Aaron had convinced Violet to join the mages in search of the Mage’s Guild. She was a multiclasser with a hand in every field, but the promise of real, actual magic had been an easy sell. Shawn, another multiclasser, has joined them. Aaron was technically a multiclasser but only in two fields, fighting and magic. Darren and Meredith, as the only pure mages, led the group.

Darren suggested a course, citing a gut feeling, taking the left-hand passage off the entry hall. Aaron trusted him, especially since he felt it himself, but it was hard to place exactly why this direction felt right. Shawn and Violet followed along blindly, but Meredith’s face lit up. She must have felt it too.

They followed the path until it deposited them into a massive library.

“Holy shit,” Shawn breathed.

Aaron let out a low whistle. “Camp really updated the library since my last visit, huh?”

“Is this where we’re supposed to be?” Meredith asked.

“Well, it’s certainly where we are,” Darren said. “Let’s take a look around.”

Aaron set out to explore, letting himself get lost in the room, just a little. The shelves were so high he doubted any in the group could reach the top, and they all were stuffed with every type of manuscript imaginable. Thick, musty, heavy books, with intricate symbols on their spines. Richly colored and illustrated tomes with golden bindings and embroidered covers. Faded, well-read books, with split spines and titles barely legible. Most of the titles were in English and ranged from accounts of monsters, epic retellings of history, storybooks, even recipe and craft books. Then there were spellbooks, each with a title in English and a title in whatever native language the spells originated in: Latin, Gaelic, Arabic, Hindu, Mandarin, and countless more he didn’t recognize.

Aaron slid out a slim spellbook, written in Greek, that promised essential spells. His proficiency in the language had never really paid off at camp, but maybe here it would actually help.

There were racks and racks of scrolls, some brief, containing only a short page of information, and some so large that they’d unroll to be several feet long. Each text was handwritten in a unique handwriting: elaborate calligraphy, quick scrawls, looping letters, simple, small print… There were illustrations in some, ranging from two page painted pictures of towering monsters or flaming bursts of magic, to simple sketches of some species of goblin, or an undocumented herb, never before found. All the rules to this world, every nuance, every loophole, could be found in these texts.

In the center of the room, an elaborate throne sat on a raised dais. Scattered about the platform were various items, an ornate black fan, a large black orb, a bowl containing some form of small chips, forming a yin yang symbol. The whole setup gave him a thrill that reached deep into his stomach and drew out a sense of foreboding.

“This is kind of strange.” Darren’s voice rang out from several rows away.

Aaron turned sharply at the voice, a frown on his face. He hurried over to where Darren’s voice had come from.

“Darren?” he whispered, searching the shelves.

“Over here.”

Aaron finally located him in a corner of the library. “Seems irreverent, yelling in here. What did you find?”

“The walls,” Darren said. “They’re different than the others in the castle.”

Aaron stared at the wall, the crumbly stone and stains where moss might have once tried to grow. “Mmm. And this is what drew your attention?”

“Yes.” Darren’s voice didn’t sacrifice any conviction. “It’s old. All the walls in here are, but you can see it best in the corners. This place is older than the rest of the castle. Much older.”

He was right. Although the shelves of books made the room feel lavish and full, the walls themselves were worn and plain. There were some torches by the entryway, and a few scattered here and there, but they were otherwise barren.

“It must have come first,” Aaron said. “The castle must’ve been built around it. Maybe it’s a holy place.”

“A holy place?”

“I found the Scribe’s dais.”

Darren followed him as he walked back to the throne.

“Lovely.” A barely concealed shiver ran down Darren’s back. “So, do all the Gods live here?”

“I would hope not. They were more elusive at camp. Maybe just the greater ones?” Aaron circled the dais, eyes pouring over the empty throne and the artifacts placed around it, all replicas of the props back at camp. “We could always ask her.”

