Mistakes. Plural.
In Divination, Professor Chamberlain tasks us with using our chosen medium to reflect on this past year, and divine guidance in preparation for the Crypteia ahead. Since my epiphaneia, my creepy tarot deck has gotten even creepier, because when I take the cards out and begin to shuffle them methodically, it comes… awake. Meanings are clearer, answers sharper.
And honestly, it’s kind of a dick.
When I told Chamberlain how I really felt, she gasped in horror and launched into a ten minute monologue about respecting divine forces and heeding the messages we receive. I tuned most of it out, but it triggered the memory of Celestine and Augustine ambushing me in my apartment so many monthsago. Of Celestine making magic seem like this deus ex machina miracle that would fix everything.
Hindsight’s a bitch.
Just like this tarot deck.
Brandt merely chuckles when I complain to him after class during the first of our nightly wielding practice sessions. Now that he’s confident my power won’t try to kill me—or anyone else—he’s insisted on teaching me as much as possible to prepare me for the Crypteia, since there’s no one else qualified to even attempt it.
No pressure or anything.
“We have very little time to teach you what you need to know if you want to achieve the Practitioner level of mastery. Otherwise, there are those who would make the case that you repeat this past year. I would argue that you’ve already demonstrated your ability to recognize not only the source of power within yourself but the presence of primordial magic in the world, having connected the two during your epiphaneia. But we need to hone your ability to consistently control it.”
Damn. No more exploding bathrooms for me.
“We’ll start with your ability to wield primordial magic while I continue to research your bloodmagic. Now, wielding primordial magic safely and effectively requires three things: a source of power, a method by which to channel that power, and a way to direct that channeled power.”
“But I didn’t do any of that with the wards.”
“Which is why I’m teaching you how to do it now.” he looks at me with a wry smile. “There are three conventional power sources wielders draw from: their own innate strength, the world around them, or an artifact that’s been imbued with power, similar to a battery.”
“Is that like what you used that first day we met in Church’s office?”
“Yes—a design of my own making. To channel primordial magic safely, you’ll need at least one of three conduit mediums—a talisman, amulet, or potion. Talismans are typically man-made—think swords, wands, rings—metal is the most conducive and generally preferred to amplify and concentrate power.”
“I’m sorry, did you saywands? I get awand?! When thefuckwere you going to tell me about this?”
“And miss that look on your face? Not a chance.”
“I’ll remember this.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he smiles ruefully. “Amulets are typically organic in nature—crystals, gemstones, bones—and are mostly used for protection. While artifacts, talismans, and amulets can be used continuously so long as the power source and medium remain intact, potions are more temporary, essentially acting as carrier liquids for magic. The ability to heal or harm makes potions the most versatile medium by which to channel primordial magic.”
“Wait, does this mean I get a cauldron? Oh my God, this is like a Hogwarts starter pack.”
“Excuse you, this ismuchcooler than Hogwarts.”
I put my hands in the air and smirk. “Whatever you say, Dr. Grandmaster of the Fourth Order.”
He grumbles good-naturedly. “All of this said, without a way to direct that magic, power and channeling are meaningless. Imagine turning on a car, putting it in drive, but having no way to steer it. Spells, runes, and sigils—or combinations of all three—make that possible. But there’s nuance to this.”
“Light wielding versus dark wielding, right?”
“In part, yes, very good. Light wielders, as I mentioned, bend and tame primordial magic to their bidding—it is a battle of strength and determination. Dark wielders, in contrast, wield by intent.”
“How is that ultimately any different? You’re still telling the magic what to do, right?”
“Put simplistically, yes—but it is thewayyou command the magic. It is the difference betweenorderingthe magic to follow your intent, and giving it no other optionbutto follow your intent. To use the same analogy, light wielders press the accelerator of the car to move it forward, whereas dark wielders pave the road it travels.”
“And this is where spells and stuff come in.”
“Correct—spells, runes, and sigils are the catalysts by which our intent becomes tangible, much like elemental affinities where the wielder uses their power to transform primordial magic into a tangible force: air, earth, fire, water—blood, in your case. Speaking a spell imbues words with power. Writing a rune imbues symbols with instructions. Drawing sigils communicate identity and purpose. More complex magic involves combining elements of all three methods, each having their own sub-specialities.”
“I’m going to need a Venn diagram or something,” I murmur, as my imagination runs wild with possibilities.
