"Thank you!" Astra shouted.

I stopped clapping and looked at the chains adorning her dress in a new light.

That's beautiful and terrifying all in one. I wish I could control chains like that.

"How long did it take you to learn that? Your control is amazing," I gushed.

"Something as intricate as the dance? A few months. I used my skill a lot, so I experimented often. When I first acquired it, my control was way worse." She clapped her hands together and smiled. "Are you ready to try your skill? If it's a projectile, please aim it at the floor."

"Uh, it's a summon? How do I do this? Devon mentioned thinking about it, but I don't know what that means."

Her eyes lit up, and she clapped quickly. "A summon is rare! It's been a few years since someone got one as a skill. And non-skill summoning magic is a tricky ritual that can turn fatal with the smallest mistakes, so good on you. Try to picture using your skill, and the details should enter your mind."

Alright. It's a shadow wolf… like the Reds used. I…

I paused. It didn't occur to me that the thing I'd be summoning would be the exact sort of creature that tore a chunk off my arm. The same creature that broke my ribs and tried to eat me…

No. Stop. It's magic. You get to do magic. Don't let them win. They're dead; they won't take this away from you.

I spent a moment breathing in and out until I felt ready. When I said the skill name in my mind, a series of instructions expanded, and I knew how my skill worked.

As Devon said, I'd know what to do.

I raised my hand. "I'm going to try summoning now."

She nodded and returned to the corner where we placed the table and chairs.

Closing my eyes, I let the mental download of instructions guide my actions. I pictured the pool of energy inside my chest and willed it down my arm. Strange words flashed in my mind, runes that glowed crimson, each glyph turning and twisting into spell lines.

My chest burned, and it felt like fire in my veins cascaded down my limb to the center of my palm, condensing into a pool of lava. The summoning circle in my mind glowed bright, and I pictured a beast armed with fangs and claws rising from the center.

Opening my eyes, I heard a low, drawn-out howl fill the room, and a connection similar to my cloak snapped in place.

I froze as a shadow wolf met my sight. The endless void that made up its form sharpened with different shades of greys and black, mimicking the features of an actual wolf. The shadows continued to refine themselves till even the fur split into fine hairs while its claws became almost obsidian-like as they hit the ground.

"Wulf!"

The creature let out a sound that not only reached my ears but also resonated inside my mind.

Oooh, I don't like that.

It moved closer, and I tried not to move. Its snout came within a few inches while it sniffed the back of my hand. The creature's jaw gaped wide, making me brace for a bite. Instead, it dragged its frigid tongue across my hand, sending shivers down my spine. The sensation was like a cold, wet cloth soaked in ice water caressing my skin. Seemingly pleased, it nuzzled its head into my palm.

Good… wolf? Apparently, shadow monsters can act cute.

I scratched its head and moved my fingers behind his ears. The wolf barked once, causing me to jump. It continued to stare at me with its tail wagging as it sat on its haunches.

"I think it likes me?" I asked.

I expected Astra to say something, but when no reply came, I looked over and saw her gripping the nearest chair. Her claws were out, the black talons on her fingers pushed into its metal frame.

She looked away from the shadow wolf and gave me a strained smile. "Ah, you didn't tell me the skill was for a shadow wolf."

"Oh. Oooh! I'm sorry. I got so caught up in doing magic that I didn't think how you would react. I can, uh, dismiss it? I think?"

She shook her head. "No, don't. It's fine. It's good to treat summons right. If you don't, you'll struggle to use your skill properly."

"Oh..." I looked at the shadow wolf cocking its head, looking adorable. "Is there anything I need to do now?"

"Well, you summoned it. That's pretty good. For now, tell it your name and dismiss it. Creatures summoned through a skill are prevented from dealing you harm directly. So it's safe to give your name, and in doing so, you'll have a higher chance of the same creature answering your call the next time you use your skill."

I knelt and brought my fingers to its nose. It licked it once and pushed its snout into my neck. A smile split my face, and I ran my fingers through its 'fur.' "Thank you for answering my summons. I'm Cain."

"Wulf."

