“Before we begin: Caaron didn’t teach you invisibility already, did he?”

Kel shook his head.

“Well, that actually makes my job easier. Mistakes are easier to unlearn if you haven’t practiced them.” Kel was a little incensed at her insinuation. More for Caaron than himself.

Max did not seem to notice. She handed him a stick of incense. Grim now slept comfortably in the corner, curled up on its large puffy red pillow. It resembled a dragon upon its horde, lying there in slumber. “Now this won’t make you completely invisible,” she said, “It just hides perception of you. People won’t be able to see you, but you will still be visible, technically. And if someone is actually looking for you, well, you’d better be a powerful practitioner for this to work.”

“So I won’t actually turn invisible. Does that just not exist?”

“Of course, but this is the basis from which that spell springs. We’re learning how to walk before we run and jump into the abyss.”

Kel followed along as she performed the ritual: lots of drawing shapes in the air with incense and walking around. It was similar, but not the same, as the banishing ritual. Kel found this interesting but didn’t really feel like saying so would have much of an effect on his tutor.

When they finished with a final thrust of the incense, Max turned to him. “That was the ritual. To make this a spell, you have to compress this into your consciousness. Remember how it feels, remember the scent of the incense, and just do it.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘just do it?”

“Once you have practiced this ritual, say, 10 times, you will be able to picture it in your mind. You know how memories don’t play out slowly, how they seem to go by in flashes?”

Kel was pretty certain he understood.

Max went on. “Basically, you rehearse so much that the memory of this ritual flashes in your mind. And then you speak the keyword to activate it.

“The keyword?”

“Yes - you’ll have a keyword that reminds you of all the elements of this ritual. When you speak that word and summon the proper elements, the spell will be instant and flawless.”

“And that’s how you condense a proper spell? Not a cantrip, but a real spell?”

“Exactly. Now think of a keyword, one that makes elicits all of the elements of this ritual - the smoke, the movements. Feel it in your mind. Then, when you’re ready, speak the word and will it into reality.”

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Kel concentrated. When he was ready, he spoke with gravity and determination. “Spooky!” he exclaimed.

Nothing happened.

After a moment of pointed silence, Max stepped forward. “Spooky?”

“I don’t know…the ritual’s spooky so…” he shrugged.

Max chuckled. “I suppose that makes sense. Okay, let’s start again from the top. As I said, ten times should do it.” She sat back in her wingback chair and clapped her hands. “Begin.”

They went at it for hours, with Kel carefully working through the ritual, then visualizing and attempting to compress it. They coughed as the room slowly took on more and more smoke from the incense, thick enough that Max eventually had to summon a light breeze to blow it all out under the door. They must have practiced the ritual at least fifty times and still there was no sign of it working. Eventually, a dull light began to break on the horizon of the moor, violet against a bleak landscape of gray.

Max yawned, stretching in her chair. “Kel, I think we should probably stop.”

“I’m good for it. We can keep practicing.” The boy was determined, even if he was fatigued.

“You may be able to, but I can’t.”

“I have to get this. I have to cast at least one legitimate spell if I can.”

“And you will, but we need to take a break.”

“But you’re accelerating my studies…”

“I am aware. I know it’s disappointing, not getting something on the first try. Though now I know how you’ve been able to keep up with all of the reading I assigned you.”

“I don’t need to -”

Max held up a hand “But I do. To bed with you. Get at least a semblance of rest before the day begins. We can start a little later. I’ll see you around lunch time. You are dismissed.”

Disappointed, but admittedly a bit tired, Kel showed himself out and made his way back to his room.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, Max turned to her guest. The pale, black-haired girl hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor, her legs crossed. She had sat patiently through the entire repetition of the invisibility ritual, her eyes following Kel as he worked.

“So what do you think, Constance?” Max asked, collapsing back into her wingback chair by the fireplace.

“I think,” the girl said slowly, “that he offers the same amount of potential as I’ve seen. No more, no less.”

“Well there must be something we can do. Some variable we haven’t accounted for.”

“There is nothing I can see,” the girl mused. “But then, I’m just following orders aren’t I?

“You weren’t supposed to be seen? He thought you were a ghost.”

“I feel that way sometimes. Not allowed to contact my former friends. Unable to speak with someone who loved me.”

“You chose this. You asked me, specifically, to let you do this.”

“Did I really have a choice?”

Max was silent for a moment. “You know it’s only going to get harder, yes?”

“I know.”

“Is there anything that’s different? Anything that might help him succeed?”

The pale girl thought for a moment. After a weighty silence, she spoke. “I think you should give him the book.”

“There is no way he’s ready for that. He’s at least a year away, at the least.”

“It isn’t about being ready. He’ll be ready when the time comes. But the book is part of the critical path. Perhaps having it sooner than later will be a boon to him and to us. Only time will tell.”

“That’s funny, coming from you.” Max turned to look out the window. Kel had seen the eye. She was sure of it. That too would have to be explained eventually; In about three months, if all went as Constance had said it would.

“I’m glad you’re amused, Magus. I hope that when this is over, I can experience that luxury.”

Max whirled around, her mind already fishing for a fast retort. She was met with an empty room, her great black dog snoozing by the fireplace, and a great deal of incense smoke still swirling about the bookshelves. The Arbiter of Dark and Light rolled her eyes.

“Teenagers,” she groaned to no one in particular.