Elettra and Ivo walked together as they followed Professor Yumin, their history professor, to browse the tapestry hall with their note books. Every so often, Yumin would conjure with his hands a map or a family tree out of his gold-threaded magic that appeared before them. But Elettra and Ivo didn't really pay close attention. They both had drawn a bingo card in their notebooks for Yumin's class tour through the gallery-- a tour each of Yumin's classes always did. Elettra had crossed off three of her boxes while Ivo had crossed off four, but Elettra couldn't see what the fourth box was.
And when she leaned over to get a better look, Ivo had dropped his arms completely. And that's when Elettra realized that Yumin was speaking directly to Ivo--
"Mr. Veremond, would you care to show us?"
Ivo swallowed and hurriedly pushed his pencil and notebook into Elettra's arms. Elettra couldn't quite see over the heads of the other students in front of her what Ivo was presenting exactly.
"Would you mind telling us about your research, Mr. Veremond?"
Ivo cleared his throat then stepped to the side. Elettra pushed herself to the front, and she saw a long, seemingly worn tapestry that didn't look much different from the others hanging in the gallery. But upon closer inspection, it was a family tree, imperfectly stitched together with Ivo's magic and the actual threads of his research. It was a tapestry that replayed on a loop in different parts-- all parts bleeding into each other. Yet, there were fixed images; images of faces belonging to the family.
"It isn't so much a family as it's various warlocks with vague blood ties to each other, but they share one commonality."
When Elettra's eyes ran through the tapestry and with each section there was a glint of gold.
"Their powers are imbued from the fragments of bone that are coated in gold."
There was a soft murmur among the students. It was something that Elettra knew about only vaguely.
"Are any one of them Damoria?" A girl had asked. Elettra nearly missed Ivo's pale face.
"And these warlocks are doing the same things as them?" Another student interjected.
"Isn't it heretical?"
Ivo's hand hovered under the last section at the bottom right corner. There was no face affixed to that part. Instead it looked like a blur-- a face rushing by. "Yes..." Ivo began cautiously as though he were giving instructions on how to do something that was very dangerous, "there are some here that are related to Damoria."
Damoria.
It was more of a curse than a name. Elettra had only heard about Damoria from her father or his friends-- a darkness, a threat, of a bygone era. A terrible thing that Elettra was only too happy she would never have to face.
"I was interested in the science behind their powers and the imbuing. It's not just any bone fragment, but fragment from dead sages that have already been blessed with gold. Combined with the sacrilege of not burying these bones and returning them to earth, to alter the powers that a warlock already possesses is already a dangerous combination-- if not potent one." Ivo shyly looked up at Yumin, who was beaming down at Ivo.
"What is the nature of their power?" A student had raised their hand.
Ivo glanced at Yumin and then back at the student. Elettra couldn't read his face in that moment. Was it shock? Trepidation?
"Normally, the warlock conjures death directly."
There was another rustle among the crowd.
"So, the power to let others live or die?"
"As you know, we can mortally wound each other, but this power can take a perfectly healthy Warlock and..."
Ivo just lifted his eyebrows and let his hands flap by his side gently.
"They can also summon the dead directly to consult them..."
Ivo swallowed and looked down at his hands.
"To know their secrets."

Elettra rushed to Stryker's class right after her history lesson. She hadn't had a chance to ask if Ivo was alright.
Professor Stryker had been leaving her alone for the most part. Elettra felt that all changing when she spotted Locke and Magnus in her class. She was just walking down the steps to where Onyx was sitting and would be passing by where they sat: Locke glanced over as though he had been expecting her. And he gave a short nod to acknowledge she was there.
Elettra felt something flare in her heart. She wanted him to say something. Do something more.
But why?! Why do I want anything more from Locke?
Elettra shuffled into her seat.
"Did you see what was dragged in?" Onyx muttered with a haughty sniff.
"Locke Amory?" Elettra asked distantly opening her notebook.
Onyx grunted to confirm.
It took everything in Elettra not to say anything, not to defend Locke. She wrote the date at the corner of her notebook in stiff, jagged letters.
"Mr. Amory!"
Elettra's head shot up, and Locke was already at the center of the classroom.
"And I'm sure you're much recovered, Miss Tariel."
Elettra blanched, and Locke dropped his head smiling when he saw how white she had gone. But Elettra had no choice, and she shakily rose from her seat. Onyx was burning. When Elettra glanced at him she could only shrug.
"You and Miss Tariel will behave, I hope?" Stryker stepped aside to make room for Elettra.
"Don't worry-- we're on speaking terms," Locke tugged at his lapels gently.
Elettra shot him a look.
"I hope you've been practicing, Miss Tariel!" Stryker started backing away to give them room.
She hadn't.
