Successors [Tentative]

1 - Harvest Season

"Propagae vitalita simine entoma..."

Beads of sweat trickled down Inari's face as the energy in the room ramped up further, manifesting as a mild but persistent heat. Her arms were getting tired from all of the gesturing, and it took all of her concentration not to slur her speech as the words began to lose all meaning. Three years ago it would have been a completely hopeless endeavor to try and cast a spell like this, but by now it was no more difficult than some basic juggling. That didn't mean that she didn't get tired after a while; most jugglers don't continue their routines for half a bell straight.

It was a chilly autumn afternoon today, and while normally Inari had school to attend she figured her grades wouldn't suffer one day of absence. She had to get the spell right for the Harvest Festival tonight, or else the sleepless nights and constant exhaustion would have been a complete waste. Even though she was pretty sure the spell was perfect — or at least as perfect as it was going to get by tonight — she had been double and triple checking her castings for the better part of three bells now. She was exhausted and ridiculously sweaty, but at this point it was par for the course.

Inari shook the distracting thoughts from her head and redoubled her focus. It was only a couple more chimes now before the magic would take hold, and then she could shower and nap and maybe eat. Right, eating. That was a pretty good idea, actually. Her mom was probably going to make a handful of —

Stop, she mentally commanded herself. It was so easy to get distracted nowadays. Before she could take that line of thought through it's inevitably tangential conclusion, Inari started chanting louder to drown out her subconscious voice. It was only a couple more seconds, now.

"Propagae vitalita simine entomaaAAAAAAAHH!"

Something hard and slimy abruptly forced its way inside of Inari's ear, and all of her tattered focus unraveled. With the spell completed but no target in mind anymore, the magic exploded outwards in a complete circle from her. The grass all around her, droopy and dark due to the changing seasons, sprung upright with a vibrant glow. Purple and yellow flowers rapidly grew in patches, while tree fruit barely ripening instantly engorged. Pumpkins, tomatoes and cucumbers sprouted fully grown from the ground in their own separate patches, several of them mangled and amalgamated into massive vegetable clumps.

Inari batted the thing out of her ear with a screech, recoiling with such violence that her back smacked int a nearby tree trunk. She quickly turned around, a small mote of fire in her right hand and a spell ready on her lips, prepared to blast whatever or whoever into powder. In front of her stood a young man, with a mop of black hair and a wary but amused smile. He was dressed for the season, with a hardly looking tunic and thick trousers, a moderately sized fleece cloak, and leather working boots. He had a book bag loosely hanging from his right arm, and his left hand was outstretched defensively. Inari, her heart pounding, dismissed the fire with a clenched fist and let out a sigh of both relief and anger.

"What the hell, Kayn!? You scared the shit out of me!"

The young man lowered his hand. "I called your name five times and you didn't hear me. So I got your attention." He wiggled a sopping wet finger.

"I was in the middle of casting a spell! For all you know I would have blown us both to Merida's garden!"

Kayn waved a hand dismissively. "Not out here, no. Why would you be doing offensive magic in your grove? I was sure it was some kind of cultivation magic, which it was." He put one hand on his hip. The gesture almost looked motherly oh him. "What I don't know is why you're skipping class today."

Inari brushed excess dirt and leaves from the hem of her sundress and wiped a line of sweat from her cheek. Even though the weather was getting colder, Inari knew that all of her spell casting would leave her collapsing from heat stroke in a warm winter coat, and much to her mother's displeasure went out in the light white dress. "Sorry, father, I was practicing."