Moon 6
Technically, the first class was ESL—meant to help students adjust both culturally and linguistically to the Land’s Between. The name, however, was misleading. It stood for English as a Second Language, yet they weren’t in England, nor were they learning English customs. According to the British government, they were in a foreign country, but the school still followed British educational standards. So, this class was essentially the Land’s Between version of ESL, though no one bothered to change the name.
During the last era, the old order systematically persecuted and erased all other languages, enforcing the dominance of its own. Known as the "golden tongue," "commons," or "the trade," it had many names, though none were officially recognized. Those who refused to comply were either forced to adopt it or cast out of civilization entirely. Linguists studying the region were astonished by its similarities to their own world, but horrified at how the other languages had been ruthlessly snuffed out. The fact that people still spoke a language so similar, despite the barrier between worlds, was seen as a miracle. Even more remarkable was the discovery of remnants of old-world languages that had managed to survive the purge.
According to scholars, it was believed that the ancient Tower-folk spoke Sumerian, the Beast-men a mutated form of Latin, and the great fire-giants proto-Celtic. This, along with other discoveries, sparked a boom in fields like archaeology, anthropology, and history. Scientists, historians, philosophers, writers, and various other scholars flocked to the Land’s Between, eager to learn more about its ancient and mysterious past.
Though all of that is beyond the scope of this class, none of the students are required to learn history or the ancient writing systems. Caria has officially adopted English as its main language. It also helps that the common tongue is strikingly similar to English, making it easier to bridge the language and cultural gaps between Caria and its allies.
The same applies to writing; the old systems were too complex for the new students. However, most of the surviving texts are written in that ancient script. To tackle this, they had to create an albinauric capable of reading the writing. This effort also resulted in the development of thousands of translation breeds that Caria now sells to the British government.
“That was… mundane,” the boy with two last names remarked.
“How so?”
“How so? Isn’t this a magic school? Where’s the magic?!” he exclaimed, flopping his hands.
Justin had been waiting for this moment for years, ever since his parents had told him about the academy, and ever since he’d received that walking, talking painting for his ninth birthday. He’d spent years dreaming of fighting dragons, saving princesses, and shooting lightning from his hands. As the day approached, he made sure everyone in the manor knew, loudly, so much that he couldn’t sleep for days. His heart nearly stopped when he first laid eyes on the academy.
But instead of the magical adventures in his dreams he was stuck in a boring classroom, that looks no different than his last school; and to think he passed on Eton College for this, were all his friends went.
“It’s the first class. Be patient, I’m sure they’ll teach it in the next one.”
“I’ve been patient for a year!” Justin shouted back.
“Then you can wait a few minutes more,” the boy with green eyes responded calmly. He had a mature air about him, with an easy smile that seemed almost magnetic. Justin should have been annoyed—he usually couldn’t stand kids who acted like ‘know-it-alls.’ But for some reason, he couldn’t get angry at this boy. It was the eyes—he’d never seen eyes so green before.
“Whatever, Harry,” Justin shrugged then walked ahead.
They were all following a prefect, a strange boy with nasty eyes. He didn’t talk much, more like one of the servants back at Justin’s home—very professional, and an absolute bore. His job was to guide them around the castle, warning them that some of the rooms were too ‘dangerous’ to wander into. But to Justin, the place seemed perfectly normal, like one of the castles from his family vacations. He could hardly wait for the prefect to leave them alone so he could explore on his own.
The walls were lined with bookshelves, but all of them were empty. Overhead, there were cages—also empty—though most of what hung from the ceiling were chains. Small crystals sprouted from the walls like vines, and silver-skinned figures were busy chiseling them out. Those same silver people were everywhere, sweeping the floors, polishing the stone, working with quiet precision. Even Justin’s family, with all their wealth, didn’t have nearly as many servants.
Sometimes they passed doors marked with yellow tape, and each time, Justin’s curiosity spiked.
“Hey!” he called out to the prefect. “What’s in there?”
The upperclassman didn’t even glance back. “Nothing,” he replied blandly, continuing to walk ahead.
