Chapter 5
Ash
Scrubbing two locker rooms and all the equipment took far longer than I expected.
Not to mention there was now a used piece of chewing gum plugging the magical hole I’d accidentally put in one of the toilets.
That wasn’t going to last long, and I didn’t have a fix for it yet.
Martha Stewart, despite being the housekeeping witch of the east coast, didn’t have any handy tricks for undoing toilet holes.
Typical Martha.
But I’d have to come back for it later. I was already late for my private lessons with Professor Blackwood.
Hopefully she didn’t care if I smelled like a boy’s locker room because I wasn’t going to have time to take a shower beforehand.
Grabbing my shabby messenger bag, I headed back across campus toward the Elemental Arts building.
The Elemental Arts building was on the far side of campus, an imposing brutalist structure made mostly of glass that seemed to shift colors depending on what angle you viewed it from.
I hurried across the quad, trying to ignore the stares from other students.
Whether they were looking at me because I reeked of cleaning products or because I was obviously rushing and flustered, I couldn’t tell. Probably both.
Professor Blackwood’s office was tucked away where the more experimental magic courses were taught.
I took the stairs two at a time, my messenger bag thumping against my hip with each step.
My lungs burned by the time I reached her door, which was slightly ajar. I could hear her moving around inside.
I knocked tentatively.
“You’re late, Mr. Vale,” came her crisp voice from within. “Enter.”
I pushed the door open to find Professor Blackwood standing by her window, a small whirlwind of flames dancing between her palms. She was a tall, imposing woman with light skin and dark silver-streaked hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her eyes, piercing and intelligent, fixed on me as I entered.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “The locker rooms took longer than I expected.”
She dismissed the flames with a flick of her wrist, and they dissipated into the air like smoke. “Ah yes, your new student work position.” She gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Sit.”
I sank into the seat, setting my bag on the floor beside me. Her office was exactly as I remembered it from last year—walls lined with ancient texts, strange artifacts displayed on shelves, and a large crystal sphere that constantly emitted a faint purple glow hovering above her desk.
“I hear you’ve already encountered some difficulties with your cleaning duties,” she said, taking her own seat. Her expression was unreadable, but I thought I detected a hint of amusement in her eyes.
My face heated. “How did you—”
“Coach Flannery mentioned a rather creative temporary repair to one of his toilets. He found it hilarious.” She raised an eyebrow. “Chewing gum, Mr. Vale? Really?”
“I didn’t have anything else on hand,” I admitted, mortified. “The book didn’t have any repair spells, and I accidentally... well, I got distracted and my shadows sort of ate through the porcelain.”
To my surprise, Professor Blackwood laughed—a rare sound that momentarily transformed her severe features. “That’s precisely why I wanted to work with you this year. Your magic has tremendous potential, but it needs proper direction.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. “Tell me, what were you thinking about when the shadows broke through your control?”
I swallowed hard, remembering exactly what—or rather who—had distracted me. Silver’s perfect purple body, his confident smile, those penetrating silver eyes...
“Uh…”
“Be honest, Mr. Vale,” she sighed. “This is academic.”
I let out a long, defeated sigh. “Boys.”
Professor Blackwood’s eyebrows shot up, her lips twitching with barely contained amusement. “Boys? Plural?”
“No,” I corrected quickly, face burning hotter. “Just... one boy. Man. Person.” I was making this so much worse.
“I see.” She leaned back in her chair, studying me with those piercing eyes. “And this distraction was significant enough to cause you to lose control of your magic?”
I stared down at my hands. “It wasn’t just that. I’ve never really used my magic for cleaning before. I was trying to follow the spells in that book, but they’re not designed for shadow magic. And it’s… boring.”
“Martha Stewart’s Practical Housekeeping Grimoire isn’t exactly tailored to your unique abilities,” Professor Blackwood agreed, her voice softening slightly. “Though it’s an excellent starting point for most practitioners.”
“There are people that want to study this?”
“There are many that have no choice,” she replied. “Widdershins Academy is full of exceptional students. But they are not the norm. I assumed you, of all people, would know that considering your family’s lack of power.”
Ouch. She was right though. My mother could barely conjure up enough magic to make dinner. And my father… well, he didn’t try.
