A list of spells appeared beneath the message.
[Fireball] fire magic[Root Bind] plant magic[Leaf Dart] plant magic[Healing Water] water magic[Void Thread] void magic
That was all.
I opened my eyes, and the words disappeared. I closed them again, and there they were. I guess this is what the wizards meant by “the system.”
Since choosing my first spell seemed like a big decision, I decided to hold off on picking one, at least for now.
I got up, walked across my bedroom, and opened the door. In the main hall, the five wizards of Bluebell Tower were gathered around the dinner table. They abruptly stopped whatever it was they were talking about, and all turned to me.
Silence hung in the air. Myrl held a chicken wing suspended halfway to his mouth.
“I consolidated my orb,” I said.
Cheers exploded from the table. Bagavash got up so quickly that his chair fell over backward. He strode over and grasped both my shoulders in his hands. His grip was surprisingly strong for his old age.
“You’re a wizard, Mark,” he said with the utmost gravity. “Welcome to the Bluebell Tower.”
All I could think of to do was nod. I heard Linli say, “Pay up, you big oaf. I told you it would take him less than a week!”
Bagavash continued looking me in the eye a moment longer, not saying anything, but conveying something I couldn’t quite understand. Then he let go and pulled out my chair for me. I sat down, joining the others.
A moment later, Bagavash returned with a plate of chicken legs and wings tossed in some aromatic herbs.
“Ye did it, lad,” Erl said, his deep voice reverberating off the stone walls. “Took me nearly a month of ponderin’. Ye did it in three days.”
“That’s nothing,” Linli said, puffing out his chest. “I consolidated my orb in a single afternoon.”
“WE KNOW,” the other wizards said in unison.
All except Senior Archmage Alynur, who just stared at me with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.
“Well, I think this is an occasion that calls for some ale…” Myrl said sheepishly, turning his eyes toward the Senior Archmage.
The room went silent, and everyone else turned to him expectantly.
“Oh, all right,” he said at last.
There were more cheers at this, and Linli went to fetch the tankards.
“But this is the last ale we’re having until the Beltane Festival!” he continued. “All this ale is going to weaken our meridians.”
I turned to Bagavash with a curious glance.
“I’ll explain it all tomorrow,” Bagavash said. “Tonight, we eat!”
The chicken was greasy and tender and simply fell apart in my mouth. I was so hungry that they brought me seconds. At some point, Linli asked, “So, which spell did you pick?”
“I, uh, haven’t picked one yet,” I said. “I got five options, but I figured I should ask you guys before I picked one.”
“Wise lad,” Erl said, nodding his head sagely.
“What were the choices?” Myrl asked, leaning in closer.
“Let me check,” I said.
I closed my eyes and tried to get back into that meditative state. It was easier now that I had been practicing for the last three days. As I settled into it, the words reappeared.
I listed off the spell choices to my fellow wizards.
“[Fireball] is the obvious choice,” Erl said. “It’s the classic starting spell for new wizards.”
“You’re only saying that because all you use is [Fireball],” Linli retorted. “He doesn’t even have a fire affinity, remember? [Root Bind] is the clear choice. At such a low level, he’ll need to slow his enemies down in order to kill them.”
“[Leaf Dart] is one of my go-to offensive spells,” Myrl said. “I could teach you how to use it.”
“Gentlemen,” Bagavash interrupted. “You’re forgetting that the boy’s highest affinity is in void magic. If he wants to make the strongest foundation for his future build, he should choose [Void Thread].”
The table went silent. Myrl sipped at his ale nervously.
“But none of us know what void magic will do,” Linli said. “It could be dangerous giving that spell to someone so inexperienced.”
“The boy’s choice is his and his alone,” Senior Archmage Alynur interrupted with surprising finality.
“Aye, 'tis right,” Erl said.
“Whichever spell you pick,” Alynur continued, “we can help you train with it. There is no wrong choice.”
We finished our dinner in general good humor, then everyone retired to their respective quarters. Myrl’s room was on the second floor, and the other wizards were even further up the spiral staircase that wrapped around the main chamber, with Archmage Alynur ascending all the way to the top.
I wondered how a man of his age managed to climb those stairs every day of his life.
Before I fell asleep, I closed my eyes and looked at the list one last time.
“I choose [Void Thread],” I said aloud. The other spell choices faded away, and [Void Thread] floated up, anchoring itself firmly beneath my mana stats.
I stared at it there for a long while before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I was awoken by a large crash.
I jolted up in bed and ran over to the window. At first, I thought the tower was being attacked, but when I peered around the edge of the window, I saw a dusty tract of land where the wizards were sparring.
Dawn was only just peaking over the horizon, and they were all out there, shirtless, fighting with each other with surprising dexterity.
A moment later, Bagavash appeared in my doorway, covered in sweat. “Ready for your first day of training?”
These wizards were surprisingly buff for old guys. As I joined them on the sparring grounds, Linli sent a flying kick into Myrl’s six pack, sending the skinny wizard crashing into the side of the tower, knocking several stones loose. Meanwhile, Erl was practicing some kind of solo attack progression, lashing out at the air with fists and knees so fast that it produced small concussive shockwaves.
