Affinity
“Water and frost are closely related; frost cannot exist without the other. Fire can’t exist without air, and shadow can’t exist without light. Understanding the relationship between aspects is important.”
I nodded while listening to my teacher’s lecture, slurping down a bowl of hot soup in the process. Content with my warm and full belly, I sat the bowl aside and grabbed a leather bound journal placed beside my bed.
The cover was cool to the touch, binding creaking slightly as I opened it to reveal my own sloppily written scripture.
Zakarot claimed that it would be helpful in the future, and so I’d begun to jot down the finer details of my magical journey thus far. It wasn’t much of one, of course, but the pages were lined with the foundations I’d learned in the past few days.
As an avid reader, I’d never considered writing my own stories. Probably because I wasn’t a particularly good writer. However, now that we were trying to change the future and craft a story of our own, I thought it was a good idea to take it in stride.
Thus, my autobiography was born. A tale of wonder that would one day be read by avid readers throughout the world…
Well, perhaps that was a bit too optimistic.
The spirit’s teachings were always quite in-depth and easy to comprehend, as if he knew exactly how to explain things to make sense to me. Yet I couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied.
It’d been weeks, and I still wasn’t able to put my newfound magical knowledge to use. Mother had scolded me for more than an hour after returning with a swollen face, which I’d claimed had been caused by a precarious batch of yet to be thawed ice.
She’d had me under lock-and-key for some time, which I didn’t mind much. I preferred the comfort of my bedroom. But we were running out of time. The Apostle was likely already on his way, and I was trapped within a bird’s cage.
Zakarot insisted that it was for the best, granting more time to go over the fundamentals.
‘Only a fool would think to wield a weapon without any knowledge of how to use it.'
Therefore, I tried to use Spirit Sight at least once a day, studying the aspects’ individual behaviors as well as their synergy with one another. I was only able to maintain it for five minutes at most; pushing myself past that limit made my eyes feel as if they were being eaten by beetles.
“What about anima?” I asked, finishing my notes of what he’d told me while I was eating.
Zakarot leaned against the far wall and crossed his arms. “Anima is considered a neutral aspect. It has a connection to all of the other aspects, but it doesn’t naturally exist in the mortal world. Only within the souls of living beings, that is.”
“Since awakenings are caused by an imbalance of aspects,” I started. “Do animancers have an imbalance of anima within them?”
“No, an animancer’s extrasensory abilities are only activated after a close encounter with death. I guess you could say that, for a moment, the barrier between them and the afterlife is weakene–” The spirit quieted, turning his head toward the bedroom door with a sigh. “I guess we’ll continue this lesson later.”
Before I could respond, there was a loud knock at the door. The knocker’s identity was, of course, immediately evident. Books fell from their shelves, a glass of water placed on my nightstand threatened to tip over, and the floor shook like we were having an earthquake.
With a quick glance at Zakarot, who had already vanished, I rose from my bed and strode toward the door.
I briefly checked my appearance in the mirror, licking a palm and attempting to smooth my disheveled hair. An effort in futility.
“Zavis? Are you awake?”
Father’s voice emerged from the other side, and I reluctantly pulled the door open. A face with a too-large smile peered down at me, prompting me to nearly slam the door in his face. I stopped when I noticed Mother’s inscrutable stare behind him.
Father's smile turned to a frown when he saw me standing in the doorway, as if he’d thought someone else had opened the door. “You should be resting.”
“I was,” I lied.
Father gave a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck. I glanced at Mother, who was always straight to the point. The pale woman stepped aside, revealing an unfamiliar man hidden in the recesses of the dimly lit hallway.
He stood shorter than Father, and his slim frame was wrapped in high quality robes. Not something you’d ordinarily see in Flykra. The man’s eyes widened behind a pair of thin wireframe glasses when our eyes met.
“This is Professor Enoch,” Mother said. “He’s come from Roa to administer your test.”
I felt a jolt pass through my body, butterflies soaring in my stomach. “The mage?”
Mother nodded.
I shifted aside and allowed the trio of adults to enter my room. All the while, my eyes never left the mage, who had a small smile on his face. Did I say something funny?
“It is a pleasure to meet you, young man.” Professor Enoch turned to face me, and bowed deeply. “I’ve heard that you’ve inherited your mother’s talents.”
Unsure of how to respond, I simply stared back at him. Wiping my damp palms on my trousers, struggling to produce a response, I wondered if there was a certain way to address a mage.
‘You don’t get this nervous around me. I’m way stronger than this guy, you know.’
A soft, barely audible whisper in my mind caused me to jump, tearing me from my anxious contemplation. My eyes darted to the corners of the room, searching for the familiar speaker.
In the corner of my vision, Professor Enoch frowned. “Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine,” I replied, still searching.
‘Good call. Don’t tell him about the voices in your head.’
Zakarot was speaking to me. I could hear his ominous, slightly distorted voice, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Was he invisible?
