Though…they werehistrees, and he still didn't feel good about the idea of rotting or actually lighting one on fire.
Eyeing the stumps, he pointed toward two that happened to be side by side. They were a little worse for wear, and looked as if they needed to be replaced anyway, as both had large cracks in them that appeared to be widening. “Those two. I’ll practice on those two.”
“Okay,” Red sighed. “Fine, let’s start with rot. As I said, it can be done with just a thought, and it often is, but as you arenew, we’ll try both ways. First, though, touch whichever stump you want. To note, generally, when rotting something, touch is required.”
Setting his notebook and pencil down on a different stump, after quickly writing that info down, he moved to the two practice ones and placed his hand on top of the right one. “Okay, I’m touching it, now what?”
“Think about what it means to rot something. Think about the action, the process. Picture it in your mind if you…” Red trailed off, for some reason, his eyes growing wide.
Ollie blinked. “What? What is it?”
“Look down,” Jahla choked.
He did, his own eyes widening as he pulled his hand away and stared down at the now very rotten stump that had a perfectly intact silhouette of his hand in the middle, as if the rot had spread out around it. The wood had darkened and crumbled, and some parts had even collapsed inward. “B-but…I…”
Annabel cleared her throat. “I guess thought is enough, but more importantly, his control is concerning. Ollie, did you feel anything when that happened?”
“Feel…anything?”
He…well, as Red had been talking, he’d done just as he asked. He began to think about what it meant to rot, and how the process would begin. Ollie had a pretty good idea about it, considering the books he often read to children about the process, and just the various books he’d read on the subject. Rot was something he generally did his best to avoid, considering his love for preservation. But feelings-wise…cold. He’d begun to feel cold. There had been this chill that had started at his center and traveled out, seeming to build in intensity the longer he thought about it.
“Cold?” he said hesitantly, as he was unsure if he should have felt more than that. Surely he should have, right? Like, it was magic, shouldn’t there have been so much more?
“Did it trickle through you, the feeling? Or was it overwhelmingly all at once?” Red asked.
“Like it was sliding through, coming out from my center.”
“Under his feet.” Jahla pointed.
He looked down, stumbling back when he saw what he’d done. There was now a circular spot where the grass had died and rotted away, leaving dry, cracked soil in its place. “Ugh…my grass…”
Noble tsked. “I get that usually with new witches you’d lead them in thought, and then use the words to further concentrate and bring forward their magic, but in Ollie’s case, it may be better to avoid pointed thoughts until you have him focused on a particular direction, and instead, let him bring the mental imagery forward when he actually says the words of the spell. It could help him control it better.”
“Probably the best option,” Red agreed, sighing when the stump Ollie had rotted fully collapsed inward. “Let’s switch to fire. Ollie, going forward, avoid thinking about rot at all times, please… At least, until you can recognize when you are actually pulling magic forward.”
Great, he was now at risk of rotting parts of his library! “And fire is going to besomuch safer?”
“I’ll be able to put it out. Don’t think, this is the spell: Flickers, flames, the spark of it all; come to me fire, you are mine to call.”
Ollie cocked his head. “Huh, I’m surprised it’s in English.”
Annabel shrugged. “The spell would work in any language.”
“That’s convenient. What would happen if I missed a word, or mixed them up?”
“As spells can be spoken in any language, translations can sometimes be slightly varied, so it likely would work as intended,” she said.
“Unless—” Red chuckled, somewhat evilly. “—you accidentally change the meaning of the spell. Something to be careful of, as the results can be…messy. But this is a pretty simple one, so it's hard to mix up the words. Repeat the spell and try to bring fire into just the palm of your left hand.”
Messy was notthe word Noble would use for fucking up a spell. He’d say the results were usually explosive, devastating, dangerous, or even nightmarish. But what did he know; he was a witch hunter, not a witch.
Ollie cleared his throat, and held out his left hand in front of him. “Flickers, flames, the spark of it all; come to me fire, you are mine to call.” The little witch flinched with a squeak as fire sparked to life with a large crackle in his left hand.
Staring at the flames, Ollie suddenly giggled. “I did it!” Spinning, the man waved his fire holding hand. “Look, Noble, I did it!”
“Good job, Baby.” He smiled, even while he began to worry about what else Ollie might set on fire with his flailing.
“Ollie, focus on the task at hand before you accidentally set something on fire!” Red snapped.
