The dark blackness of night had pulled a curtain over the city of Sera, inviting the stars to twinkle seductively overhead. The fire of candles and the magic lights of the illusionists kept the cobblestone streets visible from the high window of my bedroom in the Seran University of Magic. Below, humans and elves of various nationalities walked along the streets, either visiting the famous city or possibly perusing its services of healing magic, which were not often found elsewhere.
From my window in the highest tower of the university, I could see the entirety of the city and beyond its walls for a couple of miles. It was one of the perks of being the daughter of the university headmaster. I was treated like royalty here. Magic was a rare weapon to wield and had to be taken very seriously; the harnessing and use of energy took its toll on mortal bodies, slowly chipping away at life forces until the mage herself died an early death. It was a rare occasion to find someone who not only accepted this and still wanted to wield magic, but was good at it. At the Seran University, there were hundreds of us here, from all over the world. It was because of this rareness that magic was used as a commodity. Kingdoms took advantage of what few mages they did have, particularly healers. Getting a healer to even attempt to cure the illness of a family member was an expense few people could afford, even if they could travel all the way to Sera to try.
I turned from the window, my thoughts on my studies. Being only fourteen, I had only just learned what elements I could wield. Out of all of the magics, elemental magic, consisting of six elements—fire, water, air, earth, life, and death—was the most challenging and dangerous to wield, and most mages were only strong enough to wield one. Few could wield two elements, and no known mage in the world's history could wield three or more. I was lucky enough to have been one of the few who could wield two.
I walked up to the lone candle holder on my wall that was not lit, intent on practicing what little magic I did know. I lifted my right hand, palm up, toward the candle, and whispered words I had studied intensely over the days before.
“Creatius les fiers.” With a crackle of heat, a ball of flame conjured over my palm, warming me. The intense heat of the flame was kept safely tucked away from burning me with a protective energy barrier between my skin and the fire. It was part of the spell. If I were to mess up the spell, it was possible it wouldn't be there, and I could burn myself to death. It was little wonder why an entire university was necessary to teach these magics.
I directed my attention to the wick of the candle, and the fire in my palm transferred to the wick in a tunnel of heat that was gone a moment later. The candle was lit, now, like all the others.
Again, I lifted my palm. “Creatius le air,” I whispered. If it hadn't been for feeling the swirling air above my palm, I wouldn't have seen it there. Once more, I directed the energy to the wick, where the oxygen fed the flame. The fire burst upward and out, and I stepped back, a little in shock at the strength of its response.
“Kai.” The rough voice called my attention to the door, and I turned quickly. My father stood in the doorway, having seen the last of my practice, his eyes still on the candle. If he was impressed, he said nothing of it. As always, his eyes held authority and distance, a cool gray in comparison to my own golden pair. His dark hair was specked with silver from the stress of his responsibilities. He looked so different than I. Of course, I wasn't his biological daughter, and it wasn't only our physical differences that reminded me of this daily. “Your power is not to be played with like a toy.”
My eyes fell to the ground, and I nodded. “Yes, father. I was only trying to practice.”
“Remember what I told you?” He waited a moment for my answer, which did not come. “Kai?”
“You've told me many things, father.”
“The day you become a mage is the day you become a woman. A woman wields power. A girl plays with toys.”
I nodded.
“You have the unbelievable talent of being a dual caster, Kai. Do not disappoint me by wasting your talents on frivolous things.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Apologies are words, not actions. Now get to bed. You have class in the morning.”
He was out of the room again before I had time to respond. It was times like these when I wondered why he had ever bothered to take me under his wing. I had been dropped off as an infant to the front steps of the Seran University, as if my parents had known I would be capable of wielding magic. That is why my father had taken me in; it was assumed I would have skill. Now, after years of worrying I wouldn't live up to that notion, I had found out I was a dual caster. And yet, he still wasn't happy with me.
