Hakeem pushes the beaker of water forward. He points his wand, tipaglow and flicks it upward.
“Dafii”
The water in the beaker begins to steam. Hakeem focuses on the beaker, his wand glowing brighter. The water in the beaker comes to a simmer. “In the old language,Dafiiis the rune for warm. It uses an upward flick of a wand or an uncurling of fingers. The motion is believed to represent the rising of temperature or the expansion of matter when heat is applied. A downward motion of a wand or inward curling of fingers is said to represent the lowering of temperature. There is an aspect of physics to these old runes.”
Hakeem points his wand to the beaker, tip lighting up once more. He flicks it downward.
“Barid”
The water in the beaker stops boiling, steam dissipating. Condensation forms on the side of the glass as Hakeem heightens his focus. The sides begin to frost over, ice crystals forming in the water. Hakeem takes a breath, a slight sweat forming on his brow. Eddie and Jackson rise from their seats, concern flashing across their faces. Hakeem holds up a hand as he leans onto the counter. “I’m fine, just winded. I still have some mana to spare. Now, Jackson, it’s your turn.”
Hakeem places a new beaker of room temperature water in front of Jackson. Eyeing the beaker, Jackson extends his hand forward.
“Dafii”
Tendrils of shadow extend from his hand. “Dammi-”
“Jackson, keep going.”
Hakeem’s voice is stern, his gaze fixed on Jackson. Eddie and Jackson haven’t seen Hakeem look so dead serious before, his warm eyes look cold as his expression hardens. Jackson returns his focus to the beaker, Eddie watches even closer. The tendrils wrap around the beaker, green light filling the water. It begins to steam, and as Jackson pours more mana into his tendrils, the water comes to a boil.
It …worked.
Jackson’s magic listened to him. Hakeem’s eyes gloss over with pride. Eddie claps him on the back, a little too hard but it’s filled with goodintention. Jackson felt in control, a small amount, but control nonetheless.
“I-I don’t understand. The tendrils cast the spell for me? Hakeem, what’s going on?” The shadows dissipate as Jackson stares at his hands in wonder and confusion.
Hakeem writes down some notes before giving Jackson his attention. “Your shadows seem to act as an extension of you, as a conduit for your mana. Where they reach, your magic can reach. I’m still not sure what grants them their autonomy but it could explain why other conduits don’t work for you. No other conduits could safely channel your mana. The reasons other spells have failed before now might be tied with how you view your tendrils. If you view them as a burden and cut off your mana in the middle of casting, the spell will, of course, fail. It’s a matter of trusting your own magic and letting it come to pass.”
Jackson can’t believe what he’s hearing. His own attitude was holding him back? How could he not feel resentment towards his magic when it actively tries to embarrass him or harm others by throwing tantrums. What did it want from him? Surely it can’t be as easy as allowing himself to trust in his magic…can it? The notion is ridiculous. If it came from anyone else Jackson would laugh in their face.
Oh, wait.He has, other teachers weren’t as reassuring it would seem.
“Now, focus and curl your fingers inward, imagine the heat receding from the beaker. Go slow, the water has heated much more for you than it did for me. Too fast could cause the glass to crack.”
Jackson follows Hakeem’s steps. Curling his fingers inwards, he imagines the beaker cooling and lets his shadows seep from his hand towards the beaker.
“Barid”
Tendrils wrap around the beaker again, Jackson can feel his mana flow through them. He tries to maintain his focus, squinting his eyes, clenching his jaw, his shoulder tensing. Just trying not to pour too much mana in at once. His focus slips and the tendrils tighten around the glass, chilling it too fast and causing it to crack.
“Fuck!” Jackson throws his head back and runs his hand through his hair.He was doing so well but he always slips up. “Hakeem, I’m sorry. I can pay to re-”
Hakeem holds up a hand to stop him. “Accidents happen, Jackson. No one got hurt and we can clean up spilled water. You still cast the spell and executed it rather well. We practice to improve, I wasn’t expecting perfection.”
He feels Eddie’s hand on his back, rubbing small circles. Jackson, straightens, bristling at the gesture.
“Oh! Uh-” Eddie retracts his hand, wincing. “Sorry, habit.”
The tension drains from Jackson’s body, he clears his throat, scratching his cheek. “No, you’re good. It wasn’t…unpleasant.”
Eddie smiles softly, turning away from Jackson, rubbing the back of his neck.
Hakeem flips through the grimoire and lands on a page that looks a little more complicated. “Let’s see how you do with something a bit more advanced. This one repairs visible damage. It uses a bit more mana but is fairly simple. Follow my lead and repeat after me, okay?”
Jackson rolls his shoulders and follows Hakeem’s lead. Pointing a finger towards the cracked glass, he draws a circle in the air once, and shadows begin to form. Twice, tendrils wrap around the glass. Three times, a soft forest green glow engulfs the beaker.
“Stitch and sew. Mend the break. Restora”
