Page 22 of Spellcaster (Weatherstone College #1)

then this gives you a chance to deflect and escape. It could still save your life, and my aim is to ensure all of you live

long and healthy lives.”

Good enough reason for me. A general spell felt very useful, because the odds of being attacked by ants were still low.

“Low but never zero,” Belle said with a snort when I mentioned it.

I shrugged, because there was no way to argue that.

“Get your stations ready,” Professor Zander called, returning to his desk at the front of the room. “You have fifty minutes.

Make sure you read step three very carefully.”

There were forty of us in this class, spread out around high desks, with a good three feet between each of us. Belle was on

my right, Sara on my left, and Haley beside her. We all got to work arranging our candles first. Lavender-infused witchdrake

candles were set out in a pentacle carved into the wooden table. A fire elemental made their way around the class to light

them, and as soon as the scent of the candle filled the room, my body relaxed.

I’d grown up cooking, and mixing tinctures with my mom, and this part of witchcraft settled well with my energy. It wasn’t

a hugely difficult spell, but there were multiple steps, which included various herbs. Step three we’d been warned about pertained

to the order of the herbs, and the timing of the incantation in the ancient language.

If you got all of that right, there should be a puff of white smoke and then a puff of black smoke, before the pentacle would

visibly join with a light beam.

I got it on the first try, and when I wrapped up step six, waving my hand over the candles to douse their flames and release

the spell, I felt calmer and more at ease with the events of my life. The result of my spellwork was a small pile of ash.

Or, what looked like ash, but would work as a defensive mist when cast across the danger.

“You did that so fast,” Belle complained, still trying to get step three right. “Can’t I just go and play in the lake? I honestly

think the rest of these classes are a waste of my time.”

“I’ll help you,” I said with a laugh. This was one of the few classes where Belle’s vast intelligence didn’t come in as handy as my solid knowledge of cooking and mixing ingredients. Her parents had never let her in the kitchen, but I enjoyed helping her. It was nice to excel in one class.

The day passed by quickly, and even though my only successful magic was with the defensive spell, I finished up the day feeling

relaxed. Weatherstone was the guide in the magical world that I’d always hoped it would be, and even without a clear affinity,

I had no doubt that I’d graduate from here a stronger witch.

By the time I headed for my dorm, a raging party had spilled into Florence Wing, and as one exhausted witch, I wished they’d

chosen another night. It wouldn’t be long before the professors broke it up though, so I decided to take a walk and get some

fresh air. Today had been a lot of classroom work and research in the library, and I was due to stretch my legs.

It wasn’t quite dark yet as the days got warmer and longer. I loved the early evening balminess in the air. Maybe I’d even

venture into the lake again, staying in the shallows this time. My path around the school brought me to the edge of the forest,

and when I saw the graveyard, I was reminded of my attack.

It felt like it happened years ago, but also yesterday at the same time.

It had been hard to return to that location—my first necro class had triggered me so badly I’d raced off to vomit in the bushes.

But I’d been determined to return the next time, and I’d been forcing myself to stay ever since. Walter the Weasel wasn’t

going to take one more piece of my life away.

With that in mind, I crossed closer to the arched entrance gates and stepped inside as the last rays of sun washed over the headstones.

Like in class, I found my energy expanding as I sought to touch the veils of existence.

There were tingles. There was heat and light.

But like always, my magic was too weak to behave as a true affinity.

This evening, the tingles of my energy were stronger than usual, and I glanced up to see the full moon again. I’d been so

exhausted and stressed out with classes, I’d forgotten the cycle. It was sacrilege not to know when we should be communing

with Selene.

My skin glowed softly, and I felt that urge to release my energy.

If only I could figure out how.

I found myself reaching down to press my hands to the ground, which was stupid, because the energy of the dead wasn’t found

literally under our feet. You had to cross the veils between the five planes of existence. The living, where we existed; purgatory,

for those who could not cross over and were not welcome into the afterlife; the dead zone, for those on their first journey

to the afterlife, to be judged and given their path; Hel, for those souls condemned to an eternity of suffering; and the eternals,

where those with light in their energy would enjoy an eternity in the blessing of our beloved goddess.

Necromancers could not draw from the eternals or purgatory. There was no true explanation for why, but any who tried were

destroyed by the energy. The other two zones, though, were prime for the taking of energy.

Hence why there was a sense of unease when I felt a necromancer’s power.

Primarily, it was drawn from souls. Some light, but others very dark.

Necros on occasion would lose control of the energy they borrowed and turn into what we re ferred to as a necroils .

Dark witches and warlocks, who delved deeper and deeper, taking the blood of life to do so.

They generally required a spellcaster to take them down and remind us all why we didn’t mess with blood magic.

Not if we wanted to live to tell the tale.