Chapter 13 Celestial Magic
CELESTIAL MAGIC
I do believe that there are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in which any of my accusers believe in them.
Plato, Apología Socrates
Professor Lamour is waiting for her in front of the locked gate of the Astrologia wing. He holds one candle, its light hugging the bones of his face and skipping over the hollows, making him look strange and skeletal. With his red robes shrouding his frame, he could be death itself.
She doesn’t know how to begin the conversation. To get him to meet her, she’d employed a part of herself that felt desperate and unnatural—devilish, even.
If she was a good person before she came here, this school is making her bad.
If she was already bad, she’s getting so much worse.
In the end, they exchange no pleasantries before Professor Lamour unlocks the gate with the glittering key Odette described in her diary.
“The lock is made of celestial magic. Even with the right key, only a celestial witch can unlock it. When we’re here, we’re safe.” The gate swings open with a metallic groan. He pulls a second key from his pocket and hands it to her. “Here is yours. If you lose it, we’re finished.”
She gets a sudden whiff of alcohol on his breath. It makes her eyes burn.
“Are you drunk?”
He pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a swig. “Not nearly enough.”
Towering over her, he looks a bit like her father—tired, resigned, full of hate and anger.
She doesn’t feel safe with him, nor inside the condemned Astrologia wing while they walk through.
The scent of decay is heavy in the unmoving air.
Spiderwebs stretch from wall to wall, and large white tapestries blanket the furniture.
The floor threatens to drop them at any second.
It feels mushy and soft like treading through a marsh.
When they reach the spiral staircase, Claudia hesitates to follow her professor.
Many of the wooden steps are missing, and some look like they’re one wrong move away from collapsing.
She taps the first step with her toe and jumps back at the harsh creak of the warped wood.
“Are you sure it’s safe to walk up there?”
Professor Lamour shoots a glare over his shoulder.
“None of this is safe. You know that, and yet you demanded to come here anyway. Step up and stop wasting time.” He continues up the stairs until he’s out of view, and Claudia follows as fast as she can while refusing to look down.
Her foot dips into an open space where a step should’ve been, but she catches herself on the metal railing before she falls.
Only a small yelp escapes her. She clambers up the rest of the way in silence and reaches Professor Lamour while he unlocks the observatory.
When he opens the door, bright starlight floods through the hall.
Breathless, Claudia walks inside and stands next to the gigantic telescope underneath the domed glass ceiling.
The seam where the glass meets the walls is lined with silver molding.
Above her, the stars seem near enough to touch.
Up close, they look less jagged and teeth-like than they normally do.
They’re softer here, like white magnolias scattered across the tallest trees.
Awestruck, Claudia marvels. “This is beautiful.” Her eyes widen like mouths, drinking up the starlight dribbling down on her.
Professor Lamour mumbles something harsh under his breath, but she ignores him and continues to explore.
All around the room are towering bookshelves, packed to the brim with neglected tomes.
Dust blurs the faded foiled titles on their spines.
A few yellowed papers litter the black marble floor.
There’s a massive curved desk in the corner with one ancient book upon it.
The edges shimmer and gleam with the same light of Lamour’s enchanted key.
Claudia walks toward the desk and reaches for the book when her professor suddenly appears at her side and snatches her wrist.
“You have much to learn before you can touch the grimoire. If you touch it before you’re ready, it can make you very, very sick. It’s potent with ancient magic, and it is enchanted so that it can never leave this room.”
She jerks her wrist back and stops herself from delivering a scathing response. She’s not on his good side, and she doesn’t want to make it worse. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
He looks into her eyes. For one small second, his gaze softens. “I am only trying to keep you safe.”
She nods. “I know.” Though she remains unsure.
Taking another swig from his flask, Lamour walks toward the desk.
“Understand that the magic we teach at Cygnus is nothing more than pure human desire refined into power. Celestial, linguistic, musical, mathematical, and floramantic magic—those are all mediums for channeling hedonistic urges. Desire is what makes a witch. The common mortal is complacent. They want for nothing more than they have, dream of nothing they have not already seen. But witches burn with want. Witches feel that pull of power. Witches were born knowing they were made for so much more than anyone around them could conceive. Cygnus teaches how to use academic disciplines as mediums to transmute your desire into power. The scholars who are chosen are here because they wanted it badly enough. Because they had so much desire that it made them magical.” He opens a drawer in the desk and pulls out a large celestial map depicting nearly a hundred constellations, which is shocking, for everything Claudia’s read suggests there are only fifty.
Lamour spreads it out over the desk beside the grimoire.
It’s midnight blue with each constellation painted in gold.
“There are so many,” she says, hardly any volume to her voice.
“Sidarphion showed Cygnus scholars all the undiscovered constellations before he left.” He traces Andromeda with his finger and sighs. “I’m going to do things differently than I did with Odette. I went too slow. I didn’t think she was ready to cast, so I didn’t teach her how. And now, she’s dead.”
“What do you think happened? Someone told me she died in her sleep. It seems like everyone here either thinks it was natural, or they think…”
“They think you killed her,” he says knowingly, casually. “I’ve heard the rumors.” He takes another drink. “But this has been happening long before your arrival. Odette is not the first of our kind to be killed.”
Claudia gasps, feigning surprise. “Really?”
“There were more of us. The Eyes of Andromeda, we were called. It was our purpose to protect celestial magic, though it seems we could not even protect ourselves. At this point, I suppose you and I are the last surviving members.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“I used to wonder if it was Sidarphion himself, but I can’t know for sure.
The problem with that theory is the variation in the killings.
If they were executed by the same entity every time, why have some with their throats slit, some falling to their death, and then Odette simply not waking up?
It lacks order and logic. Perhaps it’s intentional.
But either way, there is grave danger here, and I will not watch you fall victim to it.
” He turns his attention back to the map of constellations.
“All I’m about to teach you is in complete opposition to the way Astrologia is meant to be taught.
Like any other discipline here at Cygnus, this should be slow and entirely academic before magic is introduced.
But you were right when you said you’d need to be able to defend yourself, so I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re not vulnerable. ”
She nods. “Thank you. Truly. I need this more than you know.”
Distantly, the condemned wing creaks and groans, settling into its own rot. Lamour doesn’t seem to notice.
“I need you to promise me you won’t use it unless your life is in danger. I don’t want you to get caught or killed.”
“I promise.”
He sighs. Clearing his throat, he runs his hand over the map.
“While linguistic magic involves manipulating desire through words, celestial magic utilizes constellations. Think of them like runes—each carries its own properties based on its origin and what it represents. We use constellations in tandem with one another to create different spells.”
She reaches out to touch the map, and Lamour lets her.
She traces Perseus, Orion, and Lyra. Beneath them is an unfamiliar constellation labeled Dracoemagyl, the fallen dragon, with twelve stars stretched out wide like wings, and eleven more shaped like a long throat and a crooked mouth in a beast-like snarl.
With every stroke, she feels phantom fingers dragging across different parts of her body, as if the map is a mirror to the underside of her skin. “What types of spells?”