I stared in awe, mouth agape.
“How are they doing that?” I said in disbelief.
“Mana,” Bagavash explained. “Not only can it be used to cast spells, but also to reinforce the body. Although the latter takes much more practice.”
Myrl recovered from the blow and came at Linli with a series of rapid-fire jabs that overwhelmed the gnome and pummeled him into the ground.
“That’s crazy,” I muttered.
“Indeed,” Bagavash replied. “Don’t worry. You won’t be sparring today. I’m going to teach you how to cast your first spell. Come with me.”
We sat on two hay bales on the edge of the sparring grounds. “Now, which spell did you end up picking?” Bagavash looked at me with a stony face, but he couldn’t hide his curiosity.
“[Void Thread],” I said.
“Good lad. Working with your affinity will serve you well.”
“Do you have any idea what it does?” I asked.
“Not in the slightest,” Bagavash replied. “But there’s one way we can find out.”
“How?”
“By casting it. Now, all spells come with a spell circle. If you go back into your spell list and focus on [Void Thread], you should see it.”
I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the sound of the melee that was underway in front of me. Eventually, my mana and my single spell appeared.
I focused on [Void Thread], like I was instructed to do, and sure enough, a simple spell circle appeared in my mind’s eye. It was a circle inside a square inside a triangle, inside another circle with a dot right in the center.
“See it?” Bagavash said.
I nodded.
“Good. Now you just have to channel your mana through your meridians, exude it into the air, and reproduce the spell circle faithfully.”
“Pardon?” I said.
“Watch.” Bagavash held out two fingers, and to my amazement, a glowing blue-white substance streamed forth.
He shaped it into a decently complex spell circle, far more intricate than the one for [Void Thread]. When it was complete, it glowed bright yellow. Bagavash said the words, “[Ball Lightning],” and a sphere of pure electricity shot forth, hitting Linli in the back and exploding into a burst of sparks and miniature lightning that raced across his body.
Linli paused his spar for a moment, charred hair standing on end, and turned around to flip Bagavash the bird. Then he swept low with his staff, hitting Myrl in the ankles and toppling the wizard to the ground.
“That’s incredible,” I breathed. “But how do I shape it?”
“Easier said than done,” Bagavash said. “Like trying to paint on water. But you’ll get the hang of it. Remember the meridians Alynur was chiding us about last night? They’re basically channels within the body that carry mana.”
“Kind of like veins?” I suggested.
“Yes, exactly,” Bagavash said. “It feels a little strange at first, but you’re going to pull the mana out of your orb, up through your chest, down your arm, and out through your fingers. Give it a try.”
I closed my eyes again and focused on my orb. It did feel strange, but I managed to pull the mana upward, just like he said, and channel it down my arm. I opened my eyes and pushed it out through my fingers. The same white-blue plasma-like substance exuded out like toothpaste in the space station.
Erl glanced back over his shoulder, mid-punch. “Disappointing,” he said, then went back to pummeling Linli.
The mana slowly dissipated before my eyes.
“Don’t listen to him,” Bagavash said. “No one makes a spell circle their first time. But as you can see, there’s a time limit. If you don’t complete the circle before the mana dissipates back into the atmosphere, the spell won’t activate.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“Try it again. Here’s a little trick. If you focus on the spell circle long enough, when you open your eyes, an afterimage will be burned into your retinas for a few seconds. That gives you something to trace.”
“Oh, nice,” I said. “That will be helpful.”
“And don’t forget to incant the spell’s name when you finish the circle,” he added. “Otherwise, it won’t work.”
I closed my eyes and tried again. This time, I noticed that my mana had depleted from 140 to 128. I guess that little bit I had channeled constituted 12 mana.
I pulled the mana out of my orb and moved it down to my hand, the whole time focusing on the spell circle for [Void Thread]. Bagavash was right. When I opened my eyes, I could still make out the outline of the spell circle. I traced it with my first two fingers extended, just like I watched Bagavash do, and the mana flowed out in a semi-constant stream, recreating the pattern I had seen in my mind.
I finished with the final dot in the center, just as the first strokes were beginning to fade. Apparently, it was enough to activate the spell because as soon as I made the final dot, the whole circle glowed black and violet.
The sparring wizards must have felt a change in the mana because they all turned to watch.
I said the words, “[Void Thread],” and a single, almost imperceptible beam of black and purple energy shot out from the center of the spell circle. It traced a perfectly straight line that traveled through the head of a nearby statue and continued on into the infinite sky beyond.
“Attaboy!” Erl called out.
“Nicely done,” Bagavash said.
“But what did it do?” Linli questioned.
We all walked over to the statue that the spell had passed through.
“Doesn’t look like it did anything,” Myrl said.
He was right. The statue appeared to be completely unaffected. Just the rough weathered head of an ancient knight.
“I told you he should have gone with [Fireball],” Erl muttered.
“Wait a second,” Linli said. “I see something.”
He held out his hand in the shadow of the statue, and there on his dusty palm was the tiniest pinprick of sunlight.
The statue had been pierced through.