‘Stop making a scene. I’m speaking through our telepathic connection, which you’ve left open ever since our contract was formed. In-case you were wondering how I knew what you were thinking all this time.’
Father’s brows furrowed in concern, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on the professor’s shoulder. “Sorry, he’s been through a lot.”
Enoch seemed to bristle at the man’s touch but simply nodded. “If you could sit on your bed, young man.”
They can’t hear you? I asked internally, watching the expressions of both magic-users in the room. How was I supposed to know what kind of abilities this mage had? Maybe he was even an animancer himself.
‘No. Our usual conversations can be heard by fellow animancers, but this connection’s completely private. You can air all of your dirty secrets, if you want.’
I don’t. How do I close this connection?
‘Heh…Figure it out yourself.’
Wonderful.
I nodded to the professor, and strode over to my bed.Both of my parents shot me worried glances as I passed, but I ignored them. My bed creaked as I sat down, making me feel slightly self conscious. Fortunately, the professor seemed occupied with something inside of his robes.
We watched as his hand fumbled around within the folds for far longer than what should have been necessary.
Father and I both made audible, surprised noises when the professor pulled out a large suitcase that certainly couldn’t have fit comfortably inside of those robes. My mother, on the other hand, looked unfazed.
“Was that magic?” Father asked in awe.
“No. It’s called a pocket," Enoch replied, curt.
Father watched Professor Enoch pass by, and muttered to himself. “What kind of pockets do they make in Roa…?”
The mage approached me, robes brushing across the floor as he walked. He sat the leather suitcase beside me, and I couldn’t help but notice that it was covered in some strange language I’d never seen before.
The complicated characters were more like symbols than actual words, each one carved into the surface with immaculate care.
I wondered if it was even possible for someone to write something so precise by hand.
‘They’re runes’ Zakarot explained. ‘You don’t have the talent for them, so forget about it.’
I didn’t even bother asking the spirit to elaborate, knowing that he wouldn’t. Instead, I watched the professor remove one of his gloves and run a bare hand over the runes. The characters began to emit an orange glow, coalescing in the center where a metal lock sat. Cracks formed throughout the metal, before the lock broke apart.
Shards of fractured metal fell onto my blanket, which Professor Enoch promptly disposed of by scooping them into his hand and levitating them toward the bedroom’s open window. Once the shards were disposed of, he pulled a cloth from his robe and began wiping his hands.
Meanwhile, I shivered in place. It felt like my blood had gone cold as I wrapped both arms around myself.
My actions didn’t go unnoticed, as the professor glanced over with a smirk. “Cold?”
I nodded.
“That’s your tick,” he told me. “Remember it.”
“Tick?”
Professor Enoch waved his hands in the air. “Every magic-user has one. It’s a sensation that alerts you when a ley-line’s been opened. For me, it’s my hands. They feel wet whenever I’m around magic.”
My eyes widened; it wasn’t the first time I’d felt like this. On the cliff-top, when I’d first used magic, and again when facing down Dav. When I informed the professor, leaving out the bits about my ass-kicking at the hands of a trio of juvenile delinquents, he merely nodded.
“The first time is always the worst,” Enoch said. “Ticks aren’t fully understood, like blessings, but they’re not really physical sensations. My hands aren’t actually wet, yet something inside of me thinks they are. I can treat it by wiping them with a cloth, but not every magic-user has the means to do so.”
Mother nodded from behind. She tapped a finger against her chest. “Mine feels like someone’s squeezing my heart. I haven’t found anything to help, but you get used to it.”
You didn’t tell me about that.
‘Hm? I wasn’t listening.’
I rolled my eyes, and returned to observing the professor. He’d opened his suit-case, revealing its glimmering contents. Two opaque crystals sat on a red cushion, each covered with similar runes as their container. A thin copper wire—also covered in runes—connected their identical bases. The professor carefully removed them, placing one crystal next to me and keeping the other in his hand.
“Do you know what these are?” Enoch asked. I shook my head. “These are neutrally aligned crystals. We use them for many different things, but they’re most commonly used in conjunction with runes—the characters covering them. This particular script will scan your soul and tell us which aspect is misaligned.”
I nodded along, watching the professor fiddle with the copper wire while speaking. “These won’t tell us your Bond Count or Outflow Level, but you’ll take that test when you register to become a mage,” Enoch continued, glancing at me as the last part left his mouth. “Sorry, if you register. I’m not here to recruit you. Place your hand on that crystal, please.”
Mother glared at the mage before meeting my eyes. “You have no obligation to join the Magocracy, Zavis.” Enoch waved a hand in response in a remarkably Zakarot-like manner. Then, she began to elaborate for my benefit. “Bonds are the connections that you make with ley-lines and outflow is the power you borrow from those bonds, if you were wondering.”
I wasn’t.
Zakarot had already explained all of this during our secret training sessions. But it wasn’t like I could tell them that, and so I feigned interest. “What are yours, Mother?”
“I’m not a mage,” She replied with a raised eyebrow.