I closed my eyes and pictured the energy inside my chest returning to my center. In my mind, the spell circle rotated in reverse, and the runes inverted.

I locked eyes with the wolf as it melded into the shadows, its black gaze lingering until it vanished into the floor.

With the wolf gone, I finally breathed, my body quivering. Those eyes were unlike anything I'd ever seen.

I rubbed my fingers and checked them with my other hand—dry. Despite its cold tongue, the wolf left no trace of saliva or any other fluid.

"That was weird. Does the mana always feel like that?"

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

"Yes, the cold takes some getting used to, but you hardly notice after a while. Just don't overdo it. Running low on mana sucks, and using it too quickly can leave you numb." Astra rolled her neck and plopped down in a chair. "So, what'd you think? Exciting, huh?"

Cold… yeah, that's not what I felt—more lies to keep up.

"It's not too bad actually. It hurt for a second, but that was it. I'm excited I got to do real magic! That's the best part."

She smiled. "Good! So many Grimms focus on their ability to swing an axe or jump higher and punch harder. Sorcery is where it's at!"

"You say sorcery. Is that not the same thing?"

"Hmm… No, it's not. But that debate is useless to you right now. For now, think of skills as ready-made spells with shortcuts. We Grimms learn incantations and other casting forms to help us on our hunts. However, those are much harder to learn without the system guiding you."

"What do you mean?"

She raised her hand and pointed it at the stone floor. "Observe and try to listen. Ek kalla heiðarloga.”

Her hand glowed brightly, flames erupting from her palm. The fire swirled together and blasted through the air, crashing into stone with a small fwoosh. She lowered her hand as the miniature fireball burst apart and turned into cinders.

That's what Elias used!

Except, that wasn't what he used. His flames were brighter and bigger. The fireballs he shot at the shadow wolves were larger than my fist, not the size of a stress ball.

"That chanting, I keep hearing it, but it sounds funny like it's scratching my ears. What's it called?"

"We call it Wyrdtunge. It's an old language predating the Grimms, so we don't know where it originated. Everyone describes hearing it the same way: a tickling in the ears and a scratching inside the mind. Since a lot of our sorcery is rooted in this language, it's essential for pups to learn the basics."

"Can you teach me?" I couldn't hide the desperation in my voice, but I really wanted to learn how to shoot fireballs.

She tapped her chin. "The language can be pretty difficult. It'll be a challenge."

"Please."

I sound so uncool right now, but I don't care. I need a fireball spell!

"Well, since you said please, it'd be my pleasure."

"Thank you! Do I just repeat the words?"

She laughed and wiped a fake tear from her eye. "Oh, it's much harder than that. You are learning the old way without the system's help. So there's no crutches and shortcuts. You need to picture the correct image, imagine the runes in your mind, and pronounce the spell perfectly, all while guiding your mana."

I tried not to let the requirements dampen my mood. Magic was magic, and learning it would be even better, difficult or not.

"Alright, it's difficult. Where do I start?"

Over the next hour, Astra turned into a strict instructor. First, she had me practice drawing. I learned how to sketch the fire rune and add lines that meant 'creating' and 'heat.' Although the runescript had a basic structure with several nuances, she made me focus exclusively on mastering the fire rune.

"Are you sure I should be skipping over the alphabet?"

She tisked. "I'd prefer you didn't, but we'll have to make do with the time given to you. You can learn the rest when you get back from your hunt. For now, focus on perfecting the rune; you want it perfect, or you'll struggle to form the spell."

Another twenty minutes passed, and all I did was learn to recreate the rune perfectly with every scratch and squiggle appropriately placed.

Magic is a lot more boring than I thought it'd be.

I kept that thought to myself. Astra continued to help me and point out every detail incorrectly drawn while offering tips and tricks to fix the problem. She devoted her effort to helping me learn, and I wouldn't be so rude as to complain.

Once she approved of my rune drawing, we progressed to the incantation. Learning to say the words she wanted me to know took another twenty minutes. The language distracted me with every syllable, and I had to power through the feeling.