He summoned up some courage and took a few steps forward. The closer he got, the more on edge he felt. The feeling soon morphed into fear. He continued until he was a few feet from the platform, where he stood, paralyzed, shaking from a deep-rooted feeling that something was wrong, so incredibly wrong...

He stumbled backward and fell over.

“Aaron? You ok?” Darren’s voice sounded far away.

Aaron pushed himself up to his knees, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He swiped them from his eyes. “I don’t think she’s taking requests.”

“Who knows?. The Gods were built to be annoying back at camp. We did this to ourselves.”

“Do you think the Scribe knows we shouldn’t be here?”

“Hey!” The two turned to find Violet waving them down. “Meredith found where we’re supposed to be going, I think. She asked me to get you too.”

“Hold that thought,” Aaron said. “You’re going to love what we found.”

Violet had barely glanced at the throne when her lips parted and she looked at Aaron, eyes huge. “Is that the Scribe’s throne?”

“We can’t think what else it might be.” Violet stepped forward, but Aaron put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s in a mood right now, and it’s not one to talk.”

Darren nodded, eyes a bit distracted. “Anyway, what did you say Meredith found?”

“We found a staircase in the far corner. She thinks it leads to-”

“The Mage’s Guild.” Darren nodded and headed the direction Violet had come from. He was clearly over the idea of potentially meeting a God.

Violet turned to Aaron and laughed at what he knew must be quite the petulant look on his face.

“No sense in trying to stop him,” she said.

“He’s got a one-track mind,” Aaron grumbled as the two followed in his trail.

“Just one?”

“Alright, two if you count Fiona.”

They found Shawn and an eager Meredith perched on an iron circle staircase, both bouncing with excitement. Aaron sighed and trailed the group upstairs.

“Holy fuck,” Meredith whispered, eyes as big as saucers.

The room was as large as the library, but far more open. There were a few tables in the center and shelves lining the walls. On every surface was any number of magical components-glass orbs filled with swirling mist, a black crystal that sucked the light from the air around it, a puddle of water sitting on a table, quivering and changing shape as each person passed it. Tablets embossed with symbols and carvings. There was a golden plate, holding a brilliantly shining diamond, standing inexplicably on its point, despite having no support. In one area of the floor, runes were carved into the ground save for one spot, which had been blasted by something so hard that the ground was entirely blackened and chipped. On the central table were several mortars and pestles, in which was fine dust, each a distinct color, glowing with its own light. On another table lay several small bolts of cloth, each radiating a different aura.

Violet’s face lit up, as she looked around the room, a look of happy wonder on her face. Shawn looked completely bowled over, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was real. A devilish grin spread across Aaron’s face and he made his peace with forgoing exploring the Scribe’s dais.

The room had its own spellbooks, so Aaron set to work comparing a book of rudimentary enchantments with the book he’d taken from the library. A few feet away from him, he saw Shawn, eyes pouring over a rack of glittering gem-encrusted chains. No sooner had his hand reached out to touch one when Aaron sprung across the gap between the two, slapping his hand away.

“We do not touch anything in here,” he snapped. “You have no idea what any of this is.”

Across the room, the others turned to see the commotion. Violet gave Aaron a scolding look but didn’t admonish him.

Meredith, however, scowled deeply. “Then maybe we should try to read about what they are. So we can do more than just look.”

Aaron gestured at his spellbooks. “A wonderful suggestion. Might I suggest we all try to educate ourselves a bit? I distinctly remember telling the campers that there were a good number of artifacts that would kill them with a touch.”

“That was just to scare them away from touching the props. I suppose that’s real here too, though.” Violet’s eyes grew troubled. “I’m with Aaron, let’s do some reading.

Aaron kept flipping between the two books. What he was beginning to think of as the real Echoterra really did split up spellcasting and enchanting more so than camp did.