The next morning, my older brother Terran stopped by to take me to class. He was my father's only biological son, and the obvious pick to be the headmaster in my father's place when that time would come. Terran had been a nice enough sibling, I supposed. I was a good seven years younger than him, so we had little in common, but when we would socialize he treated me much better than father ever had. It was his work ethic that bothered me. He was a wielder of earth magic, and while he was skilled, he did not take his position very seriously. For being the future headmaster of the university, the one person who basically had a key to the city and was like a second ruler to all of the nation of Chairel, he didn't seem to have a care in the world.
It made me a little bitter, if I were being honest with myself. Terran was not as talented as I was, nor as serious at his job, but he had father's approval and could look forward to a prestigious future.
Terran's long, deep brown locks were kept back in a lazy ponytail as he walked with me through the long stone hallways of the University. He looked fatigued, and smelled of ale. I knew then that he had been out the previous night partying again with his group of friends.
“Did you hear I can wield both fire and air?” I asked him, because we hadn't yet spoken of it. His face brightened a bit, and he grinned over at me, despite the circles beneath his eyes.
“Yes, sister, I did. Don't let it get to your head, now.” He turned around a corner of an intersection of hallways, before we continued down another. The university was bigger than even the castles of the nation, and could be a maze to anyone who walked through it and didn't live there. “I wouldn't want to dual cast, myself. I love life. Want to live as much of it as I can.”
“Do you think dual casters live even shorter lives than other mages?” I asked, morbidly curious.
“No, I don't think it, I know it. The more magic you wield, the bigger the toll. And you're no elf, sister. You have a short enough lifespan as it is. I wouldn't be using your powers fruitlessly.”
His last words reminded me of father catching me practicing the night before. “Did father tell you of last night?”
“He did,” Terran replied, just as shortly. He stopped, then, because we had reached our destination. My first class of the day sat in the room ahead. I could already hear the students within chatting and giggling amongst themselves. My brother took one last look at me, and said, “Magic is serious business. Please be careful with it.”
Please be careful with it. I could have asked Terran to follow his own advice, but I knew he was only looking out for me. “I will. Thanks, Terran.”
He nodded with a boyish smile, before turning and heading off to wherever he needed to go.
I made my way into the classroom a moment later, avoiding stares and whispers. For the few years I'd been going to classes at the university, I was used to my classmates keeping me at a distance. Perhaps they were uncomfortable with going to class with the headmaster's daughter. Days before, when I'd come to know I was a dual caster, things had gotten even worse. Now the tinges of jealousy were in the glares of my peers.
I sat in my usual seat, at a table in the far back with only one other occupant. His name was Cerin, and he was tall, pale, with eyes of the sharpest silver and hair long and as black as an abyss. He was shy and without any friends, which gave us something in common. He was also the only classmate I'd ever tried to become friendly with. Despite his dark and foreboding looks, I found him oddly warm and welcoming given his quiet nature. I was also possibly biased; I found Cerin to be quite beautiful, and had had a crush on him since he had moved to Sera to learn magic from the small, northern fishing hamlet of Thornwell.
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Until the past few days, I had been worried that Cerin would have been a natural with death magic. He certainly looked the part, and as most elemental mages had found throughout history, their physical appearance tended to resemble the elements they were predisposed to. It was why wielding fire and air hadn't come as much of a surprise. My hair was a deep red, so deep that many who met me thought I dyed it with the expensive dyes imported to Sera from the desert nation of Nahara to the south. I was also quite pale, a feature that was a common attribute among air wielders. Due to Cerin's dark features, then, I'd assumed he would have easily learned death magic; it was an element as powerful, if not moreso, than the others, but the art of necromancy was a banned practice in all of Chairel, and much of the world. Bringing the dead to life, wielding plague and disease, and leeching the life and energy from others were all practices considered too savage for warfare. They had no place in a modern society, according to our Queen and the Seran University. The moral and ethics implications of the element were far too complicated and vast to keep the practice legal.
Regardless, Cerin had found life magic to be his calling. He was very lucky in this respect. Healers were the most sought after of mages, and tended to become the wealthiest. Alchemists could often heal sickness, and surgeons could often mend broken bones. But life mages, well...they could do both, and more accurately, while taking a fraction of the time.
