"Magick in theory makes and moves all things. It exists in the air around us, in the water you drink, and even in your very bodies."
A thin grey haired professor stood in front of a class of about ten. His board was covered in scribbles and symbols that probably explained magick but I couldn't make out a single one. I sat in the front row alongside a few other kids my age I didn't recognize. They all looked as exhausted as I was. The kid on the far left had his face bandaged, blood soaking slowly through the wrapping.
I wondered what happened to him.
"Oren, care to share with us?" He stood in front of my desk looking down at me.
"Share what?" I asked with genuine curiosity.
"What color did your vial turn when you signed up?" He repositioned his glasses and waited.
"It turned black," I said nervously. I remembered the reaction at the stall.
His hands hit the desk hard. "You mean to tell me you have a shadow attribute and no one thought to inform me?" He grabbed my arm. "Come. Quickly."
He pulled me from my desk and stood me in front of the class. My face went hot.
"Given my very limited knowledge of shadow magick we will both be learning today." He stepped back and crossed his arms. "Try something."
I raised my hand and flexed every muscle I had trying to force something out of it. Nothing. Not a flicker. Not a shift in the air. Just the bored eyes of ten exhausted kids and the professor watching me with curious intensity.
"You can't force it," he said. "You have to let it move through you. Direct it rather than control it. That distinction matters. Control comes later."
I lowered my hand and closed my eyes. Breathed slowly. Let everything go quiet.
Something released in my chest, like a breath held too long.
The cold washed over me all at once. The dusty classroom air disappeared. A rush of wind replaced it. Somewhere distant, something was screaming. I tried to open my eyes but something deeper than instinct told me to keep them closed.
"Oren? You okay?"
I opened my eyes. Sunlight hit me hard. I blinked against it, disoriented. The classroom was gone. The compound stretched out around me and Damian stood six feet away in front of a group of trainers, all of them looking at me with varying degrees of irritation.
Damian pulled me to my feet without urgency. Up close I noticed something I hadn't before. His eyes had a red tint to them. Faint. Like a fire burning a long way behind glass.
"Taking to training well I see," he said, not looking at the others anymore. "What have you learned so far?"
"Sword drills. Magickal application. Today was my first session."
He grinned. "How about a little sparring?" He gestured once and the trainers moved back without a word. His sword came off his back. His belt hit the ground.
"You seem busy," I said, already turning. "I should get back to class."
"Nonsense. You interrupted my meeting. Might as well make it worth something."
I turned around and a fist drove into my stomach before I saw it coming.
I went down on one knee. The air left me completely. I'd taken enough hits today to know the difference between pain that stops you and pain you push through. This was the second kind.
I came up swinging. Right fist aimed at his face.
He stepped inside it without effort. His elbow came down across my back and the ground rushed up to meet me.
I lay there with my cheek in the dirt. His voice came from somewhere above, carrying the same casual tone it always did.
"You're embarrassing yourself."
I got up fast. This time I watched his hand. His punch came and I caught it. Got one into his stomach before he could reset.
Something shifted behind his eyes.
Then the air changed.
Hot. Too hot. I stepped back as his aura rose, licks of flame pulling away from his skin like the air itself was catching. His sword flew up from the ground into his open hand. The blade ignited the moment his fingers closed around it, burning bright enough to make the trainers take another step back.
He walked toward me. The heat forced me to raise my arm in front of my face.
"Ready yourself."
I pulled my swords from their sheaths. The black blades caught no light. I relaxed my chest and felt the cold wash through me. My body went weightless all at once. I shifted my feet and found I could move faster, lighter, like the ground had less claim on me than it did a moment ago. Even my voice came out slightly different when I spoke.
"You asked to spar. Don't get mad when I improve."
He dropped his guard.
I moved. One moment I was in front of him, the next I was behind him with my blade inches from his neck. He turned his sword up calmly and blocked it, then pushed me back with a single clean motion. I landed on my feet.
I went to charge back in.
My chest seized.
The weightlessness vanished and something impossibly heavy replaced it. My vision lurched. My swords hit the dirt before I did.
"Looks like you've overextended yourself," Damian said behind me. "Heal him."
A trainer crouched beside me and placed a hand on my back. Warmth spread through me instantly, every trace of fatigue lifting at once. I stood.
"Can I leave now?"
"Go." He'd already turned back to his trainers, picking up his conversation like nothing had happened. "Next time, try to control where you end up."
I spotted Layla and Dormin crossing the yard and jogged over.
"You are never going to believe what just happened," I said, hands on my knees, still catching my breath.
"Looks like we both have news." Dormin held out a folder. My name on it. Layla's. Dormin's.
Mission Brief.
"Another mission?" I handed it back.
"And who's leading it?" Before I finished the sentence a voice cut in behind me.
"Well if it isn't the peasant from Riverdale and his sad excuse for a trainer."
Rue walked up and lifted the folder straight out of Dormin's hand without asking. His eyes moved over it quickly. He closed it.
"Three days. Be ready when I come for you." His eyes found mine last. "And get your magick under control, Oren. You'll need it."
He walked away without waiting for an answer.