His hair singed at the ends, the ribbon long gone, loose strands blowing around his head in the wild winds, a storm cloud gathering overhead, Oz yet again raised a piece of paper. Letters curling like cursive and living vines, five words burned into the paper, all of them burned almost as deeply as the others. Scraps of paper danced around his heels, the burned, ashen remains of others fluttering high around his waist. On some, dead words peeked out, broken and burned, barely understandable as holes where words had been. He took a deep breath and tasted the gathering storm, dust and pollen and gathering ozone.

Linnea crossed her arms, watching. She stood on the brink of the lake, the struggling ball of silk beside her. From a distance, she gave him a thumbs up.

Oz nodded back. Good to go, then.

“Activate!” Pushing a mote of qi into the paper, Oz brought to life his latest attempt at enchantment.

Qi surged. Whipping all around him, it poured into the paper. The paper shriveled, barely holding the spell. All the words burned, all of them brilliant orange-red. Qi circulated from one word to another, swirling in the world around them, the fey magic and the enchantment straining against one another. The fey magic, yearning to be free; and the enchantment, holding it tight to its form.

Fey magic isn’t meant to be contained like this. It inherently rejects form and chains. Enchantment, on the other hand, gives magic form and chains it to an object. And yet, if I mean to accomplish my goals, I must enchant fey magic.

It just means the enchantment must be nearly perfect. I have no room for mistakes.

Oz sighed. Easy.

The spell came alight. Wind wrapped his body. His whole self lightened. His feet lifted off the ground. Oz stiffened, then immediately forced himself to loosen.

The spell’s working? The spell’s working! Light thoughts, light thoughts!

The words glowed. The paper burned, but even as it burned, the qi flowed around Oz, the fey magic lifting him high. He tilted his body and soared, holding the paper before him to direct his flight.

Oz grinned. “It worked!”

Linnea squinted up at him. She lifted her hand to her eyes, struggling to see him.

Oz looked down at Linnea. Gosh, she’s small. And getting smaller. And smaller. And smaller. Jeez. I can barely see her anymore.

Linnea waved. She mouthed something, but Oz couldn’t make out her lips.

Unlike the rest of him, Oz’s stomach sank. Wind continued to rush around him, hurtling him upward. Er. Heavy thoughts…?

The spell flew higher into the sky, mindless of Oz’s thoughts one way or the other. He held on tight, but the paper under his hand blackened. Bits of ash flaked off, the paper burning from the words he’d written outward. Oz looked at the quickly crumbling paper, then down at the ground far below. The world swirled, the earth so far below him that the grass became nothing but an ocean, Linnea swallowed by the golden waves.

Oh, fuck.

The qi around him lurched. The enchantment trembled, losing its hold on the spell. Oz dropped a hundred feet out of the sky before the enchantment caught again. Light seared the blackened paper for a moment, the fey magic carrying Oz, and then it gave out again, plunging him down into the depths.

Oz looked at the paper. A small scrap remained, one little squib of paper clenched in his fist. The paper has one last spurt in it. And the ground…

Grass, as far as the eye could see, except for one stand of tree and a shimmering, silver lake.

Swallowing, Oz pointed his fist at the lake, brandishing the paper. Come on, lake!

One last time, the enchantment took hold of him. He flew almost directly sideways, hurtling toward the lake. The last of the paper crumbled out of his grasp.

With a pop, the enchantment burst. Fey magic coursed wildly around him, bright green qi giving the whole world a lush sheen. More qi than he could control swirled around his body, buffeting him left and right. Great gusts of wind slammed him along with the qi as the fey magic manifested into its raw elemental form.

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Oz dropped. The forest surged at him. Just ahead of him, the lake glimmered, so close, yet so far. The highest branches of the trees scraped by his feet.

It might not be enchanted anymore, but I can still control it a little! Reaching out with his qi, Oz grasped ahold of the green energy and tugged hard. All the qi rushed at once, hurtling through him. He opened his passages and let it pass. It burned, his whole body aching, but for a moment, he controlled the spell himself.

Pushing with all his might, he flew forward, falling below the level of the trees. He crashed through branches, leaves and twigs flying with sharp snaps. Sawdust and sap filled the air. He covered his head and kept pushing, even as the branches grew thicker and slammed harder into him. A little further. The lake. If I can reach the lake—

Out. Into the clear. No more branches. No more trees.

Exhausted, Oz released his hold on the spell. He flew forward, still carried by momentum. He held his breath, barely daring to glance down. Lake. Please lake. Please, lake!

His shoulder struck something soft, and then the rest of him did as well. Soft, stretchy strings wrapped around him, catching him out of the air and binding him between the last tree and the ground. He slowed to a halt, caught well in the delicate webbing.