Professor Enoch immediately shot up in bizarre excitement. “Your mother is an extremely powerful magic-user! I’ve tried to get her to take the examination for years but she’s never agreed. I’m certain that she would at least be an Ex–”
“Ranks don’t matter outside of Roa, Eszes. Even a highly-ranked mage can be killed by a rabid dog if they’re careless.”
Professor Enoch scowled but said nothing more, as if he was used to hearing that. He glanced back at me, “Hand?”
I looked down and hurriedly placed my hand on the crystal sitting beside me. Expecting something to happen, perhaps a glow or a noise, I gazed into the colorless crystal. But nothing happened.
“Is it broken?” I asked.
The professor shook his head. He held a crystal in his left hand and ran his right hand down the copper wire, the runes on its surface beginning to glow softly. Unlike the script protecting the suitcase, the light emitted by these runes was a neutral white.
He glanced back at my crystal and then back to his own.
A frown formed on his face, deepening his forehead wrinkles.
My father, who had been silent for the entire exchange, finally spoke up. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Looking up with surprise, as if he’d forgotten that Father was in the room, Professor Enoch shook his head. “Your boy is fine. I fear that I may have brought some faulty equipment. A member of House Skadi should make these light up like miniature suns...”
“He’s not a member of House Skadi,” Mother interjected.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as she glared daggers at the Professor, an expression I’d never seen on her before. Enoch clamped his mouth shut, making a dissatisfied expression before returning to the crystals. He sat his crystal on the floor and walked over to my bed, kneeling down to examine the second crystal.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
Professor Enoch didn’t respond.
He ran a gloved hand across his stubbled face while reaching for the crystal with the other. To my surprise, the second crystal began to glow as soon as the man’s fingers brushed against it. The opaque mineral looked as if it’d been filled with green mist, but upon further examination, I realized that there was also a faint copper hue.
‘What are they?’
I didn’t even have to think, recognizing the signature energies instantly. Wind and earth. Does he have two affinities?
‘He does. It’s rare, but it often leads to the magic-user being weaker. The more imbalanced a soul is, the more susceptible it is to magical damage. There are exceptions, though...’
The professor sighed and withdrew his hand. The crystal’s glow immediately disappeared. “It seems to be working. Perhaps it’s the blessing’s fault? Aneira, will you come over and–”
He stopped speaking as his eyes went wide. The mage adjusted his glasses with a finger and knelt down close enough to sniff the crystal. He seemed to be examining the runes covering its clear surface, and then he followed the script down the wire connecting it to its twin.
His eyes grew wider and wider to the point that I thought they might pop out of their sockets.
“Eszes?”
“What’s going on?”
Both of my parents spoke at the same time, but Professor Enoch didn’t respond. He was examining the other crystal on all fours like an animal. His body was trembling, low whispers forming between his lips. Was he going mad? Just as I was assured that the wicked Demiurge had struck again–
“Great Beyond! Spectacular! Truly spectacular! If I’d known this, I would’ve brought some of my colleagues along! Yes, they will love to see this.” Enoch rose to his knees and looked me in the eyes, his face split by a wide, almost comical grin. “Pack your things, boy. We’re going to Roa.”
My heart lurched, eyes widening in shock. I blinked several times, staring at the mage.
Roa? Did he just say we’re going to Roa?!
The Isle of Roa is the Magocracy’s headquarters, located off the western coast of Geimhread. It’s not actually owned by the empire—since the Magocracy is a separate political entity—but maintains some sort of business with us nonetheless. Obviously, I’d had daydreams of being taken in as a mage’s apprentice. But I’d never considered it to be more than an idle fantasy.
Now, it seemed that fate was truly on my side.
Or, well, I guess it was the opposite.
My excitement didn’t extend to my parents, however. Father’s brows furrowed, as Mother curled her lip and took several steps toward Enoch. “What are you talking about? Explain.”
“Is something wrong with him?” Father asked, dark eyes drilling a hole into the side of his wife’s face.
Professor Enoch shot to his feet at my mother’s behest and attempted to regain his composure, though the insane grin never left his face. “The device isn’t faulty! It was doing its job perfectly, but I didn’t even notice! Of course I didn’t, since I’ve never seen this before. I’ll be a legend among my peers when I tell th–”
“Eszes.”
“Ah, right. Right.” The professor straightened his back and after clearing his throat, raised a hand toward me. As if presenting a prized painting. “Your son is unable to activate the crystal. Not due to any problem with the device nor his soul, but because he has no affinity.”
Mother frowned. “That’s impossible. I know that he’s a cryomancer–”
Enoch waved her words aside and shook his head. “No, no. Your son is a magic-user, but he possesses no affinity. His soul is neutrally aligned, just like the crystals! It’s spectacular, a once-in-a-lifetime discovery. We didn’t have the chance to study Visagalis, but now if I bring him back to Roa…”
“Will everyone just hold on?! What does any of this mean?”
