He informed me that he had signed me into his advanced course. I was upset about the extra loads of work on my shoulders but caught up to my coursemates quickly. Soon I distilled my very first potion. A waking elixir, that I diluted in tea on sleep-deprived days.
While we waited for the liquid potions to collect, Bloum would teach to the courses’ interest. Practical magic and general knowledge about herbs, where to find and how to pick them, were his favourite subjects. He was demanding but never discouraging.
Undergraduates visited us regularly and presented us with their newest achievements, like conjuring light orbs or floating objects with nothing but their minds. They were often rewarded with a milestone-certificate.
Unlike the school I visited in Urai, the Dicheval academy had no fixed exams. Students could prepare for their milestones and show their skills at a requested date. The academy was privately owned, as long as the students paid their fees, they defined their own schedule without pressure.
Coursemates in art and ethics would rarely apply for an exam. They studied out of interest instead of for certificates—Claire was one of them.
Our alchemy course, on the other hand, was eager to succeed at every milestone. We encouraged each other to request exam dates and studied past the regular hours. Tonio would guide us and reveal his personal tricks whenever he caught us in the laboratory after patient visits. He also helped to oversee the ingredients every other week, alongside Elvora, who never stopped smiling, showing her large teeth. She was present constantly and walked past me countless times. Her stare was icy enough to bruise my confidence.
There, I asked about the whispering they did before conjuring things out of the air since I suspected it to be spellwork.
“That has nothing to do with spells,” Bloum said. “It’s more of a personal poem. To calm yourself and concentrate. Were you confused by the language? Many students speak in their native dialect.”
To me, it sounded like intent that I used to manifest my wishes. For them, it was a method of relaxation.
Witchcraft and magic weren’t so different, it seemed. There could’ve been more of a Mage inside of me than a Witch.
A theory not far from reality, since I excelled at every task Bloum gave me, whether they were potions or knowledge of herbs.
During one of our field trips, he praised me and called me a natural talent, as expected from a Volkov. He helped me with my personal poem and I sang it like a chant, trying to manifest the last bits of my witchiness.
Ever since Veymor shattered the chalice, he had failed to appear. The picture of his body vanished from my memory, and so did my practices. I stopped burning herbs to banish unwelcomed energy and rarely applied the chamomile essence.
The Witch in me fell asleep.
16. Successor
The weeks flew past and I found myself conjuring water inside my hand during the alchemy course.
I stretched out my palm while Bloum instructed me. My coursemates watched attentively.
“Feel the water inside the air and collect it,” he said and I began whispering my chant with closed eyes.
“Free the wolf within me.
No more need to keep it in.
No doubt there to shake me.
Let go of the sheepskin.”
They gasped when a ball of water smacked onto my hand. I opened my eyes and witnessed their shocked faces take a step back. Professor Bloum stood frozen beside me. All their chins, beside Elvora’s, had dropped.
“Forgive me,” I stuttered.
To my surprise, they applauded and nodded their heads. They were Magicians after all and needed time to analyse before reacting to it.
“Looks like we’ve found a successor,” Bloum said with his arm around my shoulders, “we were only expecting a few drops. If you continue, you will beat Gerogy’s records for sure.” He signed the certificate and handed it to me.
When I sat down at my table to take the advised rest, a prickling sensation overcame me and warmed my body.
I gained weight as ate every meal with pleasure, and my cheeks flushed with colour again.
Claire’s presence healed me from within, and her family’s influence turned me into a real Mage. I clung to it with all my might, even if that meant following Tonio’s orders. He became invasive in scheduling my time and imagining our future with his father while promising that it would never escalate into an actual wedding. He integrated me into their inner circle, him, Kress, and Bryon to prove it.
I learned about their goals and responsibilities, which made me come to peace with mine.
Kress had to get control over his mother and sidetrack her so she would leave Roness for the Lagoon—a sacred place for Sirens, their home, separated from politics of the outside world. His mission was to take over her title.
Bryon needed to convince his older brother to join the circle or get rid of him, as he owned half of the heritage. His parents forgot how to return to their human form and remained as panthers in the wild, he explained.
It sounded natural, comming from him, and I wondered if he accepted the same fate for himself.
After a while, I felt like a part of a family. A family beyond bloodline, as Tonio used to say. We enjoyed tea together on the weekends, though I didn’t understand every matter they discussed. Politics, their connections outside of Roness, and Prince Fellis of Heior—whom they hated passionately—were the subjects I stood silent on.
My mission was to get as knowledgeable as possible.
A successor.
I began writing a protocol for my water conjuration. At this pace I would beat Gerogy’s records and prove myself to him, make him proud.
Elvora walked up to me while the course continued their studies. I stopped seeing her at the Di Centi mansion, apart from official gatherings. She looked at me with pinched eyes and undermined my joy. “You should know,” she whispered, “that it will be me, who gets him.”
Our legs brushed when she sat down beside me, awaking the
