Gideon knocked on the door to Lady Ondine’s lab, and it swung open as if by its own accord. “Enter,” the ghost called out to him.

Three metal laboratory benches had been pushed together in the center of the cavernous, dimly lit room. Atop them sat a pile of spider corpses in various states of deconstruction. A few had been dragged to the side and attached to arcane devices and tubing from which different liquids dripped into glass bottles.

Stacked in the corner of the room, sealed crates sat waiting for delivery down the mountain. As Gideon glanced over them, he saw each one was labeled—blood, venom, bile, and others too far away for him to read. On each crate were some runes he didn’t quite recognize, but they reminded him of the timebox in the kitchen. He thought they must help preserve the contents. Uncle Kelvan, most likely, had inscribed them.

“I was going to train with Uncle like I usually do,” Gideon said, tearing his gaze away. There was an odd smell in the air, but he wasn’t sure where exactly it came from. “But he said you’d asked to see me.”

Ondine nodded and floated over to him. “I thought it would be a good time for a check-up.” Her eyes glanced down towards his hand. “To make sure everything is still … within acceptable bounds. Please, have a seat?”

A chipped wooden chair slid towards him, scraping across the stone floor. As the chair got closer, Gideon lifted it to stop the noise, then turned it around and sat down.

“May I see?” she asked. “I must warn you, it will feel cold.”

“That’s fine,” he said. She reached out, her ghostly fingers passing through his palm. For a moment, it felt like his hand had entered a dense fog that drew all the warmth from his bones. He shivered.

“As I suspected,” Ondine said. “The Moonstone shard has been entirely absorbed. I extracted as much as I could when I stitched you up, but there were many small fragments I couldn’t remove. They’re all gone now.”

Gideon looked down at his palm. It felt numb, and he rubbed some feeling back into it with his other hand. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes, though it was only a small amount,” Ondine said reassuringly. “Have you had any strange dreams?”

Gideon shook his head. “I can’t remember having any dreams at all for the past few days.”

Ondine frowned for a brief moment before she forced a smile. “I’m sure that’s fine, then.”

Gideon looked around the lab, his eyes scanning the shelves stacked with books and substances, including some large beakers filled with preserved organs—hearts, livers, and eyes from various creatures.

With a start, he realized there was something he’d forgotten. Something important. He had been having dreams, hadn’t he?

Her voice pulled him from his reverie. “Any irrational thoughts?”

Gideon blinked his eyes and thought about it for a moment. What, exactly, qualified? “I have three more days to save a plant from dying, and I’m the manager of a hotel with no guests. My whole life is irrational.”

Ondine smiled. “Fair enough, Gideon. You haven’t felt anything strange in your hand when you’ve cast spells? No sudden surges of mana?”

“No,” Gideon said, flexing his fingers. “Should I have?”

“It’s good you haven’t. How to explain it?” Ondine floated over to one of the spider corpses and swapped a full bottle for an empty one before it could overfill. “You are connected to the Moonstone now. I don’t understand the exact mechanism of the link, but in my experiments, I observed that mana could be exchanged between a Moon-Touched subject and the Moonstone itself.”

“I have grown tired of those low mana warnings,” Gideon said.

“You shouldn’t joke,” Ondine replied, looking stern. “It is impossible to wield such a power without being changed by it. You saw what happened to the spiders.”

“Is that why the rats want it?” He shuddered.

“I don’t think so. If they did, they would go to the source, not scrounge for pieces.” For a moment, Gideon was excited—perhaps Ondine would finally tell him something about the rats and their origins. But his hopes were dashed when she frowned and changed the topic. “In any event, you shouldn’t risk it until you are at a higher level. The stronger your reserves of mana, the less of a chance you’ll be overwhelmed by the energy of the Moonstone.”

Gideon nodded. “So even if I knew how—which I don’t—I probably shouldn’t invite the Moonstone in for tea.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Ondine said as she floated slowly backward. “You can go see your Uncle now. I don’t want to keep you from your training. Or from Chloe. Have you made any progress?”

“Not yet,” Gideon said, sighing. “But while we were talking, I started to remember. I did have a dream. I think I’ve been having the same dream. I don’t remember the details. Not exactly. I was running through the castle, I think. There was something urgent.”

“Hmm.” Ondine drifted to one side, her face pensive. “Lady Harmony was convinced the Moonstone had some capacity for divination. Or perhaps a better word might be prophecy.”

“So I dreamed of the future?”

“That remains to be seen,” she said and smiled. “It was never proven, and the future is always uncertain. What you saw, perhaps, was not a premonition but simply a warning.”

