~Chapter Two: Unattuned Mana~

Both ink and chalk shared a unique property.

Runes drawn in either were inert. Completely devoid of magical potential. No matter the type of Mana the would-be caster tried to fill it with, it wouldn’t fill. Eola’s parents had gotten her a spellbook for her seventh birthday, and they’d explained that under no circumstances was she to use anything but Dad’s ink pen to write in it. She loved that pen—and she loved it even more when he gave it to her at nine years old. It was still on her desk back in the dorms right now. Together, the pen and spellbook replaced the sloppy chalk and slate sketches she’d been making.

Then, when she was ten, and her attunement manifested…the way it had…Eola had realized she’d never sketch a First Order spell in anything except ink or chalk. Most kids her age would have given up and found something else to love, but Eola wasn’t most kids her age. Even if she couldn’t be a Great Mage and cast the most powerful, beautiful spells, she could still learn them.

So, as Eola stood in line, third from the ring in the lecture hall’s stone floor that marked the casting demonstration space, a battle raged inside of her between the immutable reality that she couldn’t cast Call and Calm and the absolute theoretical understanding of it, from the shape of its Old Alemic letters right down to the size of the diamond she’d added. She knew Call and Calm. She’d known it for a long time. If anyone in this room should be able to cast it…

It was Instructor Tarik.

Obviously.

But Eola was a close second, except for that one small problem she hadn’t found a solution for. She fidgeted with her hands. They were hidden inside her robes’ sleeves so no one could see them, tracing the symbol on her wrist—while leaving out a single character of Forsooth Script to keep it safely inert. She couldn’t fix her attunement problem. That was a term-long project at best; Colin and Garreth would cast their Call and Calms in the next five minutes, and it’d be her turn.

But maybe Eola could force the issue. She had a lot of Mana, after all. And the symbol she’d drawn on her arm a few dozen times was perfect. If she applied her Mana in the right way, to the right spots on Call and Calm, it might work for her. And if not, she could blame it on a symbol error. Those happened frequently enough—an ugly solution, but a solution.

“Mr. Tremory, you’re up,” Instructor Tarik said.

Colin stepped into the ring, brushed his tangled brown hair from his eyes, and started to trace the First Order spell into the air with his finger. His robes were buttoned to the wrong holes, and his cloak hung from his slight shoulders at an angle that had to be uncomfortable. It was amazing how someone so sloppy could be so perfectly precise at magic.

He was a quick learner but a slow caster; it took him nearly fifteen seconds to finish the rune, but when it was done, it was correct, right down to the placement of his simple reversed P modifying mark. “Is it right?” he asked quietly—and unnecessarily, in Eola’s opinion. Colin’s runework was always impeccable. It was far better than hers. He was just painfully slow at it.

“Let’s see. Yes, that’s a textbook example for the class,” the professor said. “Go ahead and fill it.”

Colin didn’t say anything. Instead, he shut his eyes and physically tightened like a spring, every muscle in his body straining. Catrine snorted from somewhere in the desks, and Eola resisted the urge to throw another Bright Ball at her. The boy was putting his all into it, the rune shimmering as he slowly emptied his soul into the First Order spell. The rune grew brighter and brighter as he shook, teeth gritted and eyes closed.

Instructor Tarik cleared his throat. “Students, Mr. Tremory is demonstrating one of the surprising properties of First Order ideograms—the volume of attuned Mana required to fill them compared to Child’s Magic—a full bar as opposed to a fraction of one. For many of you, that’s more Mana than you’ve ever moved. A handful of you may be able to fill this symbol in under five seconds. Some of you will take longer. Others will fail to fill it. Luckily, there is a solution for that. Practice. If Mr. Tremory fails, it doesn’t mean he’s failed the lesson. It simply means he needs to expand his soul and—there it is. Well done.”

Eola stared. She couldn’t help herself. So did all the other girls—and most of the boys. The spell hadn’t done anything flashy, but an animal sat in the center of the demonstration circle.

It was long. The yellow of daffodils. Fur that looked softer than anything she’d ever touched. Two beady eyes that managed to look suspicious and innocent at the same time. Colin reached down and touched the oddly-colored weasel. It bared its teeth, and he pulled back quickly. Catrine laughed.

“Good instincts, Mr. Tremory.” The professor scooped up the animal in a leather-gloved hand, then plopped it into a delicate silver cage without any ceremony. “After a day or two, you’ll be able to keep it in your room without the cage. After two weeks, the ritual you’ve started will finish, and you two will be bonded. Then it’ll be able to go everywhere with you. But for now, keeping it caged most of the time is the best way to get it used to your presence.”

“Isn’t that inhumane?” a girl asked.

Instructor Tarik shook his head. “That weasel was a figment of the void until Mr. Tremory summoned it, and if the ritual fails, it’ll stop existing again. Additionally, Mr. Tremory will experience backlash from a failed ritual—Call and Calm’s lack of repercussions is only on the casting, not the ritual. The cage is a proactive measure to prevent its death and his injury until the ritual finishes. Now, Mr. Skaget, your turn.”

Eola was happy for Colin. They shared a suite in the dorms with two other students, and even though she’d rarely said more than a handful of words to him at a time, she considered him one of her closest friends at Varin’s Academy.

That was kind of pathetic, now that she thought about it. Y’aer help her, she needed to find some friends—or at least be a little friendlier with the one she had.

Colin sat next to her and smiled as he set the cage on the long, curved desk. She stared at the bright yellow weasel. “Good job, Colin. That was a beautiful spell.”

“Thanks!”

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

Colin shrugged. “No, not yet. I figured I’d let him help choose once the ritual finishes. You’re going to do great, too, Eola.”

Eola dropped her gaze and stared at the desk, ears and cheeks warm. She was going to make a mess of things, that’s what she was going to do.

Then, as Garreth Skaget tried and failed to fill his Call and Calm rune, Eola got an idea. What if she failed to fill hers, too, but intentionally? That’d cause the ritual to misfire, and she wouldn’t summon an animal, which would have been disappointing except that she already knew it was going to fail and she wouldn’t get a familiar no matter what. But it’d give her a reason not to cast First Order spells—one that had nothing to do with being a toddler with a weird attunement who was stuck with Child’s Magic. It’d also ease Catrine’s suspicion if she knew why Eola couldn’t cast First Order spells, and if it was a reasonably common problem.

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On the other hand, it’d probably force her into a remedial class for additional soul exercise…with Madame Reyanna. That wouldn’t be ideal—but that was a problem for tomorrow’s Eola!

The class laughed at Garreth when he failed to fill Calm and Call. It wasn’t just Catrine this time, either—it was her cronies, and a handful of others, too. But that risk was worth it.

“Miss Lemiene.”

Eola started at Instructor Tarik’s words. Then she shook her head to clear it and pulled a worn stick from her sleeve.

The class gasped. Eola smiled. Catrine glowered.

“Using a wand, Miss Lemiene?” Instructor Tarik asked, eyebrow raised.

“It was my father’s. He gave it to me.” Eola didn’t bother explaining more, and the professor nodded once, then motioned for her to get started.

Eola did. She drew the rune—the three rings of Old Alemic and Forsooth marks, and the diamond for the creature she’d summon and her own, fake modifying mark—quickly and efficiently. Five seconds. The symbol hung in the air. Catrine was staring, but Eola didn’t care. Let her be surprised. She let it sit for a moment, then glanced at Instructor Tarik. “May I finish it?”

“Yes.”

Colin shot her a wide grin and flashed an upraised thumb her way. She looked anywhere but at him.