Despite his best efforts to the contrary, the next day found Rowan once again lying in bed, a textbook in his hands as he did his best to memorize the contents within. His eyes growing unfocused, Rowan let out a groan. He had already read the words on the page in front of him twice, and yet he remembered exactly none of them. No, that was a lie. He remembered that the first word on the page was ‘The’.

With a sigh, Rowan allowed the textbook to fall from his hands. It was only just past noon, and yet he was already completely done with studying for the day. Even though he knew he needed to study, no matter how he tried, he could not get his brain to cooperate. It was like there was some mystical force within his brain, tossing out any boring information the moment it came in.

Rowan exhaled, covering his forehead with the arm that had been holding the textbook. Although he wanted to do something productive, apart from studying, there really wasn’t much else he could do.

He had already spent part of the morning training, and right now was when the students from House Lykia liked to use the gym. Since he did not want to run into Klou or his minions, that meant he could either train outside, or not at all. Not wanting to become an ice sculpture on the training grounds, Rowan discarded that thought.

Was there really nothing he could do? The thought struck Rowan, his eyes losing focus as he considered just what else he could put his precious time towards. As he did, a glint of light on metal caught his eye, the sunlight reflecting from the brass bracelet on his wrist.

Darm. The man who had given him the bracelet, and not just the bracelet, but something else too: a book. To be quite honest, Rowan had completely forgotten about the spellbook Darm had given him before his departure. Although he had held high hopes for it, those hopes had been thoroughly dashed the moment he had first opened the book and realized he understood exactly none of the scribbles on the first page, or any of the pages after it for that matter.

However, that was then and this was now. The him of back then was hardly comparable to the him of now, especially in terms of magical understanding. Perhaps now he would be able to parse the many pages of research Darm had left behind.

Eyes brightening, Rowan rolled out of bed, checking to make sure he was alone before dropping to his knees beside the bed. Darm’s book was one of his most treasured possessions. It would not do to let anyone know where it was hidden.

Reaching under his bed, Rowan’s hand searched for a familiar feeling, his fingers probing for the indent that marked where he had cut the hole in his mattress that he used to hide his most valuable items. Currently, those items were Darm’s book, the Girscaw’s dagger, and the Fenraith’s bracers, though that last one was there more to wait for a good opportunity to arise for him to pass the bracers off as a legitimate acquisition than because of its value.

Fingers sinking into a familiar groove, Rowan’s arm disappeared beneath the bed, emerging a minute later with the leather-bound spellbook that Darm had given him as a parting gift. Brushing off a few stray bits of mattress stuffing, Rowan sat back down on his bed, tugging the book open as he settled into a comfortable position.

Darm’s book was old, not as old as some of those in the Faebrook library, but old enough for the leather cover to be worn and wrinkled from age and sun. Brushing a few stray specks of dust from the binding, Rowan opened it up, settling into his pillows as he opened it up to the first page.

He had not looked at Darm’s book since the beginning of the semester, the complicated runes and formulas inside far too advanced for the him back then to understand. For a brief moment, hesitation gripped him; would he be able to understand them now? If not, then how long would it be before he could? Darm had said that this was the notebook he had kept as a young mage. If Rowan could not understand the insights that Darm had had in his youth, then what hope did he have of catching up?

Glancing at the contents of the first page, Rowan let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. After a semester of tutelage, the formulas and diagrams that had so confused him a few months prior now looked much more familiar. Although Rowan could not say that he understood all of them, he recognized a few and could make educated guesses about the purposes of most of the others.

The same was true for the second and third pages, but by the fourth page, the little squiggles and ink marks on the page made no more sense to Rowan than they had the last time he had attempted to look at the spellbook.

So the difficulty increases the further in you get. The realization made sense to Rowan. Darm had said that the book was one he had kept back when he had been just starting out as a mage, though judging by the level of the contents on the first page, presumably slightly more learned than Rowan himself currently was.

If this book contained his observations on magic, then it stood to reason that the easiest stuff would be at the beginning, and as Darm’s talents had increased in level, so too had the contents of the book.

Turning the pages back, Rowan stared at the first page. From what he could make out, the diagrams were a rune formation, and the formulas were mana formulas designed to show how best to conduct mana from his mana pool into the rune formation.

Rowan tilted his head. From the looks of it, it was a… barrier spell? He frowned. Barrier spells were not something they had been taught yet, though he had seen them mentioned in his textbooks. Supposedly, they were much more complex than regular combat magics due to the way the mana had to be shaped. Without proper control, the barrier would be weak and ineffectual, not exactly the outcome one wanted when relying on it to stop an incoming blow.

Still, it was not as if he had anything better to do, and Rowan looked back down at the book, carefully observing the diagrams and formulas within. He was fairly certain that it was a barrier spell, but it paid to be sure, especially when the formulas for barrier spells were so similar to force spells, and he did not want to have to explain to the other boys when they came back why it was that he had blown up their dormitory.

Twenty minutes later, Rowan nodded in satisfaction, closing the textbook that he had been using to double check the makeup of barrier spells with. He was ninety-nine percent sure that the spell contained on the first page of Darm’s notebook was indeed a barrier spell, and there was no time like the present to find out.

His eyes flickering from side to side, Rowan again checked to make sure that the room was empty before starting. Although practicing magic was not forbidden in the dormitories, he did not want the existence of Darm’s spellbook to become known, nor did he feel like performing for an audience today. Satisfied that he was indeed alone, he turned his attention back to the first page, paying close attention to the formulas and rune formation drawn there.