“Then why is it taped?” Justin pressed.
“Because of all that nothing,” the prefect said, rudely.
Justin felt a surge of anger. How dare he talk to him like that? The disrespect was infuriating. Not even his tutors at home would dare speak to him in that tone. Maybe his father was right and this whole school is a huge ruse. His family had always been skeptical of magic, even when they witnessed it firsthand. It took months of relentless pestering before his father finally relented, admitting—albeit vaguely—that there might be some sort of magic in the world. Though, Justin suspected his father only said it to shut him up.
Except for the servants, the hallways were empty. What had once been filled with magical creatures, sparking countless questions in his mind, was now silent. On the way, they passed through walls and descended long flights of stairs. He caught a glimpse of the lake through the windows, its surface crawling with giant lobsters and crabs. He burned with curiosity, but every time he asked a question, he was met with yet another sarcastic remark. The anticipation of it all was killing him, and he grew moodier as they headed to the next classroom.
Finally, they stopped in front of a statue. The door, made entirely of stone, took him a moment to recognize—it blended so well with the surroundings that without any metal handles, he’d almost mistaken it for another piece of art.
“This is the potions room,” the prefect muttered, casting a sideways glance at his charges as he mentally counted them. Sighing in relief when everyone was accounted for, he pushed the heavy stone door open. The sound echoed through the corridor, the weight of the door sending vibrations through the floor. Justin could feel them under his shoes, making the moment feel even more ominous. When the door was finally open he could faintly see the inside covered in a yellowish fog.
“Enjoy.” He waved them in but most of them were a bit afraid to move. It was Harry who stepped forward, entering the fog gate. Justin, not one to be stepped up, bumped him aside entering first. He knows its rude, but the boy doesn’t care, the impatience is nerve racking.
Justin stepped into what looked more like an ancient kitchen than a classroom. Unlike the modern ones back home, this place felt old—maybe even medieval. The room was entirely made of stone, with large cooking pots scattered around the desks. The faint smell of smoke filled the air, laced with hints of herbs and roasted meat. It smelled delicious, and despite his nerves, he realized he was getting hungry.
As the other kids trickled in, their eyes filled with a mix of wonder and a bit of fear, Justin scanned the room. On the racks lining the walls were jars filled with herbs, roots, and pickled animal parts. Kitchen utensils handled as well like knives, ladles, tongs, and oddly giant calipers. A large grandfather clock was placed in between the windows. At the far center of the room stood a podium, likely where the teacher would instruct. But as Justin looked around, he realized something—or someone—was missing. Where was the teacher?
The ESL class looked like an ordinary classroom from his old school, with clean tiles and decorative posters for young minds. Completely disconnected with the rest of the school, while this one didn’t, maybe he will finally learn some magic after all. He couldn’t help but smile.
Harry walked past Justin, his smile calm and unreadable, without even a hint of irritation. For some reason, that made Justin even more annoyed.
“Where’s the teacher?” one of the kids asked from the back.
Before anyone could respond, the heavy stone doors slammed shut with a deafening thud, causing everyone to jump. It had taken two full minutes to open them, yet they closed in a single second. The doors must be magic, Justin thought.
Then they all heard the bottles tumble in the background, slight sounds appearing everywhere, like the room itself was haunted. The children began to slowly walk together constantly looking from side to side. Someone or thing was in here with them. A bottle smashed to the ground and a little girl screamed. Justin was starting to get a bit scared, his eyes in constant movement.
“Meat…” A voice popped next to his ear, he could smell it’s breath.
Justin screamed and ran to the door. All the other students followed when they saw what's behind him. It was a smiling beast with a million teeth, a hooded fixture hunched over, with blood dripping from its claws.
Justin didn’t know if he could scream any louder, his voice was starting to get horsed. The children were clawing at the door, trying their best to get it open. They were crying and screaming for their parents. Some huddled in the corner trying to shield themselves from the monster.
The beast laughed, and the children screamed louder. The monster was closing in, its claws scraped against the floor.
