Hurdling

It’s been a few hours since I first sat down with the book, and the sun is now much lower in the sky. Clovis left me to read and now I don’t actually know where she is.

The chapter, titled ‘An Unwavering Wind’, didn’t actually teach me any magic. It detailed a meditation exercise focused on creating a stillness in your mind by using a fixed image.

The image can be whatever you want, it doesn’t necessarily have to be related to the magic you plan to cast.

I think the lesson it is trying to teach is about forging a mental sanctuary from which your conjured visualisation can be safely cast. It doesn’t sound too dissimilar to how conduit circles work to restrict spells in written magic.

I’m using the image of a river as my chosen object of tranquility. It’s one of the only things in this world so far that has soothed me so naturally.

I’ve spent most of my time this afternoon practicing the exercise. Ensuring I can block out any other thoughts.

I will confront the flame on my own terms and vanquish it when I want to.

I close the book with a soft thud that echoes in the silence of the study. I can feel a nascent confidence stirring in my chest, it’s fragile but determined.

I find Clovis grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle at her workbench, the rhythmic scrape and crunch pervades the air with a pungent, earthy scent. She looks up as I approach, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"I've finished the first couple chapters and practiced some of the techniques." I say, my voice steady. "I'd like to try conjuring a flame again!"

She pauses her grinding, setting the pestle down carefully. "Already? Are you sure you feel up to it?" She wipes her hands on a cloth, but a faint dusting of green powder still clings to her fingertips. "This time, I can’t help you. You need to be able to manifest it on your own."

"Yeah I think I’m ready!" I say, as a new resolve hardens my tone. "But there is one thing I need you to do for me."

I hesitate for a moment, the request feels too vulnerable to utter. "Could you… could you please watch my arms? My scars, specifically. Last time, when the flame went out… I know I felt something."

Clovis’s carmine eyes narrow, before uttering a simple "Ok, if you think it’ll help you stay calm."

“Thank you Clovis” It’s a small concession for her but to me it’ll make a big difference.

We move outside as Clovis says the fresh air should help me concentrate. My shoulders are poised and my right arm is outstretched. Clovis is opposite me with her face fixed only on my arms.

I take a deep, centering breath, letting it out slowly, pushing away the memory of yesterday's failure.

I close my eyes.

I picture a single matchstick striking itself against a match box.

It ignites a tiny flame at its tip.

The flame is carried to a candle, as the heat tries to race to the tips of my fingers.

The fire grows bigger in anticipation of the leap it needs to make to the candle.

It wriggles its way up the wood edging closer to my flesh.

A pinprick of warmth appears in the center of my palm. It’s the same sensation as before, but this time, I feel in control.

I feed it with my focus, nurturing the tiny spark with the unwavering calm I’ve practiced all morning. I try to ease the feeling back and forth ensuring I feel the pull of my will’s desire to manifest it into existence.

I let it leap to the candle and give the flame a new shape as it explodes upon the wick. The pressure in my palm ceases.

I open my eyes.

It’s no bigger than my thumb, a perfect, teardrop-shaped tongue that paints my fingers in shades of amber and gold. It doesn't flicker wildly; it sways with a slow pulse, like a tiny, captured star. It’s beautiful. It’s real. And I made it.

"Shikara, your arms look ok to me, do you feel any pain?" Clovis says, with mild concern.

My eyes drift briefly down to my arms. There is no throbbing pain from my wrist. No sickly purple light. The scars on my arm are just that, scars. Pale, silent lines on my skin.

"No, I think I’m ok." I reply, trying to keep my response brief so I can bask in this moment.

The absence of that pain is a more profound relief than I could have ever imagined. It’s like a shackle I didn’t even realize I was wearing has fallen away.

A stream of relief breaks out from my eye and traces a path down my cheek. It’s not a tear of sadness or despair, but of a joy so pure and overwhelming it feels like it might crack me open.

I quickly, almost reflexively, rub it away with the back of my left hand, my eyes never leaving the tiny miracle I’m holding.

A giddy, exhilarating power courses through me. I did it.

I look at the tiny heartbeat of light I have manifested. I can do more. The thought is seductive. I picture the flame drawing more energy, more of my will. I imagine it growing, its base spreading across my palm, its tips reaching higher.

The flame responds instantly. The glow intensifies, the heat against my skin becomes more pronounced. The light dances higher, its edges beginning to flicker with an untamed rhythm.

"Shikara, slow down." a firm voice shoots through my concentration. It’s Clovis. "Don't get carried away. You’ve already proven yourself capable!"

Her words splash water on my excitement. But she’s right. I am a novice who has just learned to strike a match, I can’t try to handle a bonfire. I listen immediately.

I take a breath and reverse the process. I picture the light shrinking, the heat receding, the energy flowing back into me. The flame dwindles, shrinking back to a tiny spark before winking out of existence.

My hand is empty again, but my world has changed.

I look up at Clovis. An expression of genuine, unrestrained pride has taken residence on her face.

"Congratulations, Shikara." she says, with a sincerity I’ve never heard from her before. "That was impeccable. Your focus, your control… it was a flawless execution."

She glances down at my arm. "And for the record." she adds, her tone becoming clinical again for a moment. "I saw nothing. No light, no discoloration. Your arms remained perfectly still. Whatever you experienced last time, it did not physically manifest today."

"Thank you for fulfilling my request, it really allowed me to focus." I say as I finally process the smile on my own face.

"That’s ok, I’ll do whatever I can to help you. You’ve laid a really strong foundation today! It’s getting late, why don’t you head home." Clovis says, gesturing to the setting sun.

"Sure thing but I think I’ll head over to Hakota and Elara’s instead I want to share my good news with them!" I express, as I turn to collect my things.

My legs are surprisingly steady as I walk away from Clovis’s cottage. The colours of the late afternoon paint the path in more vibrant hues.

Hakota and Elara’s home is just as I remember, modest and well-kept. A nervous excitement tightens around my stomach.

I raise my hand and knock on their door.

Not a moment later it squeaks open. Elara peers from behind it, her blonde hair slightly fussed, a dusting of flour on her cheek.

Her face breaks into a wide, welcoming smile the moment she sees me. "Shikara! It’s you! Come in, come in!"