Father’s baritone voice interrupted Eszes’, his face red and eyes wide in concern. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pity; my father was the only one in the room who knew virtually nothing about magic. Talk of magic, souls, and aspects must have sounded as indecipherable as the runes themselves looked to me.
With a sigh, the Professor glared at Father for his disruption. “Allow me to explain this in simpleton terms: Your son has no talent for any particular type of magic. In most cases, this means he wouldn’t be able to use magic at all, like yourself.
“But in this case, your son’s soul is similar to these crystals. He has no affinity for any aspect, but he can still use their power. In other words, Zavis has no limit on which aspects he can use. Only a handful of magic-users throughout history have had balanced souls, and the Magocracy has a name for them: omnicasters. It’s actually quite astonishing that two would appear within the same decade…”
You didn’t tell me about this either.
‘Must have slipped my mind.’
I’d asked Zakarot about my own affinity repeatedly, but the spirit always avoided the question. I’d just assumed that I possessed a frost affinity and a talent for talking to ghosts.
Father stared at the professor with a bewildered look for several breaths, but then his face lit up. Only the gods could know what went through his head at that moment, but a smile slowly crept across his face. “
You’re saying my son’s special? He’s really strong or something, right?”
In contrast, Mother had a complicated look on her face. She almost looked distraught. “That’s impossible, Eszes. Just look at him, he’s clearly inherited those looks from me, so the blessing—”
“Should have also been inherited, as they are all traits of House Skadi.” Enoch finished for her with a nod. “You’re right. I was certain that Zavis would have inherited the Blessing of Frost when I saw his appearance, but this is far greater! Your son truly is special. If you’d let me take him back with me, I’m certain that studying his development will prove quite valuable.”
“You mean profitable,” Mother replied. Though she still seemed taken aback, she met the professor’s eyes. “You won’t use my son as a test subject. If he chooses to join the Magocracy when he comes of age, so be it. You’ll have to wait until then.”
Profesor Enoch’s jaw slackened and he looked ready to cry. “B-But Aneira…”
“No. While we’re at it, I’d like you to keep this a secret for now. I don’t want crowds of scholars coming here to study him.”
Enoch’s eyes fell to the crystal sitting in-front of him. “If that is the will of his guardians, then I can’t go against it. However, I believe that it would be best for his development if we were to guide him along his path. At the very least, you should contact the marquis.”
The moment the final word slipped from his lips, I sensed the already chaotic atmosphere shift. Father's smile disappeared behind a grimace. Simultaneously, my mother gnashed her teeth together, a frigid aura emanating from her.
The sudden transformation did not escape the mage, whose eyes widened in what might have been fear. Enoch lowered his head in remorseful acquiescence.
“I understand, you have my apologies. I’ve fulfilled your request; your son is perfectly fine. His soul has recovered from the backlash perfectly. This is typically the time when I recommend various resources to help nurture the child’s gifts, but it’s clear that I should refrain from doing so. I shall show myself out,”
With a sigh, Professor Enoch picked up the crystal at his feet.
Then, he approached my bed for it’s twin. I was able to get a clear look at the professor’s face, which reminded me of a child who'd just had his favorite toy taken. The man seemed to be purposefully avoiding my gaze as he returned the second crystal to its place.
With a soft clack, the suitcase’s lid shut on its own. Though the chill that ran through my body implied that Enoch has used his aeromancy to do so. The mage tapped the front of the case and the runes flared orange again, but the reaction was slightly different this time.
The orange glow began to coalesce where his fingers had touched, and a metallic lock soon formed beneath the suitcase’s handle.
Professor Enoch nodded once and picked up the suitcase. As he did so, the case knocked something off the side of my bed and onto the floor. It took a long moment for the two of us to realize what it was. As soon as I did, my heart fell through my stomach.
Both of our gazes turned down to the floor. There, the pages of a leather bound journal sat, pages strewn across the wood.
“Apologies,” He said simply.
“Wait! It’s fine–!”
Before I could stop him, the man knelt down and picked it up. His eyes widened when he glanced at the contents. He skimmed my messy scribbles, and I prayed that he wouldn’t be able to read my handwriting.
Enoch looked up at me, as I began sweating profusely, and then back at the journal. A small smirk played at the ends of his thin lips as he handed it back.
“I hope to see you again soon,” Professor Enoch said.
We held each other’s gazes for another breath, a silent dialogue being exchanged before the mage turned away. I clutched the journal to my chest, nails digging into the soft leather surface.
My parents both wore displeased expressions to say the least, and I prayed that they hadn’t noticed that exchange. Mother exhaled, shook her head, and then guided the Professor out of the room.
Father began to follow, before turning to me with a strained smile. “Sorry, Zavis. We’ll be back to talk in a bit.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I flopped down into the familiar comforts of my bed. Whether they didn’t notice the professor’s reaction or simply didn’t care, I couldn't say.
Peering down at the journal's opened page, my eyes skimmed over the heading.
Foundations of Magic, Cont.