A silence hung in the air. As Gideon looked through her, he thought there was something else she had left unsaid. It seemed impossible to ever get the full story from her.

“Or perhaps nothing at all,” Ondine added.

“I suppose I’ll find out,” Gideon said, rising from his chair. He waved at her and headed for the door but paused momentarily on the threshold. An image entered his mind, a fragment of the dream he had almost forgotten.

A flash of light. A tremor in the earth.

Shaking his head, he continued walking.

----------------------------------------

On the way to training with his Uncle, he ran into yet another rat. He almost stepped on the creature as he turned a corner towards the great hall. For a moment, both man and rodent froze in their tracks.

The rat’s red eyes gleamed. Their teeth held a morsel of bread. Gideon realized they must have stolen it from the kitchen pantry.

If Grimsby learned that, he’d no doubt be very upset. Call them a criminal or some such.

Indeed, Gideon made a note to check the locks, but for the moment, he was far more interested in other things. He raised his hand awkwardly in greeting. “Good morning,” he said.

The rat widened its eyes and stood up on its back legs. After a moment, it lifted an open paw in return. It bowed its head, then turned and scampered away.

“Wait a moment,” Gideon called after the rat. “I just want to talk!” Ignoring his words, it turned a corner and disappeared.

It understood me, he thought. There was no mistaking it.

Gideon passed through the great hall, descended the steps to his Uncle’s lab, then entered the open vault door that led down to the meditation chamber.

Though defeating his mirror image had taken on almost a superficial feeling, Gideon still relished it.

As he entered, he saw his Uncle’s mirror floating in the chamber, staring down at where Gideon had tunneled from below when fighting the broodmother.

He’d sealed the passage with [Shape Earth] the previous day, so the room was once again separated from the caves beneath the castle.

“Hello, Nephew,” Kelvan said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “The floor is still a little uneven here. It’s a tripping hazard, you know.”

“I can go over it again,” Gideon offered.

“No, not at the moment,” Kelvan said, turning around to face him. “That would only be a distraction from your training. In any event—shall we?” He gestured towards the large mirror sitting in the corner.

Kelvan flew into it, passing through its surface like a waterfall.

Gideon jumped in after him. The sensation of vertigo as he entered the mirror world was familiar to him now. He found his footing quickly on the small entry platform overlooking the arena.

Across a field of rugged earth, a copy of himself stood waiting. Each side of the arena was a gleaming, mirror-like wall that extended upward into darkness.

Gideon took a deep breath and gripped his staff in both hands. “Before we get started, Uncle,” Gideon said carefully, “I think one of the rats waved at me.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Like I said,” Kelvan replied sternly. “Don’t get distracted.”

“The Moonstone has affected them, hasn’t it? Almost like…” The spiders, but not homicidal, he thought but didn’t say.

“Good luck, Nephew,” Kelvan said, sounding too gleeful for an average sparring session. His Uncle had tweaked something in here, hadn’t he?

Gideon nodded, trying to put the rats out of his mind as he stepped forward, stepping off the platform and using [Shape Earth] to make a ramp down to the arena.

As soon as Gideon entered, his mirror image smiled, leaping forward. It hit the ground running and charged towards him.

Gideon fired a [Hail of Stone] layered with [Enhancement], then followed up with a [Quake]. But even as he quickly cast his spells, not wasting a moment, part of him couldn’t help but feel a sense of alarm.

This was new. His mirror image had never charged him with this kind of instant aggression before.

The copy used [Entomb] around itself to create a shield against Gideon’s spells, then cast a [Quake] back towards him.

He jumped up, using [Entomb] under his feet to make a safe layer of earth unaffected by the [Quake], then launched another [Hail of Stone] back at his opponent.

The reflection grinned at him, and Gideon’s eyes widened. That was new, too. The copy had never been expressive before. As Gideon’s spell shot towards it, it used [Quake] to launch itself upward, avoiding Gideon’s attack entirely.

That’s my move! Gideon thought. The mirror image had never done that before, but Kelvan must have taught it how.

But what happened next was even more surprising. The copy used [Entomb] to make a stone platform underneath it, then [Shape Earth] to create a ramp like Gideon had done when entering the arena.

The reflection was closing in—and fast.

Gideon launched more volleys, but the reflection deflected them with stone shields or avoided them by changing direction, surfing along the ground with [Shape Earth].

The reflection seemed intent on closing the distance, but Gideon didn’t understand why. They knew the same spells, and none required close range.

As the reflection approached, Gideon cast his own [Entomb], layering it with [Enhancement], forming a hardened shell of rock to protect himself as the copy slammed into him.

The [Entomb] cracked open, and they both went flying, Gideon tumbling backward before using [Shape Earth] to form a platform to catch himself.

