The smell of paper filled the air as light streamed through the windows in Hallast’s library. The medium sized spaced seemed well used, and Lydia marveled at the number of books in the circular tower of bookshelves that rose around her. She sat patiently at a wooden desk while Hallast picked a book up out of a nearby cupboard.

  Since yesterday, Hallast had changed into a robe that was forest green, with thick blue trim. The sleeves were long and wide, and the front wrapped around him in a way that reminded Lydia of a Tibetan monk.

  “Are you ready to learn?” he asked Lydia as he walked back to stand on the other side of the desk.

  “Super ready!” Lydia said, sounding a little more excited than she had meant.

  “Excellent,” Hallast acknowledged, warmly. “As you can see, there are many books in my library. Most of these contain symbols that may help you in basic spellcraft. However, do not rely on them. They are no more useful in casting spells than a tape measure is in building a house.”

  “Books can only do so much,” Lydia summarized, “got it.”

  “Having said that,” Hallast continued his lecture, dropping the book he was holding in front of Lydia.

  Lydia picked up the book and examined it. The cover was a simple; brown and leather, with no title or markings of any kind.

  “This,” Hallast explained, “is the most important spell book you will use. It should never be shown to anyone else, ever. That’s especially true for those you don’t trust.”

  With an intense feeling of excited anticipation, Lydia opened the book. The first page was blank. The second was also blank and so was the third.

  “Hallast,” Lydia finally spoke, underwhelmed, “this book doesn’t have anything in it.”

  “Yes,” replied Hallast with a broad smile. “That’s because you haven’t written it yet.”

  Lydia looked at the book and put it down on the desk. She took a deep, deep breath and then exhaled loudly. She began fanning he own face with her hands as she felt tears forming in her eyes. Hallast looked at her, seeming alarmed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m just… Having a bit of a moment, Hallast,” Lydia replied, slightly choked up. “I’m just really excited and I’m worried I’ll miss something important while I’m thinking about writing a spell book, so… give me a minute.”

  “Relax,” Hallast instructed, chuckling.

  “Trying…”

  Hallast pulled a beautiful wooden pen out of a drawer in the desk. It was a very simple quill pen, with a small brass nib.

  “You are to write in your spell book with only one pen,” Hallast continued to explain the basics of using her book.

  “Why?” asked Lydia, taking the pen as it was handed to her.

  “Keeps you from using a sabotaged pen,” Hallast answered, “limits distractions, and generally keeps your energy in one place. So many things can go wrong in magic, why trip yourself with the small things, right?”

  “Fair enough,” Lydia said placing the pen softly on top of her book, trying hard to treat it with respect and reverence.   “How do spells work? Where do I even begin?”

  Hallast looked thoughtful, for a moment, then walked over to nearby bookshelf and appeared to be looking for something specific. It took him very little time to find and retrieve a small, gray book. Hallast walked back to the desk and place the volume in front of Lydia. The title on the cover read: Norse Runes.

  “You said you tried to cast a spell at Jack, back on Earth?” inquired Hallast.

  “Yeah,” replied Lydia, who still felt a little bitter about it not working. “I did the ‘isaw gur’ thing that I saw you do.”

  “Isa gar,” Hallast corrected her. “Which are two runes contained in the book I just gave you. Without looking them up, could you tell me what those runes mean? If you close your eyes, can you picture them in your mind?”

  “No,” answered Lydia, “of course I can’t.”

  “You were trying to use a spell,” Hallast began to explain in a tone that was kind and patient, “that you didn’t understand, without knowing how to cast it. It has nothing to do with how powerful you are, Lydia. It’s import you remember that.”

  Lydia smiled, genuinely appreciating his kindness. While most teacher’s had tried to trip Lydia up with trick questions and belittle her, Hallast seemed to just want to see her succeed.

  “So,” Hallast went on, “you see how vitally important symbols are. Symbols are the focal point where energy and intention are one and the same. It’s the language we use to speak to the universe. Your job from now on is to collect symbols that mean something to you, in your book, and study them; understand them.

  “This is also why we don’t let other people see our spell books. If someone uses your spells with the wrong intention, the consequences can be tragic. Also a person who might want to hurt you can make up counter-spells if they know what symbols you’re using. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, actually,” said Lydia picking up her spell book and pen. “Thanks, Hallast. You’re a good teacher.”

  “Why thank you,” he said, with an all too familiar smirk. “What do you say we leave the symbolism lessons here in the library and take a walk? There is a lot I have to explain, and you won’t find it in any of these books.”

