Beneath swaying luminescence did Autumn dwell, bathed in soft radiance. By lantern light, banished was the creeping darkness, sent away to the far-flung corners of a fabric realm. Here, hushed in her tent, the witch and her black cat hid.

Anxiety crept and crawled upon the witch’s mind, provoked by the stress of before. Of confession. Yet she could not deny the freedom she felt. That joy of liberation.

But that was then. Now she plotted and planned.

As such, upon her bed she’d spread her collection of rare books, tomes, and manuals liberated from the necromancer’s library. Each half-opened to a page that’d caught her eye. Cracking open the screaming cover of her stolen spell-book of dark necromancy, Autumn rested it upright against her bedroll pillow before fishing about in her belongings for her wayward notebook and accompanying charcoal pencil.

Eme, that curious cat, poked about the scattered books, seeking something interesting to read. However, she swiftly gave up upon realizing she’d understood nothing of the esoteric dead languages written within.

Autumn, the ever-accommodating, offered to read the books aloud for Eme’s benefit, but the mercurial catgirl declined, opting instead to retrieve a borrowed pack of Adventurer’s Gambit cards to play a solo game on her lonesome.

A small smile crept across the witch’s lips at the wilfulness of her lover.

Returning to her notebook, Autumn carefully flipped through the various detailed sketches she’d made of her compatriots and the environs they’d passed until she reached a blank page. After making sure her pencil was sharp, she began writing.

Autumn had come a long way since her first desperate taste of the blackest craft all those dark nights ago. She’d changed much since donning that tattered black hat.

Yet, it hadn’t been all that long ago, had it? Barely more than a month and a half had passed since her flight from Witch Augus’ long abandoned hut. Mortal time, that was. She had no clue how long she’d spent within the Feywild both times together. This and the last.

Did it actually matter in the end?

‘God,’ Autumn exclaimed quietly to herself, ‘had it only been that long?’

It sure felt a heck of a lot longer.

Autumn refocused, clearing her mind of distraction. She thought now of her spellcraft and witchery. Of how much she’d improved over that short time. And in her retrospection, she gained a new outlook on the type of witch she was and had strived to become.

If she were to use gaming terms, Autumn would call herself a metamagic, fear-aspect witch with multi-classes in both fighter and necromancer.

A bit of a mouthful, really.

Perhaps she should rename herself? Autumn wondered. After all, she was no longer the same naïve witch she once was.

Tapping her pencil to her lips, she thought the idea over.

Autumn was a witch. She’d tapped into a part of the world that now came to shape her. Guide her. But did it define her? That was the question, wasn’t it? Could she be anything else?

Would losing her hat be akin to losing a part of her soul?

Perhaps she was being overly dramatic, but it was still a big deal, if only to herself.

However, that didn’t stop her from thinking about what else she could be. Could call herself.

Maybe she could name herself in relation to metamagic, seeing as it was becoming a major part of her magical repertoire. Something like Sorcerer Witch? Sorcerwitch for short? Or perhaps she should rename herself as a Wilderwitch on account of how often she was battling nature these days.

Hmm, perhaps not.

As much as she’d like to, Autumn couldn’t call herself a Necrowitch. Necromancy was, and still is, an illegal and vilified art within the Echea Empire. And while Autumn wouldn’t be abandoning her gifts in the craft anytime soon, she didn’t need to be so blatant about it.

Heading in the other direction, she could rename herself as something a bit more palatable in order to integrate herself into the wider magical community. Names like Spellweaver, Spellsmith, or Arcanecaster sprang to her mind.

However, she could go further the other way instead. Name herself something with a villainous bent to it. Harbinger sounded good, but maybe Scourge might be better?

Maybe she’d end up calling herself a Reaper Witch in honor of Death. He was her honorary grandfather, after all. Not that she’d told him that last part, but she’d decided it’d be so.

She should get him a gift sometime.

Unable to decide either which way, Autumn simply scrawled out the nickname Nethlia had given her before at the top of the page.

