Chapter 6 Practical Magic
Practical Magic
The last act of the mortals during the Great War appears to be … permanent. I’m afraid it is best to go forward with the proposal of the Selection, though we will continue to seek out a cure.
—Magical Division of Alchemy to King Silas
WE SHUFFLE INSIDE, quickly finding our seats, and the class settles beneath the gaze of Professor Vexus, his annoyance smothering the room.
He stands with his arms folded at the front of the class: lithe, pale, and livid.
Brushing his dark hair back with a couple of descended nails curved to points, he addresses all of us, his tone as cutting as broken glass.
“What started it?”
He looks around expectantly, but I keep my mouth shut.
I don’t know what it’s like here in Sedah, but in Westfall, there was a general saying about not snitching that really sticks with me now.
I lean back in my seat, waiting for someone to say anything, massaging the back of my scalp. Miraculously, there’s no blood.
It stays quiet. Apparently, druids abide by a similar code.
“Fine,” he growls. “I’ll go ahead and make some assumptions then. The first thing I’d like to remind you of is that none of you fought in the Great War, as you were all children. You may have had to live with the fallout, but you can all stop pretending it was your damned fight.”
Across the room, I see Mira scoff lightly.
“Secondly, although the changelings are admittedly replaceable, killing them over minor slights causes a great detriment to all our futures.”
Beside me, Kasper scowls. I wonder why they’d care if we were killed.
“You’re here to prove your worth, not to bring down others around you.
” His gaze holds mine briefly before sliding to Mira’s, softening.
His hands clasp behind his back, perhaps to hide those extended talons and create a pretense of calm.
“Now, for those new to our lifestyles, druids cannot channel their magic until age twenty, at earliest, which is when they enter their first year at the Forge. They may know more from seeing others wielding it and growing up within our customs, but they have as much practical use with it as you all do. Here, you’re all at the same level. ”
I glance at Mira, feeling considerably less intimidated by her, and notice the druids seem muted.
“So, the first thing we are going to do is give you the equipment you will need to siphon and cast magic,” Professor Vexus explains in a clipped tone.
Everyone straightens at that, the room tense as a piano wire.
He gestures to two teaching assistants at the edge of the room, and they move through the class, placing a small black box on each desk.
When mine is set down, I take in the fine foil details of the wooden case.
A humming fills my ears, my thoughts clearing as if the world has washed away and the only thing in existence is me and the deck of cards encased in this box.
Professor Vexus snaps me back into focus.
“The first rule of using tarot is do not let others handle your cards. Your personal energy signature will become part of your deck, and letting others touch them will transfer their energy into them. If someone does tamper with your cards, you must clear the energy, and we’ll go over that later.
The second rule of tarot is to know your intention before you cast. This can prevent mistakes from an accidental draw if it does not align with your purpose, effectively stopping you from making a poor choice in judgment.
The third rule … try not to get into a fight with someone with a higher Arcana than you. ”
It takes all my effort to clamp down the smug smile that wants to spring to my lips.
Professor Vexus continues, “Additionally, always keep your cards together with you. Once you make your Descent at the end of the year, the magic will be a part of you, and you’ll be able to perform some limited magic without your deck and have your Major Arcana inked across your dominant hand.”
He holds up a hand and I can plainly see a thick rectangular tarot card tattooed across the back of it. My own flexes, and I wonder how badly it’ll hurt.
“However, for most of us, our magic will always be strongest with them to siphon our intentions and prevent burnout.
“The last thing to remember is you have physical limitations, and channeling too much energy can cause you to burn alive from the inside out.”
My heart stutters in my chest, and everyone glances around. That’s a possibility?
“Your changeling or immortal bodies can protect you only so much. So, you will start small and build up your tolerance over time. Now … pick up your decks and take the cards into your hands.”
I flip the hinge on my black box, and the cards slide into my palm.