Spellcasting involved casting spells directly. They often had short term effects and the magic didn’t linger for long. Enchantments, however, were rarely placed on people or animals. They were most frequently used to imbue an item with long term or permanent magical properties. They took a longer time to set up and involved many components and complicated ritual. Crafting spells was comparatively easy, and only involved binding an element to the caster using spellcloths. However, spellcasting depended a lot more on the strength and skill of the caster. More advanced spells could require multiple, rare components, but those weren’t the type they’d be researching here.

Violet closed her book loudly, after about an hour. “Alright!” she said.

Shawn looked up. “Hmm?”

“I think we’re ready to learn a spell or two. Something simple.”

Darren marked his place in the book he’d been reading. “I don’t see why not.” He glanced around at the others. “Everyone ready to learn some real magic?” An unabashed smile broke out across his face.

His attitude was contagious, and Aaron felt a flip of excitement in his stomach, a feeling he’d thought he’d long outgrown.

“Do you guys think we have enough information?” Meredith asked an ever-present note of worry in her voice.

Darren stood up, stretching. “I think we can find something simple.” He glanced down at the book. “Light, Snare, Endurance, Lightning Flash, Disorientation.” He shrugged.

Shawn scrambled to his feet. “First off, I don’t think we should do lightning up here. Keep it outside, until we’ve got it down well enough to control it.”

Violet perched at the edge of her seat. “No offensive spells. Actually, no spells cast on people at all. We don’t want it to go wrong. So… light?”

Meredith smiled, excited. “Not exactly the flashiest spell, but I guess it’s best to start simple!”

Darren shot a sly glance at her. “On the contrary, I’d say it’s quite flashy.”

Meredith was quiet for a second, debating if this counted as a pun, but Darren continued, laying his book open on the table.

“Alright,” he said, still smiling. He ran a finger down the page, eyes scanning the instructions and notes. “Once you’ve created your spell bundle, you just need to keep it on your body and say the incantation. You should get a ball of light. You can control and move it but we’ll get there later.” He looked up at the others. “Well, you should all know well enough how to start.” He clapped his hands together, grinning. “Spellcloths. This binds the element to you, so make sure it’s really right for you. You should be able to feel it.”

They headed over to the tables with the various bolts of clothes, if they could even be called cloth. The fabric seemed to consist of half energy, light or electricity or heat… The five of them began unwrapping the bolts, running their hands through them, catching the scents, and taking in the aura each exuded. Here was a sensuous red, deep and powerful, with a scratchy, stiff make to it. Elsewhere was a velvety soft lavender, that smelled like an early spring breeze.

Violet held up a dark, flowing blue, which rippled like liquid when folded. It was the deepness and power of the ocean. She looked through others, but her eyes couldn’t stop drawing back to the blue.

Aaron finally stopped when he found the one for him, a deep black, darker than any shade he had seen before. Light couldn’t penetrate it and it held a secretive, confiding aura.

Meredith’s eyes eventually alighted on a sheet, made up not of just one, but two cloths, sewn together. The bottom layer was a misty swirl of blue and blacks, overlaid with a thin lacey cover of lighter pinks and lilac. It felt warm and inviting, with a tumultuous undertone hidden not so deep underneath its surface.

Shawn was torn between two, a muted, soft grey, which spoke of unnumbered depth under its nondescript exterior. The other was a more vibrant blend of oranges and blues, which was more conflicted and confused but had great potential. Eventually, he decided on the grey.

Darren, unlike the others, had directly gone straight towards a single bolt, a majestic, bright red, with threads of brisk silver and flashing gold interwoven. It was power and strength, with deeper, more expressive undertones. He broke the silence by setting it down on the table and giving the book a loud smack.

“Ready to continue?” he asked.

Aaron glanced up from his spellcloth. “Fire away.”

“Alright,” Darren said. “So, spell bundles are super easy to make. The tricky part is going to be casting them.”