Witch of Fear.

As names go, it wasn’t bad, if a little basic.

Autumn idly reached over and scratched Eme behind her big fluffy ears, eliciting a pleased purr from the lazing catgirl.

On the notebook page, Autumn divided her magical acumen into three broad categories; talents, metamagics, and spells.

Talents, she defined as magical abilities or gifts that applied themselves unilaterally to her mind, magic, and/or body. Like feats from her parents’ old games. However, Autumn decided to not include those of a purely physical nature. She hardly needed to fill her notes with a fitness record, no matter how much it’d please Nethlia for her to do so.

A shudder rolled through Autumn’s body as she remembered the doom that awaited her on the morrow.

She should’ve kept her damn mouth shut!

…but Nethlia had looked so earnest when she’d asked about Autumn’s physical education. She couldn’t resist telling her.

Damn those soulful eyes to heck!

Talents.

* Witch sight — an empathic ability that allows me to see the emotions of others and myself. Additionally, with time, I was able to refine the ability to see potent concentrations of magic, namely within enchanted items or inscribed glyphs/wards.

* Emotional Harvesting — the main ability of witches. This ability allows me to siphon potent emotions (predominantly fear) from a willing target or environment to fuel my spells. Requires a hat to store magic within.

* All-Tongues — Origin unknown. An ability that allows me to read, write, and speak any language I’ve encountered so far. This includes dead and magical languages. Sign and body count as well as singing. (And no, I cannot understand animals.)

* Death’s Gift — protection from instant kill and death-aligned spells. Gained from swimming in the River Styx.

* Word of Power: Begone — a word spoken in the language of magic. Begone casts the target away from myself, manifesting as either a physical force or akin to a banishment spell. Other effects may be possible. Further testing is required.

While the word of power was spell-like, Autumn wrote it here instead of with her spells as it was a consequence of her All-Tongues rather than her learning the spell properly. As evidenced by the painful backlash that speaking the word gave her, and the wildly inconsistent effects it manifested.

Metamagics.

* Fear/Stun.

* Force/Shove.

* Harm/Necrotic.

It was a pitifully short list, but no less important than the others.

Metamagic was a powerful, fascinating concept. By adding new expressions and modifiers to her existing spells, Autumn could twist and create a whole new slew of invocations. It opened up so many possibilities going forward, especially if she discovered more metamagics.

The creative dreamer inside her rejoiced.

With a grin, Autumn picked her pencil up once more.

My Spells!

* Combat spells.

* Jinx — single target ranged attack. Evocation.

* Touch — single target melee attack. Evocation.

* Imbue Weapon — weapon buff. Transmutation.

* Shield — melee and ranged protection. Abjuration.

* Grave Domain spells.

* Delay Death — single target stabilization against death. Necromancy.

* Requiem — single target protection from undeath. Necromancy.

* Raise Steed — single target undeath animation. Necromancy.

* Healing Spells.

* Flesh Stitching — focused ritual. Necromancy.

* Bone Grafting — focused ritual. Necromancy.

* Utility Spells.

* Mind Whisper/Brain Worm — single target, point-to-point communication spells. Enchantment.

* Black Water — dimensional travel. Conjuration?

* Dirt Dismay — small area cleaning. Transmutation.

* Repair — targeted repair of small objects. Transmutation.

* Detect Poison — detection of poisons in and around self. Divination.

* Detect Disease — detection of disease in and around self. Divination.

* Recipes and Crafts.

* Healing Balm. Alchemy.

* Bone Totem. Witchcraft.

* Anti-hex Charm. Witchcraft.

* Ward of Alarm. Abjuration.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Autumn paused her writing once more.

Was this really all the spells she had? She knew she didn’t have that many, but still! Without her metamagic altered spells crowding the page, her list of spells looked positively anemic!!

It definitely wasn’t the arsenal of destructive magic she desired. Without powerful spells, how was she meant to fight against the overwhelming might of the hag and kill her?!

