The Grand Mage’s robes swished behind him as he strode across the main hall of the guild and entered a smaller room on its opposite side. Saffie hurried to catch up, and found him standing in front of a pedestal that housed a gigantic open book. Though the book was most likely just an Overworld illusion, it looked as though it had been sat in the guild for centuries, gathering dust and laden with history.

“This, Saffie, is the Overworld Great Spellbook,” Keith said proudly. “Unlike your personal spellbook, which will only show you spells that you have the correct experience to perform, this lists every known spell in the game.”

“Whoa,” was all Saffie could say.

“Have a flick through,” Keith offered. “I think you’ll find it most interesting.”

Saffie heaved open the heavy cover and the sound of a deep choir seemed to reverberate through the walls of the chamber. Each turn took a full arc of movement from her arm, and each page was brimming with magic. Vines sprouted from the Earth section, feeling at her hands and wrapping themselves around her fingers until she yanked them away, the corners of the Fire section glowed bright as they burned, leaving tiny orange embers drifting into the cavernous room, and Saffie had trouble getting past the Storm section as the pages began whipping violently in wind and spraying her with water.

“Turn to Sleep magic,” said Keith, and the pages flipped to a section that was filled with fluffy clouds and dreamy lettering.

Saffie scanned every spell (which there were a lot more of than she had expected) but there was nothing that resembled Ultra Sleep.

“It doesn’t exist…” she said softly, staring at the pages in bemusement.

“As I thought,” said Keith. “A spell vicious enough to send someone into a coma is probably not even classed as a sleeping spell. Would you care to step back for a moment? It’s best not to be too close when I do what I’m about to do next.”

Saffie followed Keith’s instructions, frowning.

“Turn to Dark magic,” Keith commanded.

The pages fanned until they were close to the back of the book, slowing on a section that made the hairs on Saffie’s arms stand on end. The spell listings in this section were being caressed by sinister wisps of smoke, and they were surrounded by dark ink stains that shimmered purple whenever Saffie moved her eyes.

She surveyed the list, looking for ‘Ultra Sleep’ amidst other spells such as Cryptic’s Curse, Grave Exile, Morbid Mannerism, and Entomb, but it wasn’t there.

“Are you certain the first word you heard was ‘Ultra?’” said Keith, raising a finger.

“I think it wa-” Saffie started, until her eyes fixated on the spell that Keith was pointing at.

Vulture’s Weep

Rips a target’s consciousness from them, sending them into a deep, troubled sleep.

“That’s it,” she said, realising she could have easily misheard the name of the spell in the whisper. “It has to be.”

“Vulture’s Weep is a very grim spell, Saffie,” the Grand Mage said, furrowing his brow. “The person who cast this on your uncle wanted him unconscious and they wanted to make sure he stayed unconscious for a very long time.”

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Saffie still couldn’t shake the gut feeling that it had been the girl who’d attacked her from the rafters, but since Keith didn’t seem to believe she was even a real player, Saffie decided to keep her mouth shut.

“The good news,” Keith said, lightening his tone, “is that there’s the counterspell.” He placed the head of his staff on a section of text that read:

Unburdened Mind

Reverses the effects of:

Smoke Your Name, Kerfuddle, and Vulture’s Weep.

Saffie was flooded with relief. All she had to do was cast this on Dax and he’d be awake in no time.

“The bad news…” Keith continued. He traced the staff downwards until it landed on a box that read:

Requirements

A personal connection to the target, and an extraordinary proficiency in both General and Mind magic.

Saffie had the personal connection, but she had barely cast a few fire spells.

“When it says ‘an extraordinary proficiency,’” she started, but Keith shook his head gently.

“I’m afraid I cannot give you specific numbers if that’s what you’re hoping for. You see, Overworld doesn’t quantify experience like other games. It takes a more… organic approach. At least as far as what us players are privy to. Simply put, when the game deems you ready to perform it, this spell will appear in your personal spellbook.”

Saffie’s relief evaporated. She had no idea how long it would take for the game to consider her to be extraordinarily proficient at anything.

“Don’t worry, you’re in the right place,” Keith reassured her. “The guild can provide you with errands that specifically target experience in both General and Mind magic. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll get you assigned to one.”

“I need to start now,” Saffie said, but the Grand Mage chuckled.

“Steady now, Saffie. If you go into battle untrained, you’ll be eliminated within the hour, I can guarantee it. I’ve seen it happen way too often with eager newbies. There are creatures out there who are far worse, a lot more powerful, and with a much more cunning AI than that growlem you faced in Kensington Gardens.”

Every fibre of Saffie’s being wanted to tell Keith that she was ready, but she knew he was right. In a game like Overworld, where a player is blocked from rejoining if eliminated, she couldn’t take that risk. She had just one chance of saving Dax.

“You didn’t happen to know my uncle, did you?” Saffie asked the Grand Mage, clutching onto a sliver of hope that he might have the personal connection himself, and be able to perform the counterspell for her. “His name is Dax Farrow, and he isn’t just my uncle. He’s my best friend. My… only friend.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name,” Keith said sadly. “Although I wish I did. He sounds like a good man.”

“He is,” Saffie said, feeling a lump form in her throat.

“He may have been a member of one of the other guilds,” Keith pondered, “but I think it would be unlikely anyone with a personal connection to him outside of the Mage’s Guild would have the magical requirements.”

Saffie knew Keith was right. It was down to her, and her alone, to wake Dax up.

“What you need, Saffie,” said Keith, “is some formal training. And I have the perfect partner for you. I will arrange for your training to begin first thing tomorrow morning.”

That evening, after giving her parents an elaborate account of the day she’d spent with Beatrix Hawthorne, Saffie went up to her bedroom filled with adrenaline. She was raring to begin her training at the guild, and she could barely think of anything else, but she knew she had to at least try to get some sleep, even if it didn’t end up happening.

At around 11:30pm she tucked herself into bed, turned off her bedside lamp, and closed her eyes, but they immediately darted open again when she heard a sound.

Tap, tap, tap.

She glanced around the room.

Acorn was curled up in a ball at the bottom of her duvet, already fast asleep, so it couldn’t have been him. Sometimes Oakley’s branches hit the window in the wind. Maybe it had been that.

She told herself to forget about it, but the sound came again.

Tap, tap, tap.

This time it woke Acorn. His head shot up and he looked rapidly from side to side until his eyes locked on the window and his fur bristled like a porcupine’s needles. Then he suddenly chirruped excitedly and pounced off the bed.

Saffie whipped the quilt off her and spun to face the window.

There, perched on her windowsill was the boy from the park - Nate, with his panion Talia sitting on his shoulder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Saffie muttered under her breath.

Nate gave a meek wave.

Saffie got out of bed, crept over to the window, gripped the base of the glass and slid it up.

“What are you doing here?!” she hissed.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“No! If my mum finds a… boy in my room she’ll go absolutely mental!”

Nate leaned closer to Saffie with a serious expression on his face and said:

“It’s about the Oracle.”