YEAR 812 OF THE CYCLE OF KINGS.
SALVIA, WESTERN PORT CITY OF THE EMPIRE OF NESSA
Gina was buried in her books. Not reading but fast asleep. The past weeks had been intense. Combat magic was the hardest elective in all branches of magic. The struggle was real, but she liked the ride. During practice, she felt her blood pump; the rush of adrenaline often made her push herself to the limits. Finally, she had access to power in its most tangible form. It was intoxicating. Each practice left her teetering to death, her body battered from overload. The overflux of magic was too much for her body to handle most times, making most sessions end earlier than normal.
That week there were no sessions in place. Her master said she needed the break, she needed to keep herself in check, so he deemed a week off was the best option. Gina was fighting the urge to break her master's only rule: not to practice magic that he had restricted outside the bookshop. The urge grew more as the morning turned to noon, which in turn became evening, then turned into night. Each passing moment ushered in a new page flip or a quick scribble, as her pen grinded against her grimoire till she burned herself out.
The locked door flew open and Gina was just as quick to wake up. Every sound hit her in a clamour, disorienting her even further. She was groggy, but it wore off when she realised she had taken off her veil. She turned from her seat, facing the room trying to locate it, but her eyes could only see Til, her not-so-new maid.
At first, she was indifferent to her as she was to other maids. But now the situation was different. At first, she liked how loose she was with words, not caring for her status, making her fun to interact with. Then she noted that her lip curved downwards when she laughed or smiled during their conversation. The gleam in her eyes—that seemed to her exposed scars. The gaze was soft, but she felt her scars flare up as her cheeks puffed and turned reddish.
"Here, princess," Til tossed her veil. She left the food on the bedside stool.
Gina was trying hastily to clump her books, papers, and other study materials, trying to shield them from Til. Til held her by the wrists, pinning her against the table. Gina could feel her chest at the back of her head. She felt her stomach cramp up, simultaneously feeling unprecedented heat pressing against her skin. Til was too engrossed, making out what the papers held, then she noticed.
She loosened her grip, switching to spreading the papers, her interest piqued.
Gina turned her head.
"Magic," she said with childlike enthusiasm.
Til laughed it off at first, then saw Gina's scowl.
"You are serious."
"Yes, I am," Gina said assertively.
"Fuck," Til muttered to herself, "Then I apologise, princess."
"I told you," Gina had arranged the cluster of materials, "I ain't a princess. It is a capital offense to refer to me by that."
Til approached Gina, helping her arrange the books on a shelf just beside the study table.
"You live like one," Til pointed out, "and dress like one."
"I don't look like one," Gina said, not expecting sympathy.
Til turned to Gina, "I think all that magic is making you prettier."
Gina was taken aback, but she could not stop smiling, "No need for flirtary, Til. I like you already."
"The magic girl likes me," Til teased.
"You know what I mean," Gina averted her gaze. It's me who doesn't know what I mean, she thought.
"So, magic girl, I thought about boom, bang, baam. You know, explosion and other epic shit."
"You talk like a man," Gina joked.
"When you are raised among boys, you pick a thing or two," Til answered, "Maybe I picked more than I should have."
Gina got a hint of the subliminal within her statement and hoped it was falling more onto what she assumed.
"Ignore that. You did not answer my question," Til prompted.
"There is that, but it cannot happen without this," she pointed to the stack of papers.
"Papers?" Til was baffled.
"No, what's inside the papers," Gina moved back to the table. Til approached, "This is called a spellweb."
Her finger traced a diagram with intricate lines and drawings on it. Til noted the scribbles of Gina's handwriting all over the paper.
"Even this?" Til pointed them out. Their fingers brushing against each other, both caressing the paper. Gina lurked for a while enjoying it before pulling back her fingers.
"No, that's me, trying to break down how it works."
Til took time to ask, "How does it work?"
Gina was pleased. She never had anyone to flaunt her meager knowledge to. Til's eyes focused on the papers. Gina was staring, observing, almost lost, but when Til looked back at her, she quickly jumped into explanation.
