Ambrose stayed silent as the other mages raised their hands and told the Grand Mage what they struggled with or accomplished, the memory of slipping past the guards and the success of her Illusion Magick flashed through her mind. While the others quipped about their progress that week, Ambrose told herself she’d let him know when they had a private moment. She didn’t want it to become well known it’s a skill she succeeded in, but she knew Magnus would be thrilled for her, even if her reasons for doing it were a mystery to him.
Magnus had chosen robes of vibrant purples and blues mixed with gold and silver stars and swirls. His robes trailed to the ground just above his ankles. White hair poured from a cap of matching material on his head that joined a beard so long it almost reached his knees. He was the only mage in the kingdom who didn’t wear the king’s colors. Ambrose had asked him about it once when she was much younger.
He’d laughed like it was a ridiculous question to ask. “Why would I limit myself to a world of only one color?”
The gathered mages were all having the same issues that Ambrose found herself having—none of them had received their calling. Until then, they wouldn’t be allowed to train with anyone above their own ranking, so every one of them was just as eagerly waiting. But with Magick dying with each generation, most of them would likely never get it. Making every mage on the continent vital to the empire’s survival. Either way, they were seen as failures to the crown until they did.
“I still don’t understand how the mana channels are supposed to connect. It doesn’t make any sense,” whined the son of a lesser noble who’d been dropped off a few weeks ago by his family. His mother was an elegant woman with a permanent scowl on her face and his father cold and distant. They came one day and dropped him off to Magnus to ‘fix’. Apparently, they were disgusted with his magickal training at home so they brought him to the highest mage in the kingdom in hopes of making him competent. Looking at him, he couldn’t have been a day older than twenty-one but the way he acted you’d think he was still a juvenile. Nothing could fix the multiple things that had gone wrong with him. Spoiled to the core. He’d become an insufferable part of training, still unable to understand even the basics of Magick wielding.
Ambrose hadn’t bothered to learn his name.
“I’ve explained it multiple times,” Magnus said patiently.
“Explain itagain!” the man-child demanded.
Magnus smiled with more patience than Ambrose would have. “Your mana is a network…” He pointed to the channel points on his body: the middle of the forehead, throat, shoulders, heart, palms, stomach, and finally, the hips, knees and feet. “A network inside of you that simply allows the full properties of Magick to be harnessed.” A rush filled the air and the hairs on the end of Ambrose’s arms rose on end. “Without mastering your channels, you’ll never be able to master Magick.”
“Okay, buthow?” the boy whined, his tawny hair pushed back as he ran his hands through it, gripping the roots too hard.
Ambrose wanted to seal his mouth shut. With adhesive or Magick, it didn’t matter.
Magnus took a long breath and closed his eyes. The air around him crackled and rippled as an energetic current revealed itself inside the master. The energy fought to explode before submitting to a calm, flowing current.
“Magick without control is chaos, it will ruin you if you do not control it. Craft it into a steady flow inside of you so that instead of filling you up until it destroys you, it flows at a constant rate,” Magnus explained as his current surged. “Once you master your current, you can be ready when it’s your time to harness one of the Elements. You’ll know which one is yours based on the call. It’s different for everyone but you must learn to coexist and respect Magick or it will never allow you to tame it and you’ll fail every time. In the worst cases you can die.”
A shiver crawled up Ambrose’s spine. Magnus was talking about The Blackout.
There had been many mages who surpassed their limit and paid the ultimate price. Fear clawed at her and she reassured herself she would never let that happen. She would never push too far. The thought was only half a comfort though, as no one could predict where their limit was. Some beings could carry and harness more and no one knew why. Some bodies just weren’t as compatible for it and many didn’t know until it was too late.
Magick was a skill. A dangerous one and difficult to master.
“Magnus, he’s holding up the entire lesson. He’s hopeless. Can we please move on, this is getting ridiculous,” one of the servants complained who was showing the most promise of the group. Mara. A capable enough young fae who frequently worked side by side with Ambrose around the palace. She could sometimes come across as rude but they’d managed to build a friendship, even if it was born out of proximity. Short and petite in stature, only a fool would consider Mara to be weak. She had a sharp tongue and while she respected the nobility, she had no love lost on the rest of them and everyone else was free reign for her temper. Her raven-like hair sat just above her shoulders where she liked it and framed hercharmingly pale face that frequently flushed red when she got worked up, like she was now.
