Chapter 11
Magic can be broken down into sixteen separate elements: the Core Four of Earth, Fire, Air, and Water, and the twelve elements known as the Six Dualities. A Duality is made up of two opposing forces that form a whole. A word to the wise: never mix two opposing sides of a duality unless you know what you are doing without question.
Day 3, Temporikday
I sat in what might be my new favorite class, Mystech and Myst Fundamentals. The instructor was a middle-aged Human woman, Mystagogue Jenna. Her blond hair was a frizzy mess. Her petite frame was enveloped in black and blue caster robes a few sizes too big. The way she taught was full of pep, her energy wild as she jumped around like a child on caffeine.
“Myst is the GREAT fuel of magic!” she declared, skipping across the stage. “Myst infuses all things. We are all creatures of the myst.” She marched back across, a hand behind her back, the other pointing to the ceiling. “There are sixteen elements. In a simple breakdown, there are the positive-aligned, the negative-aligned, and the neutral. There are the base four elements of Fire.” She lit a flame in her hands. “Water.” She extinguished the flames and drew forth orbs of water that floated over the crowd to burst into a mist. “Wind.” She flicked her fingers, and a breeze turned the mist into a shimmering cloud. “Earth.” Stones formed from dust to orbit her head, then formed into glass beads that joined the cloud. “These are the core four. Next are the Six Dualities, each made of polar opposites.”
She spun on her heel. “First, The Duality of Choice, comprising Fate, the Positive, and Chaos, the Negative. Fate sees all that is, was, and may yet be. Chaos is the element of chance and probability.” She reached into her robe, pulled out a copper deckra, flicked it into the air, and left it where it lay.
She spun again. “Next is the Duality of Creation, made up of Synthesis and Ruin. Synthesis, the Positive, is used to create non-magical and some magical material.” She pointed to the glass spheres above, and they melded into one large sphere. “Ruin, the Negative, breaks down any material it is pitted against. But Ruin is extremely inefficient.” She pointed a finger at the large glass ball, and it began to dissolve into dust that piled at her feet, leaving a cone-shaped form above her head. The dust flew back into the cloud and reformed into beads.
“Then comes the Duality of the Cycle: Life and Death. Life is used to heal and grow; death is used to wither and rot.” With a flourish, she sent a thread of vibrant green energy into a massive pot beside her desk. A sapling sprouted, budding leaves in seconds. She only stopped when it passed through the cloud overhead and began sprouting fruit. The pink, fuzzy produce, shaped like lemons, budded and fell onto the students. Exclamations of panic shifted to amused joy.
One of the strange fruits rolled near me. I snatched it and peeled the plush rind. The flesh under was a yellowish-purple. Tentatively, I pressed my tongue to it and was pleasantly surprised. The taste was like lemon and grapefruit, but sweeter. Only later would I learn it was a Geeka Lemon.
I nibbled at the fruit while focusing back on the Mystagogue. She spun around the tree, then took a dramatic stance and snapped her fingers. A bolt of violet energy struck the trunk. Black rot spread from the point of contact. The trunk rotted through, snapped, and fell toward the class. Screams burst out.
As the class panicked, Mystagogue Jenna giggled before throwing a web of violet lightning. Thunder resounded. The energy lanced into the cloud, touching dozens of glass beads. They glowed with a toxic purple-blue light before hurtling into the falling tree. Enhanced with what I assumed was more Death Myst, the glass bodies punched into the frail wood, expediting the rot until the whole tree dissolved into black mulch.
The instructor clapped her hands. “Now, now, class. Please take your seats.” After a moment of shock, the class slowly reorganized. The room was now saturated with the scent of rotting plants. I glanced up and noticed glimmering dust and shards mixed with the water in the cloud.
“Now, where were we?” she asked. “Ah, yes. The Duality of the Dichotomy. A tricky topic, comprising Lumina and Umbra. Shadow, used to conceal or weaken.” She spun, her body cloaked in shadows. “Lumina is used to illuminate and enhance.” An arc of light shot from the shadows, focusing into a beam toward the glass cone above her. It was a lens. The light refracted into the cloud, then back down, shining among the students in rainbows.
“Next is The Duality of Progress: Stasis and Morphic Myst. Stasis forces an object to hold its shape.” Jenna waved her hand, and the glass shards flew to her, forming two orbs. She produced a small mallet and struck the sphere on her left, shattering it. She touched the remaining sphere, and a flicker of amber energy passed through it. She struck this one, but the hammer bounced off. “But, like Ruin, Stasis is incredibly inefficient.” The indestructible glass ball flickered and dissipated its energy. Instantly, it cracked, then crumbled. “Stasis doesn’t make anything completely immune. If enough force is thrown against it, when the element wears off, it will suffer at least a portion of the damage.”
Jenna snapped her fingers, and the lens above shattered, the shards collecting at her feet. “In opposition is Morphic Myst, the raw energy of change. It allows an individual to grow and adapt. In spellcasting, it can temporarily change an object into something completely different.” She flourished a hand, and the glass at her feet sparked with purple flashes before melting into a puddle of translucent green slime. The slime rose into a pillar as tall as her before shifting back to glass. “But the bigger the change, the more myst it costs. Changing water to wine is simple; changing water to a cat is much harder.” The glass pillar cracked and shattered. “And, like I said, temporary.”
“Lastly comes the most dangerous duality, Synergy, comprised of Resonance and Distortion. Resonance Myst holds sway over patterns and frequencies.” She pointed a finger at the glass at her feet, and with a flash of teal energy, it began to hum. A single beam of white light shot from her finger. “If Resonance is applied to Lumina, you can convert the frequency from visible light to something more… hazardous.” The ray vanished, but the glass started to glow with heat. I realized she had changed the lightwaves to microwaves.