  Lydia nodded, standing to leave with Hallast, but still carrying her book, pen, and a bottle of ink with her. She felt attached to the book already. It was hers; special and unique.

  The two walked together, out of the library, into the main hall, and out the front door of the palace. The sun shown brightly, but Lydia never felt too warm as she walked in its light.

  Hallast had led her a little down the path that was covered in flowers, before he began to speak more about magic.

  “More important than understanding symbols,” Hallast began, “is understanding the hierarchy of will.”

  “Hierarchy of will,” Lydia repeated the words, despite not understanding what they meant.

  “Oh we’re already talking about wills, are we?” came the weakened voice of Lydia’s mother, from behind them. Both Hallast and Lydia looked at each other with worried expressions, and then turned to see Jessica slowly making her way down the path.

  “Mom!” Lydia called to her, simultaneously worried and happy to see her up and walking around. “You should be resting.”

  “I’m fine,” Lydia’s mother replied with a smile and a dismissive wave of her hand, as she finally caught up with them.   “There’s the immediate will, the true will, the wills of others, and the universal will. Did I forget anything, Hallast?”

  “That’s all of them,” he replied with a smile. “Do you want to explain to her what all of that means, or shall I?”

  “Will theory is a little heavy handed for me, in current state,” Jessica stated.

  “Very well,” said Hallast. “Do you have anything you’d like to teach your daughter?”

  “I have something, yes,” Jessica answered, simply. Without saying anything more, she began to walk slowly up the path, back toward the palace. Without questioning, Lydia and Hallast followed her.

  It took a little time and effort, but eventually Lydia’s mother had led them through the main hall of the palace, up the winding staircase, and onto a rooftop garden, which Lydia discovered was at the very highest point of the palace.

  The garden was simple, yet beautiful. Green grass covered a rectangular area, and a set of circular stepping stones laid a path that went around a medium-sized oak, and ended at a fountain. The fountain seemed to be a simple, round, stone pool, from which water voluntarily leapt from the center without the help of pipes or hoses.

  “What is this?” she asked as the three approached.

  “This is my favorite place,” Lydia’s mother said in a soft, almost reverent tone.

  “I let you visit once,” Hallast said, “and already you have favorites.”

  “Hush,” Jessica replied with a slight chuckle. “This is a scrying fountain. It helps us see what we’re searching for.”

  “It’s very limited,” Hallast added, “and mostly has a mind of its own. Your mother has most of the luck using it because she only ever watches one thing.”

  “What’s that?” asked Lydia.

  “Take a look,” Jessica beckoned, pointing to the rising and falling water.

  Lydia walked closer to the fountain and looked deeply into the water. At first it seemed like a chaotic mess of reflected light, but soon the light shifted and the image of a middle-aged woman appeared. The woman had a necklace with a tiny gold acorn charm hanging from it. She wore a long, casual-looking dress, and seemed to be sitting at a desk, writing something.

  “Who is she?” asked Lydia, not taking her eyes off the image. She was afraid it might disappear if she looked away.

  “I have no idea,” her mother answered, “but she loves magic. She hasn’t had a day of magical training, but she reads books about magic. She thinks about it all the time, I’m sure.”

  Lydia looked at her mother, finding herself confused and surprised by the sudden sentimentality. It was a whimsy that had never surfaced before that moment.

  “How do you know that about her?” Lydia asked.

  “Because,” Hallast entered the conversation, not even glancing at the fountain, “we’re all that way. Your mother is looking for people with magical potential.”

  “So why doesn’t someone teach her?” Lydia continued her line of questioning.

  “Most sorcerers aren’t taught,” Hallast explained. “Magic is mostly discovered. We each make our own magic, in our own way.”

  “And,” Jessica cut in, “I’m sure this woman makes magic, for someone, somehow. It’s in her heart, or we wouldn’t be watching her now.”

  The image of the woman continued to bubble and churn in the small pool. After a moment, Lydia observed the image suddenly magnifying the acorn charm, which hung around the woman’s neck. Lydia wondered if it was somehow important to the woman. Maybe she believed it was magical.

  “Mom,” Lydia turned her attention to her mother, “Is it hard not having magic anymore?”

  Jessica smiled and wrapped her arms around Lydia in a warm hug. Softly, Lydia’s mother kissed her on the forehead.

  “Sweetheart,” she cooed, “I still made something magical, after I lost my powers. I got to see that magic grow into an amazing young woman.”