My ears picked up on whispers, and I glanced up to the table beside ours, just in time to see a classmate use his own air magic to blow a gust of wind in Cerin's direction. Cerin's notes from the day before blew off the table, scattering and skidding across the tiled floors. The boy and his friend burst into laughter, while Cerin, humiliated, moved out of his seat to begin gathering the papers.
“Your powers aren't to be used so needlessly,” I hissed at my peer, getting out of my seat to help gather the papers.
“Or what, girly? You gonna tell daddy and get me sent back to Kilgor?” He sneered back at me.
“No, I'll be telling Ms. Ply about this so she makes it known you're not taking your studies seriously,” I retorted, taking the stack of Cerin's notes and handing it over to him.
“Thanks,” he offered, his voice nearly cracking. He looked away in embarrassment.
“Oh, I'm shaking in me boots,” the bully replied to me, carelessly.
“Kilgor's not so bad, mate,” his friend teased him, as Cerin and I sat back into our seats. My table mate had an arm protectively over his notes, now. “Not if yer lookin' for the farmer's life.”
“Yeah, but I ain't. Why the hell else do ya think I'm here?”
“Because the only girls in our town are goats,” his friend replied, with a snort of laughter.
The classroom door opened a moment later, and Beatrice Ply, one of our professors, hurried in. As always, she was late and disheveled, her thick mop of curly red hair refusing to be tamed by a few oddly placed hair pins. She carried a stack of old texts to the counter ahead of us, before turning to the impatient class.
“Good morning, everyone. Sorry I'm late.” As she said it, her eyes met mine. I inwardly wondered if she thought I would ever tattle on her to my father. Unbeknownst to her, I never would. I didn't like talking to him more than I had to. “Please get out the spell books you were assigned yesterday. We're going to continue where we left off, learning various words for each of your elements and how they connect between spells. Remember, don't conjure, just read and study. We don't want any accidents.”
I retrieved my two spell books from my pack, bringing them to the table before me. I caught Cerin's eyes watching them both with admiration. I knew he was impressed by my ability to dual cast.
“Now, who can tell me what creatius means?” Ms. Ply continued, looking over the class.
I raised my hand, and when she chose me, I said, “Create.”
“Very good.”
“Very easy,” the bully from earlier seethed. I ignored the comment.
“And who can tell me what givara means?”
Cerin hadn't raised his hand, but he was called on anyway. Perhaps because he was the only one in the class who knew a spell where givara was relevant. “Give,” he offered.
“Correct. Give, as in give life. Create, as in create an element, using the energy in the air around you and harnessing it to your will. Does anyone know what would happen if you were to say a spell incorrectly? Suppose you said, givara les fiers? Or even, creatius le life?”
I raised my hand again, but Ms. Ply decided to call on another student.
“Nothing. Nothing would happen,” came the response.
“Correct. To give fire is an incorrect statement, as is create life. Even in necromancy, the spells are not stated as you creating life, because you are not. You are using energy to reanimate the dead. Even if you manage to have a corpse standing before you, it is not living, because it cannot. It is only existing and acting upon your will because you are commanding the energy animating it. Does this make sense?” A few of us nodded, and she continued, “Now would be a good time to remind you all that if you see any student—or anyone, for that matter—using necromancy, please report it to your nearest professor or guard. Necromancers are considered enemies of the kingdom and are often put to death.”
“Ironic,” I heard a student muse.
“Now, using the words you know, I want you all to attempt to write new spells using these words. Spells that you think could work, using what little you do know. In order to use magic effectively, you not only need to wield it, but understand its language.” She paused, looked around the room, and finished, “I'll be coming around the room to guide each of you. Please begin.”
Cerin and I were silent for minutes afterward, using our spell books for reference and writing down ideas. Ms. Ply took her time moving from table to table, helping the other students with the language, letting them know when they were wrong about the usage of a word and why.
