Evander’s lip curled into a smile, a smile so slight it could almost be written off as an involuntary twitch of his face. He wasn’t a man of emotion, but he was a creature of curiosity; a true academic, who had made it his life’s work to push the boundaries of what Arynn Frey magic was capable of. Looking at Calanthe now, he saw in some respects a younger version of himself. She was different in so many ways, but that spark of curiosity that had driven him this far was present and burning.

“Indeed it is…” Evander nodded, looking down at the slave whose chest rose and fell; a simple machine with no mind to give it humanity. He did not relish its suffering, but he was unbothered by it. Is the master heartbroken when his livestock goes to slaughter, or does he merely reap the benefits of their unwilling sacrifice?

After a moment, Evander approached the slave. With all the cold precision of a surgeon, he pinched the slave’s nose shut and put his hand firmly over its mouth. After a moment, the flesh machine twitched and spluttered before it breathed no more. He went to a bookcase at the far end of his workshop and slid it to the side, revealing a metal hatch. He opened its mouth revealing a chute leading straight into darkness.

With mechanical efficiency, he went to the table and rolled it on its wheels towards the opening. “Come help me,” Evander would ask of Calanthe, motioning to the other end of the table. He didn’t need the assistance of course, but her participation was something symbolic. An acceptance of the darker deeds she would need to perform. Carefully, he would raise the table (with her help or without it) so that the slave slid off into the chute. There was a whooshing sound as the slave passed through a shimmering barrier and disintegrated into dust. Once the task was done, he’d turn to Calanthe.

“You are not a Blackwood in name,” Evander began, “But you are one in legacy. Commit yourself to your studies and you will be well on your way.”

Evander inclined his head in acknowledgment, not smiling as brightly as Calanthe, but still lifting the corners of his lips. Perhaps the girl would be more useful than he thought. Useful or no, he owned this to Cryus. Should he not step in and take an interest in her future education, someone else inevitably would. And Evander trusted his own judgment over anyone else’s.

“That’s enough for today,” Evander said, brushing his hands as if the dust of the slave lingered on them. “Come to me here, tomorrow at nine. Then, we shall begin our work.”

Our work. No longer just his, but theirs.