Radiance - The Alight Archives Book #1

21. The Pocket Prison

"Admirable work, students. That shall be all for today's lecture," Professor Dragonthorne said in her jolly tone of voice. "Do remember to revise chapters three and four, as they will be incredibly important to the topics we will review next week."

Elaine let out a weary sigh as she slipped her heavy textbook into her satchel, the weight of the material settling against her side. She had to give her roommate credit where it was due; mastering Abjuration was no simple feat. This particular class was dedicated wholly to the intricate applications of the Art Form, a fact that both excited and intimidated Elaine. 

Fearne had confided that she had been practicing Abjuration since her childhood, and it showed—her natural affinity for the craft made the complex spells seem almost effortless. Yet the thought of the vast array of material they needed to cover loomed over Elaine like a storm cloud. They were required to navigate through several chapters of their textbook before they could even think about attempting to cast a genuine Abjuration Spell.

At its foundation, Abjuration—one of the six Archaic Art Forms of True Magic—involved casting a variety of healing spells, those capable of alleviating ailments or sealing fresh wounds. However, Elaine was acutely aware that a sorcerer had to wield this power with great caution. A miscast healing spell could easily turn disastrous, potentially inflicting harm rather than remedying it. According to her readings, incorrectly performed healing spells could pose risks far greater than simple offensive spells. 

The very thought sent a shiver down her spine, and part of her felt a sense of relief that they were not diving headfirst into practicing such daunting magic just yet. The notion of inadvertently robbing someone of their eyesight or sprouting an additional arm from their back was not just an unsettling hypothetical—it was genuinely possible. Abjuration was indeed a dangerous Art Form, filled with both promise and peril.

As she gazed out through the diamond-shaped glass windows, the warm orange light of the afternoon sun spilled into the classroom, casting long shadows against the walls. She had only one final class of the day left to endure, though the thought of it filled her with trepidation; it was being overseen by her homeroom teacher, the intimidating Abyssal Sorcerer. Elaine couldn't shake the anxiety that bubbled within her at the mere thought of his strictness. If he had been so stern and dispassionate during homeroom, what fresh horrors awaited them in an actual lesson?

While her classmates, including Fearne and Custas, began to file out toward the exit, Elaine found herself drawn to the front of the classroom. There, Professor Dragonthorne was preoccupied, erasing the myriad of illustrations she had hastily scrawled on the chalkboard during the lesson. The classroom itself was decently sized, with five rows of desks stretching across the room, each capable of accommodating four to five students. 

A faded green mattress, streaked with yellow, covered the wooden floor, muffling footsteps as students moved about. Glass cupboards lined the walls, filled with an assortment of oddly designed apparatus that elicited curiosity but also a bit of fear. In the center of the room, there was a significant gap between the front-most desk and the professor's own, where a lifeless, gray homunculus lay sprawled on the floor. Elaine imagined it would be the unfortunate subject of future demonstrations.

"Excuse me, Professor Dragonthorne," Elaine called.

The professor whirled around to greet her with a cheery smile. "Ah, Ms. Harwood. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Maya Dragonthorne embodied the quintessential traits of a Medical Mage, her personality radiating a buoyant cheerfulness that made interactions with her feel effortlessly warm and inviting. She had inherited long, cascading locks of dark hair, elegantly styled into two ponytails that bounced with each movement.