Why is it that an hour in mental anguish can feel like forever? That's what I thought when the bell finally rang to go to my next class. I swear I'd been in this one for ten years.

Scrying was a dark room with candles floating in front of mirrors that had been painted over with black paint. Seeing a friendly face, I sat down near Alexis on one of the pillows.

"So how do we do this?" I asked, looking around at the other students who stared off into ...