Justin couldn’t stop weeping, he didn’t care about magic any more, the fear of death was in him. He wanted to go back home, to his parents, to his soft bed and hide in his mothers arms. He didn’t care, as he fruitlessly clawed on the stone until his fingers hurt.
“Mum, Mum. I want my mum!” He weeped.
“Hahahaha!” It’s glee only inflamed their fears.
I don’t want to die here. Justin closed his eyes.
Justin heard the sharp swing of metal slicing through the tense air. Spinning around, he saw Harry standing firm, a knife in his hand—the only thing between them and the creature looming before them. Harry’s stance was steady, like a knight from one of Justin’s storybooks, ready to face a dragon.
The beast tilted its head, its eerie eyes fixating on the boy.
“You aren’t scared, child?” it rasped, its voice slurred and guttural.
Harry said nothing, his grip on the knife tightening as his glare hardened.
The creature sniffed the air, its nostrils flaring. “I smell death on you,” it hissed, unsheathing its massive claws. “Destined death... I wonder how it tastes.”
Drool dripped from the monster's gaping mouth as it lunged at Harry. It sounded like a dog tearing meat, as he saw both of them in a flurry of cloth and knives. Desks and chairs flew around the room in chaos, and Justin could hear the sickening crack of wood splintering and bottles shattering. When the fray finally settled, the classroom lay in ruins, the floor littered with broken glass and debris.
Harry was pinned beneath the beast’s massive claws, which clamped tightly around his neck. The creature leaned in closer, its jagged teeth glinting dangerously as it prepared to bite off Harry's head.
Justin wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to run away and hide. Yet a part of him was angry, angry at how small he was. Angry at his resolve, how could he call himself the best if he allowed Harry to overshadow him. He didn’t know what overcame him, Justin picked up a large ladle from the floor and ran to the monster. He smacked the beast on the head, then again and again.
“Let him go!” Justin screams.
Whether he was doing any damage or not, Justin couldn’t tell. The beast used its free hand and grabbed Justin by the throat. Lifting the boy in the air, sniffing his head.
“I can smell your fear… It’s delicious.” The monster licks its teeth.
Justin was scared, the most scared in his entire life. Yet he couldn’t control what slipped from his tongue.
“Ska-screw you, wanker…” His mum would have washed his mouth with soap if she heard him.
The monster laughed again, Justin could hear the joy in it’s voice.
Just then, the other students rallied, grabbing whatever makeshift weapons they could find—broken wood, chairs, knives, and pots—and began to strike the distracted beast. Whether it was mob mentality or sheer survival instinct; it didn’t matter—they were all fighting back.
The creature continued to laugh, its voice booming as it was pelted from all sides. In that moment, Harry seized the opportunity, slashing the beast’s arm with his knife. A long streak of crimson marked its fur, and for the first time, the monster howled, releasing its grip on both boys and recoiling in pain. But the howl quickly morphed into manic ecstasy, its eyes wild with an unsettling hunger as it locked onto Harry.
“Fames hominis. Quamdiu praedam fui? Deliciabar gustando timores meos,” it chortled, its laughter ringing with madness.
It was getting ready to lunge again, and everyone felt the tension in the air. Justin couldn’t shake the feeling that this was it—one of them was going to die. But then the beast glanced at the grandfather clock, lowered its shoulders, and let out a long sigh.
“Fun’s over,” it slurred, making its way toward the podium. The oppressive tension still hung thick in the room.
“What?” one of the students asked, confusion etched on their face.
“Will do… ugh. Roll call,” it said, rummaging for a paper beneath the podium.
Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of what to make of the situation.
“What did I say? To your seats!” it barked, but there were no chairs left, only splintered wood scattered across the floor.
Harry circled the beast, knife raised. “Who are you?!” he demanded.
The creature paused, looking genuinely confused. It tilted its head as if trying to recall something. “Ahhhh. Oooh. I forgot. Hello, children. I am Locusta, the…” It glanced back at the list. “Potions teacher.”