Affinity
“Water and frost are closely related; frost cannot exist without the other. Fire can’t exist without air, and shadow can’t exist without light. Understanding the relationship between aspects is important.”
I nodded while listening to my teacher’s lecture, slurping down a bowl of hot soup in the process. Content with my warm and full belly, I sat the bowl aside and grabbed a leather bound journal placed beside my bed.
The cover was cool to the touch, binding creaking slightly as I opened it to reveal my own sloppily written scripture.
Zakarot claimed that it would be helpful in the future, and so I’d begun to jot down the finer details of my magical journey thus far. It wasn’t much of one, of course, but the pages were lined with the foundations I’d learned in the past few days.
As an avid reader, I’d never considered writing my own stories. Probably because I wasn’t a particularly good writer. However, now that we were trying to change the future and craft a story of our own, I thought it was a good idea to take it in stride.
Thus, my autobiography was born. A tale of wonder that would one day be read by avid readers throughout the world…
Well, perhaps that was a bit too optimistic.
The spirit’s teachings were always quite in-depth and easy to comprehend, as if he knew exactly how to explain things to make sense to me. Yet I couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied.
It’d been weeks, and I still wasn’t able to put my newfound magical knowledge to use. Mother had scolded me for more than an hour after returning with a swollen face, which I’d claimed had been caused by a precarious batch of yet to be thawed ice.
She’d had me under lock-and-key for some time, which I didn’t mind much. I preferred the comfort of my bedroom. But we were running out of time. The Apostle was likely already on his way, and I was trapped within a bird’s cage.
Zakarot insisted that it was for the best, granting more time to go over the fundamentals.
‘Only a fool would think to wield a weapon without any knowledge of how to use it.'
Therefore, I tried to use Spirit Sight at least once a day, studying the aspects’ individual behaviors as well as their synergy with one another. I was only able to maintain it for five minutes at most; pushing myself past that limit made my eyes feel as if they were being eaten by beetles.
“What about anima?” I asked, finishing my notes of what he’d told me while I was eating.
Zakarot leaned against the far wall and crossed his arms. “Anima is considered a neutral aspect. It has a connection to all of the other aspects, but it doesn’t naturally exist in the mortal world. Only within the souls of living beings, that is.”
“Since awakenings are caused by an imbalance of aspects,” I started. “Do animancers have an imbalance of anima within them?”
“No, an animancer’s extrasensory abilities are only activated after a close encounter with death. I guess you could say that, for a moment, the barrier between them and the afterlife is weakene–” The spirit quieted, turning his head toward the bedroom door with a sigh. “I guess we’ll continue this lesson later.”
Before I could respond, there was a loud knock at the door. The knocker’s identity was, of course, immediately evident. Books fell from their shelves, a glass of water placed on my nightstand threatened to tip over, and the floor shook like we were having an earthquake.
With a quick glance at Zakarot, who had already vanished, I rose from my bed and strode toward the door.
I briefly checked my appearance in the mirror, licking a palm and attempting to smooth my disheveled hair. An effort in futility.
“Zavis? Are you awake?”
Father’s voice emerged from the other side, and I reluctantly pulled the door open. A face with a too-large smile peered down at me, prompting me to nearly slam the door in his face. I stopped when I noticed Mother’s inscrutable stare behind him.
Father's smile turned to a frown when he saw me standing in the doorway, as if he’d thought someone else had opened the door. “You should be resting.”
“I was,” I lied.
Father gave a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck. I glanced at Mother, who was always straight to the point. The pale woman stepped aside, revealing an unfamiliar man hidden in the recesses of the dimly lit hallway.
He stood shorter than Father, and his slim frame was wrapped in high quality robes. Not something you’d ordinarily see in Flykra. The man’s eyes widened behind a pair of thin wireframe glasses when our eyes met.
“This is Professor Enoch,” Mother said. “He’s come from Roa to administer your test.”
I felt a jolt pass through my body, butterflies soaring in my stomach. “The mage?”
Mother nodded.
I shifted aside and allowed the trio of adults to enter my room. All the while, my eyes never left the mage, who had a small smile on his face. Did I say something funny?
“It is a pleasure to meet you, young man.” Professor Enoch turned to face me, and bowed deeply. “I’ve heard that you’ve inherited your mother’s talents.”
Unsure of how to respond, I simply stared back at him. Wiping my damp palms on my trousers, struggling to produce a response, I wondered if there was a certain way to address a mage.
‘You don’t get this nervous around me. I’m way stronger than this guy, you know.’
A soft, barely audible whisper in my mind caused me to jump, tearing me from my anxious contemplation. My eyes darted to the corners of the room, searching for the familiar speaker.
In the corner of my vision, Professor Enoch frowned. “Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine,” I replied, still searching.
‘Good call. Don’t tell him about the voices in your head.’
Zakarot was speaking to me. I could hear his ominous, slightly distorted voice, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. Was he invisible?