“Distortion, on the other hand, interrupts or alters patterns. With enough Distortion Myst…” She stopped the Lumina spell and shot a needle of vermillion light at the glass shards. The pile broke down into powder, still obviously glass but in pieces so small you couldn’t call it sand. “And like Ruin and Stasis, Distortion is incredibly inefficient but can be incredibly useful.”
The Mystagogue rolled her shoulders. “And that, my sweet little chitlins, is the Core Four and the Six Dualities. Any questions?”
A hand shot up—the strange, mostly metal Human girl. “Mystagogue, could you please explain magic circles?”
The instructor nodded vehemently. “Certainly. Casters are ranked by circles, one to ten, based on the highest level spell they can cast without a ritual. First Circle casters can only manage cantrips, like making a candle flame. Second Circle, a fire shot. Third, a fire bolt. Fourth, a fire blast. Fifth, a fireball. Sixth, a beam. Seventh, a cone of flame. Eighth, an inferno or devastation-class spell. Spells beyond Eighth Circle are classified as black-marked because very few mages pass it. Those that do are put on watch lists. And keep in mind, I only used fire as an example. Any element can be used to cause just as much devastation if used correctly.”
As class let out, I was fascinated. The power to shape or destroy anything. I couldn’t wait to tinker with these new elements.
I was distracted by a burning sensation on my left ass cheek. I turned to find a small hole burning in my pants. And who did I find trying to hide their mirthful chuckles but Mallrimor and his thugs.
“Seriously?! First my tail, now my pants? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I tried to sound demanding, but it came out as a whine.
“Oh, come now. It was just some fun. Surely your parents can buy you a new pair,” Mallrimor taunted. He must have read my face. “That is, unless they are too poor. We all know how Darklings make their money—theft, drugs, murder. I guess your parents aren’t very good at being Darklings, are they?”
“SHUT UP!” I wailed. “I was raised by a Wild Elf, and he was a good, honest man!”
“Was? Oh, that is rich. The only man willing to take you in is dead. What did you do, kill him? And what about your mother? Did you kill her too?” He jabbed me again and again until I lost my self-control.
I stormed up to him. “Don’t you DARE talk about my parents like that, you winged freak!” I snarled. The moment I was in arm’s reach, I threw a punch right at his cocky nose. I wasn’t strong, but I drew great satisfaction from watching him take a few steps back, bleeding.
It took me a few moments to realize what I had done. I’d never hit anyone before.
“You just hit me?” he asked in shock. He brought a finger to his nose, and as it came away bloody, his rage built. “You just hit me, you little vile-kin,” he snarled. “Kesher, Brecken! Grab him. Gellar, show this freak what happens when he messes with his betters.”
Before I could react, the two massive students flanked me, grabbed my arms, and lifted me off my feet. Gellar stepped up, rolling his sleeves. I struggled, but to no avail. Then, a fist in my gut knocked the wind from my lungs. Another blow blackened my eye. Another landed against my jaw, and I felt a tooth loosen. The blows continued. Finally, Mallrimor commanded them to drop me. I fell to the cold, hard tiles. The group passed by, Mallrimor giving me a powerful kick to the head before moving on. My world spun as students passed by like I wasn’t there.
I lay dazed, drifting off into darkness. Pain faded. In the void of my mind, I heard a murmur, static in a voice both soothing and goading. From the static came a single phrase in a woman’s rich, sultry voice: “Rise, Black-blood child.”
Slowly, I rose. Pain returned in throbbing waves. A groan slipped through my lips. I opened my eyes to a pristine white ceiling.
Of course, I thought sarcastically, I wake up in the medical facility again. Three times in three days. I’ll need a punch card.
“Oh, I see you’re awake,” came a familiar female voice. I turned my head to find Dr. Brooksheen sitting beside my bed.
“Sorry to cause you any problems, doc.”
“Doc Brook works just fine, child. And don’t fret. All I’ve done is give you a few scans and something to dull the pain. The injuries are minor: some bruises, a few sprains, and a couple of minor fractures.”
“Fractures!?” I panicked, trying to sit up. Sharp stabs of pain lit up my ribs and left shoulder. I let out a hiss as Doc Brook stood.
“Hold up there, child. I still need to get a healer in here.”
I eased back down. “Are they all busy?”
“No, no,” she said, checking my arm. “In order to use Life Myst safely, the patient needs to be conscious.”
“What? What about surgery?”
“Surgery is only performed when Life Myst won’t fix the problem, like organ failure or cancer. After surgery, myst is only used once the patient is awake.”
“Why?”
“The subject needs a sense of self. If unconscious, there’s a chance the life energy could have a… negative reaction.”
“What kind of negative reaction?”
“What comes to mind when you think of life out of control?” she quizzed, her tone playful yet grim.
I thought for a moment. “Disease?”
She nodded. “Very good. Disease is only part of the threat. If misused on an infection, it will only make it propagate. The same with viruses and parasites. But there is a worse possibility. What happens when a cell with bad genes divides and keeps dividing?”
My eyes widened. “Cancer.”
“Correct again,” her tone was nothing but grim. “You can’t use Life Myst to cure cancer; it only worsens it. That is why healers never use it on an unconscious patient unless there is no other option. Troops on the front lines are more likely to come home with cancer than almost any other field. Almost.”
I could read the untold message: adventurers were even more likely. She looked into my eyes, her gaze weighing on me. I looked away. Without another word, she passed beyond the curtain, no doubt to find a healer. Knowing the possible backlash, I didn’t feel comfortable using the energy at all. I’d rather heal naturally, but I doubted she would let me go. I had no choice. I lay there and bit my tongue as a young Human woman stepped past the curtain with the doctor.