Hell, she didn’t even know how to cast a fireball spell! Weren’t they meant to be a staple of mages everywhere?

Imagine if she’d tried to go into the mages’ district without even knowing such a well-known spell! All the other mages would point and laugh at her! They’d call her the fireball-less witch until she cried! Then Nethlia and Eme would dump her because she’s a lame fireball-less mage! And she’d be naked for some reason too! If that happened, she’d seriously cry!!!

Ok, maybe she was being a little overdramatic, but it was still a serious problem.

However, as there was little she could do about it right now, Autumn didn’t lament it further. Instead, she massaged her hand as she thought over her metamagic combos. Most she’d created already, but there were a few yet to be brought to foul life.

Putting her pencil back to paper, Autumn scribed out her expanded list of spells.

Starting with the very first spell she’d ever learnt.

* Jinx of Fear — metamagic combo: Jinx + Fear.

* * Requires a wand to cast. A ranged spell attack that stuns a single target for up to 6 secs. Duration of the stunning effect is affected by the target's willpower and mental fortitude. (Non-lethal.)

* Forceful Blast — metamagic combo: Jinx + Force.

* * Requires a wand to cast. A ranged spell attack that imparts substantial kinetic energy into a target, forcefully pushing them away from the caster. The strength of the kinetic energy is adjustable when cast. Current estimates put it between the strength of a solid punch, up to the force of an onrushing bull.

* Necrotic Lance — metamagic combo: Jinx + Harm.

* * Requires a wand to cast. A ranged spell attack that inflicts necrotic energies onto a target. Once struck, the target’s flesh rapidly putrefies. While not always immediately lethal, it doesn’t seem like a pleasant experience either.

Autumn grimaced as she recalled what effect even a glancing strike had done to the drow mage’s face. Her gut churned at the memory that haunted her.

With shaking hands, Autumn banished her recollection by moving onto the next set of her metamagic-imbued spells.

* Touch of Terror — metamagic combo: Touch + Fear.

* * Cast wandlessly. A melee spell attack that stuns a target upon contact for up to 6 secs. Duration of the stunning effect is affected by the target’s willpower and mental fortitude. (Non Lethal. Follow up attack highly recommended.)

* Forceful Punch — metamagic combo: Touch + Force.

* * Cast wandlessly. A melee spell attack that imparts substantial kinetic energy through the caster’s strike into a target, potentially knocking them back. Unknown if the target needs to be living to be affected. (i.e. can I now punch down walls or undead?) Further testing required.

* Blight — metamagic combo: Touch + Harm.

* * Cast wandlessly. A melee spell attack that imparts necrotic energies into a target upon touch. Once struck, the target’s flesh putrefies very rapidly. (0/10. Would not recommend.)

Autumn shuddered at the memory of her fingers sinking into decaying flesh. Getting liquid drow out from under her nails had been a nightmare.

* Dread Knife — metamagic combo: Imbue Weapon + Fear.

* * Requires a blade capable of holding magic. A transmutation spell that imbues a blade held by the caster with a razor-sharp edge. The spell dissipates upon the blade’s removal from the caster's hand. Unknown as to the maximum length of blade the spell allows. Daggers and knives work fine.

The next metamagic combo was a curious one. Autumn had used it before, albeit not intentionally or even skillfully.

* Explosive Dagger — metamagic combo: Imbue Weapon + Force.

* * Requires a disposable blade. A transmutation spell that imbues a weapon with more magical energy than the material of the blade can handle. Once removed from the caster’s hand, it’ll shortly detonate into a cloud of shrapnel. Uncontrollable, and is just as likely to injure the caster as well as any targets. (It has!)

Autumn massaged the scar on her calf as she grumbled beneath her breath about shoddy spells. Not that’d been much of one when she’d used it before. More of a containment failure of her Dread Knife.

Maybe if she practiced more with it, she could make it less unpredictable?

Something to think about.