The noble scowled at her but didn’t say another word. Though Mara could be known for worshiping the nobles, all she saw from this boy was weakness. Nobility only in title.
Magnus cheerfully clapped his hands. “Yes, we must! Today is an important lesson.” Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they waited. Magnus beamed at them with a heartfelt smile that spread into a grin. “Today, we’re learning more Illusion Magick.
A few confused expressions exchanged around the circle. Why was Magnus so excited? They’d been working on illusions for weeks. So far, none of them had shown any real aptitude for it—at least, not that Ambrose felt like sharing quite yet.
“Magick of the Mind, Psionic Magick, is very hard to master. It requires a great affinity for the essence of the mind, as you all well know—the oracle gift being one of the scarcest among it. Illusion Magick is a lesser and greater form of Psionic Magick, learning to harness the lesser forms is a skill any decent mage should know—calling or not.” Magnus cleared his throat and continued, “The last few weeks we’ve been learning how to create illusions around something, how many of you were successful in this task?” A few hands raised and the lesser noble huffed but otherwise didn’t make another sound. Ignoring him, Magnus took note of the hands raised and seemed pleased with them all. “Wonderful! Simply wonderful.” He clapped his hands joyfully. “That’s a few more than the week before.”
Satisfied smiles spread across the circle as those with their hands raised puffed up a little with pride. Ambrose had caught some of them training. Some had managed to hide small objects or change an apple to look like an orange, or a piece of wood into a book, or something of the like. But she had successfully concealed herself for just under ten minutes. Even if she only accomplished it that morning. Among the scattered raised hands she kept hers firmly at her side.
They took turns sharing with their master what illusion they created that week and Magnus beamed. “That’s marvelous progress, I’m so pleasedwith you all! This week we’ll be working on something a little different. Instead of creating an illusion around an object, we’ll be creating an object from an illusion.”
The group went still. No one here had shown an affinity for Illusion Magick at the basic level, most only managing to complete their illusion for less than a minute—child’s play to most average mages. But to bring forth an illusion, to give solid form to what has no form, was a much more complicated level of Magick. What was Magnus thinking? Did he believe they could do it? Most hadn’t even completed the last lesson. Everyone looked at each other, faces exchanging wondered glances, but they kept their attention firmly on Magnus, waiting for him to explain.
“The goal is simple. I want you all to attempt to create a world of illusion around you. As much as you can. Maybe it’s an object, a room, however big you can make it. Focus on size and detail if you can. I want you to try and make it as solid as you can but stay within your limits. Don’t push yourself too far, but do your best.” Magnus gave a short nod and waited, arms extended and smile wide.
Everyone just stood there, a little stunned. Was he serious? This was much more advanced than any of them were prepared for.
Mara was the first to step forward and demonstrate. Shoulders squared, her dark brows came together as she concentrated and her cheeks gained a light pink hue. Her channels grew quiet and for a moment it seemed as though nothing would happen when a spark ran through the air and a fox family burst to life in front of them. The foxes jumped playfully leaving a trail of mist behind them as her magick shifted and swirled to create the images. They weren’t solid, but they were beautiful nonetheless and something to be proud of for a first attempt.
Mara stumbled, a small gasp escaping her as she pulled the back of her hand across her forehead wiping away the sweat, when the foxes dissipated. Her chest heaved but her face beamed with pride as she looked to Magnus who clapped ferociously. To attempt to create a living creature and a moving illusion was no small task and sheshouldbe proud.
The rest of the circle took turns attempting, and mostly failing, at theirillusions. They each struggled but a few mages aside from Mara showed a little bit of promise. Some were able to a create small, solid object such as an acorn, or a seashell and proudly displayed it to Magnus who equally celebrated all his students. While most of them failed to make anything take shape, the lesser noble—who couldn’t do anything but whine—zapped himself unconscious and the healers took him away while Magnus shook his head.
One mage by the name of Dante showed a good amount of skill. Another palace servant with warm eyes, brown hair and a freckled face, a kind heart and a mind with a thirst for learning. He and Ambrose crossed paths rarely but Ernaline had taken a small liking to him. Dante was able to call on an illusion of the palace library in perfect detail. From the weathering of the books, to the details on the carpets, down to the crest of Eltoria fitted into the moldings. An illusion made of the same mist as Mara’s but still highly impressive. Ambrose could see why Ernaline was spending extra time in the library when she could.
