William Becker let his Mind unfurl as he strode though the streets of Harth. His mana pool spun into his signature Spell, constantly fuelling Know Unto Thee, analysing every passing person in the crowd. Although everyone was plagued with the worries of life, the odd speck of joy, love or fun lit up a smile on his face, often by watching children or couples walk on past. Out of the world around him, there were the odd couple of people he couldn't read, unable to penetrate some Mage's Mind Blank or other precaution. They seemed to be decent folk though, not needing to be investigated for being rogue agents or spies.

Amy... William wondered, his thoughts drifting to the woman he had recently said goodbye to. She seemed especially... off. Not by any work of a Mind Blank, just constantly on-guard. I've encountered such a thing before, through those with certain anxiety-related conditions, but it was different this time. Some people are like that though. Always suspicious, always unable to accept help, unsure of when the stick will inevitably come after the carrot. Maybe not that extreme for her case, but along those lines anyway. And the way those villagers viewed her... Almost universal disdain. Didn't get a good chance to look further into it sadly, so I'll just have to rely on the after-report I'll get later.

And to think she didn't even know about split or dual-type Elements... What are they teaching in those government Schools? If I remember correctly from the briefing, Amy had ascended to Apprentice through Spell Tiers too, not Mage Tiers. Does that mean... she doesn't even know about those either? I really need to ask Jones about that. Downright wrong if it's true. The horror stories I sometimes hear about the government Schools only seem to get worse. Not even knowing Mage Tiers. God. A travesty.

"Apprentice Becker?"

"Yes?" William asked, turning to his side. In front of him was a tall man he recognised as one of the senior Mages recruited for the crisis team.

"We shall be leaving you here. I assume you're heading to the Web's department versus the standard?" The man he didn't know the name of said, nodding to the rest of the Mages behind him.

"I will be. It has been a pleasure working with all of you. May your paths ever be clear," William smiled gently, stepping to face them all.

"May your path ever be clear," A few of them echoed back.

"Goodbye, Apprentice Becker," The man in front said, walking off to join the rest and away towards a different area of the city.

The Harth branch of the Weaver's Web was nestled deep in the magical district of the city, Mages openly practising magic in stalls or shows, with a few mundanes gawking and watching it all transpire. The branch itself was inconspicuous, situated between other School branches, and relatively close to the central Mage association building the others had gone off to. All William needed to be granted entry was a simple flash of a magical working, specifically tuned to his signature, showing his allegiance to the Mage watchers in front. Unlike the style of the magic of the Weaver's, the inside of the branch was relatively dull and even mundane, no spider or web themed imagery to be seen. The same can't be said for the actual Schools sadly.

All that was left to be done was to give his after-report to his senior Weaver and go on with his day. And hopefully talk to Mathew about Amy's birds.

* * *

"Finally... It's done."

Amy leant back against the back wall of her bed, sighing in relief. Laid down on the bed sheets was the completed Spellform, laid out in all of it's confusing intricacies. It had taken her almost a full hour and a half to draw it all out, worsened by every time she had to redo a section because of a stupid mistake. It doesn't need to be perfect, it's just a drawing after all, but something feels wrong about leaving anything wrong in. If I'm actually completing something, it might as well be done to the best it can be.

"Still..." Amy whispered to herself, eyes narrowing in contemplation. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Picking up her notepad, Amy walked over to the full-body mirror in the corner of her room, already moved from the bathroom here. Staring deep into the face reflected in it, Amy took every detail of herself in carefully. The way her hair was combed, and how it fell down her shoulders. The exact spacing between her facial features and the proportions of them. The way the skin and pores moved with different expressions. Every minute piece of the picture was memorised, mana sparking in her brain, slightly enhancing her thought capacity.

No delaying.

Focusing deep into her self, into her mana pool, it began to spin. In the middle of the maelstrom of possibility that whirlpool formed, a stage came to being, upon which all that existed played out. It was the stage of the universe. The audience watched on carefully, letting everything play out, reacting accordingly to what was shown. At the centre of all that attention was the dancer. Back when she was a Mageling, and early on in her Apprentice days, the dancer's shape had always been vague, simply a concept useful to Amy's Magecraft. Now, it had detail. Before, when it would shift between the image of a tavern dancer or a ballerina, it was never solid, every changing to suit her needs.

For this, and ever since she stressed her mana pool to its limit during the plague, the dancer's shape was clear. They weren't anyone special. They didn't look trained in any specific style or dance. They didn't even seem to wear the appropriate clothes one could dance in. They were merely yet another dancer, playing out their life's script to its fullest.

That dancer could've been anyone, but for this Spell, for the first one Amy had ever made, its identity was clear. It was the Witch.

Torrents of mana swam down from the heavens above the stage, forming storm clouds of ephemeral potential, a primordial chaos through which anything could be made manifest. Today, its potential wasn't restricted to only one possibility. Rather, it was three.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Something she had decided on long before the final version of the Spell, Amy began with the hardest Element to attune to. While I'm more likely to mess up with Unknowable than Fae or Illusion, it not only means less variables of danger if the Spell fails and backfires, but I can't predict how Illusion and Fae will interfere and I'd rather risk that on the last step. Felin warned me about their relationship and even if this could be the wrong path, I should still heed his advice... even if that's a bit hypocritical of me. He said not to cast anything Unknowable or Fae based just in case, and here I am doing just that. Something to apologise for later; if it even comes to that anyway.

Shadow fell like dropping curtains, veiling the true play from the audience's view. The stage was hidden from interference, the true happening of the play behind made unknown. Only, it was deeper than being simply unknown. All that existed behind the curtain was concealed, the biases and preconceptions of the audience unable to penetrate its protections. Without anyone to enforce the rules of reality and constrain the untamed, space and time lost their meaning, mana transforming it from a mere stage play into something beyond.