The next combo was one she’d not actually used or even made yet, but was theoretically plausible.

* ??? — metamagic combo: Imbue Weapon + Harm.

* * Unknown spell. Likely requires a blade. Possibly coats the blade with a necrotic edge to impart necrotizing energies into cuts. (Gross.) Testing is required. Potential names: Occam’s Razor? Necromancer’s Bite?

There, that was all her combative, damaging spells. Autumn vaguely recalled reading about a sound-based attack spell back in Duskfields, but without the Tome of Witchcraft in front of her, she had no hope of learning the spell by herself.

Perhaps the Necromancy spell-book had something similar?

It was worth a look later, at the very least. For now, she carried on to her most powerful, and most used spell. The shield spell.

* Aversion — metamagic combo: Shield + Fear.

* * Cast wandlessly. A directed magical force field that protects the caster from extreme amounts of damage, both magical and non-magical. Has survived a heavy, magical bladed strike from a powerful undead angel and being buried under a couple tonnes of solid rock. Requires active concentration, but can be cast near instinctively.

Autumn hummed to herself as she contemplated what adding the other two metamagics to the shield spell would do.

* ??? — metamagic combo: Shield + Force.

* * Unknown spell. Perhaps adding Force will create some sort of explosive reactive armor? Or another possibility would be to condense the shield down into itself and create some sort of mage armor? Witch Armor? Testing required.

* ??? — metamagic combo: Shield + Harm.

* * Unknown spell. A dangerous combination, perhaps? Due to the nature of the shield spell, it is unlikely to harm the caster. Unlikely, but not impossible. Probably the metamagic will create some sort of protection from necrotic energy or it could create a far more grim reactive armor. Very careful testing is required.

Autumn let out an explosive sigh as she finished writing. Slumping back on her bed, she massaged her aching hand as she read over what she’d written. Of her remaining spells, only Mind Whisper looked likely to benefit from the metamagics she had.

Perhaps she could make a psychic blast or a mentally damaging spell?

“Done already?” Eme asked, looking up from her game at hearing Autumn’s tremendous exhale.

Autumn glanced down at the game she was playing. It looked to be a single player version of that Adventurer’s Gambit game they’d played before, way back when at the Misplaced Inn. They’d not had much time to play together since.

Currently, Eme was borrowing Nethlia’s deck, having lost her own with all her gear in the under-roots. Autumn knew this as the catgirl had cried about losing all her rare Felis adventurer cards during their journey.

Not having one apparently marked you as a newbie in the guild more than having a bronze rank did. Heck, even Pyre had one, and she’d joined the guild after Autumn had.

No, Autumn wasn’t upset by this. Why do you ask, huh?!

Apparently, most of the fun was in collecting cards. And given that the Adventurers’ Guild had branches across the known world, there were a lot of official cards depicting famous adventurers from every culture.

Not even escaping to another world spared Autumn from card-collecting mania.

Autumn shook her head at Eme’s question. “Just finished up my spell list. I want to read some of these anatomy books before bed.”

“Anatomy books?” Eme cocked her head curiously as she glanced over the rare books around Autumn. “How come?”

“Well, you know how I’ve learned some healing spells, right?”

Eme blinked. “You mean those Necromancy ones?” she shivered.

“Yeah, those. The thing is, they’re not really Necromancy spells. They’re actually Biomancy spells!” Autumn grinned as she picked up an anatomy book on Elvish bone structures and how to reinforce them.

Who better to learn about bodies from than the people who regularly took them apart?

“So, I had an idea.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Eme smirked. “Are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself?”

“Hardy har har,” Autumn deadpanned. She lightly rapped the grinning catgirl on the head, causing her to squeak. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

Clutching her head melodramatically, Eme pouted up at Autumn. “Sorry, sorry! Please regale me with your brilliant idea, oh magnificent queen of the dead and damned!”

Autumn huffed at Eme’s teasing, but did as she was bid. “So if these spells themselves aren’t strictly Necromancy, then I should be able to use the same methods the necromancers used to improve their undead, but on myself instead!”

