In addition to fretting over the reality of wedding plans and enduring the lengthy process of parental approval on both sides of the fence, Nauleth had spent much of break agonizing over Professor Lux's offer of a secret class, if not of considerable power. It was the lying and hiding thing that got in the way of much of his thought process every time he bothered to dwell on the opportunity, if only because the dark-eyed boy was terribly distracted yet somehow still capable of coming to the conclusion that keeping secrets of such a nature from one's future wife was probably not the best way to begin anything resembling marital bliss.

Regardless, there he was, in front of the Hoxian woman's office door ... again. Not quite pathetic, but perhaps still a little on the cautious side. If it was wrong to lie, in his mind, it was almost more wrong to miss out. He'd just have to figure out a way to smooth everything over later ... much later.

Fumbling to actually button his jacket collar as if he needed something to do with his free hand, Naul knocked, knuckles pale on the wood of the door.

From the depths of the room came a low, clear voice dripping with cold disdain.

"If you've come to apologize, Simon," said Freja, "I am not interested. You may take your pathetic begging elsewhere."

"Errr, no. It's Nauleth Siordanti, Professor Lux. I've come about—" He tried not to sound awkward, hands finding his pockets as he cleared his throat from behind the door, "Well, I can come back if this is a bad time for you."

Naul was definitely sure that Freja in a bad mood was not entirely a Freja he was sure he could endure. The Hoxian on a normal day appeared to be ... enough ...

There was a click and the door to Freja's office swung open. It was overwhelmingly mirrored as usual; it seemed to have been given another polish while he had been away. The professor was seated in the center of the room on a flat bamboo mat, legs crossed in a meditative position, hands outstretched to rest on her knees. She looked up in apparent surprise.

"Nauleth," she said, her accent making his first name sound wild and fierce and ancient. "I did not expect to see you again."

Her demeanor did not indicate anywhere near the same annoyance it had a moment ago.

"Yes, well, I suppose after this week, I might have said the same." The boy deflected the surprise with a lop-sided smirk and snide remark, as to be expected. He decided it was best to not be curious, blinking a little at the brightness of the office despite the cloudy, rainy weather still visible through windows.

"However, I survived," Naul added quietly, not waiting for further invitation to step into the room and close the door behind him, "and had some spare time to reconsider your offer. I'd like to take you up on it ... if it still stands, that is."

He assumed he didn't need to explain what he meant.

Freja stood up in a single fluid movement and crossed to the open window, which she closed solemnly; as she pulled the curtains shut, she turned back to look at him. Her face was unreadably polite, as usual. She appeared mildly surprised at what he had said.

"As it happens," she said delicately, "it is."

The Hoxian woman bent back down to her desk. When her face was out of Nauleth's line of sight, she smiled thinly to herself.

"I do not have any paper for you to sign," she said, searching for something in a drawer; whatever it was, it did not take her long to find, and Nauleth assumed that either her drawers were almost completely empty or she had specifically set it there in anticipation of such a scenario. "But you will take this, and keep it on your person at all times."

She held out her thin, white palm to reveal a small and slightly bluish stone.

"You are bound to secrecy," she said, and it was quite plain that this was not the kind of rule that one signed a contract to keep; something steely glinted behind her eyes. "Do not take this from me unless you agree."

Nauleth let his dark eyes travel from the cold woman's face to her hand, arching a right eyebrow at the stone held out to him, not moving his own hands from his pockets, "What's that? Something to keep track of me with?"

He didn't quite balk, but he definitely paused, still nervous about the idea of a formal relationship with secrets in its foundations. The allure of something powerful still weighed and tugged in the back of his thoughts, however—a nostalgic yearning from the time before his backlash when he'd felt on top of his game, or at least a fresh reminder from his morning on the Cloister, raining Magma on idiot students.

There was more to be had, and in Professor Lux's hand was a guarantee of that. At least, that's what it looked like. Naul withdrew a hand from his pocket, returning his gaze to the Hoxian's. It was not an easy decision after the week he'd had back in Vienda with his parents and the Bruthgraves'.

"It's not going to melt my brain or anything, I hope."

His tone implied he was looking for an explanation but not expecting one, hesitant but already convinced he was doing the right thing. His expression faltered a little before he reached for the thing, turning it over in his hand with a clenching of his sharp-chinned jaw.

Freja's hand was chilly and smooth, but the stone itself was a different sort of cold; it seemed to soak up the heat from his hand without growing any warmer to the touch. It had sharp edges, as though it had been broken from a larger piece; it was heavier than he had expected, and the bluish veins than ran through its dark translucent core looked eerily like those within his own skin.

"Don't joke," said Freja softly. She bestowed an indulgent smile on him. "It is a seer stone in its roughest form. I have modified it to be more secure. When I need to contact you, it will glow hot briefly. We use them to communicate."

Reaching into her pocket, she produced a similar stone.

"Do not show this to anyone," she said. "If it is lost, there will be no other. Hide it away."

Naul turned the stone over in his hand, looking up at her sharp warning. He smirked, swallowing hard as he closed his fingers around the thing. He spoke with a hint of sarcasm, though he was quite serious about acquiescing to her wishes for secrecy, regardless of the cost, "I think I can manage that."

Hands and stone returned to his trouser pockets, which, for the dark-eyed boy, were private enough places thus far, "So, what if you contact me when I'm ... not alone? You know, studying. Or something. I don't know if I can quite pull the 'it's my mother calling' every time." He might have almost grinned, more responsive right side of his mouth curling upward mischievously, unwilling to offer details about his worries,

"I take it there's no regular schedule to expect with something to be kept so secret. I'm at your beck and call then, Professor Lux?"

For most of the time Nauleth had been in the room, Freja's demeanor had been arguably calm and pleasant, but now there was a shift. While her expression did not change in the slightest at his latest questions, Nauleth felt a strangeness to her field as soon as the words had left his mouth.

There was a pregnant pause before she said "Nauleth." It was a tone that betrayed no particular sternness, but clearly marked the point after which coyness and jokes were no longer an option for communication; it was deadly serious.

"The world," she continued, "your world, the world in which you have such worries...it is soon to end. And all your carefully laid plans for yourself and your loved ones will be meaningless if you do not prepare. This is not a study group, Nauleth, or a club, or a secret society, the membership of which will contribute to your eventual fortune and well-being. This is a means of survival, and an opportunity that is given only once, to few."

The oddest emotion coursed through her field. It was odd because it was one he could not define by any familiar means, an emotion he felt he could neither recognize nor duplicate in himself. There were no words for it in any language, and it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, leaving him to wonder if it had happened at all. He got the sense that it was not directed at him.

"So when I call," she said a moment later, gently but firmly, "you will answer."

If Naul was really capable of growing pale, if it was really even noticeable as a slight draining of color from his face, he did. Made uncomfortable by her tone and her field, the dark-eyed boy scowled. It was easy to pretend at being adult around other students, to pretend to have everything figured out after his week spent negotiating a wedding between two powerful families, but the Hoxian woman's words returned the young man to his place in the span of a few heartbeats.

Like most of what Freja said, Nauleth found everything abstract and annoyingly hard to understand. End? Survival? What the clock was she talking about? He was slightly too intimidated to ask, fingers clenching around the cold stone in his pocket.

"I don't think ... I follow, Professor. Part of me wants to say I've got two years until I graduate, but I have a rather disconcerting feeling that you're implying something completely different." His frown deepened, obviously concerned, "I don't think I quite want to know why or how you know, either."

He swallowed, more than just physically, "I'll be sure to answer."