step to the side as if to disengage, but turned to face him once more.
"By the way, if you ever need someone to help you catch up..." A soft wink. "I'm good at explaining things. So they say."
Then she left. Quiet footsteps on old stone. In no hurry. Corin watched her go, just for a moment. Then he turned away and walked in the opposite direction.
And yet...
'I might just take her on of that offer.'