Page 47 of An Arcane Education
“I asked another professor about my father today, and it was… weird.”
“Weird in what way?”
“The professor said they were good friends, roommates, even. He told me stories about my father’s personality, but when I was ready to leave, he warned me to stop asking around about him.”
Alaric’s brow furrows, his face illuminated by the flicker of lamplight. “Did he give a reason?”
“Not really. He said I should keep a low profile and that I shouldn’t resurrect the past.”
Alaric turns his body to face mine, and I try to ignore the jolt of electricity that zips through me when our knees brush. He’s watching me intently, and I can almost see the wheels in his head turning. “Which professor said these things to you?”
“Dr. Lowry. He teaches my Magical Law and Ethics class.”
Alaric nods, as if I’ve confirmed something in his thoughts, but simply says, “Interesting. Did he say anything else?”
“No, that was pretty much it.”
The conversation is over as quickly as it began when Alaric responds, “In that case, let’s practice some foundational elemental skills with the rest of our time tonight.” He stands and rummages around in a drawer near the area where tools are stored before returning with a white candlestick. “I’d like you to practice conjuring a flame, assuming you haven’t done so before?”
He phrases the last part as a question.
I shake my head. “I haven’t.”
“Have you attempted to?”
“Yes, and I haven’t made so much as a spark.”
“That’s okay. I want you to try again.”
I do exactly that, focusing my intention as I’ve been told to do, clearing my mind of everything except producing a flame. I envision a flame sparking to life and consuming the wick, attempt to feel the warmth of it in my chest and transfer that warmth to my magic, but… nothing.
After a few minutes of fruitless effort, I exhale and lean back, rubbing my eyes. “It’s not working.”
“That’s okay, let’s try a different approach. Walk me through what you’re thinking and feeling as you do this.”
I explain my process to him, and he nods along.
When I finish, he speaks. “I’ll start by saying that there are many methods of performing magic. In this case, you’re trying to visualize, which doesn’t seem to be working. You have a connection to the earth and, to a degree, the natural elements, so try to utilize that. Instead of envisioning a flame appearing from nowhere, imagine the combustion process using the oxygen from the air. Use your hands to guide the energy if you need to.”
I do as he says, hovering my hands between my body and the candle, imagining the process of combustion happening, being directed through my fingertips.
A spark flickers before dying out, nothing more than a scintilla.
I try again. Same thing.
By the fourth time, my hands are shaking and my self-confidence plummeting.
“Here. May I?” Alaric’s voice is soft as he shifts closer to me and envelops my hands in his after I give him a confirmatory nod. His leg brushes mine again, and though my hands stop shaking, there’s a hitch in my breath at the unexpected contact. His hands are warm as he holds mine steady, and a sense of calm confidence washes over me.
“Try again.”
I do. I repeat the same process as before, and just like that, a flame bursts to life.
I gape at Alaric as he pulls his hands away. “How did you do that?!”
“You made it happen,” he says. “All I did was takesome of your fear. It’s your own mind that’s holding you back.” He says the words with calm reassurance, but he’s looking at me curiously now, his head cocked to the side and that tell-tale wrinkle in his brow when he’s thinking or confused.
“You candothat?”
