Romans & histoires A Lesson In Magic

He stared at me dead serious, I gulped nodding my God. "Well shall we Begin today's lesson. We would be starting with the simple basic elements of magic before advancing to spells. Now what are the simple basic elements in magic. That would be fire, water, earth and Air and we are going to start with water. Exciting isn't it?" He grinned placing two buckets far apart from each other, then he pours in water in one of the bucket and left the other one empty. "Watch and learn." He said to me. I watched him closely as he controlled the water in the bucket with his hand, brings the water out and transport it to the other empty bucket. I clapped in awe.

My heart still thundered traitorously in my chest, and I pressed my palms to the wood, willing it to still. Madame Meera shuffled in, a wisp of a woman wrapped in too much fabric, drowning in a cardigan and khakis that seemed determined to devour her frame. Her glasses were comically large, slipping down her narrow nose, and yet her voice—thin as it was—held conviction. She loved knowledge more than appearance. That, I admired. “Today, we will learn about blood-magic,” she squeaked, adjusting her gold wired glasses. The word had barely left her lips before a smooth, sinful voice cut through the air like smoke curling through cracks.

He passed me with a shout that sounded vaguely like “I regret everything.” I sighed and decided to actually try to teach them something real. “Attention,” I called. The wolves leaped to attention. Some were sideways. One was upside down. Lucian was stuck in a snowdrift. “We will practice magic sensing,” I said. “Close your eyes. Focus on the air around you. Magic feels like pressure or heat or tingling.” They obeyed. For one second. Then someone’s magic flared unexpectedly. A loud zap echoed across the snowfield.

Just the echo of my own ragged breathing as I step out with stiff shoulders, forcing myself to hurry to class like nothing happened. By the time I reach the classroom door, my lungs are burning. I’m too late. The lecturer’s voice booms from inside as he explains how one of the founding families won a war with the help of their elemental magic. Shadowspire might have strict rules now, but their founding fathers were cooler. Sadly, the magic is lost. All we have now are pompous princes. My heart thuds as I push the door open, and all heads swing toward me. At the front of the class, Sheila and Maeve stand side by side. They must have done something wrong because it’s our lecturer’s favorite pu

I just wish I understood the magic better. ***“Don’t overthink it, Little One. You do understand the magic. You understand it enough to work with it, not fight it. You respect what magic can do and what it cannot. You understand it is to be worked with, not commanded.”*** Osiston is always in teaching mode.

He cared, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The first lesson was in an empty courtyard, long after the other students had gone back to their dorms. He wanted us to try learning magic in familiar grounds and not the forest that he usually stays in. The air was crisp, the moonlight sharp, and I stood across from Kyle, palms out, trying to channel the warmth that always stirred in my chest when I thought of the necklace, of my mother. “Focus,” the uncle said, voice muffled behind the mask. “Not on the fire. Not on the end result. Focus on the thread inside you, the line that connects you to everything else.”

What have I got myself into? When the door starts shaking, I jump so hard I almost fall out of my chair. "Iris, you have a letter." It’s Mage. I walk to the door and take the paper from her hand trying to thank her nicely. I use small talk to cover the fact that I almost had a heart attack when shook the handle of my door. When she walked away, I shut the door, leaning against it for a moment after locking it. I looked down at the note and it wasn’t in an envelope with a stamp. I unfolded the white paper and read what was inside slowly.

Candles flickered, casting shadows that danced across carved symbols etched into the walls, symbols that seemed to pulse subtly, as though aware of our attention. My aunts, and eventually we children, were not born with innate magical abilities. Magic did not flow through our veins as a gift to wield at will; it had to be earned. Every lesson was painstaking. We learned to still our minds, to listen with more than our ears, to sense energy as one might sense a river beneath the earth, unseen but unstoppable. We were taught to channel it without breaking ourselves, to feel its currents like a living thing, to bend it without being bent in return. Mistakes could be painful. Missteps carried co

he began, looking at me for my input. I nodded and smiled. I was jotting the different ones down so that I could keep it all straight. The week before the Ball would be very hectic indeed. “The next one I believe would be beneficial is Manipulation magic. Siphoning it from Leonidas would be the most beneficial because it is slightly stronger than Zane’s. It will allow for a plethora of uses. You could create mirages, alter your appearance, create fog, and many more options. Both Zane and Leonidas would be perfect tutors for this and can help you learn things which may be the most beneficial for you.”

“Is that smell cherry and Vanilla?” “Good guess.” Cain said. “Oren won’t smoke anything else.” “I would if I had to, I guess. I just don’t have to.” Oren puffed out a cloud of white smoke. “Now that we’re full and settled, time to get down to business.” Cain said. “First of all, as you can see by the conjuring of the food and drink, the magic here is plentiful.” He was talking directly to Loril now. “But it isn’t that way all over.” He took Loril’s hand, “You and I are Charmers, as Oren indicated. Female Charmers are better known as Diabolists.”