Page 3

The student held up his hand and white lights drifted in front of his fingers, encasing him in a shield. Although the glass-like structure around him looked particularly sturdy, the spell itself was basic Caster magic. Not something worthy of Ivercrest, Mira thought. The curly-haired boy focused and closed his eyes, and suddenly the shield expanded and wrapped around Highmage Tinley and then around each student. The magic force around Mira shimmered in soft white lights.

Projectoral shields of this magnitude were difficult and took years to practice.

“Impressive,” Tinley responded, and handed him a scroll. “Welcome to Ivercrest. Congratulations.”

The student walked to the Highmage’s assistant, who attached a gold pin with the White Magic symbol to his lapel.

One by one, students presented their special talents. A healing spell performed on a frog. A miracle potion brewed and tested. A new defensive shield.

And one by one, they were accepted. With a handshake and a smile.

Ella’s eyes were fixed on every presentation while Mira could barely stomach to watch. Instead, she unfolded her acceptance letter once more, looking at the writing that allowed her to be there.

Mira Winters is hereby accepted into the White Magic Institute of Ivercrest University.

Perhaps staring at it would remind Highmage Tinley she was worthy. Mira’s heart beat loudly, and each time another student’s name was called, her anxiety rose.

She knew the healing spell she was going to perform backward, but it had been years since she used it last.

“Mira Winters,” the Highmage said, and Mira felt like throwing up.

For the first time in three years, Mira was going to use magic. What if she couldn’t connect with her powers? Was everyone staring at her? Did they all know?

Ella squeezed her hand and smiled at her. Mira stood up and slowly made her way to Tinley. Whispers drew in closer, and Mira couldn’t tell if they came from the students or the walls surrounding her. From Casters before her.

Her scar pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. It begged for her to use magic again.

She had requested to perform a specific healing spell. Two assistants rolled in a corpse on a metal gurney. It was a man in his thirties, Mira guessed. His skin as white as the sheet that covered his lower body.

She had seen her fair share of corpses during the war, when she worked as a healer at a hospital. The patient in front of her was clearly long deceased, his lips blue. That didn’t stop the large laceration on his chest from bleeding. Endare cuts were laced with Dark Magic, and unless healed by a Caster, they would never stop bleeding. Not until all of the blood was expelled from the body.

Healing endare cuts was difficult, but Mira had developed a technique that was more efficient.

She closed her eyes and focused on her powers. In her mind, she saw the strands of her White Magic shimmering in bright lights. From the main, large strand came dozens of smaller ones, reaching out in several directions like veins from a main artery or branches on a tree.

She had worked hard for each one of them. It had taken years to acquire her level of expertise as a Caster. Every branch represented another skill set. Another spell mastered.

With one swift move of her hand, she would be in charge of her magic again. It would be simple.

Mira’s hand trembled when she lifted it. The whispers grew louder. Never words she could quite catch. She wanted to press her palm against her scar. To quiet the noise. To make it stop.

Instead, she moved her fingers in a practiced manner and in her mind reached for the branch representing her endare healing spell.

Slowly she opened her eyes and white lights began to dance along her fingers, but before they could properly pool in her palm, they evaporated. Behind her, students chuckled. She had come too far to give up or be turned away.

Magic had taken everything from her.

It owed her.

It owed her this.

She inhaled deeply and focused on her power. White Magic glittered in her palm once more. It was as natural as breathing, something she couldn’t unlearn. Something that had been with her this entire time.

She then examined the patient. Blood dripped down his chest, pooling on the metal gurney. Dark red, almost black. Hovering her fingers above his body, she felt for the pulse of Dark Magic in the endare laceration. It had buried its teeth deep into skin and bones, spreading its poison and pumping blood even though the heart had long stopped beating.

Everything around her went quiet as she concentrated on the strand of her Caster magic in her mind and the endare laceration. What took some traditional healers almost half an hour, she was able to accomplish in mere minutes. With another move of her fingers, the leftover Dark Magic in the wound was neutralized. Then the bleeding stopped and skin fused itself together under her command. It wouldn’t even leave a scar.

Tinley stared at her with a stoic face. Was the healing spell not impressive enough? Mira could perform something different. Did they allow another try?