Professor Blackwood stood and walked to one of her many bookshelves, running her finger along the spines until she found what she was looking for. “Perhaps this will be more suitable.” She pulled out a slim, black volume that seemed to absorb the light around it.
“Shadow Manipulation: Practical Applications for Uncommon Magic,” I read as she handed it to me. The book felt strangely cold in my hands, like it had been kept in a freezer.
“It’s rare, like your gift,” she explained. “Written by Arianna le Fay about three centuries ago. She was one of the last well-known shadow practitioners before your emergence.”
I carefully opened the book, watching as the shadows in the room seemed to lean toward it, drawn to its pages like moths to flame. “This is... incredible.”
“It’s on loan, Mr. Vale. Treat it accordingly.” Professor Blackwood returned to her seat. “Now, about your cleaning duties. I didn’t arrange that position merely to help you financially.”
“You didn’t?” I looked up from the book, confused.
“No. I selected it specifically because it offers an excellent opportunity for practical application of your abilities.” She steepled her fingers.
“Shadow magic isn’t just about manipulating darkness or fate or walking other worlds, Ash.
It’s about understanding the spaces between things, the negative space that defines our reality. ”
I blinked at her use of my first name. She rarely did that.
“Cleaning is about transformation. Taking chaos and creating order. Removing what doesn’t belong on both the material plane and the spiritual.” Her eyes glittered with intensity. “Your magic is particularly suited to this task, if you approach it correctly.”
“But I put a hole in a toilet,” I pointed out.
“Because you weren’t focused,” she countered. “Your magic responds to your emotions and thoughts more directly than most forms. When you were distracted by... your man issue, your shadows responded to that internal chaos.”
My man issue. That was one way to phrase it.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “So, what should I do differently?”
“Learn to channel that energy properly, just like you would with any element.” She stood again, moving to the center of her office. “I’ll show you with fire magic. Watch.”
Professor Blackwood closed her eyes, and I watched as she took a deep breath. The air around her hands began to shimmer with heat.
“Observe,” she said, her voice calm and controlled. “I’m thinking about something that provokes strong emotion. Anger, in this case.”
The flames erupted from her palms, wild and chaotic, shooting toward the ceiling before she contained them in a tight sphere between her hands.
“Now watch what happens when I channel that emotion properly.”
The ball of fire began to transform, reshaping itself into a perfect miniature replica of the Elemental Arts building, each tiny window and doorway rendered in flickering flame.
“Control doesn’t mean suppression, Mr. Vale. It means direction.” She extinguished the flames with another breath. “Your shadow magic works similarly, but with greater connection to your emotional state.”
I stared at my hands, trying to imagine my shadows responding with such precision.
“So, you’re saying I should... use my feelings about Silver to fuel my magic?” I asked hesitantly.
Professor Blackwood’s lips twitched again. “I’m saying you should acknowledge those feelings rather than pretending they don’t affect your magic. Then learn to direct them.”
“But how do I apply that to cleaning toilets?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.
“Shadow magic excels at banishing what doesn’t belong,” she explained, returning to her desk.
“Dirt, grime, impurities—these are all foreign elements that have no place in the clean environment you are trying to create. Your shadows can identify and extract them without damaging the underlying structure, if you train them properly.”
She picked up a small stone paperweight from her desk and held it out to me. “Here. This stone has microscopic impurities within it. Use your shadows to extract them without breaking the stone.”
I took the paperweight, feeling its cool weight in my palm. It looked like ordinary gray granite.
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” I admitted.
“That’s why it’s called learning, Mr. Vale.” There was that hint of amusement again. “Focus on what doesn’t belong. Your shadows know the difference, even if you don’t consciously recognize it.”
I closed my eyes, feeling for the darkness that always lingered at the edges of my awareness. The shadows responded eagerly, curling around my fingers like affectionate cats.
“Good,” Professor Blackwood murmured. “Now look deeper. See beyond the surface.”
I concentrated harder, extending my awareness into the stone itself. At first, I sensed nothing unusual, but then… something. Tiny flecks of something different, something that didn’t match the stone’s natural composition. Foreign elements.