They had barely stepped through the wide door to the archive when Katrina Wozniak, the archivist, bustled over to them.

Behind her, the main chamber of the library was a good deal busier than it had been that morning, with nearly two dozen people busying themselves about the tables and shelves pursuing their own studies.

“Welcome back,” Katrina said. She looked as impeccable as she had a few hours earlier, but there was a definite frazzled air to the woman.

“Archivist,” Aaron said, then, “Katrina. How has your day been going?”

“Miss Katrina,” Albert added, raising a hand in a half-wave.

The Archivist smiled at them. “Oh, it’s been challenging, to be sure. Nothing firm to present just yet, but I’ve got two of my best assistants helping me in the search.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” Albert said.

“We’re going on a trip Friday,” Kiara told the Archivist, “but we can check back in again tomorrow.”

Katrina patted Kiara on the arm fondly. “Oh, no need for that, Ms. Lavigné. We’ll be in touch if we find something worth looking at, you can be assured of that. Although it may be quite fortuitous that you stopped by when you did.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I suspect young Miss Kellogg will be along shortly and Mr. Abrams’s presence might expedite her efforts.”

Just as Katrina finished saying that, the door to the archive opened again and a familiar young Asian woman stepped through, a backpack slung over one shoulder. Tia stopped short on seeing Aaron, the delvers, and Katrina all huddled together around the swinging gate at the end of the lounge.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” she said boisterously as she walked over to join them.

Katrina smiled warmly at Tia. “I was just telling them how serendipitous their timing was, stopping by the archive just now.”

“It is?” Tia replied. “Oh, yeah, it could save me some legwork. Are there any study rooms available? Preferably that can accommodate spellwork.”

“Of course,” Katrina answered.

She handed Tia a small disc made of pale green crystal. There was something etched into its surface, but Aaron wasn’t able to make it out.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Aaron asked.

“I had planned to stop by here to grab some primers to take back home so we could start our magic lessons later tonight, preferably after I had a chance to eat,” Tia said. “Since you’re here now, we could go over some really basic stuff for an hour or two, then get dinner on the way home to do some more!”

Tia’s enthusiasm had such a frenetic, nerdy energy to it Aaron almost wanted to bail on the whole thing. Anyone that enthusiastic and ‘up’ could wear him out quickly. That only lasted a second, though, before the realization that he was going to have a chance to actually learn something about magic fully landed on him and he found himself just as excited as she was. Or somewhere close to it, at least.

“That does sound awesome,” Aaron admitted. “Let’s do it.”

The delvers, who didn’t find the prospect of sitting through incredibly rudimentary lessons about the basics of magic, told Aaron they’d head back to the Chamber of Suffering. Kiara, in particular, was adamant that he contact them at least ten minutes before he was ready to leave. She even extracted a promise from Tia to make sure they had ample forewarning before they left the archive.

Tia agreed easily enough, but she was barely paying attention. She had pulled a page out of her notebook and given it to Katrina, asking the archivist to have someone bring her the books on it.

Then, she led Aaron to a private study room. It was in one of the sections behind the standing bureau desks in the main chamber of the archive and was little more than a small room with a conference table and six chairs.

They had barely sat down at one end of the table before Katrina stepped into the room to deliver the small stack of requested books. She quickly departed again and left them to Aaron’s first practical lesson on magic.

“Okay, let’s do a little review,” Tia said. “I know it’s only been a day, but I want to see what’s stuck with you. Hit me with your best summary of how magic works, whatever you can remember.”

The most fundamental concepts of magic had been explained to Aaron twice in the past forty eight hours. Ezekiel Mallory had provided a broad overview two days prior after the Tribulation of the Vault, then Tia had expanded on those concepts in their talks over dinner last night.

Aaron stopped himself from biting his lip or fidgeting in his seat as he reviewed those conversations and organized his thoughts. Even more than being wrong or leaving something out, he didn’t want Tia to think he was some idiot who would struggle to remember simple concepts not even a day after learning them.

Tia was, almost without a doubt, much smarter than he was, which was impressive as hell. It was also a little intimidating for someone who had always been one of the smarter people in the room. Even if Aaron could set aside his own ego — not that that was exactly the easiest thing in the world to do — her brilliance didn’t suddenly make him cool with giving her the impression he was lacking for brains.