‘Stop making a scene. I’m speaking through our telepathic connection, which you’ve left open ever since our contract was formed. In-case you were wondering how I knew what you were thinking all this time.’
Father’s brows furrowed in concern, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on the professor’s shoulder. “Sorry, he’s been through a lot.”
Enoch seemed to bristle at the man’s touch but simply nodded. “If you could sit on your bed, young man.”
They can’t hear you? I asked internally, watching the expressions of both magic-users in the room. How was I supposed to know what kind of abilities this mage had? Maybe he was even an animancer himself.
‘No. Our usual conversations can be heard by fellow animancers, but this connection’s completely private. You can air all of your dirty secrets, if you want.’
I don’t. How do I close this connection?
‘Heh…Figure it out yourself.’
Wonderful.
I nodded to the professor, and strode over to my bed.Both of my parents shot me worried glances as I passed, but I ignored them. My bed creaked as I sat down, making me feel slightly self conscious. Fortunately, the professor seemed occupied with something inside of his robes.
We watched as his hand fumbled around within the folds for far longer than what should have been necessary.
Father and I both made audible, surprised noises when the professor pulled out a large suitcase that certainly couldn’t have fit comfortably inside of those robes. My mother, on the other hand, looked unfazed.
“Was that magic?” Father asked in awe.
“No. It’s called a pocket," Enoch replied, curt.
Father watched Professor Enoch pass by, and muttered to himself. “What kind of pockets do they make in Roa…?”
The mage approached me, robes brushing across the floor as he walked. He sat the leather suitcase beside me, and I couldn’t help but notice that it was covered in some strange language I’d never seen before.
The complicated characters were more like symbols than actual words, each one carved into the surface with immaculate care.
I wondered if it was even possible for someone to write something so precise by hand.
‘They’re runes’ Zakarot explained. ‘You don’t have the talent for them, so forget about it.’
I didn’t even bother asking the spirit to elaborate, knowing that he wouldn’t. Instead, I watched the professor remove one of his gloves and run a bare hand over the runes. The characters began to emit an orange glow, coalescing in the center where a metal lock sat. Cracks formed throughout the metal, before the lock broke apart.
Shards of fractured metal fell onto my blanket, which Professor Enoch promptly disposed of by scooping them into his hand and levitating them toward the bedroom’s open window. Once the shards were disposed of, he pulled a cloth from his robe and began wiping his hands.
Meanwhile, I shivered in place. It felt like my blood had gone cold as I wrapped both arms around myself.
My actions didn’t go unnoticed, as the professor glanced over with a smirk. “Cold?”
I nodded.
“That’s your tick,” he told me. “Remember it.”
“Tick?”
Professor Enoch waved his hands in the air. “Every magic-user has one. It’s a sensation that alerts you when a ley-line’s been opened. For me, it’s my hands. They feel wet whenever I’m around magic.”
My eyes widened; it wasn’t the first time I’d felt like this. On the cliff-top, when I’d first used magic, and again when facing down Dav. When I informed the professor, leaving out the bits about my ass-kicking at the hands of a trio of juvenile delinquents, he merely nodded.
“The first time is always the worst,” Enoch said. “Ticks aren’t fully understood, like blessings, but they’re not really physical sensations. My hands aren’t actually wet, yet something inside of me thinks they are. I can treat it by wiping them with a cloth, but not every magic-user has the means to do so.”
Mother nodded from behind. She tapped a finger against her chest. “Mine feels like someone’s squeezing my heart. I haven’t found anything to help, but you get used to it.”
You didn’t tell me about that.
‘Hm? I wasn’t listening.’
I rolled my eyes, and returned to observing the professor. He’d opened his suit-case, revealing its glimmering contents. Two opaque crystals sat on a red cushion, each covered with similar runes as their container. A thin copper wire—also covered in runes—connected their identical bases. The professor carefully removed them, placing one crystal next to me and keeping the other in his hand.
“Do you know what these are?” Enoch asked. I shook my head. “These are neutrally aligned crystals. We use them for many different things, but they’re most commonly used in conjunction with runes—the characters covering them. This particular script will scan your soul and tell us which aspect is misaligned.”
I nodded along, watching the professor fiddle with the copper wire while speaking. “These won’t tell us your Bond Count or Outflow Level, but you’ll take that test when you register to become a mage,” Enoch continued, glancing at me as the last part left his mouth. “Sorry, if you register. I’m not here to recruit you. Place your hand on that crystal, please.”
Mother glared at the mage before meeting my eyes. “You have no obligation to join the Magocracy, Zavis.” Enoch waved a hand in response in a remarkably Zakarot-like manner. Then, she began to elaborate for my benefit. “Bonds are the connections that you make with ley-lines and outflow is the power you borrow from those bonds, if you were wondering.”
I wasn’t.
Zakarot had already explained all of this during our secret training sessions. But it wasn’t like I could tell them that, and so I feigned interest. “What are yours, Mother?”
“I’m not a mage,” She replied with a raised eyebrow.