  Lydia gave her mom an affectionate squeeze, before their hug ended. She felt moved by her mothers words, but she was also a little embarrassed.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I think,” Hallast said, smirking slightly, “that the point Jess is trying to make is an important one: Magic comes in a lot of forms. As you study it, don’t get tied up in theory, or you might miss a chance to make your own kind of magic.”

  “Hallast can teach you a lot,” Jessica concluded the sentiment, “but always remember that magic begins with what’s in your heart.”

  Lydia said nothing in reply, simply nodding in quiet acceptance.

  Jessica and Hallast let the lesson rest for the day, leaving Lydia to her own thoughts, on the rooftop of the palace. Lydia took a seat beneath the oak, placing her pen and ink beside her, before she opened her new book.

  The blank pages were milky parchment, without lines. Lydia thought that it made sense, given that she was expected to drawn symbols in it. She flattened the book’s spine, keeping it open to the first page. Lydia thought a proper title would be appropriate. She dipped her pen in the ink and began to write in slow, careful strokes:

  Lydia’s Spells

  To Lydia’s surprise, the letters morphed into a set of symbols that looked nothing like the letter’s she had written. After changing their shape, the letters traveled around in a circle, following one another in a chain that curled into a tight spiral. Though the words had morphed Lydia still, amazingly, recognized what they meant.

  This, she realized, must be another way of protecting her book against prying eyes. Anything she wrote would be turned into words only she could read. Hallast clearly wasn’t messing around when he said no one else should be shown her spells. Lydia was relieved to be so protected while she was learning magic. She longed to write more in her magic book, but she had no idea what sorcerers wrote about. Hallast had told her to collect symbols, but she wasn’t sure which ones.

  She sighed, and closed her book. Carefully she put the cap back on her ink bottle. Lydia decided to take time to enjoy the midday sun. She remained beneath the oak and eventually fell asleep.

  After a while, the sun began set. Lydia woke, and found that she was very hungry. She gathered her things and walked back down into the main hall of the palace. The voices of Hallast and her mother came from the door leading to the tea balcony, so Lydia went out to join them.

  Both were sitting at a table, illuminated by bright candles. Hallast was eating what looked like a hearty bowl of stew, while a pepperoni pizza sat in front of Jessica, looking very out of place.

  “Right on time,” Hallast said, as he seemed to catch sight of Lydia. “Please, join us.”

  Lydia felt a little dazed from having just woken up. Without a word she placed her things down on another table and took a seat with her mother and Hallast.

  “We didn’t want to wake you,” Jessica said, placing a hand affectionately on the back of her daughter’s head. “I’m glad you found your way here.”

  “I can’t believe I slept,” Lydia finally said. “I can’t believe how tired I am.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Hallast said grabbing a pitcher of water and a glass from the other side of the table. He placed the glass in front of Lydia and filled it for her. “It’s kind of like jet lag. We’re on a different world now; it’s hard to adjust.”

Lydia thought this made a fair amount of sense. When they had escaped Jack it was night, and she had no idea what the time was in this new place. She took a drink of water, and then looked around for an indication of where she could get food.

  “You must be hungry,” her mother offered, picking up on Lydia’s cues. “What would you like?”

  “Are there burritos around here?” Lydia asked, only half joking.

  “Great idea!” exclaimed Hallast. “You’re going to make me regret my stew. Imagine it for me, okay?”

  Lydia, was excited to play along with more magic. She closed her eyes tightly and imagined a large chicken burrito, from a place where she had eaten, back in her home town. Suddenly Lydia could smell what she had been imagining. She opened her eyes to see the exact burrito she had wanted, sitting in front of her on a plate. Hallast was wearing a smug smile, clearly watching Lydia’s amazed reaction.

  “That’s amazing,” Lydia finally said. “Why would you ever leave this place?”

  “One day I won’t,” Hallast replied, “but fate has a way of taking you from the comforts of home. It does get a bit lonely here, I must admit. It’s downside of having a world that is held together by your will.”

  “Will?” Lydia repeated Hallast’s last word, as she picked up a knife and fork. “You two mentioned will before. It sounds important. What is it?”

  Hallast reached out a hand and slowly pushed Lydia’s glass of water toward the edge of the table before giving it an extra tap, making it slip off the edge and fall toward the ground.

 In a flash Lydia became tense and her heart jumped as she reached out to catch it. The glass froze in mid-air and Lydia’s heart was pounding. She froze with it, afraid that if she moved the glass might continue it’s trip toward the ground and shatter.

