But I had some idea, though. I had noticed that sometimes, his eyes glowed, as if he had magic within him—and sometimes, his nails lengthened into claws. It wasn’t difficult to imagine that Kael had an interest in magic because he wanted to learn more about himself. Had he been blessed by the Old Gods? It must have been recent, if so. It was the only thing that fit, how he came to have magic without knowing anything about it.
It meant me was like me. Alone with his gift, with no one to turn to for answers. No witch or mage would have shared what they knew with him.
I’d heard that most magic users were secretive because the spells they developed were the only things they could trade. The Old Gods of Telluria may have blessed us with magic, but it was the humans who could develop battle spells using their powers that were the powerful ones.
Once upon a time, Mother Narr had told me that there used to be a Royal Academy for mages where they used to develop spells and sell them to businesses and guilds for a profit. Ever since the current King had ascended the throne fifteen years ago, all the magic users in the country had been pressed into the army to fight the King’s wars for him.
The mage had lived well on the King’s dime. The tower was small but luxuriously appointed, and the magic apparatus here was the best that money could buy. The King had evidently tasked the mage with an important task for the war.
Which made it all the more strange that the mage who lived here had leftallhis notes behind.
The ceasefire had been sudden, but surely, he wouldn’t have left everything behind if he’d had the choice, right?
It made no sense, but I was making the most of my windfall. In my research, I copied all the spells that I found useful into a book of my own, to research later and perfect them by myself.
Iwouldmake the most of my powers.
The book Kael had given me was a spell book, but it looked older than the others. It was marked in what looked to be the handwriting of a child, and hasty notes and doodles were scribbled in the margins of the page, so I was hopeful that the spells would be easy for a beginner like me.
Spells for remedies and medication came easily to me, I could make potions and tinctures by intuition, but I had no idea how to do any of the spells that could help with practical things.
“So, you can’t make gold? Or hypnotise people?” My father sighed as he shook his head. “You can’t use your magic to do anythinguseful, is what you’re saying.”
I pushed the memory away. I’d learn these spells, and I’d prove that I could be useful. That I could be a help to him, and not a hindrance. Or a financial burden that he had to take care of.
The first time I’d discovered I could do magic; it was a year after my mother had passed from the spotted fever. I had been immune, even then, an early sign of my magic that none of us had understood.
I’d been playing in the woods with Voren while my father had been at work in the fields, and I’d fallen from a tree branch and twisted my ankle. Badly bruised and unable to walk, I’d limped home in tears. Voren had run off, of course, scared of a scolding from my father.
And then, wonder of wonders, I’d clutched at my aching foot and wished it would stop hurting—and it had. I’d healed myself. When I’d told my father that night, I’d expected him to behappy, but he was only disappointed with the way my magic manifested. And he was right. I was too young then to realize that my magic couldn’t help us, not really.
I had to do better this time.
Now, I needed to learn this spell. One so simple that even a child could do it, apparently.
I read the incantation again, and drew the magic circle in chalk on the table. I visualized the item I wanted to bring to me—a clump of sage that sat on top of a bookshelf a few feet away. Keeping the item in my line of sight would help, the book said.
Passing a hand over the circle, I closed my eyes, and concentrated. I opened my eyes, and saw the sage leaves sitting in the middle of the circle I had drawn. Success!
I wanted to jump up and run through the tower until I found Kael and told him the news. But I restrained myself. What if it was a fluke?
I had to try again.
Half an hour later, when I had transported things across my bedroom and back, I was confident enough to try bringing to me something I could not see. Closing my eyes, I envisioned my comb, sitting on top of the table that sat by my bed back in Vilusia. I held the picture in my mind until I could see the light glisten off the polished wooden surface and I could count each tine of the comb.
Then, I passed my hand over the array, and whispered the incantation. The image in my mind wavered, but when I opened my eyes again, the comb sat in the middle of my magic circle.
I spent the next few hours magically transporting everything from my house that I needed to live comfortably in the tower. Sometimes, I had to try again, because my mental picture wasnot as strong as the spell demanded, and I had to keep at it. My clothes had proved the most demanding to transport, because it was difficult to remember the details and embellishments and embroidery on each piece, which made them difficult to magically ‘call’, but in the end, I was able to manage it.
By the time it was time to go down for supper, I was tired, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. Dinner was quiet, Kael was as reticent as he had been these past few days, and I was too tired to draw him out into conversation.
As I climbed the winding staircase to my bedroom, my legs felt heavy with exhaustion. The day’s magical training had taken a greater toll on me than I'd anticipated.
I paused on the landing, leaning against the cool stone wall for a moment to catch my breath. My fingertips tingled with the residual energy of the spell I’d been. The power thrummed beneath my skin, begging to be unleashed, but I knew I needed to rest.
With a weary sigh, I pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender and parchment enveloping me. My gaze drifted to the cluttered desk in the corner, covered in tomes and scrolls detailing the arcane arts. I’d spent countless hours poring over their pages, determined to master the practical applications of magic.
And yet, despite my progress, there was still so much I had yet to learn. Piles and piles of books I had yet to read. Had the mage really read through them all? Did he know everything in these books? The depth and breadth of magical knowledge seemed to stretch on infinitely, a vast and daunting ocean that threatened to swallow me whole.