“You’re not thinking about turning yourself into a lich, are you?” Eme asked hesitantly.

“What? Oh, no! Nothing like that,” Autumn reassured Eme.

Well, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Death himself was just bones, and he seemed to be doing alright.

She would miss food though. And sex.

“I was just thinking about reinforcing my bones or making my skin tougher. That sort of thing. It’d make Nethlia’s training days much easier.” Autumn joked. “Besides, we need to take all the opportunities we can get, you know?”

And why should she stick to human anatomy? Autumn pondered as she gazed at the startlingly realistic drawings of dissected Elven bodies. She could pick all the best traits from the other races and turn herself into an Übermensch.

Hell, she didn’t even need to stick with humanoids either. She was sure there was an abundance of magical creatures out there that possessed enviable traits.

“Sounds dangerous.”

Eme’s words broke Autumn from her daydreams. Slowly, she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but what isn’t? I won’t do it now, of course, or likely anytime soon. I’m not an idiot. But when I’ve researched and practiced…would–would you be interested?”

“If you think it’s a good idea, then yes. I trust you,” Eme said, looking resolutely into Autumn’s eyes.

Autumn beamed.

Holding Eme’s hands, anxious thoughts crossed Autumn’s mind. Blurting out, she asked, “um, we’ve been talking about my plans all this time, but what about yours?”

“Mine?” Eme blinked in confusion.

“Yeah, what did you want to do once…once we get back home? Is there like a bard’s college you want to attend?”

“Me? attend a bardic college?” Eme screwed up her face in thought. “Maybe? I’ve never really thought about it. Never had the coin for it before.” Suddenly, a sly smile crept across the catgirl’s face. “They say that attending a bardic college often costs an arm and a leg. Looks like I’ve paid half my tuition already, huh?”

Autumn choked on her laughter as Eme wiggled her eyebrows. “That’s awful!”

“Meh, it’s my arm. I can joke about it if I want.”

Once Autumn’s shocked laughter petered out, she prodded Eme some more in spite. “So, how about it? College for the dragon-armed Felis?”

Eme shrugged nonchalantly, looking away from Autumn. “Eh, I’ll pass.”

“Why’s that? Not your style?” Autumn joked as she nudged Eme’s shoulder.

The catgirl just shrugged. “It’s not that, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

Eme looked back at Autumn guiltily. “Well, there isn’t a college in Duskfields. All they’ve got is a theatre hall. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great, but it’s no college.”

Autumn’s heart froze in her chest. Struggling for breath, she forced out the words. “U-umm, where—where is the closest one?” Her voice cracked at the end of her question.

Eme looked down at her finger in her lap. “Oldgrave. But that’s the College of Graves.”

“Which d-did you want to attend?”

“The College of Blades,” Eme admitted, whispering it as if confessing a sin.

“Where?” Autumn’s chest hurt.

“On the other side of the Empire, in the capital.” In a rush, Eme reassured Autumn, “don’t worry, I’m not going!”

“You should,” Autumn interrupted Eme, looking her dead in the eyes with steel in her own. “If it’s your dream, then you should—”

“No! Don’t throw me away!” Eme blubbered, clinging desperately to a shocked Autumn, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry! Please, don’t leave me! I don’t want to be alone again!”

Autumn snapped out her of daze. “Hey, hey, hey! I won’t throw you away!” She reassured the brawling catgirl, calmly stroking her back as she shook. “There’s no need for that. I won’t, I promise.”

“P-promise?” Eme hiccuped into Autumn’s shoulder.

“Till the day I die.”

Black magic swirled through the lantern glow between the lonesome lovers, twisting about their fated words and resolute promises. If Autumn so willed, she could bind them in an unbreakable spellworking. Chain herself to Eme and Eme to herself forevermore by their whispered compact.

Autumn let the magic slip through her fingers. She needed no spell to honor her word.

Not with her.