As I wait for the headache to fade, I examine the area around the house; in the path of the scraping he had heard earlier in the day. Along the ground, all around the house, were heavy hoof prints: about as large as two of my hands. On the shutters of the window were deep parallel gouges as if carved out by a buck knife. Similar marks mar the front and back doors. I didn’t know what made it, though I had my suspicions, and I didn’t want to prove my assumptions right.

I flip the wand in my hand, point it forward, and begin to draw the upright triangle.

“I allow the blood of the Salamanders to flow through me.”

I close my eyes to focus on the mana while I incant. A hot wind rushes through my nostrils and settles in my lungs. The burning wind flows circles around my heart and flows through my arm, and out of the wand into the ash wave that poured onto the grass. What can I do with this information? I have an idea.

I cast ember again and begin the arduous procedure of redirecting the mana toward my mouth. This was a good idea. Little by little I redirect the flow. I notice something else — the longer the hot mana stayed within me, the hotter it grew. Finally, after hitting roadblock after roadblock — headache after headache, I find the path of the mana from my lungs to my mouth.

Hot ash pours through my throat, over my tongue, and out of my mouth. I feel the insides of my throat burn and melt as I spit mouthfuls of red-hot ash. Hot blood and melted meat flow out with it. A pained yell catches in my ruined throat, and I fight the urge to fall and slip into unconsciousness as soon as the ash is completely out. I have never felt such pain. Even when the Ratman mage had me on the floor, and was plunging that curved dagger into my back over and over again cannot compare to this. My throat begins to close as the melted flesh begins to meld and fuse with itself. The ribbed cartridge on the top of my mouth lays exposed to the hot air circulating within the inner chamber, and my lips feel as if they had been ripped asunder.

“Ty te yight od aweh,” I manage to speak through my ruined throat and scorched tongue; each syllable ripping the skin in my throat all the more “dod of dods n ting of tings.”

I weakly tap my head and gut. The mana flows down my head, and I first redirect it to my ruined throat. Breathing was becoming labored. The pain lessens and breathing becomes easier.

“By duh ight of yuhwuh,” My tongue still burning and melded to the bottom of my mouth, “Guh eh Guh en ting of tings.”

I tap my head with the wand and redirect it, instead, to my entire head. Letting it settle in both my mouth and my throat.

“By tah light uh yahleh, Guhd uh Guds an king uh kings.”

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I repeat the pattern of letting the warmth settle in my mouth.

“Wha the thuck wah that?” I ask the Shard.

You have gained the Salamander’s Breath spell. +1 magic. The text scrolled across as if to mock me.

“Why did ih nearly kill me?”

“What made you think it wouldn’t? Can you swallow burning ash? That’s why mages and warlocks have traditionally used a medium — a wand, a staff, a pendulum, and the like.”

I cast lesser heal on myself again now that the headache faded, and the burns section of the top of my mouth tingle as they seal.

“Thuck.”

“You’ll be able to use the spell, and similar spells, if you form a contract with a Salamander, however.”

“Haw tho I tho that?”

I cast lesser heal again. Strands of flesh stuck to the inside of my mouth that had once been part of my tongue melt into a warm liquid that sinks into my tongue. The torn portions begin to heal; though the soreness remains. Another throbbing headache.

“Make a fire with one of your spells, and keep it going for a week. Once you accomplish that, use the Familiar’s Contract on the flames.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

I’m onto your sarcastic games, Shard.

“Make sure to bring along a Vessel.”

“A vessel?”

“Something to hold the Salamander in — could be a ring, could be a bracelet. A piece of clothing, the ink in a tattoo. Anything.”

“I’ll do that when I’m out of here, then. Can the fire be held in anything?”

“A fire is a fire.”

I’ll buy a lamp or something. So I could keep it with me while out. I lower my wrist and cast lesser heal again once. The light began to dim in the everfog sky. I get back to practicing; there was something else I wanted to try to do. I raise the wand and take a deep breath.

“I allow the breath of the Salamander to flow through me.”

Mana enters through my nostrils as hot as boiling water. Immediately it tries to flow into my throat, but I redirect it towards my arm, I hold it in my lungs, however, and allow the mana to spin and spin and grow hotter. Once it is as hot as fire, I redirect it toward my arm. It tingles as it goes up my shoulder and down my bicep. The burning mana dissipates through my pores; leaving my body feeling as if I had just stood naked in the sun. I try again, and again, and again as the sky begins to darken.

I notice that whenever I utter the word, “salamander,” was when the mana begins to flow into me, it was only when the rune was finished that the mana begins to dissipate. I finally manage it after about fifteen times of trying, to redirect the mana pulled toward my throat into my arm. It tingles as it climbs and circles my shoulder, and crawls down my elbow and up my forearm. The heated mana leaves my body through the tip of the wand.

A curling tendril of bright orange flame flicks forward from the wand and dies in a puff of white smoke a couple of inches away.

You have unlocked the spell Fire Bolt 1/999. Mana Manipulation +3, Fire Affinity +3, Mana Sensitivity +1, Magic +1, Creativity +1. The Shard informs me.

Maybe I should increase my creativity as well, I tell myself. Sweat soaks my sunburnt-feeling body. Tomorrow I’ll work on also making spells out of the elemental schools. Not by redirecting them through my mouth. I’d probably drown or suffocate. There is still a bit of soreness in my throat as if I had a bad cold.

I lower the plastic bottle into the well and raise it once it's full before heading inside and eating the rest of the sleeve of crackers from earlier that. By the time I’m settled in, it is dark. I lay my head down and begin to drift off to sleep.