Heading to Magic Academy

Practice

Theon twisted the switch of the lamp, emitting a low click.  

A pale yellow lit the lamp's body, yet it was washed out by the neutralizing effect of the noon sunlight.  Theon jerked the curtain over the window, turning the relatively dark lampshade a bright crimson.

Light.

He flexed his hand and imagined what he had been imagining for hours on end the night before, as he had pored over the textbook with squinted eyes:  The cold seeping through his fingers, joints, crawling down the lines of his palms.  But before anything could happen, he stared at the lamp and the light that poured all over the table and imagined grappling it, and his hand turned cold.

A soft click.  The red lampshade turned dark as light gathered in Theon's hand, grappling his fingers.  The sensation was faintly cool, yet the brightest area prickled his fingertips like cold teeth.

Theon flicked the light away.  He sighed when he heard the whir as light filled the bulb again.

Hah, learning to cast magic just 5 weeks before the placement exam.

If he had tried earlier.  The fuck was he even doing during school?  Just a little bit earlier.  God.  Would've helped with the shithole his professor had placed him in.  

She was insane.  Had she actually thought he was capable of getting into North MA?

Kraw, kraw, kraw...  A beating of wings followed.

Theon glanced back at the lamp and stretched his hand out to try again, but his knuckles felt numb and sore.  He shook his right hand and stretched his fingers, but it hurt even more.

Lifting his fresh left hand, he spread his fingers in front of the red lampshade and closed his eyes.  Cold fingers, light sucking to his hand.  

A slight tingle tickled his fingers.  When he opened his eyes, his hand remained dark.

Huh?  

Theon ogled his left hand and pushed his heartbeat down.  Maybe the birds broke his concentration?  He gulped and sighed, his exhale tremoring as he slowly pushed it out.  Dipping fingertips onto cold water.  That's all.  

Theon took a sharp breath, not realizing he had stopped breathing.  He couldn't imagine it.  He couldn't imagine the cold.  Did his right hand still work?

He pulled the sensation up—like caressing icecubes, and immediately there was a click, and his right hand lit up.

"Ain't fucking sense," he mumbled.  What was this, Harry Potter?  Was his right hand his fucking wand hand or something?

He tried mentally flipping through the textbook he had pored over the night before: anecdotes of famous magic casters, anti-magic movements in the last century, and something about parsley.

"Hey, Ma!" Theon yelled.  "Ma!"  Where was she?

The front door creaked open, pulling in a breeze.

"Yeah, Theon?  Did yer call my name?"

"Oh, Ma!  Y'know how to cast magic, right?  Could ya help me?"

"With magic?"  She plopped onto the couch next to where the lamp stood.  "Oh boy, I haven't casted magic since school.  We're different elements, anyway, Theon."

"Yer supposed to be able to do magic with both hands, no?"  Theon followed and sat next to her.

"What d'ya mean?  I don't think it matters what you cast it with.  It's all just magic."

"No, I mean like—my left hand isn't working for me."

"Oh.  Hmm.  What did you go over with yer teacher?"

"He showed me how to do magic, but I only did it with ma right hand."

"An' he didn't talk about how to do both?"

"No, Ma."  He tensed his lips together.

"Well, I'm sorry, Theon.  I really wouldn't know."  She got up and went to the door, tightening the drawstring of her gardening hat.  "Don't worry about it.  I set ya up for lessons every week.  It's okay if yer don't get into North, an' I don't want you to stress about it so much.  Just try yer best.  This charade will be over sooner than ya think."

"Yeah, 'course."  Theon inhaled slowly as the front door shut

If he didn't get into North?  

His mother didn't think he could get into North MA?  Theon's teacher recommended him to the #4 school in Esgeld, and his mother treated it like some fun, stupid-little-thing?  He was getting into this fucking academy, never mind what she said.

Well, what could he do now?  What did the tutor even teach him?

Mr. Adler gave him a textbook.  Useless fucking textbook.  He taught him how to use magic.  The "cold" trick didn't work with his left hand.  Ah.

Theon sprang up and ran to the kitchen, his bare feet slapping on the marble.  Opening the cupboard, he grabbed a ceramic bowl and filled it with tap water.  Setting it down, the water heaved and sloshed back and forth, millimeters from spattering the counter.  Theon waited intently for the water to calm before he placed his left hand upon the surface.  

Carefully placing, his fingers heeded the soft chill of the water.  His mind went blank.  

What was he taking light from?  He jerked his head 'round, searching for light in the kitchen, when his left hand tingled icy cold, and he yanked it off the water.  

Theon hitched his breath to see his left hand brimming with a mass of light—or glowing... It was difficult to tell.  But what extinguished?  He had seen no light in the kitchen that his magic could have affected.

God.  Theon propped his fist onto the counter, teeth tugging on his bottom lip.

When he went out into the living room, the lamp was still on, thus the light he had acquired was conjured not from one of the light sources nearby.

Theon slouched onto the couch and sighed.

A gleam of gold caught his eye when he tilted his head.  On the coffee table in front of him was the card he had received from the academy, which had accepted them to take the placement exam.  Theon pinched it off the table, studying the card.  It was handsome, with gold lining and curlicues encapsulating the sides.  A sticker hung off the edge, no longer tacking the card closed—where his mother had opened it.

Theon unfolded the card.  The paper displayed a letter scrawled by a shaky hand in black ink.  It was sectioned into the acceptance introduction and information regarding the placement exam.  He held his breath, honing in on the details describing the test:

First trial:  Written exam.

Second trial:  Physical exam.

Third trial:  Combat modified to element.

His eyes wandered to the bottom.  In the corner, the black writing drew a signature.  Theon gulped.

Elle Lahnker