I jolted awake.

No. Nonononono.

Whatever Lotte was planning, it wasn't happening! Her words still echoed in my head: "Not Alchemy but a Summoning."

Yet, despite my resolve, I found myself at the table, pulling out a sheet of white parchment. Dipping the quill in the inkpot, I began writing the summoning process, drawing runes, following Lotte's every recommendation.

Of course, I had no intention of actually going through with it. Summoning was banned in the empire, for goodness' sake! Even my thick skull understood that getting caught would lead to far worse than a stint in the dungeon.

I say, there wasn't a jot I had read about summoning arts. But I was quite certain they existed. Only last year, some chap was nabbed in Alcor for a spot of illicit summoning. How, what, and when? I hadn't the foggiest. My primary concern, though, was the potential for detection. Even Lotte confessed that a sensitive mage might detect a ripple in the very fabric of reality.

Oh, I could manage it, no doubt. I'd simply have to perform the summoning in some far-flung locale. If someone in Randall got wind of it, I'd be well on my way by then. The Alcor Forest seemed the perfect spot, devoid of meddlesome interlopers.

I glanced at the clock - just shy of 11. I'd been snoozing for nearly four hours. Father hadn't returned yet, it seemed. I only had this night to pull off the summoning and arm myself if I wanted to avoid a rather dire fate, according to Lotte's foreboding readings.

Blimey, it was giving me a headache.

I set my quill down and took a deep breath. And another. I knew I'd end up doing it regardless. Lotte's persistence had set my paranoia into overdrive. I wasn't a fool; whatever knowledge Lotte imparted was too genuine to dismiss as mere dream prattle. If she said my life was in peril come tomorrow, I was inclined to believe her.

I stood and began to pace, a plan already taking shape in my mind.

There was an unexpected creak—it could only be the front door swinging open. Ah, Father had returned. I half expected him to unwind a bit before coming to see me, but lo and behold, the stairs groaned beneath his ascent. Raven-black hair like mine, a touch of stubble, an angular face, and narrow eyes. Tall, built like a warrior, though more fitting of an enforcer.

"You're late, Father," I remarked as he entered.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now."

Well, he thought wrong. Perhaps he should try telling his employer to take a hike every now and then.

"What's on your face, by the way?" he asked, frowning.

I touched my face, and my fingers came away with golden dust. Oh, I'd forgotten to wash it off.

"I made some healing salve that the noble ladies in Alcor use. I'm due for washing it off," I said, pushing the glass jar of golden healing salve toward him. "You might want to try some as well, Father. I hear it's becoming quite the rage among men in Alcor too."

I could see a part of him wanted to scoff at the idea, but he still picked up the jar and gave it a contemplative sniff.

"Nah, maybe some other time. Right now, I've got a gift for you."

My ears pricked up at the sound. Gifts?? Could it be yet another of those soft and squishy plushies that I absolutely adore? I've told him countless times to stop bringing them, but alas, he can't seem to resist anything remotely cute. Not that I minded, really.

Instead of a cuddly toy like I expected, he presented me with four bright blue crystals and a book. My attention, however, was immediately captivated by those oval-shaped gems. Each was about the size of a matchbox, with a swirling white core that was utterly mesmerizing.

"Mana crystals?" I gasped, eyes widening.

Without a second thought, I stood up and snatched them from his hands. Even without mana veins, I could feel it instantly—the slowly swirling energy, the warmth that was neither warm nor cold, and the soft, glistening surface. There were two runes on the top and bottom of each crystal, marking the mana inlet and outlet.

"Mana batteries?" I said, my smile broadening.

"Yes," he replied, grinning. "If you want to pursue that dream of yours to become an Enchanter, you'd best start now."

I was utterly at a loss for words. I was keenly aware of the extravagant cost of these mana batteries. Just this quartet of them would set him back a whole month's salary. Not an easy buy by any stretch of the imagination.

And yet, a mere week ago, I had offhandedly remarked that becoming an enchanter would solve all my woes. It was a selfish whimsy, and now that I pondered it, wasn't the pursuit of becoming an Enchanter itself a tad self-serving? I yearned for magic more than anything in this world. Being born without a scrap of it only made my craving all the more insatiable.

I wrapped my father in an embrace. "Thank you, Father," seemed the proper thing to say.

