In the Flap of a Bird's Wing! The Secret's Out...

A spell takes two seconds to cast.

Most of that time is occupied by the laws of physics and simple biology. A person’s reaction time as they draw their wand or object of choice, their natural reflexes, where they keep said object.

Hazel watched the piano start to fall and didn’t think. From the right sleeve of her robes, her wand slid down into her hand. With a controlled motion, her arm raised towards the falling instrument.

There are four things that must be present before magic can be done. Four corners around a track. The first is mana. Dormant magical energy generated by every living being in the world, resting in the blood. As long as a creature has unexhausted mana, it can cast spells. But despite everyone having mana in their body, most creatures cannot simply tap into it. It requires training.

Put a pin in that – it will be important later.

Her eyes locked onto the piano.

From this point on, the laws of the world no longer apply. For magic does not obey physical limitations. It laughs and waves at them as it speeds hurriedly to cause chaos.

The second is aspect. Spells operate on the five aspects, through which mana transforms from its latent state into an active force. All spells have some combination of these aspects – if the aspects are in perfect balance, it is the arcane aspect. Otherwise, a spell takes on the characteristic of whichever aspect is most powerful – fire, water, earth, and air.

Hazel’s foot slid back on the ground.

The third corner is school. While magic is not limited by reality, it is limited by the mind of the person casting it. Their emotions, their will, their sanity, everything. The school of spell determines the effect, from the common fireball to calling on the powers of oblivion. The schools of magic are not strictly magical, but those created by the training of the user. Or in other words, because magicians before them described it in a way they could understand, the six schools exist for them.

She saw it in her mind. A single missile of arcane energy shooting out towards the piano. A projection spell, projecting her will for a direct application of power.

The final piece is focus. The most difficult part of learning how to use magic is being able to give it direction. To impose the school and affect the balance of one’s activated mana, the caster must have some ability to take that raw magic and give it form. The simplest way to do this is use a wand or a staff. The simple act of pointing a wand or gesturing with a staff is, in the mind of a trained magician, enough to round that final corner.

The wand pointed at the piano and locked in place. A burst of blue and purple arcane energy shot from the end of Hazel’s wand and slammed into the falling instrument. On impact, the piano exploded, raining loose piano wire and wood over the crowd below.

In theory, anyone could have stopped that piano. Every person in that crowd had the potential to cast a spell to arrest that piano’s fall, burn it into a cinder, turn it into a leaf flying on the wind.

But in that moment, only Hazel could. And the reason why explained how she was about to get in trouble.

-----

Some people panicked when they were struck by what remained of the falling instrument. Others stared at the people who were standing exactly where the piano would have landed – a mother and her two children.

Hazel smiled. Only to realize that a few people were staring at her. They were pointing at the wand in her hand. One of them was ever darting over to a nearby member of the Westeron Day Guard.

In her haste to save those children’s lives, Hazel did not consider the reason why she never cast spells in public. And that reason was about to shove itself right in her face.

A familiar man with a mustache approached, adjusting his blue hat and twirling a nightstick. Hazel faked a smile as best she could. “Officer Kyo. What an unexpected surprise.”

Kyo’s mustache twitched. His eyes were locked on the wand in Hazel’s hand. “Hazel. What you ‘fink you playin’ at?”

“Nothing.”

“‘Cause it looked like you was slingin’ ‘round magic. And that’s real funny ‘cause you and I both know it costs a pretty penny to learn that.” Kyo glared at Hazel. “Which noble house was you really ‘part of? Who’s been holdin’ onto ya' debts?”

Anyone could cast magic. But learning to use it? That was reserved for the select, the few. People who would’ve seen that situation and mourned the not the family of three but the loss of an expensive piano.

“I’m not.”

Kyo’s mustache curled as he grew a wicked smile. “I’m sure a memba’ of the Seamstresses’ Guild knows a trick or two to ‘vince me o’ tha’.” He moved in and growled, “‘Ow’s ‘bout you does some work hemming me trousers and I look the other way.”

Hazel saw Kyo’s hand tighten on his nightstick. She looked down at the cake she’d bought and weighed her dwindling options. “You could never afford my services, Officer.”

Kyo’s smile grew darker. “Right, it’s off to downtown wif ya’ then.” He started reaching for Hazel’s wand –

Hazel jerked it back and jammed its point into the cake box she was holding. In an instant, the box flew out of her hands and down the street.

The nightstick struck Hazel across the face and sent her to the ground. Kyo’s boot came down hard on her wand and snapped it in half. “I know some guys who’ll get to the bottom of ‘ya.”

---

Yanice’s fingers rapped on the countertop in the shop. It wasn’t like Hazel to be late.

She perked up when she saw something finally come through the door. Only it wasn’t a person, but a pink box wobbling through the air and gently landing on the counter in front of her.

The smell of fresh cake wafted into her nose. Funny, she didn’t remember doing any work for the Bakers’ Guild. But she wouldn’t say no to some early sweets. Yanice flipped the box open –

And her face paled when she saw the frosting on top. It was a message from Hazel. She read it twice to be sure of what it said.

Immediately, she shut the door to the shop and closed the business for the day. Her fingers flipped through the prepared outfits for customers and pulled out a bag containing one that Hazel finished before going home late last night. Then she took that and the cake up the stairs.

Yanice knocked on one of the doors. “Lavender?”

A high-pitched squeal cracked on the other side of the door. That was her alright.

“I’ve got an outfit ready for you, so you can stop wearing those rags you came in with.” She cracked the door open and slid the bag through. Yanice could hear the back be pulled open, clothes hitting the floor and slowly being put on. “Your sister always was good at taking measurements.”

Yanice coughed politely. How was she going to break this to her?

“…Is that cake?” A hand darted out of the room and yanked the cake box in. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t had cake in years!”

Yanice heard the box be opened and had no choice. “Your sister’s been arrested. I don’t think they know who they’ve got yet, but it’s only a matter of time before they start casting wonder spells to figure it out. And when they do, they’ll hang her in the town square by the neck until she’s dead.”

The door swung open.

Lavender Weaver was pulling fingerless gauntlets onto her hands. Whatever remained of the pink dress she’d been wearing had been thrown into the back corner of the room. She now wore a plum tunic over her healthy chest, the sleeves shorn off to reveal two well-toned arms. A long piece of red fabric was tied around her hips with the ends resting against her legs. Brown trousers hugged those legs, flaring out over a pair of fine leather boots.

She cracked her knuckles and stared going for the stairs.

Yanice looked inside the room and gasped. “Did… did you eat the entire cake?!”

Lavender stopped mid-step. “…Yeah?”

“Why?!”

“I need the sugar.” She turned to look at Yanice with her blue eyes. “For all the face-punching I’m about to do.”