She was a genius, yes, and something of a magic prodigy to boot. She was also funny, witty, and hot. In short, Tia was the very last person Aaron would want to have anything less than a stellar opinion of him.

Gonna be a real uphill battle as long as I keep having to talk, he thought. But I can get by for now. I can answer this question without making a fool of myself.

“Aether is a substance that exists under, around, between, and through all of existence,” he said. “Manipulating it is how magic works. The way we manipulate is determined by four things: expertise and engine, which are about the person doing the magic; and, emotion and, uh… expectation, which are about the universe’s response to the magic. Or to the attempt, I think.”

Tia offered up a high five. “Nicely put. Now, I know Zeke and I both mentioned we tended to prefer structured magic over spontaneous. The thing is: that preference generally holds true for most serious casters. Do you have any sense about why that is?”

“Because the structure has a stabilizing effect,” Aaron answered, recalling Mallory’s dire warnings about magic gone awry.

“In more ways than one,” Tia agreed. “Zeke had that whole spiel about the engine of magic being a trinary and not a spectrum, but I actually disagree with him on that to some degree, probably because he comes from the much older traditions.”

She opened her notebook and drew two lines across a blank page, one vertical and one horizontal, intersecting each other near the middle of the page. At the bottom of the vertical axis, she wrote spontaneous and, at the top, structured. Then she drew a circle around the point where the two lines intersected. Aaron’s vague recollection of high school math classes told him that point was called the origin, but it might have been something like the vertex or the vector.

“Truly spontaneous magic is down here at the bottom,” Tia said, drawing an X at the very bottom of the vertical axis. “The trappings of the magic — whether material or mental — are completely improvised and without precedent for the caster, like when you conjured that weird club thing. But as soon as you impose any kind of planned form…”

She moved her pen so it rested near the circle at the center of the graph.

“I think I see what you mean,” Aaron said. “Because any structure at all will skip from the extreme bottom of the Y-axis up to the center or slightly above. It’s like a… a scale with a toggle before it, I guess.”

“Yes, that’s exactly how I see it,” Tia beamed. “Anyways, the stabilizing effect of structure comes in three forms. First, it can effectively increase the expertise of the casting. Second, it can provide a perspective or framework of thinking that helps with the emotional aspect of manipulating aether. And third, it can decrease the pushback that comes from expectation. People expect magic to involve doing magic shit, so doing magic shit makes magic more possible, if that makes sense.”

Tia pulled over the pile of books Katrina had left on the table and spread them out in front of Aaron. For all that their subjects seemed suitably arcane and mysterious, they looked relatively modern. They weren’t ancient, musty tomes of illuminated script on vellum and parchment or even the fancy, leatherbound affairs one might find with law or medical texts.

“These are a few of the latest editions of basic reference materials, compendiums, and syllabaries,” Tia explained. “There’s three that should really be where you put most of your attention early on.”

She pushed a trio of books closer to Aaron, describing each in turn.

“Quinta Essentia: A Primer covers a lot of the concepts we’ve already discussed but goes into much greater detail. It has a really excellent section on how different cultures have interpreted and influenced aether throughout history. Symbolic Resonance focuses on how the symbolism of an act can empower magic. It discusses common connections and how they’re interpreted and has a lot of good information about the use of materials in spellcraft. Lastly, Language of Power explores language as a part of performing magic. It has really solid insights into the different forms that can take, from sounds or intonations to written runes and words of power.”

Aaron scooped the books up into a pile. “Are you telling me performing magic can be as easy as saying some magic words?”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“No no no, not at all,” Tia laughed. “You still have to influence the aether with your will and intent. But some ideas have been used by so many people for so long they can have a significant impact on each of the axes of magic. Their role in a caster’s expertise and engine are obvious enough, but they can influence expectation and help respond to the emotion of casting.”

Tia’s comment on the emotion of casting drew Aaron’s mind back to the overwhelming feelings he’d experienced in the last Tribulation, when he’d been locked in the Vault and covered in vermin.

He’d pulled those feelings into a condensed core of magic and given them a form as a weapon. He remembered how precarious his control had been when he was creating it and now he knew how dangerous his desperate effort had been. What he realized, however, was that the threat of the spell destabilizing wasn’t even the most upsetting aspect of his first spell.

