Stronger, Not Safer #3
It turned out that glythyrs were specific to the fae who created them. There wasn’t a set way to draw them that anyone could follow. It sounded like a delicate art form to translate your own magic and intentions into a symbol to imbue with your power.
I was the furthest thing from an artist, and this sounded complicated as hell. Writing them was complex—how in the world did Sevrin think I could interpret others’ if they’re specific to the creator? I could definitely see how that would be useful if I thought for a second I knew how.
The rest of the early chapters were dedicated to the origins of raw magic, which was neat for the first few pages, noting that it was initially the gods’ own powers combined into a well that sustained the Vale and the gods’ realm, and that created Caelia.
But after several chapters about the history of the gods, I grew bored, thumbing through without fully comprehending.
It wasn’t until I flipped to a chapter titled “Creating Your First Glythyr” that I perked up.
It was a simple one (according to the book) that would briefly levitate me.
I read through the instructions twice before steeling myself with the courage to try it.
This one used raw magic, which I’d grown comfortable with this morning, and seemed less volatile than my fire and shadows.
Though glythyrs could be created using elemental and raw magic, they were apparently often temperamental when magics were combined, and unstable when only elemental.
It was better to wield elemental magic yourself, according to the book, and save glythyrs for raw magic.
As the book instructed, I commanded my raw magic to flow to my left thumb and drew a circle around me on the bed. Once the circle was connected, I placed my palm down and closed my eyes, concentrating on the humming raw magic in my heart the way Bramick had taught me earlier.
In my mind, I clearly said the words, “Levitate the body enclosed in this circle for three seconds and then lower the body back down. Glythyr is then complete.” The book’s direction was to clearly articulate three things: the instruction, the object on which the instruction should take place, and the completion conditions, at which time the magic should dissipate.
When I spoke the words, the same sensation started in my heart that I’d felt using raw magic to tie Bramick’s shoe, but this felt more like it was sucking the magic out of me straight from my source. It made me lightheaded and dizzy.
With a gasp, the sucking sensation stopped.
I lifted my palm and opened my eyes to see a faint white glow coming from the circle I had drawn around me, two swirls snaking under where I sat.
The feeling of imbuing it with magic was uncomfortable, but the thought that I had just created a glythyr, as basic as it might be, excited me.
Cautiously, I placed my palm down again in front of me within the circle to trigger it, then shouted.
I had lifted and turned upside down several feet above my bed, hair brushing the mattress beneath me. Three seconds later, I dropped like a sack of potatoes back onto the bed with a bounce before the glythyr winked out of existence.
It had worked…technically. Thank the gods I’d been on my bed and not the hard ground.
I experimented with the words I spoke, specifying things like “keep the body upright” and “lower the body slowly,” plus some book-recommended tweaks to the circle (“If you find the glythyr not responding exactly the way you intended, try making the circle more oblong or even a square.”).
The swirls that appeared within the shapes changed each time I changed the words.
After four more attempts, I successfully created a glythyr that worked exactly right.
Five times imbuing my magic—something so minimal—and I already felt slightly drained and tired.
It made sense now why Bramick had said fae that overdo glythyrs can use too much magic and deplete themselves. I felt rather depleted at the moment.
The rest of the chapter explained that it takes time and practice to learn how your specific magic works best with these, and that the symbols become almost a signature or a language known only to the creator.
As glythyrs become more complex, you have to understand how to draw what you need.
A simple circle or square would not be sufficient for bigger magic.
It was a bit confusing, honestly. I just knew I needed to practice and learn how my magic specifically could be transcribed.
Feeling like I’d had a successful day left me smiling, in high spirits as I left my barrack for dinner. I didn’t see Aerie, so I hoped she was at the mess hall already. The thought of eating alone didn’t sit well, and I was not good at making friends.
Just as I was turning onto the road to the main building, I had one crunchy boot step behind me worth of warning before everything went dark.
Something was slipped over my head before I was tripped and shoved to the ground.
A blow to the back of my head sent everything quiet.