Theocharista sat alone at the desk in her room staring at her punishment. The bracelet Mayta had snapped around Theocharista’s wrist was made of seven different crystals. All of them were engraved with runes that helped their magic work more accurately and quickly. Once it was on the wearer couldn’t remove it. It was one of six, and they were all linked to the crystal necklace that Mayta wore at all times.

Theocharista’s lower lip jutted out into an impressive pout as she studied it. She lifted her arm up to watch the sunlight streaming through the window glint off the crystals and refract across the undecorated walls. She was so engrossed in her sorrow Theocharista didn’t hear the door opening.

“I just got it off,” Theocharista said.

“Next time you shouldn’t wander,” Morgana said.

Theocharista turned around to look at her fellow reincarnation. Morgana’s red hair was braided this morning. She had spent time with Mayta, she had to, because Mayta was the only person Morgana VII would let fuss over her hair. They wore the same thick black robes, over the same thick black dresses, with the same shiny black shoes. All inhabitants of the University dressed alike. Whether this phenomenon was the will of the original founders or just a happenstance based off of similar personalities was uncertain.

“Medraut was in the catacombs four days ago,” Theocharista argued. “He’s not wearing his bracelet again.”

“The catacombs are technically University grounds,” Morgana replied with a smile. “Why do you think Mayta found him so quickly?”

Morgana lifted her left arm towards Theocharista, clenching and unclenching her hand twice, and held it aloft. With a small smile Theocharista made her way to Morgana. She grabbed Morgana’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Hand in hand they, exited Theocharista’s room closing the door softly behind them. They walked the path down to the library the same way they did every morning. Morgana hummed a melody Theocharista was unfamiliar with as they walked down University corridors.

“Is that a tune you’re composing?” Theocharista asked.

“The plants in the greenhouse like it,” Morgana said, shyly glancing at Theocharista through her lashes. “It helps them keep growing even after something traumatic happens.”

“I’m not traumatized, Morgana VII,” Theocharista muttered. “I just want to learn. She has a different way of thinking than the University, how else can I learn what she knows?”

“You would rather spend your days sitting in silent contemplation, about a woman who existed centuries ago, who may not even be the reason we have magic, than be in the University’s library studying?” Morgana asked.

She gripped Theocharista’s hand more firmly, tugging it to cover her heart.

“You would rather spend your hours staring at monks than with me?” Morgana continued. “How can that be?”

“I don’t want to spend all my time there,” Theocharista reasoned. “I just want to spend some of it there. Their garden is outside and in a foot of snow the plants keep growing. There are no kitchen fires, no warming spells, or adaptation runes on their temple and yet it stays warm. How can I not want to know how it works?”

“You want to learn their magic and bring it back here,” Morgana realized.

“Of course!” Theocharista shouted. “What use is learning their magic if I can’t bring it back here? And inversely think of how much time and energy we could save if we could bring it back down here. The University could eliminate so many needless positions and allow all their current workers to pursue an actually interesting division of magic instead of just labor.”

“You don’t want to leave the University to be with the monks?” Morgana asked. “You don’t want to leave and venture down the mountain to see the outside world?”

“How can I even think of leaving the University when I have so much to learn here?” Theocharista countered. “How can I leave the monks alone when I have so much of their magic to adapt to the University’s needs?”

When they reached the library doors Morgana squeezed Theocharista’s hand tightly. They greeted the librarian before excusing themselves to a far corner of the library to study whatever captured their attentions. They sat across from each other at a large oak table. In the quiet of the library, with her Theocharista so engrossed in her mastering of spell creation she didn’t realize she was muttering to herself, Morgana smiled.

“Would you like me to talk to Mayta?” Morgana whispered.

"Mayta won't budge," Theocharista grumbled. "She's very upset with me."

"She has a right to be," Morgana argued with a wider grin. "But I think Mayta will fuss less if I join you at the temple."

Theocharista snapped her head up. Her eyes were wide in joyous bewilderment.

"You would do that?" She asked.

"I need to see what all the trouble is about," Morgana said. "Besides if you have another pair of eyes on the Temple's workings then you'll understand it's inner workings quicker, won't you?"

"Morgana VII, thank you," Theocharista whispered. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"You're welcome, my Theocharista," Morgana replied.