Linnea ran toward him, carrying the silk orb under one arm, her spider legs picking a delicate path over the short grassy span between trees and lake. She shook her head at Oz. “What were you thinking?”

Oz tried to sit up, only for the sticky strands to pin him in place. He fell back into the web, tired. “The enchantment worked.”

“Did it?” Linnea asked.

“Yep. It burned out a bit at the end, but I handled it.”

“Did you?”

Oz glanced over his shoulder. The lake shimmered, barely a few yards ahead. “I would’ve hit the lake if you hadn’t caught me.”

“Well, go on, then.” Linnea made a gesture, and the stickiness released him.

Circulating his light body technique, Oz dropped gracefully to the ground, bounding a bit to kill the momentum of the drop, as if he had dropped onto the moon. He grinned. “Thank you, Linnea. I appreciate not having to go swimming this morning.”

“Was that your grand plan? Swimming?”

“Well, no. My grand plan was to enchant fey magic into this piece of paper!” Oz brandished his fist at her, only to realize he clutched a bare few scraps of ash and nothing more. Clearing his throat, he released his hand, and the ash rained down. “It was a piece of paper, anyways. Like I said, it combusted halfway.”

Linnea cocked a brow. “And that, that was part of your plan, too?”

“Er, no. Kind of? I knew it could happen, but uh, I wasn’t really prepared… thank you, Linnea. Truly. I really do appreciate it.”

She gave him a slow nod. “All this, what’s it for?”

“I’m going to enchant something much more durable with fey magic—you know that. I wanted to practice a little first,” Oz explained.

“Try not to kill yourself practicing, next time,” Linne grumbled, crossing her arms. She neatly passed the silk bundle to her first set of legs as she did, the whole gesture impressively smooth.

Oz saluted. He dusted off his robes and grinned. “I’m done with the practicing now. I think it’s time to start on the real deal.”

“No.”

“No?”

Linnea shook her head. “You’re exhausted, Oz. You’re barely standing. Go get a good night’s sleep, and try in the morning. Right now, you’re only going to make mistakes.”

Oz waved his hand. “I’m a mage. I can keep going.”

“You haven’t even established your foundation yet. You need to sleep and eat. Take a break.”

Oz opened his mouth, then shut it. He pressed his lips together reluctantly, but lowered his head. He looked at his hands. The right one trembled, qi passages aching internally, the black veins from the poison standing out on the back of his hand and the inside of his wrist. His whole body felt raw and achy, like sunburn, but all over the inside of his body rather than the outside. I can push on. But should I?

I only have a month.

I have a whole month. One day is nothing. Better to rest and cast the spell in my best condition, rather than to push myself now and ruin my one chance at the enchantment.

Oz nodded. “Okay. Alright.”

“Good.” Linnea patted him on the shoulder.

He pointed at the bundle of silk. “You should let the kid go. He’ll need food, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Linnea snapped her fingers.

The silk fell apart, revealing Fflyn. He flailed for another few seconds, then jolted and snapped upright. Wary, he looked from Linnea to Oz, backing away slowly. He reached for his dagger.

“Hey. No need for that,” Oz said, shaking his head disarmingly.

Narrowing his eyes, Fflyn raised the blade.

Linnea gave him a look. “Do you want to go back in the cocoon?”

Fflyn jolted. The blade vanished with a flash of silver. He put his hands behind his back and smiled innocently.

Oz shook his head at Linnea.

“Spare the cocoon and spoil the child,” Linnea muttered.

“Fflyn, hold on. I’ll bring some food in a bit,” Oz promised.

Fflyn gave him a suspicious look. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Well…” Oz sighed. “I do want something, but I’m going to bring you food whether you agree to it or not. We can talk about what I want in the morning.”

“Why?” Fflyn asked, puzzled. “Why are you feeding me? I tried to kill you.”

“Well. I mean, yes. But even if you’re a prisoner, you still get fed,” Oz said evenly.

Fflyn squinted at him. “My Master wouldn’t feed me sometimes when I made mistakes, so why would a prisoner get food?”

Oz took a deep breath. He glanced at Fflyn, then sighed. “You know, I believe in treating people with the bare minimum of care. Basic needs should always be met, regardless of anything else.”

“Won’t you get taken advantage of, believing that?” Fflyn asked.

“Maybe. I want to open the library up to the public, eventually, you know? I want to do a lot of crazy things.”

Fflyn stared at him. “You are insane.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m feeding you, so how upset are you really?”

Fflyn paused. He nodded enthusiastically. “Sir is very sane, indeed. The most sanest in the entire Mages’ Quarter!”

Oz snorted. “That’s more like it.” Giving Linnea a nod, he headed back into the library. Time to make dinner and rest. Tomorrow, I complete the enchantment and begin the plan.