There’s a familiar texture to them, though they’re a little larger than playing cards, and when I rub my thumb along their surface, the slightest vibration tingles up my hand.
Their smooth faces are dappled with raised gold foil set against deep black, making each one intoxicating to look at.
The art is symmetrical, delicate—I’ve never seen any crafted thing so beautiful.
“Hold them as much as you can over the next few weeks, sitting with them for at least ten minutes each night,” Professor Vexus says. “For now, to practice, you will be split into even groups, your Arcana sorted as follows …”
He slides a chalkboard to the side, having already written out the groups. There are more people in the lower Arcanas, so they’ll have more people to practice with and learn from. I check for the World, but the list ends at the next highest Arcana, Judgment. Tentatively I raise my hand.
Professor Vexus looks me over, lip curling. “Yes?”
“The World isn’t up there.”
“That’s because only Prince Draven has been blessed with that Arcana.”
“Prince Draven and me.”
The rest of the druids break into a flurry of whispers, like wind buffeting through the leaves of a mighty forest. The desire to add something snarky to this reveal itches my skull, but I manage to keep my jaw clenched tight as one of his teaching assistants joins him on stage, whispering in his ear.
Professor Vexus’s eyes go wide, and he stares at me as if I’ve turned from lamb to lion before his very eyes, his gaze tearing me apart.
He clenches a piece of chalk, walking to Judgment on the board, and hastily scribbles The World beside it.
Tossing the chalk in the tray beneath the board as if it personally wronged him, he turns, addressing the rest of the room.
“Quiet down. Now, beyond the classroom, you’re welcome to practice your magic with consenting partners, but do not use them against your classmates without their knowledge, unless you want to spend a night in the Boiler.
It’s the building that rests closest to the volcano, Mount Hestia.
That place is the anvil to which your misdeeds will be struck from you,” Professor Vexus warns.
My jaw clenches; of course there would be a place to deliver punishment here.
“The more you put into your cards, the more you will get out of them, so I recommend you spend your free time wisely. You’ll have practical exams at the end of term, as well as midsemester exams. Until then, we’re focusing on getting you to learn your Major Arcana.
Today, we will practice summoning your magic and getting your cards to respond. ”
DRAWING THE WORLD wasn’t easy when it chose me, but today, I’ve failed to get it to respond to me even once.
The curious eyes around the hall have turned to disappointed grumblings and unimpressed once-overs by now.
Although everyone is practicing the movements Professor Vexus showed us to draw out our power from the cards, my face still heats from all the flickering attention.
As he passes me, sweat beads down my temple, my hand shaking from the attempt, and the professor stops, standing just within sight.
How incredibly annoying.
“Some find flicking the top deck in their card helpful in summoning the one they desire,” he comments loudly over my shoulder, using me as an example of failure.
“Though a flow of your wrist, with your middle finger pointing down to flashing upward, is the correct way of drawing your card out. As if you were tracing a clock from six to twelve. True masters do not need to physically touch their cards at all.” He looks down his nose at me.
I’m doing every movement just as he says but still nothing happens.
“Of course,” he sneers, “those with the higher of the Major Arcana may soon find themselves unworthy of it. Perhaps yours will settle lower, somewhere more fitting.”
I give him a measured smile, though all I can think is I have a middle-finger movement I’d love to share with him.
The bell rings and everyone stops, most looking relieved, but probably none more than me.
Half the class or more are still staring.
I’m not used to having all eyes on me. As the Wraith of Westfall, I specialized in staying unseen.
Now I’m the center of unwanted attention.
As I go to gather up my cards and place them inside their container, my fumbling hands slip, and they spill across the ground around me.
Everyone sees, but no one stops to help.
Professor Vexus scoops up his own bag and strolls out without a backward glance, adding to my embarrassment.
I track down every card on my own and the others shuffle off, Ember getting swept up in the crowd.
I count the cards as I gather them, realizing I’m one shy of seventy-eight.