~Chapter Nine: Spell-Chains~

The rune Eola drew was nothing like the symbol her parents had given her or the one Instructor Tarik had drawn on the chalkboard.

Call and Calm was a concise, First Order spell. Its three rings of Old Alemic and Forsooth Script, the diamond at its core, and the shifting, barely-visible gap for an attunement modifier were all one shape, connected into a single, complex rune. It would do exactly what a mage expected from it every time it was cast. But as she stood in the center of the demonstration circle, Eola resisted the urge to start with the first ring of Old Alemic. That way lay spell backlash and failure.

Instead, Eola started with a simple rune. Not even Child’s Magic—and certainly not something that, by itself, could be considered magic. It was little more than an Old Alemic spiral, three tight loops, with a single line connecting the tips of the inner and outer loops. The modifying mark she’d drawn only took a moment to sketch, and she did it almost lazily. If something went wrong at this point, it’d be easy to fix.

Delayed.

The moment the mark finished, hanging in the air, Eola took a deep breath and held it. Now, things would get tricky. She opened the champagne bottle in her soul just the tiniest bit. Both hands gripped the cork, and the moment the tiniest drop of Mana flew out, she slammed it shut again.

The Delayed mark overfilled even so, glowing bright in front of her. Eola breathed. She hadn’t been sure this would work, but trying unknown magic outside of a demonstration circle was dangerous. Instructor Tarik’s eyebrow went up as the modifying mark hung there, modifying nothing.

Eola didn’t have time to manage him, though—and she certainly didn’t have the focus to do it.

The next rune was one she’d thought was the unknown element of the spell. A tiny diamond, in a slightly less even-sided shape than her fake attunement modifier. She sketched it with far more speed and focus than the first mark, and filled it quickly. A few seconds later, the second modifying mark surged to life next to Delayed: Personal.

And then, Eola stopped. She held the marks in her mind and raised a hand to stop the professor. He’d started to walk toward her, and his wand was out. “You don’t need to intervene. I’m okay,” she said, surprised at the hitch in her voice already. She hadn’t used that much Mana.

Had she?

“You’re certain?” Instructor Tarik asked.

“Yes. This will work, but only…only if you stop interrupting me.”

The professor stopped. His wand stayed out, ready to draw an opposing spell, but Eola hardly saw him. Her entire focus was on the third rune. On Peacebonded. It had been the hardest one to confirm in her spell—and she’d desperately hoped it wouldn’t be part of her cast.

But it was. Eola drew the circle, then added the tiny dots all the way around it. In the Call and Calm rune, this one was part of the three circles, overlapping with what she’d identified as the Delayed mark and forcing it into a new shape. In her incomplete chain of runes, it hung separately, an inch or two from the Personal mark.

Sweat dripped into Eola’s eyes. She winced at the stinging, and her concentration slipped. All three marks wavered for a moment until she clamped down on them with all her will, holding them in place for a few seconds until she was sure they wouldn’t fall apart.

She’d expected that, though. Expected her job to be hard. The magic she was trying to cast, if it worked, wasn’t a single symbol. It was a string, or a chain, of modifying marks, and without a Child’s Magic rune at the end, none of them could cast. But they all had to be filled, and every filled rune exerted pressure on Eola’s will—the desire and need to be used.

One more modifying mark, then the spell-rune, and she’d be done.

Permanent.

The final mark was almost invisible, and even when Eola closed her eyes, it was hard to visualize. It’d been the one hiding inside the Old Alemic—the one she’d struggled with for days. A few crossing lines, varying thicknesses. Nothing complex. It should have been easy, but the sheer precision it required was almost overwhelming, and Eola had to start over three times. Definitely not battle-magic.

And then it was done. Four runes—the swirling spiral, the diamond, the circle, and the faint crossing lines—hung in front of her, glowing with unattuned Mana.

Eola smiled. Her soul—and stomach—felt drained, but she had one more step. Her dad’s wand sketched out a simple Old Alemic rune. Shadow Puppet. It was Child’s Magic—the spell threw a shadow across a surface that, for a handful of seconds, moved like the caster wanted it to.

Then, before it could cast, she brought her wand through all five symbols in a quick, slashing motion. The runes’ magic blurred together. Mana welled in the air. Eola stared, triumphant, as her spell-chain for Call and Calm finished.

And a blue cat with huge, yellow eyes sat at the center of the circle, a furious expression on her face.

Eola’s left hand plunged into her pocket by instinct as she stared incredulously at the cat and the cat stared back, just as confused-looking and a lot angrier. Empty. The stone was gone. She lunged for Atta with both hands, but before she could get there, Instructor Tarik’s gloved fingers grabbed the scruff of the cat’s neck and plopped her, hissing and spitting and puffed up like a fur coat, into the waiting silvered cage.

The cage door clicked shut.

For a moment, only the cat’s furious yowling cut through the air. Eola stared at the familiar’s yellow eyes, her own wide. Somehow, she’d thought that completing her cast would be all she had to worry about. But no. No. Atta—and it was definitely Atta—could ruin everything. If she decided to talk, or disappear, or any number of things that weren’t normal familiar behaviors, Tarik would get suspicious.

She was shaking, and she couldn’t stop. Her body shivered as she stared at the cat, still inside the demonstration circle. Instructor Tarik picked up the cage, set it on the nearest desk, and stared at her, his own eyes equally wide, and Eola realized that he hadn’t said anything, either.

“I did it,” Eola said, more softly than she intended.

“You did.” The professor hesitated. “Do you know how much Mana you used?”

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“No. A lot?”

Another hesitation. Then the professor picked up the cage, Atta still glaring and hissing inside of it, and walked to the door. “Your soul is trying to recover from the strain. The academy’s Mana will help, with time. So will food. I’ve got some cookies in my office, and we need to talk about what you just did.”

Eola followed. Her steps were unsure, and it took longer to get back to the office than it had to walk to the lecture hall. But when she finally sat down in the rickety old chair that had become hers, a tin of butter cookies rewarded her efforts. They smelled like they were freshly baked. As she inspected the tin and reached for her first cookie, she saw why: a First Order spell was written across the lid. She didn’t recognize it, but after a few moments, the modifying mark for Permanent stuck out from the rune.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a large bite. It tasted as good as it smelled, fresh and warm and just a tiny bit more creamy than she’d expected. Some of the tension leaked from her shoulders with every bite. Atta hadn’t said anything yet, and Eola was starting to think the cat wouldn’t.

“Of course.” Instructor Tarik cleared his throat, impatience written across his face—and something else. “Are you ready to talk?”

Did he mean Atta? No. That meant…“Yes, I am.” Eola popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth and reached for a second one.

“First, congratulations. You’ve passed the first of the independent study’s examinations. That was, in fact, Call and Calm—or, more accurately, it was something I’ve never seen before that mirrors the spell.” Instructor Tarik leaned forward in his chair. “I’ll ask how you did it, but first, I want to apologize. I made a mistake, and likely set your growth back by six weeks or more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to re-enroll you in Mana Studies, and I’m considering getting you into a remedial course for additional soul expansion.”

“No!” Eola gasped, hand halfway to the tin for her third cookie.