The formulas used to show the proper flow of mana were crudely drawn, but serviceable. Although Darm’s skill at drawing was not the greatest, it was sufficient for Rowan to make out what was what, and each diagram was also accompanied by arrows and helpful notes about how to best circulate the mana and coax it into the rune formation, scribbled into the margins like the afterthoughts they had once been.

Coax. If there was one lesson that Rowan had taken away from Kanna and Typh’s teachings this semester, it was that his initial approach of forcing the mana to obey was not the correct one. The mana within him was not his enemy, and it did not need to be forced along like a prisoner escorted by guards. The more a mage forced, the more their mana would resist, making it difficult to shape into the complex patterns demanded by most rune formations.

Instead, it was best to treat it as an extension of himself, one that was sad to see him go. Like a clingy child, mana preferred to remain within the confines of its owner’s mana pool, but it could be coaxed out with proper techniques. For children, those techniques generally involved promises of candy. For mana, it was a little more difficult.

Each mage had to discover what worked best for them personally, and Rowan was no different. Much of his practice in Typh’s class involved figuring out how best to lure the mana from within his mana pool, and how to entice it into forming the runes and patterns he desired. Although he still could not control it to the degree required for more complex runes, the runes in Darm’s spellbook should be manageable for him.

Taking one last good look at the book, Rowan turned his attention inwards, drawing the mana through his mana pool in the manner described on the page. The formula Darm had written was not too difficult, and it only took Rowan three tries before he had the mana circulating in accordance with the diagram. From there, he directed it into his focus, the mana flowing into the rose gold ring where he once more began to circulate in the manner he had practiced a moment earlier.

Happy with the circulation of the mana, Rowan glanced at the page once more, committing the rune formation upon it to memory. The runes for the spell on the first page of Darm’s book were a pair of crossed lines, one straight and one curved in a semi-circle, that intersected near the top and bottom of both lines. This formation was repeated twice, with both copies mirroring each other diagonally, connected at the base where the two straight lines met. The two semi-circles were angled away from each other, their open ends facing towards the bottom of the formation, and the bits at the top slightly overlapping the straight lines.

The rune formation memorized, Rowan concentrated as he reached for the mana, circulating it a little while longer before directing it into the beginnings of the rune formation. For a few moments, it looked like he might succeed, but with a sudden jolt, Rowan felt the mana escape his clutches, splashing outside the lines of the formation like a puddle disturbed by a passing carriage, showering the innocent sidewalk with its contents and ruining his first attempt at the spell.

Resisting the urge to grit his teeth as the mana broke free of his control, Rowan spent a few moments recapturing the errant mana and integrating it back into the rest, making sure to remove all traces of mana from the rune formation before starting again. The visual he used was that of a large stream, circulating broadly in the air above the formation, its azure edges flickering with arcane power.

The formation itself was a series of channels that he had carved deeply into the ‘ground’ of his focus space. For this spell, the channels were a pair of deep grooves in the shape of the runes, above which the stream of mana floated, all contained within the golden confines of his focus.

This visualization technique was another of Kanna’s techniques, a way in which to control the layering of mana into a rune formation through relatable imagery. For Rowan, who viewed his mana as being like a stream of water, she had suggested that he imagine his rune formations as grooves or ditches which he could then fill with the ‘water’ of his magic.

Twice, thrice... Again and again the spellcasting failed, the mana flowing out from the channels he had carved for it. However, Rowan did not despair. Regathering the mana, he allowed it to circulate in the manner described in the spellbook, before attempting to cast it once more.

Slowly, he controlled the stream to descend, the mana flowing gently into the first of the channels. Carefully regulating the flow, Rowan filled the channel, his magic pulsing as the rune formation began to take shape.

Careful… Rowan’s brow beaded with perspiration, sweat dripping down his face as he focused upon the runes. The spell was nearly complete, but he had failed at this point many times in the past few months. Face scrunched in concentration, he poured the last of the mana into the channel he had envisioned.

A brief flash filled the space within the focus, the mana within the channels taking on a slight glow, signifying that it had successfully been shaped into a rune formation. With a smile of relief, Rowan aimed his hand at the window and cast the spell, the formation and the mana within disappearing as a small golden circle appeared in midair.

To call the object hanging in the air before him a circle was being very geometrically generous. The edges were ragged, like an apple with bites taken out of it, and the shape as a whole seemed less than solid. But it was vaguely circular, and so a circle it became.

Golden in colour, the circle was no larger than the width of Rowan’s palm, and for what he assumed to be a shield, it did not appear very durable. Hesitantly poking it, Rowan’s assumption was proved correct as his finger met only the slightest resistance before the spell shattered; small motes of golden light falling as the would-be shield disintegrated into nothingness.

Still, Rowan could not help but smile. Despite the terrible size and efficacy of the ‘shield’ he had summoned, the spell had worked. It had summoned a barrier, however terrible, and the barrier had functioned as a barrier should. With time and practice, he was sure that he could turn the spell into a proper defensive tool in his arsenal, and the thought pleased him.

What pleased him more though was the fact that he had been able to cast the spell in the first place. For Rowan, this was the clearest sign of his growth that he had received since he had first arrived at Faebrook.

Four months ago, he had not even been aware that he possessed mana, let alone dream of harnessing it, and the formulas and diagrams of mages served only to confuse and bewilder him. Now he had succeeded in casting a spell that Darm himself had once used, and for a moment, Rowan allowed himself to feel pride.

The result was still shit though. Moment over, Rowan began the process anew. Progress was one thing, but what he thirsted for was power, and the ragged golden circle had certainly possessed none of that. Books forgotten, he cast the spell over and over again, humming gently to himself in the solitude of the dorm room as the sky outside slowly darkened.