The young student looked up at the sky for a moment, admiring how clear the night sky seemed to be, away from the pollution of the city. She wasn't sure if it was because she was standing on the roof of the Academic Studies building, but it seemed as though she could touch the stars if only she stretched out her arm.

Wait a minute. her internal voice interrupted her thoughts. We're on the roof.

Lelita blinked once. Twice. And then she spoke aloud,"I'm going to have my detention on the roof of the Academic Studies building?"

By contrast, Prof. Montclair looked none too pleased. It was as if the very sight of the stars darkened his brittle mood. His grimace seemed set upon his predatory face as he led her over to the edge, where an antique set of navigational tools, dominated by a massive brass telescope. The view from the edge gave student and professor a beautiful view of the wine-dark sea.

"Since you've been accumulating absences at an alarming rate," he began very matter-of-factly, a leonine smile replacing his fragile frown. "You shall help me out with the navigational methods of Columbus."

"Alright, what do you need me to do." She asked, suddenly feeling more relaxed now that she knew what the purpose of being on the roof was.

"It is quite simple, actually," he said as he led her to the ancient telescope. The metal covering smelled faintly of polish and age. "I shall sound out adjustments for the telescope, you make the adjustment then tell me what constellation you see."

He grinned childishly. "See, fairly simple for your peers whist being too easy for one such as you. Now, shall we begin?"

The praise slipped out like water upon smooth silk. There was nothing that could be done, for now.

Except to do the task he had set for himself, upon this lit night of all nights.

"Oh, I see now." Lee responded, looking at the instruments, making minor adjustments to the focus of the telescope so that she could see clearly. "I am ready to begin when you are."

And so began Lelita's detention. For interminable hours under the twilight blanket, she took Prof. Montclair's instructions, turning the telescope every which way, calling to him the constellations her gaze alighted upon.

And with each call, he whispered his power into the dried vellum laying in front of him, the onyx pen flying across the material with ink as dark as the endless Void.

As the night wore on, the constellations she had been monitoring shifted position slightly, a reflection of the Earth's rotation on it's axis that marked the passage of time.

"Professor, it's quite late, perhaps we should wrap things up so we can both get some rest for class tomorrow."

The constellations were in place, and thanks to Lelita's assistance, all was in place to begin the Rite. a tradition of such significance that even the most single-minded Nal approached with reverence. Or something close to it.

His chanting gently slit an opening in the nameless rift that separated his home Plain and this one, allowing the fell aura of the Void to saturate the air. Prof. Montclair coughed softly, the aura coloring his breath purple. His ears pricked at the sound of her voice and he could not help but grin.

"If you insist, Ms. Ornthall." His voice came out gravelly, crude by his standards. "But I ask you... 'What's the rush?'"

Professor Montclair, shedding his mortal skin to become the being called Magadon, let the vellum slip from his fingers as his golden eyes took on that eerie golden glow.

Fear. Confusion. Those would have been appropriate emotional responses, but as Lelita turned to look at her instructor she felt neither of them. Rather, the young woman was fascinated by his transformation.

"How in the world did you do that?!?"the female student asked, moving over to the professor for a closer look at his new form.

He coughed again, spewing a purplish-black wad of ooze onto the table that turned to dust the second air touched it. The particles were carried away by a stray night wind.

Prof. Montclair pounded on his chest as he felt his skin taking on its true pallor. He stood lazily, woozy and drunk upon the raw power his home plain was feeding unto him.

"It's actually quite easy," he began, the smooth resonant quality of his voice restored, with traces of the otherworldly malice he could no hide so well. The thin teacher grinned at her, eyes bright and radiant with fell energy. "When you're not human."

"So what are you then? A dark creature from the ether? An alien? Some sort of genetic mutation?"

Lee was thinking in several different directions at once, it seemed her brain had yet to process the fact that what she had just witnessed was abnormal and she should be frightened. So too, was the malice in his voice utterly lost to her. It seemed she was oblivious to the potential danger she was facing.

Montclair's, now resuming his identity as the extra-planar being Magadon, tilted his white death's head curiously like a house cat finding an item of interest.

A lean black house cat with unsettling golden eyes and ghostly-white facial fur, to say nothing of the otherworldliness that fairly dripped off of him.

And here I was, thinking you had ataraxia, that low, hauntingly-seductive voice whispered in her ear, his presence threatening to strangle her. But I would not worry about what I am, for the moment.

It was when he whispered in her ear that Lee felt like she suddenly couldn't draw enough air into her lungs, as though she might suffocate just from hearing his voice. She couldn't even muster up the breath to utter a response to him, just frantically suck air into her lungs.

Finding it hard to breath, Ms. Ornthall?

Icy breath that she couldn't really feel was already freezing the hairs on the back of her neck. The darkness around her inexplicably obscured even the pinpricks of light dotting the sky.

Prof. Montclair's face was completely hidden by a dreadful skull face, sickly golden fire burning where there should have been eyes as his body lengthened and stretched to the proportions of some twisted scarecrow. Lelita felt thin stick-like fingers digging into various openings and creases in her uniform.

Well allow me to help...

Her green uniform, blazer to blouse, began to melt like an ice cream scoop in the sun, running off her body in slow rivulets from where those points touched her clothes.

Lee was unable to to speak when she was addressed by the creature who used to be Professor Montclair. Her lips refused to form words, not that she could have sucked in the air to speak anyway.

She watched, awestruck and horrified as her clothes turned to liquid and ran down her body, like so much watercolor paint.