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I will put you at my mercy. I will destroy your world bit by bit until all you have left is me.

At least he let me go. I hadn’t been sure he would after all he had said, but Memnon did release me shortly after his threat, and he retreated into the darkened forest. Somehow, that was even more terrifying than him standing right in front of me. Knowing this vengeful sorcerer was lurking unseen in the Everwoods was partly what kept me up last night.

I rub my eyes, and my tired mind slips. For an instant I am back in my room, sprawled across my bed, my black tail…

Tail?

I snap out of Nero’s mind and back into my own, forcing myself to sit up straighter and actually listen to the lecture.

“As you all know, magic is steeped in everything,” my instructor says from the podium. Mistress Bellafonte is a middle-aged witch, her coppery locks shot through with white. “Most people barely sense it. Fewer still can access it. Only witches and a few other types of supernaturals can interact with and manipulate it.

“One of the oldest and most basic ways to do so is through invocation. That is,utterance,” Mistress Bellafonte says, touching her lips. “As we move through this course, we’re going to come back to this theme over and over. But for now, let’s dig into that.”

A thrill shoots down my spine because even though I’m tired and this topic is drier than the Sahara, I’m finally, finally a student at this coven.

“Certain elements of language can add to the potency of an invocation and thus a spell. The most obvious example of this is rhyme. But there are others. An element less commonly known is the use of ancient power words.” She gives the room a meaningful look.

“Why is this the case?” she says. “It’s the same reason why a witch’s power only increases with age—magic is attracted to old things.” She pauses again. “You will be more powerful in ten years than you are now. And more powerful ten years after that. Even when your bones are brittle and your muscles are twisted with age, magic will surge within you.”

The room has gone quiet.

“The world that values your pretty, youthful face knowsnothingof your true power. Though in time,youwill discover it.”

Mistress Bellafonte gives us a tight smile. “But I digress.”

She paces around the front of the room, her periwinkle magic curling lovingly around her ankles. “In the next several weeks, we shall learn some arcane words and phrases, and we will apply them to spells before we move on to common spellcasting ingredients, the use of writing, and the role grimoires play. We’ll discuss what effect seasons and the time of day play into casting, as well as lunar phases and astrological events.

“My hope is that by the end of the semester, you’ll have knowledge and some commonsense tools to work with as you come to understand your own power and gifts.

“For now, let’s start a basic introduction into the sounds of different dead languages.

“Crack your books open to page twenty-one.”

I open my textbook and turn to the requested page. On it is the image of a stone tablet, Egyptian hieroglyphs etched into the stone.

“This is stela found in Karnak. We’re not going to translate it all, but I want to recite a portion of it…”

She begins to read it, and no, that’s not right. I shake my head absently. She’s emphasizing the wrong consonants, and the vowels—

“Excuse me, but do you disagree with something I’m saying?”

I don’t realize Mistress Bellafonte is speaking to me until her magic curls under my chin and tilts my head up from my textbook so I can meet her eyes.

My skin heats as the rest of the witches in the room turn in their seats and focus their attention on me.

The silence drags on.

“Well?” the instructor presses.

I swallow, then glance down at the words. I don’t know how to voice these murky thoughts of mine, so I simply read what I can of the stela.

“Jenek nedej sew meh a heftejewef. Jenek der beheh meh qa sa, seger qa herew re temef medew.”The words roll off my lips, different from English and different from whatever language I spoke with Memnon. I feel…less certain with Ancient Egyptian, despite correcting the instructor.

I exhale and translate. “I am the one who will save him from his enemies. I am the one who removes arrogance from the haughty, who silences the boisterous so he does not speak.”

It’s quiet for a long moment.

“You didn’t use your magic to read that,” she finally says.