Bereft: Demise

24 | Of a Dance Unending

The incident in Peroth's office was the last I saw of Darius for several days. He came and went as I believed a phantom would; in the nascent, bleary-eyed hours of the night when the world was asleep. I'd find traces of him in the morning, stray books left on the table, the armchair shifted from my spot by the window to his preferred position by the hearth, and a fire banked in the fireplace's belly.

I would sit in the chair and sigh with my hands extended to the fire's warmth, wondering if he was any closer to discovering what he sought, wondering how many days I could still call my own.

The cat became my closest companion. I would wake to find it sitting on the foot of the bed, meowing for its breakfast. I had no clue how it kept getting inside the room. I purposefully shut it out every night, and I couldn't imagine Darius was the one letting it in. 

I would give the cat a discerning glare before rising, dressing, and taking it with me to breakfast.

I only grew more suspicious of the feline when the two Vytians bowed their heads to it.

I visited the dungeons where my new instructor was a permanent resident. Cage was pleasantly surprised to see me, and I got the impression that he had been looking forward to my return. He had gathered several beginner's texts and, as I sunk cross-legged on the floor outside his cell, he passed me the first volume. 

"I'm sorry I can't give you a chair," the mage said as he swiftly twisted his fingers in a set pattern and magicked his brocaded stool into existence. "The bars have been enchanted. No magic can flow through in either direction." 

"That's okay." I settled with the book cradled in my lap, ignoring the stink of mold and wet things lingering in the fetid hallway. I cracked the book open to the middle.

The mage tutted. "From the beginning, girl," he said with a deft flick of his hand. Another copy of my book appeared in his grip, and he popped it open to the first page. "If you are to be taught, you are to be taught from the beginning." 

Grimacing, I did as he told me to. I started at the beginning. 

As the hour passed, I learned that—like the majority of subjects in education—the study of magic was mostly theoretical, and began with a firm basis of understanding. Cage explained that those who didn't have an innate skill like a dragon's ability to change forms or a Sin's ability to speak in the Tongue of the Realm had to be taught magic. It had to be learned from an instructor, so apprenticeships among mages, witches, and Valians were quite common.

I didn't know whether I should be honored or worried when Cage confessed that I was his first apprentice. 

"Now, magic is mostly about intent," the mage said, gesturing for me to turn the page as he did the same. "It's imperative to learn and memorize your lines and runes to perfect them, but a construct or a spell will often react to the intent of its wielder, becoming more powerful or potent. Willpower is the bread and butter of a magic user. Those who are weak of spirit have little hope of being successful." 

"Hmm...." I replied, thumbing the thick wedge of pages under my fingers. As a literature major, I had read my fair share of dry texts before, but there had to be almost five hundred more pages of magical theory I needed to get through. I sighed. I hadn't thought learning magic would be simple, per se, but I hadn't imagined it being this intensive.

Cage noted my wandering mind and had us skip ahead through some of the drier technical jargon. He stopped on a page with a large, detailed diagram upon it, a small grunt of satisfaction escaping his throat.