"A spellweb has three distinct parts: entity, instance, and modular." Gina pointed them out. "An entity is a word to acknowledge the two forms of magic that exist in the world: nature and chaos magic. Then an instance is a derivative of an entity."
Til interrupted, "Stop with the big words, if you didn't want me to learn you should've said so."
Gina chuckled then proceeded, "An instance is like the child of an entity, which forms the branches of magic. Finally, the modular is also called spellwork. It is where the nitty-gritty of the spell is defined—such as shape, distance, power behind it, and many other variables."
"Okay, okay," Til was lost, "If it is all that, then how is the boom instant?"
Gina stretched towards the bookshelf, picking out her grimoire, "It's because of this."
"A book?"
"No, it's called a grimoire. It is a soulbound item, like the weapons of knights and the Named."
"Hmmm," was all Til could say, trying not to seem ignorant.
"Leave that then," Gina returned the book then moved back to the bed stool where her food was placed, "You recorded the spellweb in a grimoire, then you used a word to invoke the spell—it's called chanting. Making the boom instant."
Til approached Gina, sitting at the edge of the bed, her feet dangling, "You might just show some."
Gina paused mid-bite, cake frost perched on either side of her lips, "I can't do that," she continued gobbling it down.
Til pushed her by the shoulder, playfully.
"You can. You are magic girl." She puffed her eyes up like a kitten trying to charm Gina. It worked.
A little magic hurts no one, Gina thought.
Gina wiped the cake smudge on her hands on her long tunic. Her right hand stretched out, she fell into a familiar trance. Her focus on the arcane. She drew strings of its tapestry, harnessed then weaving and channeling them from her elbow, flowing, twirling round her arm towards her palm. The threads of magic intertwined. Coalescing. It formed a spellweb.
Til saw how Gina turned pale. Beads of sweat quickly formed on her head. The slight, almost invisible, tremble of her body as the arcane passed through Gina. As the spellweb formed—the way her eyes rolled back, her intermittent breaths, as if high off pleasure.
And she was. Gina was thrilled. Her heart calm. Her mind steady. All relishing in the addictive nature of magic as it flowed through her.
The spellweb vanished slowly as the spell was executed.
Sparks of golden light scattered throughout the room. Til looked disappointed. The streaks of light began to merge to form an outline of a golden horse. It breezed through the air, galloping in awe-inspiring strides. Til's mouth was agape. The horse then morphed into a bird. It soared towards Til before exploding near her. She shrieked. Gina laughed.
"Magic really goes boom." Til had jumped towards Gina.
"It does," Gina picked another piece, "Cool, right?"
Til was ecstatic, like a child.
"My master taught that," Gina put the cake away, "The first time we went. I behaved just like you."
Til turned to Gina, her statement draining the wonder from her face, "What do you mean like me?"
Gina giggled, "I meant too excited. I finally had something to live for."
Til was now right beside her.
"Your father is a deepshit, you know," Til said.
"I know," Gina took the cake once more.
"You didn't do the grimoire thing."
"It's a past way of channeling called weaving," Gina said.
"Magic is too much," Til slammed on the bed, "I get why you never get out of your room."
"You can take it home," Gina took another bite.
"I wish. Sleeping on this I probably won't wake up," Til said as she sat back straight.
Her hand stretched, plucking the smudges of cake at the edge of Gina's lip. Gina was surprised, almost choking. Til was smiling, as if oblivious to her gesture.
There was a loud bang as fireworks exploded.
"It seems I have overstayed my welcome," Til said as she stood. She turned abruptly, "Magic girl."
"Yes," Gina looked up. Her cheeks all red.
"Ever gone to a festival?"
"No. Why?"
"You wanna go?" Til asked, a mischievous smile plastered.
"You know I can't leave this late."
"Who said we were leaving through the gate?" Her smile now teasing.
"You mean," Gina paused, "You want me to sneak out?"
"Meet me at the gate near the keep."
Before Gina could refuse, Til was at the door. Then she left quickly. Gina just smiled, her heart palpating harshly against her chest. Excited.
Challenge accepted, she muttered.