Isolde traced a finger over the frost-covered pages of the tome in her hands. The runes etched into the ice-bound cover shimmered with an otherworldly glow, radiating an unmistakable chill.
This was the price of her sponsorship.
By accepting the academy's offer, she had gained access to rare, high-tier ice magic—spells that few others could even dream of learning. And now, everyone in the spell division wanted a piece of it.
"You can't seriously expect to keep it all to yourself," Aldric scoffed, arms crossed. "You didn't earn those spells. They were given to you after the tournament."
Isolde's grip on the tome tightened. "And you think that means I owe you something?"
A murmur rippled through the gathered students. Some, like Marwen, nodded in agreement with Aldric. "Magic shouldn't be hoarded," he said. "We're all here to master spellcraft. If you have something that can help everyone, why wouldn't you share it?"
Others took the opposite stance. Rhiannon, one of the top-ranked spellcasters, shook her head. "That's ridiculous. Magic isn't some charity. If Isolde is the only one capable of wielding these spells, then they're hers. That's how it works."
Isolde could feel the tension thickening.
This wasn't just about her—it was a debate about who deserved power.
The Ethics of Magic
The spell division had always been merit-based. Spells weren't freely given; they were earned through rigorous study, control, and discipline.
But Isolde's situation complicated that.
Normally, high-tier magic was reserved for those who advanced far enough in their studies. Yet because she had accepted the academy's sponsorship after the tournament, she had skipped several years of restricted study.
Now, students who had spent years mastering lower-level spells were watching her practice techniques they might never be allowed to learn.
And that made them angry.
Elias, a usually quiet student, finally spoke up. "It's about responsibility. The academy trusted you with these spells, but that doesn't mean you should lock them away. If we learn together, we all improve."
Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "That's naive. What happens when someone reckless tries to cast a spell they aren't ready for? Magic isn't about fairness—it's about control."
Another student added, "Then who decides who's 'ready'? The academy? Nobles? The ones who already have power?"
Isolde exhaled. She could see both sides.
But there was no easy answer.
Their professor, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "If you can't settle this through words, then perhaps we should use magic."
That sent a ripple of excitement through the students.
The assignment was simple: Isolde would cast a high-tier ice spell—one only she had access to—and demonstrate its power. Then, the class would discuss whether such magic should be shared or remain restricted.
Isolde hesitated before choosing the spell.
It had to be something impactful but not too dangerous. Eventually, she settled on Everfrost Prison—a technique that encased a target in enchanted ice, locking them in an unbreakable barrier until the caster released them.
Taking a deep breath, she extended her hand. The temperature in the hall plummeted as a mist of frost swirled around her. She traced the sigil in the air, and with a whisper of "Glacium Vincula", ice erupted from the ground, swallowing the practice dummy in a jagged, crystalline prison.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Then the arguments erupted.
"You're proving my point," Rhiannon declared. "This spell is too dangerous. If someone misuses it, they could freeze a person alive."
Elias countered, "Or we could study it and develop ways to counter it. If we keep restricting knowledge out of fear, we'll never advance."
A third student spoke up. "This isn't just about magic—it's about power. Who controls knowledge? Who gets to decide what's shared and what's kept secret?"
Isolde finally stepped forward, tired of the back-and-forth.
"You're all acting like there's a perfect answer," she said, voice sharp as ice. "But there isn't. Magic is dangerous, but so is ignorance."
She turned to Elias. "You want open knowledge, but what happens when someone botches a high-tier spell and kills themselves?"
Then to Rhiannon. "And you want exclusivity, but what happens when only a privileged few keep growing stronger while everyone else is left behind?"
For once, no one had a response.
Because there was no simple solution.
After the lesson, Isolde lingered in the hall. Elias approached her, his expression unreadable.
"You didn't answer the real question," he said quietly.
She glanced at him. "Which is?"
"What will you do?"
That was the real burden. The academy had already decided she was worthy of these spells. But she had to decide how to handle them.
Would she share her knowledge freely? Keep it to herself? Choose only a select few?
She exhaled, staring down at the frost-covered tome in her hands.
"I don't know yet," she admitted.
And maybe that was the hardest burden of all.