The tension evaporated, replaced by confusion and disbelief.
“You’re the teacher?” one kid blurted out.
Locusta let out a dry laugh. “Of course! Who did you think I was?”
Many words rushed through Justin's mind. “Ba—But… weren’t you going to eat us?” he stammered, earning a quizzical look from the beast.
“Why would I do that? You barely. Haaa. Have meat on you,” it replied, prompting a murmur among the students.
“Then why did you attack us? Why did you try to kill me?” Harry pressed again.
Locusta turned its gaze to him. “Kill you? Ouagh. If I wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Then why?!”
“Because…”
Justin raised an eyebrow. “Because?” he echoed, the tension still lingering.
“Because. Sheeh. I like scaring small children.” It grinned even wider.
“Children, what is a potion?” Locusta asked, but no one dared to respond.
The albinaurics took about half a minute to clean up the room, and when they were finished, everything looked brand new—fresh furniture, new materials on the walls—as if the earlier chaos had never happened. Yet, the mistrust lingered in the students’ eyes. They were all wary of their teacher, but the potions master seemed completely unfazed by it, as if he was used to their fears.
“Come on… Lassh. There are no wrong answers,” Locusta said, his English tinged with a heavy accent.
A boy timidly raised his hand, shaking slightly. “I-um. It’s aaaa. Medicine?” The entire class was silent, no one knew which direction it would turn. Another fight? Another fear of death?
Locusta laughed, and the students tensed. “Yeeessss! That’s it! And that’s why we’re not doing it!” He knocked a bottle off a table, sending it shattering to the ground.
“What?” Justin spoke up, bewildered. “Ba-But. Aren’t you the potions teacher?”
Locusta lets out a disgusting snarl. “Technically, yes. But it’s all ugh… No taste! No flavor! Many things can do the same and still taste better! Hooll.” It slurred saliva. “That’s why in this class, we will be cooking!” He took out a pot and slammed it on the table.
“Everyone take out your cookbooks; we’ll be making an old favorite: pickled turtle neck.” Justin watched as the teacher drooled at the mention of the dish. He glanced over at Harry, who looked just as confused as he felt while they retrieved their books ‘Titles of Another World’.
“You’ll all be feeding it to me, and I’ll grade its accuracy with my mouth,” Locusta continued, placing more ingredients on the table. “Now, repeat what I do exactly.”
The class ended with the students awkwardly feeding their own teacher. They had no idea what grades they got; he always smiled as he chewed on the meat, sometimes slurring it around in his mouth to savor the flavors.
“Good. All good. You all barely pass. Too raw, not enough herbas. Ooh… we’ll fix that in the future.” He glanced at the grandfather clock. “Study pages forty-seven and eight. We’ll be feeding that to the albinaurics.”
Justin quickly flipped to that chapter, which was labeled under ‘The Potioneer Cookbook [9]’ in the advanced section. The draught of living death? Filtered meat? It looked far too advanced for beginners.
“Are we really going to make this?” Justin asked.
The beast-man nodded.
“But it looks so… complicated. Won’t we fail?”
“I fully expect you to.”
Huh?
“I want you to understand what happens when you don’t deliver. Mhhh. You need to grasp the challenges of this art and the consequences of failure.” He held Justin’s gaze. “And the lives you would ruin. If you make but one mistake.”
Titles of Another World, Volume 1
A comprehensive compendium of research collected by the Hierodas Conspectus, gathered through any means necessary—coercion, intimidation, negotiation, and even theft. No method is off-limits to the conspectus, whether it involves lawful practices or the most depraved forms of wisdom.
To the Hierodas, all knowledge is blind, devoid of good and evil. Even if the pursuit harms one's body, spirit, or sanity, as long as knowledge is gained, the conspectus will seek it. This extreme philosophy has earned them many critics, with most viewing them as thrill-seeking daredevils or suicidal maniacs. In the eyes of the academy, they are pioneers—both explorers and conquerors.
Currently, only three volumes are in circulation, though it is rumored that a fourth is still being written.