Professor Enoch immediately shot up in bizarre excitement. “Your mother is an extremely powerful magic-user! I’ve tried to get her to take the examination for years but she’s never agreed. I’m certain that she would at least be an Ex–”
“Ranks don’t matter outside of Roa, Eszes. Even a highly-ranked mage can be killed by a rabid dog if they’re careless.”
Professor Enoch scowled but said nothing more, as if he was used to hearing that. He glanced back at me, “Hand?”
I looked down and hurriedly placed my hand on the crystal sitting beside me. Expecting something to happen, perhaps a glow or a noise, I gazed into the colorless crystal. But nothing happened.
“Is it broken?” I asked.
The professor shook his head. He held a crystal in his left hand and ran his right hand down the copper wire, the runes on its surface beginning to glow softly. Unlike the script protecting the suitcase, the light emitted by these runes was a neutral white.
He glanced back at my crystal and then back to his own.
A frown formed on his face, deepening his forehead wrinkles.
My father, who had been silent for the entire exchange, finally spoke up. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Looking up with surprise, as if he’d forgotten that Father was in the room, Professor Enoch shook his head. “Your boy is fine. I fear that I may have brought some faulty equipment. A member of House Skadi should make these light up like miniature suns...”
“He’s not a member of House Skadi,” Mother interjected.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as she glared daggers at the Professor, an expression I’d never seen on her before. Enoch clamped his mouth shut, making a dissatisfied expression before returning to the crystals. He sat his crystal on the floor and walked over to my bed, kneeling down to examine the second crystal.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
Professor Enoch didn’t respond.
He ran a gloved hand across his stubbled face while reaching for the crystal with the other. To my surprise, the second crystal began to glow as soon as the man’s fingers brushed against it. The opaque mineral looked as if it’d been filled with green mist, but upon further examination, I realized that there was also a faint copper hue.
‘What are they?’
I didn’t even have to think, recognizing the signature energies instantly. Wind and earth. Does he have two affinities?
‘He does. It’s rare, but it often leads to the magic-user being weaker. The more imbalanced a soul is, the more susceptible it is to magical damage. There are exceptions, though...’
The professor sighed and withdrew his hand. The crystal’s glow immediately disappeared. “It seems to be working. Perhaps it’s the blessing’s fault? Aneira, will you come over and–”
He stopped speaking as his eyes went wide. The mage adjusted his glasses with a finger and knelt down close enough to sniff the crystal. He seemed to be examining the runes covering its clear surface, and then he followed the script down the wire connecting it to its twin.
His eyes grew wider and wider to the point that I thought they might pop out of their sockets.
“Eszes?”
“What’s going on?”
Both of my parents spoke at the same time, but Professor Enoch didn’t respond. He was examining the other crystal on all fours like an animal. His body was trembling, low whispers forming between his lips. Was he going mad? Just as I was assured that the wicked Demiurge had struck again–
“Great Beyond! Spectacular! Truly spectacular! If I’d known this, I would’ve brought some of my colleagues along! Yes, they will love to see this.” Enoch rose to his knees and looked me in the eyes, his face split by a wide, almost comical grin. “Pack your things, boy. We’re going to Roa.”
My heart lurched, eyes widening in shock. I blinked several times, staring at the mage.
Roa? Did he just say we’re going to Roa?!
The Isle of Roa is the Magocracy’s headquarters, located off the western coast of Geimhread. It’s not actually owned by the empire—since the Magocracy is a separate political entity—but maintains some sort of business with us nonetheless. Obviously, I’d had daydreams of being taken in as a mage’s apprentice. But I’d never considered it to be more than an idle fantasy.
Now, it seemed that fate was truly on my side.
Or, well, I guess it was the opposite.
My excitement didn’t extend to my parents, however. Father’s brows furrowed, as Mother curled her lip and took several steps toward Enoch. “What are you talking about? Explain.”
“Is something wrong with him?” Father asked, dark eyes drilling a hole into the side of his wife’s face.
Professor Enoch shot to his feet at my mother’s behest and attempted to regain his composure, though the insane grin never left his face. “The device isn’t faulty! It was doing its job perfectly, but I didn’t even notice! Of course I didn’t, since I’ve never seen this before. I’ll be a legend among my peers when I tell th–”
“Eszes.”
“Ah, right. Right.” The professor straightened his back and after clearing his throat, raised a hand toward me. As if presenting a prized painting. “Your son is unable to activate the crystal. Not due to any problem with the device nor his soul, but because he has no affinity.”
Mother frowned. “That’s impossible. I know that he’s a cryomancer–”
Enoch waved her words aside and shook his head. “No, no. Your son is a magic-user, but he possesses no affinity. His soul is neutrally aligned, just like the crystals! It’s spectacular, a once-in-a-lifetime discovery. We didn’t have the chance to study Visagalis, but now if I bring him back to Roa…”
“Will everyone just hold on?! What does any of this mean?”
