Mazidi was either 50 years old or 500 years old. No one knew and no one dared to ask. A master aqua mage, she’d dedicated her life to teaching young mages the art of magic. Her pupils included the late Queen Genelva and her son, Prince Isidro. She’d parted paths with Isidro years prior but had received word that he’d come in contact with a shadow mage.

Mazidi found it hard to believe, of course. Shadow Mages had vanished 1000 years ago. If there was still one in the human realm—if the gene for shadow magic still existed—it would be nothing short of a miracle. When Mazidi showed up at Isidro’s estate, she expected the young prince to be mistaken. But when she saw the supposed shadow mage, she was reminded that Isidro was no fool.

“Remarkable,” Mazidi said as she peered at Elshana. “I feel great magic inside of you, a magic I have never felt before.”

“That’s what she said,” Elshana replied, adding, “and it’s nice to meet you. I think.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Isidro said. “I did as you asked and assessed Elshana yesterday, and the results weren’t ideal.”

Mazidi squeezed Isidro’s cheek. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. Thank the spirits you got your mother’s looks instead of your father’s.” She tilted her head. “Well, except for your eyes.”

Elshana had expected Mazidi to be cold, cryptic even. Instead, she was squeezing Isidro’s cheek like he was five years old. “If you’re an aqua mage and Isidro is a sky mage, why were you his teacher?”

“Excellent question,” Mazidi replied. “It is customary for mages of the same magic type to train each other. Light mages to light mages. Sky mages to sky mages. Aqua mages to aqua mages. But I realized long ago that it’s beneficial for mages to teach children of differing magic types. It allows magic to advance and meld with other magic types instead of remaining stuck in one place forever.”

“So what you’re saying is that learning from mages that aren’t your own magic type is kind of like making a cake,” Elshana said. “On their own, eggs, butter, and sugar are all useful. But when they’re put together, they create something incredible.”

“I like this one,” Mazidi said, offering Isidro a smile. “She’s so responsive.”

“You have no idea,” Isidro muttered.

Vashti entered in a full jester costume. When she saw Mazidi, she did a bow with her hands on her head: a sign of great respect. “Warrior Mazidi,” she said. “I pray the travel arrangements I made for you for were to your liking.”

“Ah Vashti, always so conscientious,” she said. “The arrangements you made were perfect. Although I must admit that I never took you for a court jester.”

Vashti’s cheeks turned red. “No, I—it’s a long story.”

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“Vashti and I have important duties to attend to,” Isidro said. “Elshana. Whatever Mazidi tell you to do, do it.”

“So bossy,” Elshana whispered to Mazidi.

“He’s a prince,” Mazidi whispered back. “He thinks being bossy is his birthright.”

“I heard that,” Isidro replied.

Once they were alone on the training grounds, Mazidi and Elshana went straight to work. “Isidro says if my magic doesn’t manifest within a month, he’s going to have to find another shadow mage,” Elshana said. “The thing is, I don’t even know why he’s obsessed with shadow mages in the first place. He won’t tell me!”

Mazidi rubbed her fingers beneath her round chin. “He is wise to keep it a secret for the time being,” she said. “I know it’s hard to dedicate yourself to something when you don’t know the full truth, but for now, let’s focus on reaching within yourself and finding the source of your magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Magic is not as linear as the scholars would like you to believe.” Mazidi grabbed a blade of grass and handed it to Elshana. “What do you see in this?”

“It’s green. Kind of pointy.” Elshana turned it over in her hand. “I guess I just see a piece of grass.”

Mazidi gently grabbed the blade of grass and held it tightly between her fingers. “I see music.” She blew onto the grass and it let out a squeaky sound. “The source of grass is not it’s color or shape or any other common attributes. Its source is music.”

“I’m just supposed to look at grass and realize it’s source is music?” Elshana asked. “That makes no sense.”

Mazidi shushed her. “Just listen.”

The sound of the wind blowing through the grass was like a symphony—a symphony Elshana never bothered to notice before. She allowed herself to bask in the music for a few more seconds before asking, “What does this have to do with my magic?”

“The source of one’s magic isn’t always obvious, just as the music in grass isn’t obvious. Traditional teaching methods force magic out of children. Sometimes they go their entire lives without ever knowing where their magic exists within them.” She let out a sigh. “It’s tragic, really.”

“How do I find the source of my magic?” Elshana asked.

“I want you to hold your hands above your head as far as they’ll go,” Mazidi said. “Then I want you to close your eyes and take deep, focused breaths.”

Elshana did as she was told. Ten minutes later, she felt nothing different inside of her. “My arms are tired,” she whined, letting them drop. “It isn’t working.”

“That was simply preparation for what comes next,” Mazidi said. She held up Elshana’s arm and examined her brand. “Oh my, this must be a great source of pain to you.”

Elshana yanked her arm away defensively. “That’s none of your business.”

“Press onto the brand with your index finger,” Mazidi said. “I want you to hold it there for as long as you can.”

The moment Elshana pressed, she was met with memories she’d much rather forget. The magic sharing rituals had certainly damaged her psyche, that’s for sure. Years of misery flooded her mind, and Elshana wanted to release the pressure from her arm. Mazidi wouldn’t allow it and forced Elshana to press harder. Just when Elshana thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she felt something snap inside of her. The memories folded into each other until one word rang out in her mind over and over again.

BLOT. BLOT. BLOT. BLOT. BLOT.

“I’m not a blot!” Elshana screamed. “I am resilient.”

Mazidi released Elshana’s finger and the pain disappeared. When Elshana looked at her hand, she was holding a shadow. It was small, barely bigger than a coin, but it was there.

“No way,” Elshana said. She poked the shadow, and it moved ever so slightly. “It’s kind of…cute?”

“You found the source of your magic,” Mazidi said. “Your resiliency is your greatest strength by far, and your magic stems from it.”

Elshana opened and closed her hand, letting the tiny shadow dance along her hand. “This is freaking awesome.”

“Now that you can freely access your magic, Prince Isidro may wish to tell you the truth of the shadow realm.”

“Finally,” Elshana said. “An explanation.”

Elshana’s contentment was short lived. A dark crease ripped through the sky, and out of it emerged none other than Caldor. He looked down at Elshana and offered her a mocking wave. It took Elshana a moment to recognize him, but once she did, she couldn’t hide her shock.

“Caldor?” she asked. “How did you do that to the sky? What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to kill you,” Caldor replied emotionlessly. “If you promise to hold still, I’ll make it painless.”

Elshana jumped out of the way as Caldor descended upon her. It seemed that she would have to use her magic to defend herself just as she was getting acclimated to it. With a million unanswered questions swirling through her mind, she readied herself to fight Caldor—the same Caldor that had been her friend just a few days earlier.

Caldor… Elshana thought. What happened to you?