"Wait a second. This is a different incantation. What's up with that?"

"So you are paying attention. I was starting to think you wouldn't notice," Astra teased. "It's different because you're learning a different spell."

Why show me one thing and then teach me something else?

"The spell I'm learning is longer. Wouldn't that make it more difficult?"

"Yes, but what you're learning is the proper incantation. What I spoke earlier was a modified, shorthand version. Care to guess why?"

She waited for my answer as she wrote something on a piece of clean vellum. Her black-feathered quill dipped into a bright blue-black inkwell beside her. Since she obviously intended for me to give a serious answer, I tried to think things through.

She keeps emphasizing proper mental imagery and pronunciation. Does that mean the shorthand is something she can do because she's more skilled? That probably means modifying an incantation is difficult and harder to work with.

So, can longer incantation be shortened once I can do the spell faster? Let's go with that.

"I'm learning the longer version because I'm not skilled enough to shorten the incantation."

"Correct!" She finished a long scratch, creating a line of ink at the bottom of whatever she wrote before placing the quill back into the inkwell. "Most Grimms focus on a single spell or two that they favour and learn to shorten it. If you're really good, you don't even need to say the verbal component of the spell. Simply imagine the rune and will your mana and ta-da! Flames."

"Huh."

Other than the effort required to get to that level, that sounded very convenient.

"I think I'm ready. What about the mental image?"

"I'll guide you. Get in whatever position you think is proper and aim at the floor," she instructed.

I closed my eyes and aimed at the ground towards the center of the room. With my arm extended, I relaxed my shoulders and held my palm outward, fingers straight.

"I'm ready."

"Very well. Start with a spark. You need fire, but start small," she whispered into my ear. Her breath tickled the back of my neck, smelling like crisp mint and juniper. "Visualize the flame in your mind. Feel its heat, sense its warmth, and picture the shadows fleeing from its light."

I tried not to squirm, but the hot breath blowing against my skin made it difficult.

Despite the distractions, I did as she asked. I thought of a matchstick, the fire that lit up as the wood burned away. I kept the flame and let the burnt wood fall into the void.

It was a tiny thing, barely a flame--pushing at the void, forever battling its advance. I raised a mental hand to the spark, picturing its tendrils licking my fingertips.

"I have the image in my mind," I whispered back.

"Good. Now, picture the rune inside the flames. Let it burst to life. Sear the lines into your mind."

The spark grew a tad larger. The rune became a new flame inside the spark, one deep red contrasting the yellow, increasing the heat that spread between my fingers while the dark retreated even further.

I didn't wait for the next set of instructions; I did what felt right. I kept the mental image crystal clear as I tried to recall the burning energy moving from my chest and down my arm till it reached my hand.

Something thumped in my chest, and I let the words dance across my tongue. "Heita'k á hyrupp heiðarloga; um mér at orna."

The heat in my chest erupted, pushing my control aside as mana surged. It was like cracking the floodgate—searing hot and unstoppable.

Runes in my mind flickered to life, turning the inner void into a sunlit blaze. I opened my eyes to see flames dancing between my fingers, my skin encased in fiery orange light.

What shot out was no baseball-sized fireball—it was more like a basketball that exploded on impact, sending fire licking up the walls.

Flames grazed my leg, but my cloak did something, and the heat vanished.

My arm throbbed painfully, making me grunt as I clenched my wrist. I turned my hand and saw cracked skin, the center of my palm a bleeding, black mess.

"I don't know what happened, I swear," I said.

Instead of yelling, Astra moved to a small table and pulled open a drawer, rummaging around until she found a finger-sized vial and a stack of cloth.

She gently took my hand and opened the vial before pouring a few drops onto my hand. The bright green sludge tingled, making my muscles twitch before the tingling shifted into a cool, numbing sensation.

"You did nothing wrong," she said as she wrapped the cloth around my hand like bandages. "In fact, you did amazing."

"I don't understand. I nearly set the room on fire."

She finished tying the bandage around my palm and lowered my arm. When I looked up, her eyes were a bright, piercing yellow. "And it was fantastically explosive."