Father’s baritone voice interrupted Eszes’, his face red and eyes wide in concern. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pity; my father was the only one in the room who knew virtually nothing about magic. Talk of magic, souls, and aspects must have sounded as indecipherable as the runes themselves looked to me.
With a sigh, the Professor glared at Father for his disruption. “Allow me to explain this in simpleton terms: Your son has no talent for any particular type of magic. In most cases, this means he wouldn’t be able to use magic at all, like yourself.
“But in this case, your son’s soul is similar to these crystals. He has no affinity for any aspect, but he can still use their power. In other words, Zavis has no limit on which aspects he can use. Only a handful of magic-users throughout history have had balanced souls, and the Magocracy has a name for them: omnicasters. It’s actually quite astonishing that two would appear within the same decade…”
You didn’t tell me about this either.
‘Must have slipped my mind.’
I’d asked Zakarot about my own affinity repeatedly, but the spirit always avoided the question. I’d just assumed that I possessed a frost affinity and a talent for talking to ghosts.
Father stared at the professor with a bewildered look for several breaths, but then his face lit up. Only the gods could know what went through his head at that moment, but a smile slowly crept across his face. “
You’re saying my son’s special? He’s really strong or something, right?”
In contrast, Mother had a complicated look on her face. She almost looked distraught. “That’s impossible, Eszes. Just look at him, he’s clearly inherited those looks from me, so the blessing—”
“Should have also been inherited, as they are all traits of House Skadi.” Enoch finished for her with a nod. “You’re right. I was certain that Zavis would have inherited the Blessing of Frost when I saw his appearance, but this is far greater! Your son truly is special. If you’d let me take him back with me, I’m certain that studying his development will prove quite valuable.”
“You mean profitable,” Mother replied. Though she still seemed taken aback, she met the professor’s eyes. “You won’t use my son as a test subject. If he chooses to join the Magocracy when he comes of age, so be it. You’ll have to wait until then.”
Profesor Enoch’s jaw slackened and he looked ready to cry. “B-But Aneira…”
“No. While we’re at it, I’d like you to keep this a secret for now. I don’t want crowds of scholars coming here to study him.”
Enoch’s eyes fell to the crystal sitting in-front of him. “If that is the will of his guardians, then I can’t go against it. However, I believe that it would be best for his development if we were to guide him along his path. At the very least, you should contact the marquis.”
The moment the final word slipped from his lips, I sensed the already chaotic atmosphere shift. Father's smile disappeared behind a grimace. Simultaneously, my mother gnashed her teeth together, a frigid aura emanating from her.
The sudden transformation did not escape the mage, whose eyes widened in what might have been fear. Enoch lowered his head in remorseful acquiescence.
“I understand, you have my apologies. I’ve fulfilled your request; your son is perfectly fine. His soul has recovered from the backlash perfectly. This is typically the time when I recommend various resources to help nurture the child’s gifts, but it’s clear that I should refrain from doing so. I shall show myself out,”
With a sigh, Professor Enoch picked up the crystal at his feet.
Then, he approached my bed for it’s twin. I was able to get a clear look at the professor’s face, which reminded me of a child who'd just had his favorite toy taken. The man seemed to be purposefully avoiding my gaze as he returned the second crystal to its place.
With a soft clack, the suitcase’s lid shut on its own. Though the chill that ran through my body implied that Enoch has used his aeromancy to do so. The mage tapped the front of the case and the runes flared orange again, but the reaction was slightly different this time.
The orange glow began to coalesce where his fingers had touched, and a metallic lock soon formed beneath the suitcase’s handle.
Professor Enoch nodded once and picked up the suitcase. As he did so, the case knocked something off the side of my bed and onto the floor. It took a long moment for the two of us to realize what it was. As soon as I did, my heart fell through my stomach.
Both of our gazes turned down to the floor. There, the pages of a leather bound journal sat, pages strewn across the wood.
“Apologies,” He said simply.
“Wait! It’s fine–!”
Before I could stop him, the man knelt down and picked it up. His eyes widened when he glanced at the contents. He skimmed my messy scribbles, and I prayed that he wouldn’t be able to read my handwriting.
Enoch looked up at me, as I began sweating profusely, and then back at the journal. A small smirk played at the ends of his thin lips as he handed it back.
“I hope to see you again soon,” Professor Enoch said.
We held each other’s gazes for another breath, a silent dialogue being exchanged before the mage turned away. I clutched the journal to my chest, nails digging into the soft leather surface.
My parents both wore displeased expressions to say the least, and I prayed that they hadn’t noticed that exchange. Mother exhaled, shook her head, and then guided the Professor out of the room.
Father began to follow, before turning to me with a strained smile. “Sorry, Zavis. We’ll be back to talk in a bit.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I flopped down into the familiar comforts of my bed. Whether they didn’t notice the professor’s reaction or simply didn’t care, I couldn't say.
Peering down at the journal's opened page, my eyes skimmed over the heading.
Foundations of Magic, Cont.