He let out a rather grandiose laugh as he patted my back. Shortly after, he departed, leaving me with a tome titled 'Basic Enchantments' and the four mana batteries. I took a deep breath and reclined in my chair. Time had slipped by, it was nearly midnight, yet my only concern was my lack of concern for the morrow.

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Honestly, being acutely aware of some impending doom ought to have sent a cascade of adrenaline rushing through me. There should have been an urgent need to avert disaster. Instead, I felt an odd sense of numbness. It was as though my mind had erected a barrier against the dread, leaving me in a peculiar state of detachment. It was a kind of psychological conundrum, was this indifference of mine was just a form of self-preservation or perhaps a deeper, more troubling malaise.

I rubbed my eyes. This simply wouldn't do.

I stood up and retrieved the box from under my bed, brimming with those rather ominous ingredients. Shuffling about the room, I gathered a few candles and some of my alchemical apparatus, shoving them into the box as well. My gaze fell upon the mana batteries resting on the table.

I actually needed them for the summoning ritual. My initial plan had been to destroy the Hydro Rune in the washroom and pilfer the one inside. But, oh well, thank you, Father. I shall put your generous gift to immediate use.

Grabbing all four batteries, I stuffed them into my pockets. Double-checking my preparations, I realized I was almost done. Just one last thing needed attending to.

I then waited until my father fell asleep. He was usually out like a light after working this late. Tonight was no different; I found him snoozing in his room. It had a rather Spartan feel to it: minimalistic and functional, with just the essentials. His bed, neatly made with crisp sheets, stood against one wall. A small wooden nightstand held a lamp and a few well-worn books. The only decoration was a single picture on the dresser, a smiling little girl with wild hair, perched atop her father's shoulders. I didn't remember from when it was, nor did I have the time to contemplate it; my eyes immediately fell on the thing I was here for.

A compact and rather formidable contraption with a sturdy wooden stock and a prod made of steel, primed to deliver bolts with deadly precision. A crossbow. Nestled snugly by the dresser, I snatched it up and stealthily retraced my steps, each one calculated to avoid those treacherous creaking floorboards. Out I went, though the door had other plans, groaning like an old hag with every inch it moved. Heart pounding, but blessedly without mishap, I slipped into the night.

My insides were doing a jitterbug, and not the delightful kind. I was a first-time sneak, and never before had my escapades flirted with the illegal. Yet, some unseen wellspring of boldness kept me going, and I wasn't about to question it. With a box of contraband clutched under my arm and the crossbow resting atop, I walked briskly before breaking into a sprint.

Midnight it was, and one would think the streets would be quite deserted at such an ungodly hour. But then again, I rarely ventured out at this time myself, so I wasn't about to trust my own judgement on the matter. Yet, having grown up in these parts, I knew every nook and cranny.

The most straightforward path to the nearby forest cut straight through the market square, then past the grand old clock tower. This happened to be the route to the school as well, where one would stick to the right of the tower to avoid that blasted baker's hound. But today, that path was not in my plans.

Instead, I opted for the narrow alley by Mrs. Marranos' place—a nifty little shortcut, if I do say so myself. From there, it was a swift jaunt through the back gardens of the row houses until I reached the old mill. Just beyond, the forest loomed, dark, inviting, and well away from prying eyes.

Ah, the Alcor Forest! The very reason a magicless cripple like myself chose this spot for my quaint little ritual was its renowned safety. Quite the talk of the town. In recent years, bands of merchants have taken a fancy to some of the routes within, presenting ample opportunities for Alcor itself. Consequently, it's becoming rather customary for adventurers to receive commissions to thin out the monstrous populace within. Not that I believed the beastly nuisances were being hunted to extinction—oh no, they're as persistent as mosquitoes! But their reduced numbers made me feel considerably safer. Naturally, I still brought along my father's trusty crossbow, just in case. For, despite all that reassurance, if a monster decided to ambush me, well, that would be entirely my own foolishness.

Once I felt confident that I had put enough distance between myself and the town, I took a gander around. It was just the forest, all around me. Despite the moon being the sole source of illumination, I had no trouble seeing in the dark. Soon enough, I stumbled upon a rather charming clearing. The ground was a soft bed of moss, and the trees circled it like silent, ancient sentinels, their branches forming a protective canopy overhead.

Placing the box down, I lit one of the candles and pulled out the parchment detailing the ritual. Nervousness was an understatement for what I was feeling. I was about to do something really illegal and really, really blasphemous.

Opening the box, I got to work.