Crawling along the edges of her mana pool, it became visible. Unknowable.

And no Time, Amy grinned. Good. It seems my adjustment of the visualisation worked. Next, the actual core of the Spell.

Weeks ago Felin had pointed out something about Amy's Magecraft that had slipped her mind until her first experience with an Apprentice's mind enhancement. With her absurd affinity towards Fae, there was no doubt an aspect of the Element deeply intertwined with her Magecraft that no amount of changing her visualisation could prevent. It was no surprise then that when she called upon the familiar depths of that Element from the storm of mana, no other framing device in her Magecraft was needed. The mana simply arrived already attuned, infused by the background of the stage, the play and the dancer.

Cloaking the curtains in verdant green, the Fae enveloped the entire stage, even sneaking into the audience somewhat, influencing them into believing the reality - the play - she presented. Unlike what she had expected, she didn't even detect a further strain on her mind, what she'd expect from adding another Element into the mix, like with Light and Fire into Coruscation. My affinity coming into effect perhaps?

Finally, it was time for the step that could make or break everything she made so far.

The setting of Unknowable framing her thoughts, making the stage blurrier and indistinct, Fae painted a new picture, a new play, over the stage that had already been set. It acted as the passage between the true play behind the curtain and what was presented to the audience, the fake. In a sense, it was a heist of sorts. An act of deceit, swindling away the truth of reality and replacing it with Amy's own, concealing the theft so perfectly that the audience didn't even notice a thing. It was an act of true Illusion.

Completing the picture, monochrome Illusion filtered down from the storms, their potential now diminished and expended. The chaos had been wrung dry, and even if Amy wanted to, she doubted she could fit in more Elements into the Magecraft at her current Tier. It presented in front of the Unknowable screen, supported by ropes and tendrils of Fae, showing the fake play off to the world in true Illusory fashion.

It was done.

Pulling away from her trance, Amy saw her Magecraft in full. Taking precedence over the background of sickly-purple and grey Unknowable, green and monochrome Fae and Illusion danced about in front of it, seeping in at the edges and yet not ever truly mixing. Her whirlpool of coalesced mana had been well and truly transformed. It only took a thought for it to swim out of her, holding together well, as her Spellcraft began. Alongside it came her own innate mana, cradling the attuned in its embrace and guiding it towards the swiftly forming Spellform in the air.

Mana met mana in a flawless orchestra of contrasting Elements and Concepts. In a flash, the Spellform practically completed itself.

Drawn forth from her subconscious, Monstrous Visage took form, overlaying a weave of falsehood over Amy's face, her reflection becoming blurry. Only, it didn't stop at just her face. The wave of mana continued, transforming the entirety of her upper body to Amy's desires. And just as quickly, it cleared up again, revealing beauty itself.

Silky straight hair cascaded down from the Witch's head in a waterfall of glossy black, somehow glinting and shining in the absence of light from the curtained window. The Witch's face was perfected in every way, her skin smooth and pale as porcelain as if she was a doll came alive. A bit too pale even; as if she wasn't even alive. Her meagre predecessor's triumphant grin had been transformed into a sinister smirk of something evil, as if revelling in a horror she had committed. The Witch's most striking features were her eyes however. They were an intense purple, the colour of flawless amethyst with the deepness of dark blue sapphire, and shone like cut diamonds.

The Witch was ultimate perfection. Mesmerising, enchanting perfection.

The Witch took in her reflection and sank deeper into herself, growing more and more enamoured with her face and the beauty it held. Strange, flawed and somehow foreign hands came up to caress the Witch's face in fascination, cupping her exactly proportioned cheeks in a way that framed her beauty even more immaculately.

The Witch stared. The Witch grew more enchanted. The Witch's face grew greater in perfection. And the cycle repeated. On and on and on, spiralling into absurdity.

Because that was what it was becoming. Absurd. The Witch herself didn't even notice it. Her beauty and perfection became twisted, chasing the impossible more and more, until it went beyond mortal standards and into what could only be described as horrific.

Time became meaningless as the Witch sank deeper into her trance. She only began to gain some glimpse of sanity once more when her mana felt... wrung. As if her pool had begun to dry up. It was jarring enough that she regained something sensible of her true self once more. It was that glimmer of the real Amy that realised what was happening. The Witch was leaned up fully against the mirror, steamy and wet with heavy breathing and drool. The face reflected was distorted beyond recognition, hardly able to be called even hideous with its horror. And yet, the Witch's face was still perfect. Only that couldn't be denied.

Leaping away from herself in fright, Amy's concentration, or rather, enchantment snapped and with it the Spell unravelled. Attuned mana deaspected back to Pure, returning to the Mana Ocean once more, and returning the stolen truth back to the world.

Hidden behind the mess her face had left on the mirror was Amy Wachlund once more. And... in the face of all that she had seen, she could only see herself as one thing.

Not ugly. Although she thought it narcissistic, she herself couldn't deny that she was somewhat attractive.

Not beautiful. Even if she didn't look bad, she was never the star of anything, always outshone by her friends.

Amy Wachlund was imperfect.

She knew she wasn't anywhere near 'perfect'. Amy didn't believe that for even a second, no matter what delusion she had experienced. She knew that she was broken, and only beginning her journey to piecing herself back together. Still, when confronted with that undeniable fact, that she indeed wasn't fixed by whatever Felin had done or said, or what satisfaction or retribution she gained from leaving the village behind, she broke just a little further. Just a little further away from the perfection she had promised herself with that Spell, and a little closer to her true self.

Regret settling deep in her heart, Amy scowled, looking down at her flawed hands, familiar again.

"...I shouldn't have made this Spell so well."