Aaron had dragged his own emotions out of his psyche and made them manifest yet their connection to him had remained, muted and concealed by the magic but no less impactful for that distance. When those emotions had been released, they had rushed back into him. It had been like experiencing every feeling as they had occurred in those few minutes in the space of a single moment, one rush of feeling implanting itself back into his mind.

How horrific might that have been for an experience more unpleasant than being squicked out by some bugs?

“I can see why people might prefer structure over spontaneity,” he admitted.

“Right?” Tia said. “Anyways, you should read over those on your own. I don’t know what kind of learning works best for you, but I figure there’s no point in sitting here saying all the shit you’re going to read later. Instead, we’re going to learn by doing.”

She turned the page of her notebook with the graph outlining spellcasting so that a blank sheet of paper sat before them. With a deft hand, Tia quickly drew a number of simple shapes and symbols. They included things as rudimentary as circles and triangles as well as more esoteric figures that Aaron didn’t have a name for.

“For your very first lesson, we’re going to try casting one of the oldest and most reliable chanterns,” Tia said. “Chanterns are among the most basic of structured magic. A lot of them are ancient, but what really defines them is that they’re all very simple, limited in scope, and require almost no aetheric power. They’re used as starter spells in a lot of traditions.”

“So they’re like cantrips in Dungeons & Dragons,” Aaron mused.

Tia’s mouth curled thoughtfully. “Cantrip is another common term for chanterns, actually. A chantern won’t include more than two or three very basic symbols. Sometimes there’s a very brief incantation, just one word more often than not. The one we’re going to do creates a source of light.”

“Cool! So what do I do?”

“You’ve probably noticed that a bit more than random fragments about mythics and magic have survived in the common consciousness,” Tia said. “Some of the symbols I’ve drawn here are good examples because they’ve been present in various cultures around the world since basically forever. There’s a near-infinite number of ways a spell can be crafted by an experienced mythic, but we’re going to rely on some very old and broadly understood symbols for simplicity’s sake.”

She turned to another blank page in her notebook and drew a large triangle covering the bottom half of the page, its tip pointed upward.

“This is one of four symbols that alchemists started using centuries ago to represent the four classical elements: earth, water, air, and fire,” Tia explained. “This specific symbol — an upwards-pointing equilateral triangle — represents fire. Since our goal isn’t to create fire, but light, what do you think we could add to change the meaning?”

“I’m not sure I’m equipped to answer that,” Aaron said.

“There’s no wrong answer here, I’m just trying to get a sense of how you think.”

A number of possibilities sprang into Aaron’s mind but he didn’t feel confident in any of them. There was simply too much he didn’t know. But Tia was waiting for an answer, so he decided to pick the two that made the most sense to him. Better to make a specific choice, even if it might be wrong, than take the risk he’d start rambling.

“Well, if I was going to use another classical element, I’d add the symbol for either air or water since both are capable of filtering the heat of a flame without blocking the light. But the rationale there seems kinda flimsy, so it might be better to add some of those squiggly lines to represent the light that emanates from fire. I’m not sure if mixing traditions is a good idea, though.”

“Those are all perfectly reasonable ideas and I think you could build a chantern on any of them,” Tia said. “As a matter of fact, the one I’m going to show you incorporates both of your ideas at the same time, just not the way you expressed them.”

She spun the notebook around and drew a mirror of her first triangle, with the points of their tips touching.

“You could look at this as adding water as a filter, like you described, because the inverted triangle is the symbol of water,” she said, gesturing with her pen from the base of each triangle and up towards its apex. “Alternately, you can look at it as fire opposing and reflecting itself, which would create light but doesn’t do much to solve our heat problem. But if we’re going to play with perspective and look at this as fire coming from two different angles, then what if we did something like this.”

She turned the notebook so that the triangles were sideways, like an infinity symbol instead of a figure eight.

“As it so happens, this particular symbol is also quite old and rather well known, too. It is called dagaz and comes from the Elder Futhark, the runic alphabet used by some Germanic peoples going back just under two thousand years. Can you guess what the rune, by itself, means?”

“I mean, it has to be ‘light,’ right?”

“Oh my god, wouldn’t that be perfect?” Tia laughed. “No, it means ‘day.’ And if there’s two things we associate with the day, it’s a ball of fire that doesn’t burn (much) and… light.”

“Ah, sure, that makes sense,” Aaron said, although the logic seemed a bit… wonky to him. “So what am I supposed to do with that?”