  “Put it back up on the table,” Hallast requested calmly.

  “Umm… How do I do that?” Lydia spoke through nervously gritted teeth.

  “Want it, feel it, see it,” Hallast stated, putting emphasis on every word. “Trust yourself. It will work.”

  Lydia focused on nothing but the glass, she imagined that it was connected to her. She quickly found that she could feel a connection between her and the glass. It was real. Slowly, she sat upright and the glass rose with her. She pointed her right index finger at a spot on the table, and the glass slowly obeyed, placing itself where she had pointed.

  “Amazing,” Lydia’s mother breathed, genuinely in awe of Lydia. She looked at Hallast with an expression somewhere between alarm and confusion.

  “Congratulations,” Hallast said, warmly. “Did you feel it? That rush from the panic of seeing your glass fall? There’s a bump of adrenaline and then something takes over.”

  “Yes,” Lydia replied, still slightly stunned by what she had just done. “It was in my chest.”

  “Yes,” Hallast confirmed, with a little more excitement. “People often say they feel it in their chest. That is what we call certainty. By putting you in a situation where you didn’t have time to think, I forced your two wills to establish certainty. They became one will and you were met with no resistance from my world, so your magic worked instantly.”

  “You might have to start over,” Lydia’s mother, finally chimed in. “This time without being dramatic, please.”

  “Okay,” Hallast agreed, scratching his head as he thought. “Okay… So everything in the universe follows a pattern of what we call the hierarchy of wills. You have two wills. The first is your immediate will, which constitutes your main motivation to do most things. If I want to take a walk, my immediate will coordinates energy to my body to do it. Simple, right?

  “Now your second will is called your true will, which is much more complicated. Imagine the most practical individual in the world, living inside your brain, trying to keep the peace between you and the rest of existence, and she isn’t very talkative at all.”

  “Sounds like my subconscious or something,” Lydia offered.

  “It’s energy within you that is motivated toward not just what you want,” Jessica helped to elaborate. “It plays to what you are meant to do and what is best for you. Even if it’s unpleasant in the here and now.”

  “Exactly,” Hallast corroborated. “When your two wills’ energy are flowing in the same direction, it’s powerful. When they are in conflict, it’s impossible to do magic.”

  “I think I understand,” Lydia said, trying to wrap her head around a new way of looking at things. “So why can’t anybody just do magic, if they’re a really balanced person?”

  “One person’s certain will isn’t the full equation,” Hallast said, taking a sip of stew from his spoon. “As your mother mentioned earlier there exists the will of the other people around you, there is also the will of the universe, which might fight you if you don’t communicate properly and establish certainty with it.”

  “The universe has a will?” Lydia asked wide-eyed.

  “I mean,” Jessica shrugged as she spoke, “It is energy, and it is flowing in a direction. It doesn’t think, but its energetic path is set. Rules come from that path. Physics and other elements in play aren’t just going to do what you want. Hallast built this world, so the rules are largely his, which is how you so easily stopped the glass from falling.”

  “Correct,” Hallast confirmed. “The rules on earth are not as kind. To project our energy in the proper direction we follow the mnemonic device: ‘What Fantastic Sorcery’ or ‘Want it, Feel it, See it.’ This gives us an easy route toward certainty.”

  “Why use symbols?” asked Lydia, feeling slightly confused by the concept. “Why not just ‘WFS’ all the time?”

  “Because,” Hallast explained, stirring his stew idly, “symbols are the way we see the universe and therefore the means by which we communicate with it. It projects our own certainty into a language that interacts with the world around us. It’s the best way we have to express complex instructions and ideas to the universe.”

  “Gotcha,” Lydia said, abandoning her fork to pick up her burrito and take a big bite of it.

  “I think,” Jessica began with a chuckle, “that you’ve exhausted your pupil, Hallast.”

  “Me?” Hallast laughed, looking slightly defensive. “Don’t pretend you aren’t a part of this, Jess.”

  “It’s cool, guys,” Lydia responded with a mouthful of burrito. “You just keep changing the way I perceive reality, but I’m probably not being slowly scarred by it.”

  The three laughed and continued to enjoy their meal. Afterward they each went to their individual rooms in the palace. Lydia sat on her simple bed, in her simple room. She opened her spell book once again and turned to the third page and wrote at the top of the page:

-Symbols-

  The word became the mysterious lettering, as it had before. Just below, she drew a picture of an acorn. Lydia was inspired by the woman she had seen in the fountain, and decided that this would be her symbol for hope.