He raised his staff, preparing to cast [Hail of Stone] in melee range.

His copy stepped forward, forming a stone shell around its torso, which soon spread down its arms. For a moment, Gideon was shocked, not understanding what he saw.

He didn’t know a spell that could do that.

He didn’t even know what spell that was.

His copy punched him in the stomach with a stone fist, and Gideon felt a sickening crunch in his chest, pain exploding through his body. The blow sent him crashing into the edge of the arena.

The gleaming wall shattered, and Gideon fell into darkness, only to land on the floor of his Uncle’s meditation chamber, head still spinning.

Gideon gasped for air. His staff had been knocked from his hand, clattering to the floor beside him. Slowly, he lifted himself into a sitting position, feeling the place where his reflection had punched him. There didn’t seem to be any permanent damage.

“Don’t worry, it’s all an illusion,” Kelvan said from behind him, and Gideon turned around, looking up into his Uncle’s burning red eyes. “It would be poor training if it wounded you in reality.”

“It felt like my ribs were broken,” Gideon said as he grabbed his staff and slowly climbed to his feet. Then he pointed at Kelvan’s smug grin, feeling his annoyance build. “That wasn’t fair!”

“What wasn’t? Don’t tell me you wanted to keep going?”

“I could have,” Gideon said, squeezing his hand into a fist. “I’ve kept going through worse before.”

Kelvan smiled through his beard. “I don’t doubt that. But it’s part of the constraints of the spell that being ejected from the arena immediately dispels the illusion. Ring out.”

“Just like a real wizarding duel,” Gideon said. When he’d been younger, his father had taken him to a few matches. Shortly afterward, he’d stolen the book on geomancy and encouraged Gideon to pursue it. Though Gideon had shown a love for magic, he hadn’t shown the slightest talent in professional dueling or dungeoneering.

Much to his father’s disappointment.

“What crazy spell was that?” Gideon asked. “My reflection turned into stone, Uncle. I can’t do that. I thought it was supposed to have the same abilities as me.”

“I got quite bored of watching you win all the time,” Kelvan said. “Rather than making your reflection an exact copy, I thought it would be more useful as a practice partner if I made it something more aspirational.”

“Aspirational?” Gideon sighed. He had a sinking suspicion he knew precisely what his Uncle meant. “You're saying that’s what I could do if I got better at vitamancy. It’s impossible to bind earth mana to my own body—”

“Not without petrifying yourself, no, probably not,” Kelvan said, grinning. He stroked his beard and made a curious noise as if he was considering whether petrifying oneself was viable. But then he shook his head. “A bad idea, certainly.”

“But if I could channel life mana, I could bind the life mana to myself, then somehow fuse the life mana with the earth mana, then form it into that stonefist thing.”

“You could,” Kelvan said. “It’s the kind of application of your Spiritweft that could be quite useful once you have sufficient skill ranks in a second school of magic. The more spells you know, the better Spiritweft becomes.”

“I don’t suppose this particular spell is covered in Aunt Harmony’s book,” Gideon said, raising an eyebrow.

Kelvan laughed. “Clever. No, your Aunt had only a passing interest in punching people. This was a spell I developed myself back when I was alive. I knew both vitamancy and geomancy, too, after all.”

“I heard,” Gideon said, remembering what Sir Clonk and Grimsby had told him the other day. “You really mastered four schools of magic?”

“Yes,” Kelvan said and began to float back up the tunnel, out of the vault. Gideon followed him, carrying his staff over his shoulder. “But I don’t like to brag.”

I doubt that very much, Gideon thought. “And your other two were probably necromancy and…”

“Well, that one is obvious, but yes.”

“Gravimancy?”

“Also obvious, I suppose, on account of all my floating about. And do you know which school I was in the process of learning?”

Gideon tried to think what kind of magic might appeal to his Uncle. “I don’t know. Pyromancy?”

“You might think so, wouldn’t you?” Kelvan said, without elaborating. They emerged into Kelvan’s lab, and the giant metal vault door swung closed behind them. The circle of runes glowed, then began to hum as the mechanism locked.

As Gideon looked around the lab, the differences between it and Ondine’s were apparent. Kelvan’s held all manner of strange artifacts, scrolls of runes, and blackboards covered in scribbled notes too messy for Gideon to read.

And it was not currently filled with a pile of spider corpses.

“I still don’t think it was fair,” Gideon said, reviewing the fight in his mind. “What could I possibly have done against that?”