“You pair it with a very short invocation, like I said earlier, which is usually no more than one or two syllables for a chantern. Lumos has become very popular recently, but the specific words are up to you.”

Aaron scratched his head, then put his hand down quickly. He didn’t want to give the slightest impression he was some dumb ape, but he felt like he was missing something really obvious here and didn’t see any way to fix it except by asking.

“But what do I do with the symbol?” he asked. “Do I draw the rune on a piece of paper and shout the word light?”

“You can but that seems a little melodramatic to me,” Tia said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“So then am I supposed to just, like, contemplate the idea of this rune and that’s it?”

Tia nodded. “You could do that, too. Visualizing the rune forming in your mind is a pretty classic way to do things. Or you could use simple gestures, like this.”

She held her hand out, her index and middle fingers extended and split into a V shape that she pointed at Aaron. Then she pulled her hand away, back towards herself, bringing her fingers together then opening them again as she moved. Aaron could almost see the lines of dagaz she had traced in the air with her gesture.

“Chanterns are well-defined but they still give the caster a lot of room to individualize them,” Tia said. “Visualization, drawing or carving symbols, or gestures and movements that cement them in your mind, these are all viable ways to perform a spell, especially one as simple as this.”

“Okay,” Aaron said. “I think I get it.”

“Awesome! Then let there be light, dude.”

Aaron drew in a long breath then slowly blew it out, letting his mind rush through all the possibilities while he tuned them out. Ignoring that kind of mental static was difficult, but Aaron could manage it for a little while. He already knew the method he wanted to use but he had to let his fucking brain do its running-in-circles thing or there was no way he’d be able to focus.

After about a minute, his thoughts settled into a dull hum somewhere in the background of his mind and he figured it was as good a time as any to give the spell a try.

His first spell. Well, if you didn’t count the cudgel or blade or whatever the hell he’d summoned back in the Vault.

He pictured the rune being drawn in his mind, vibrant strands of energy forming in the very air around him. It started at the point where the two symbols met, then filaments of magic spilled outwards, forming bundled fibers that traced the lines of the rune. This energy cascaded outward like a flame slowly eating paper, more of the rune forming in the space right in front of Aaron.

As it reached the bases on the end and began to close the rune and Aaron began to plan for the word he would use to conjure this phantasmal light, he wondered how it would look shining on him and Tia. Would it be flattering or would it make him look weird and ugly?

The energy in Aaron’s visualization of the rune destabilized, bleeding out of the two arms of the triangle instead of sealing the ends of the rune. It pulled all the arcane energy with it from the core of the formation, causing the entire thing to fade and wink out before Aaron fully registered what was going on.

It happened so fast he still blurted out most of the incantation he’d been planning to use, although it was influenced by the unexpected change.

“Fucks,” he mumbled.

Tia’s lips rolled into an incredulous smile as she gave him the side eye.

“Fucks? That’s an interesting choice of magic words.”

Aaron shook his head, still not entirely sure what had just happened. He couldn’t seem to get his voice to work either, not after the masterpiece of eloquence that was ‘fucks.’

Thankfully, Tia stepped in to offer him enlightenment.

“You can tell me if I’m way off base, but would it be fair to say that you just ran face first into the emotion part of casting?” she asked. “Maybe a weird feeling, intrusive thought, or distracting awareness of something around you?”

Aaron nodded, his brain still not wanting to word for his mouthing goodly.

“That’s completely understandable,” Tia reassured him. “Even minor emotional distortions can be a major pain in the ass for people just starting to learn magic.”

That got Aaron’s brain in gear and he shook his head vehemently.

“I’m usually really good at keeping a handle on my emotions,” he said. “I mean, I conjured some kind of ultimate weapon while experiencing extreme emotional distress.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the difference is you were able to focus on your emotions then and this time it caught you completely unaware while you already had most of your attention directed to an entirely novel kind of thinking.”

“Maybe,” Aaron admitted.

“Don’t stress over it,” Tia said. “Let’s grab some dinner and we’ll keep working at it back at the apartment. Okay?”

“Sure,” Aaron replied. “That sounds awesome.”

Tia stood up and Aaron followed suit.

“Don’t forget your books,” she told him, packing up her notebook.

“Right,” he said and slipped them, one after the other, into his pocket dimension. “That’s so awesome.”

“Magic almost always is,” Tia agreed.

With their things collected, they left the study room.