After a while, I looked up to Cerin, deciding to attempt conversation with him as I often did. “Cerin, have you ever tried to wield another element?”
His silver eyes rose from his book, meeting mine with a stare that felt oddly distant. “Why would I do that? I'm no dual caster, like you.”
“How would you know if you've never tried?”
“Are you saying I have?” The question was weird and defensive. I wondered if I was annoying him.
“No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I just wonder what would happen if you tried, you know? Once you have designated elements, you're not really supposed to branch out. But what if you did?”
Cerin hesitated. “I've heard nothing happens. You can attempt a spell of a different element, but it doesn't work. If you're a dual caster, anyway. If you only cast one element and casting another works, well...I guess that's how you find out you're a dual caster.”
The beginnings of a smile began to spread on my face. I felt for once like I was finally getting through to him. “Yeah, I guess so,” I admitted.
“Do you want to try it?” Cerin offered, pushing his spell book over to me. “Let's see what happens.”
“Oh, so I get to be the guinea pig?” I teased him, pulling the book to me.
“I doubt it'll hurt you. It's life magic, after all.”
“How will I know if it's working?” I asked him, reading the beginner's healing spell. I wasn't injured. It wasn't like I would be able to tell if it was working by mending a cut that didn't exist.
“You'll feel a warmth. Put your hand to your skin, and you'll feel warmth from your hand, and tingling from what it's touching.”
“Okay.” I put my right hand to my left arm, and recited low, “Givara le life.” There was a rising heat in my palm. Slowly, I felt the warmth transfer to my other arm, leaving it numb and tingling, like it had fallen asleep. I looked up to Cerin, a little in shock. “It's working.”
He stared back, unable to believe me. “It can't be. You already know fire and air.”
I reached across the table to him, grabbing his hand. In normal circumstances, this would have embarrassed me. But right now, I needed him to feel it. I repeated the spell, watching as Cerin realized I was right. He jerked his hand away, before staring at me like I was some kind of a god. “That's impossible,” he whispered, rubbing at his hand.
“Then how am I doing it?”
Cerin only stared back. He had no answer.
Ms. Ply was at our table a moment later, asking about the spells we'd attempted to create. I barely heard her. I turned to her, and asked her the first question that came to mind.
“Why can I wield life?”
She watched me for a moment, before a chuckle. “You can't, Kai. You wield fire and air.”
“I just used Cerin's spell.” It was stupid of me to admit. We weren't really supposed to be practicing spells right now, only writing them. My excitement had overcome me.
“Kai...it is impossible to wield more than two elements. You know this.” She appeared uncomfortable and confused by my recent ramblings.
Risking much, I grabbed the professor's arm, reciting the spell. A moment later, she, too, jerked back from it like it was hurting her.
“I saw you wield fire and air yesterday,” she said, her words a rush.
“I know. I've done both. And I just wielded life.”
She stared at me, in a state of shock. After a few seconds of silence, she stuttered, “Then—then do this for me. Lift up your palm, like you're going to wield simple fire.” I did so. “Now repeat after me. Creatius la agua.”
I repeated the spell, and just like that, water began to form from the energy particles in the air, the water splashing slowly up against the protective circular energy barrier just above my palm. Both Ms. Ply and I stared at it as if it shouldn't exist.
“Dispel it!” She exclaimed, almost as if in fear. I did so with a wave of my hand. The water fell to the classroom floor, splashing across the tile and dampening my shoes.
Now, I had the attention of the class. Everyone was quiet and watching the history unfolding before their eyes, with me at its center.
“Repeat creatius la terra.”
I did so. Instead of water, or fire, or even air, I harnessed even more energy within my hand, and a swirling ball of earth hovered where water just had, full of pebbles and dead tree roots, just like if I had gone outside and dug up a shovel full of the earth in the university's courtyard.
Ms. Ply stared at the earth, swirling around within its barrier and waiting to be used, and pointed toward one of my peers, the girl closest to the door. “You,” she said, her voice a frightened, hushed tone. “Get the headmaster. Now!”