Page 25 of A Touch of Darkness (Chronicles of the Cursed #1)
Luckily, Mr. Fallon agreed to allow me to switch a few of my classes even though the semester is already underway. I spoke to him candidly and explained that I found out that Blackthorne is more than meets the eye. He did question how I found out, but since I’m apparently supernatural myself, it wasn’t too big of a deal.
I told him I’m not ready to fully switch my major from psychology, but that I think I’d benefit from at least a couple of spellwork classes, or a beginner’s guide to witchcraft. I wasn’t sure what the actual names were for anything, but he helped me choose a few that should be a good fit. I was able to get into two after submitting a request to the professors. My first is Spellcraft Fundamentals, and the other I was able to get into is Elemental Magic: Theory and Practice.
I thought I’d be super nervous about starting the two classes, but I think I’m more excited than anything. Excited to start learning more about who I am, what I can do, and what I need to do to be strong enough to get my sister back.
Thinking of Lara brings her voice back into my mind, as it’s done a few times in the past few days.
You are right where you need to be, Sylv.
I hear her voice, and it helps me to know she’s still out there. I haven’t fully lost her. I have time—I just don’t know how much.
When I open the classroom door, I’m struck by the mingling scents of herbs and something electric—like the air before a thunderstorm. The space is warm, brighter than I expected, with shelves of spell books lining the walls and a handful of students chatting at wooden desks. Above us, large Gothic windows let in streams of morning sunlight, catching dust particles in the air.
I swallow hard, suddenly acutely aware that I’m the new kid here. There goes the whole not being nervous thing.
I spot a couple other students who look just as hesitant as I feel. Probably the other latecomers Mr. Fallon spoke of.
A tall woman stands at the front of the classroom, arms folded lightly, an air of quiet confidence radiating from her. A silver streak cuts through her dark hair, and her eyes sparkle with an almost otherworldly energy.
“Good morning, students” she begins, voice carrying easily to the back of the room. “For those who are new, I’m Professor Ambrose. If you’re here, I assume you’re ready to learn the fundamentals of spellcraft and the responsibilities that come with it.”
My stomach flutters. I slip into a seat near the front, placing my notebook on the desk. Professor Ambrose acknowledges me with a small smile before scanning the other new students.
“Welcome, all. Let’s do a quick rundown since you’ve joined us after the first week. In this course, we’ll cover basic spellwork theory, safety protocols—because yes, you can accidentally set something on fire if you’re careless—and fundamental incantations for practical everyday use. We’ll also explore the influence of intention, emotional control, and ethics. If you’re looking for ways to hex your ex, this is not the class for you,” she adds with a sly grin, and a few students chuckle.
She gestures to the first row. “Those of you who’ve been here from day one, please pair up with a newcomer for today’s practice session. We’ll be working on energy manipulation and simple shielding incantations. After we tire ourselves out a bit, we have a new chapter to discuss.”
I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I turn to see a friendly-looking girl about my age with light brown hair. “I’m Marisol. Need a partner?”
“Yeah,” I say, relieved. “I’m Sylvie—just started…obviously.” I chuckle nervously.
She extends a hand, and I shake it, trying not to look as nervous as I feel. Professor Ambrose clears her throat to gather our attention.
“For those just joining us,” she calls, “we’re practicing what’s called a basic protective ward. A ward is essentially a magical barrier you create to shield yourself—or others—from negative energies, physical threats, or even emotional manipulation. Think of it like a magical ‘bubble’ that can guard you in dangerous situations or simply keep unwanted influences at bay.”
She demonstrates a sweeping motion with her arms, murmuring a short chant under her breath. A faint shimmer flares around her, like a thin, translucent barrier.
“Focus on drawing energy from your core. Visualize it extending past your physical form. The incantation is in your textbooks, page fourteen, but I’ll pronounce it slowly for you.”
She proceeds to slowly pronounce the spell as Marisol flips open her spell book, pointing to a line of text in elegant script. I trace the words with my fingertip: “Aetheris protego, lumen meum extendo.”
“That’s it,” she says with a smile, her eyes lighting up. “Say it like you mean it—and picture a sphere of light, or a barrier—whatever resonates with you.”
I take a shaky breath, close my eyes, and try to follow Professor Ambrose’s instructions. My heart beats a little faster with each syllable. “Aetheris protego, lumen meum extendo.”
At first, I feel nothing. Then, there’s a faint flicker in my mind—like a glowing ember of warmth deep in my chest. I concentrate on it, imagining it fanning out around me. My pulse thrums, and for a brief moment, I think I sense a whisper of energy swirling along my arms. I open my eyes to see… well, not much. Maybe a slight haze in the air?
Marisol beams, nodding encouragingly. “That’s so good. Keep going. Sometimes, it’s super subtle at first.”
She tries the incantation herself, and I watch in awe as a soft glow pulses at her hands, expanding into a bubble-like shimmer around her. Encouraged, I close my eyes again and repeat the words. This time, I picture an orb of pale blue light radiating from my heart, spreading outward until it envelops me head to toe. I catch a brief, tingling rush—like cold air on my skin—when I whisper the final syllable. My eyes snap open, and I’m rewarded by a faint glimmer dancing along my arms. It flickers out in less than a second, but it’s enough to send a thrill through me.
We spend the next half hour fine-tuning our technique, chanting and visualizing. Professor Ambrose glides between pairs, offering tips: “Relax your shoulders, Miss Rosenthal… Ease into the incantation… Speak with complete conviction.” Each time I attempt the spell, I feel a little more warmth gathering in my chest, more tingling in my fingertips, as though I’m coaxing something from deep within. Eventually, Marisol and I try testing each other’s wards. She pushes gently against the air near my shoulder, and for a heartbeat, her hand meets mild resistance—like two magnets repelling. Even though it’s faint, I can’t help but grin.
“Nice,” Marisol murmurs, eyes shining. “You’re definitely getting the hang of it.”
By the time class ends, my head spins with new possibilities, and my muscles hum as if I’ve had a light workout. Despite the lingering nerves—knowing I’m behind everyone else—I’m thrilled. This is a whole new world of knowledge, one that makes me feel more prepared to face whatever lies ahead. And if I can manage to form a simple shield on my first day, maybe there’s hope that I really do have some ancient magic inside of me just waiting to be brought out.