"Combat," Stryker opened and closed his hands, addressing the rest of the class, "is as much an art as it is a necessity. It's about reading the skills and the art of your opponent in a look, in a feeling, in the clash and heat of your powers with yours. Where their feet fall, and the grace of their own movements."
Stryker's handsome, dark face turned to Locke: "The Amories are a coven devoted to light and healing-- messengers, I have heard."
Then as Stryker crossed to the other side of the classroom to take a seat, he whispered to Elettra, "There, I just gave you a head start, Miss Tariel."
"Thanks," Elettra sighed know that it wouldn't make much of a difference what kind of advantage she was given. Combat was never going to be her strength.
Suddenly, she felt Amory's fingertips brush against the back of her hand just before he stepped to the other side of the circle. The green current suddenly bloomed to life in her hands. Elettra felt shaky again, cradling the power in both her hands.
"Good, Miss Tariel, you're prepared," Stryker barked behind her.
"Do you trust me?"
Only Elettra could hear Locke's voice amidst the hum of her power.
"We just got onto speaking terms," she tried to seem at ease with her power, "now you demand trust?"
She tried to smile, but then realized she probably looked crazy.
"Stop flirting!" Stryker shouted from behind.
"Throw," Locke pressed his foot behind him as though he were about to embrace for impact or take off on a run.
So, Elettra threw her green current at him. It was like throwing a wad of hot silk that was somehow unweaving the fabric of her clothes from her arms as it flew. And Elettra had no way to take control of it.
And Locke simply caught it in his hands wadding the electric green current in his hands.
"How...?" Elettra's arms hung heavily, as Locke took the enormity of her green current and made an arch between his hands.
Elettra heard Stryker's chair fall over behind her. The students in the lecture hall were rising to their feet to get a better look. How could another warlock possess and handle another warlock's power? And with power like Locke Amory's, he couldn't have been powerful enough.
Suddenly, the current was no longer a mass of electric chaos: it had unrolled like an unnaturally long tongue and Locke tore what looked like bright, silken fabric with both his hands. Then he paused. Elettra held her breath.
He snapped his fingers. And the lights in the room flickered and winked and all the air seemed to stand still.
Everything was standing still. Elettra spun around-- had Locke really done?
Did Locke stop time?
"I think we deserve a little privacy," he said softly, and before Elettra had time to answer Locke threw the first ribbon, and it wrapped tightly around Elettra's wrist. She wasn't sure how she made it so close to Locke in a moment, but she found the other ribbon wrapped around her other arm.
She could feel his warm breath on her nose; how sweet he smelled, and how powerful he felt.
A ribbon wrapped around her shoulders, and Locke used its leverage to turn her around, pressing her back against him.
"What is this?" She managed with her faltering breath.
"Trust me," she felt his breath at her ear. "When you feel trapped even in your own power, you can still reach deep in yourself to conjure."
"You have my current, Locke!"
"No," she felt the sharp heat of his breath, "you inherited this current, but it's not yours. If I can best you this way in combat, then the current is not your power."
Then after a pause.
"Concentrate. There is something more in you."
All Elettra could see in front of her was the dark classroom, students halfway between standing and sitting; papers spilling from the commotion from desks; Stryker mid-step, stern, but mostly confused.
Locke pressed his palms into the back of her hands, and their arms and hands lifted in unison before them.
"What is there to concentrate on?"
But Locke didn't have to answer; just as soon as Elettra asked, her eyes fell on Onyx, and he could feel her narrow frame tense.
Elettra forgot the tightness of the current around her. She forgot that Locke pressed her to him. And something in the recesses of her veins, of the darkest corner of her mind, something primal, something that Elettra knew to call the beginning slowly rose inside her. It was at once warm, new but familiar. And when she watched her hands before her, she a lavender cloud oozed from her fingers with flashes of electricity.
The ribbons that pressed her to Locke loosened suddenly. Locke pushed her to the other side as he bunched the current back into his hands.
Elettra's smoky power ran like rivulets through her fingers.
Locke snapped his fingers again. And there was movement around the room again.
"Breathe," Locke whispered. "Now, hit me!"
Stryker and the students had shaken off the time pause, and they glanced from one to the other-- something had happened, and they weren't sure what.
Elettra just lifted her hands. What did it feel like? It was velvety. Soft. But warm. With what? It grew hotter the faster it rotated in her hands.
She pulled her hands back.
Locke would be okay.
She had to believe he would be okay.
Elettra pulled her hands back. She threw.
And with a sharp pop, the green current that had ran through Locke's hands like a figure-8 burst into charred confetti.
The room grew still, and Elettra could only hear the sound of her raspy breath as her gaze met Locke's.
And the only thing that anyone was thinking in that moment-- nothing could destroy the green current. What was different now?