Uncle Kelvan stroked his beard as if thinking it over. “A few things, now that you know what to expect. In any event, I warned you your reflection would grow more dangerous over time. Don’t be upset that you’ve lost, Nephew. It would hardly be an effective training partner if it never beat you. Suffer now, in practice, or suffer later, in reality. Which would you prefer?”

“Point taken,” Gideon said, nodding. “I just felt a little…” He sighed. “I suppose my real problem is that I still haven’t cracked vitamancy, but at least I had this locked down. Now my mirror image is turning into rock—”

“The spell is called Stoneform, by the way.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “It’s frustrating.”

Uncle Kelvan gazed down from where his mirror floated, looking almost sad. Though at times Gideon didn’t appreciate his Uncle’s arrogance, he realized he liked his pity even less. “Remember that plateaus in wizardry are natural, even expected. Growth is neither constant nor steady. My own certainly never was.”

“Really?” Gideon asked.

“Lady Harmony eclipsed me easily when we were both students at Ebonreach. I never would have made it half so far without her. And, like you, I also struggled with vitamancy. It was frustrating after necromancy, my first school, had come so naturally to me.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Gideon said. “No offense.”

Kelvan chuckled, and Gideon was glad to see his pity gone. It made Gideon feel a little better. “Just like you. Each of us has a natural aptitude for some schools over others. Like how geomancy was a good choice for your first school, Nephew. You are rigid, unyielding, and impervious to insight and common sense, much like a rock.”

“Uh, hey, I have common sense!”

“Sure, Nephew. Of course.” He waved his hands in the air, then the mirror swooped backward, and he fixed Gideon with his glowing red eyes. “In any event, it took me months to learn to channel life mana.”

“Then why did you give me only a week?” Gideon cried.

“Do I want my student to be my equal?” Kelvan asked, shaking his head. “I intend for you to eclipse me, boy. You will never get there if I allow you to rest on your laurels.”

“But if I fail,” Gideon said, “Chloe will…” Though Chloe was only a plant, and its predicament was entirely his Uncle’s fault, Gideon still felt a strange sense of responsibility to the aether lilium.

Kelvan shrugged his shoulders. “Then don't fail.”

Gideon clenched his teeth. “I’d better get back to work, then,” he said.

His Uncle nodded appreciatively, smirking as Gideon marched upstairs.

----------------------------------------

Gideon spent the rest of the day in his room, meditating. Grimsby was kind enough to bring him an early supper.

Later in the evening, his communicator rang with a call from Aurora, asking him when he’d be free to head down to Emberly and help them with their pest problem.

I can’t even handle the pests in our own castle, he wanted to tell her, but didn’t. He promised to come down and help in a few days.

By then, one way or another, his dilemma with Chloe would be resolved. He’d stopped practicing with the aether lilium between his hands. Doing so felt overly optimistic by this point. It kept risking that he’d accidentally release some of the wrong mana into the plant.

As he delved deeper into his meditations, his mind felt on the verge of breaking, pulled between his Aunt’s joy and his own guilt and regrets. He felt the energy flowing through him, his fingers trembling as he concentrated on weaving the chaotic, disparate strands of his raw mana into a cohesive form.

Life. He imagined the blight that infected Chloe fading away, destroyed by its opposite. He saw himself as a young child, looking up at his mother as she watered some plants in the garden behind their house, in the years before they’d moved to Prospera. She’d always had a green thumb, but he hadn’t inherited it.

With a sigh, Gideon shook his head and opened his eyes. Walking over to where Chloe sat on the shelf, he pressed his finger against the soil.

Noticing it was dry, he poured water from a can in the corner of the room.

As he returned to his bed, he heard a scratching noise by the door and watched as something slid under the doorway.

“What in the hells,” he muttered, trying to decide if Grimsby or Sir Clonk were playing a game, or if perhaps Ondine had finally decided to come clean with what was on her mind.

As he approached the door, he bent down and saw it was a tiny note card. His eyes widened as he picked it up. He opened the door and ran into the hallway, only to find it empty.

From somewhere far off, he heard the faint sound of paws scampering on stone.

Looking down at the cream-colored card, small enough it might fit into the hands of a large rodent, he began to think he had gone mad.

Moon-Touched Support Group

When: Midnight Tonight

Where: West Wing Undercroft

(Follow the Crumbs)

Food Bank Donations Appreciated!

The invitation was typewritten in neat black letters. But on its opposite side, written in a scrawl, was another message. This one, it appeared, was specifically for him.

“I heard you wished to speak,” he read under his breath. “Come alone, please. Miss Ashewood will undoubtedly follow you, but try to be discreet. My friends aren’t too fond of her. - R.”

Gideon glanced at the clock by his bed. He still had a few hours.

Finally, a chance to get some answers.