He wasn’t wrong. It took only about fifteen minutes to cut squares of spellcloth and place a binding orb in the middle before sprinkling it with the component, in this case, sulfur and wrapping the cloth around it. The binding orb connected the magic of the component to the cloth, which was bound to the caster. When they had finished, they looked down at the small bundle in their hands. The little balls hardly filled one’s palm.

“Now what?” Meredith asked.

Darren consulted the book. “Secure it to yourself somehow. Pocket or pouch works. The next part is the one that takes some skill. You need to learn how to cast spells in general. You have to find your own magic, feel it in you, and then channel it from you, into the packet, and back into you. Then discharge it with the incantation.”

And then the practicing started. Aaron, placing his spell bundle in his pocket, closed his eyes. Magic had always been very technical back at camp. Learning languages and studying in books. Not nearly as meditative. He felt foolish, trying to find his energy and focus it. He opened an eye, peeking at the others around him. They all seemed to be caught up in their own introspection, so he closed his eyes again, letting himself feel more. At first, he thought it was just his heart beating blood through his system, the rushing force and slow pounding he felt. But more and more he realized it was moving through his body in a way no tangible thing could. His fingers tingled as if they’d fallen asleep and he became very aware of the space in the room that he occupied.

Control it. Direct it. Imbue it. He kept his breathing and heart even while trying to move the energy through the bundle. At first, it continued to roam through his system, uncontrollable, but he slowly tamed it until he could change its direction, into the spell bundle. This electrified the energy in a way he hadn’t expected, and suddenly, he needed it out of his system.

He held out a hand, trying to stop it from shaking. “Fos!”

There was a spark, then a blinding flash, like a light bulb burning out, and energy faded. He stared, mouth gaping slightly. Everyone else was staring at him, some shielding their eyes. Aaron blinked away a few sunspots in his vision before a smile replaced his slack-jawed stare.

He had just cast his first spell.

---

Jasper and Weston were the only alchemists that weren’t under bed rest, as Jake had declined their invitation to join them. Neither had any particularly strong ‘gut feelings’ but the girls had already found the Alchemy Lab, so there was no need. Good thing too, since neither CIT had been particularly married to the subject at camp. Jasper only spent one year as a camper and Weston hadn’t spent any, so if there was supposed to be some magic calling them to their element, neither felt it.

“Alright!” Weston said, throwing open the door to the Lab. “Where to start?”

Jasper began poking around, searching for the pre-existing potions. “I vote that one of us takes inventory. Or tries to find an existing inventory; I suppose that also works. Then I'll start reading up on alchemy, see exactly what it is we’re doing.”

“Sounds like you got a good idea of who should do what.” Weston chuckled as Jasper blinked a few times, before smiling.

“I think you’re right.” Weston watched as he scanned across a bookshelf and settled down on the floor with a nice, big, dusty tome.

Weston turned to the more practical task. Fortunately, nearly everything was labeled and sorted. There were cases of flowers, tightly packed and perfectly preserved. Pink lilies, bitter nightshade, passionflowers, lycorises, anemones, oleander… Weston began jotting them down, his already messy scrawl exacerbated by the quill he had to use.

It came surprisingly naturally. Only when he was focusing on it, did it act up, spattering ink over a line and prompting him to start a new line, muttering curses under his breath. He could feel Jasper’s judgy eyes but didn’t turn around. Instead, he let the innate skill in his fingers work the quill until he finally, the list. Next, he began cataloging the herbs and other parts of plants that weren’t flowers. Leaves, roots, stems…

“I’m going to read aloud a bit,” Jasper announced. “Just things I find pertinent. You are welcome to retain whatever you care about.”

While Weston did care, his mind was just more grabbed by the potion components, so he only tuned in here and there. He did learn that every component had three properties: magical, biological, and alchemical. They had to keep these in mind while making potions. It explained why a healing potion could have bitter nightshade in it but still heal.

“This is, however, simply a brief touch of the true magical vs biological properties of said unique and varied plants and how they correlate with each other and where they are found, as well as the many different varieties of plants which may or may not have similar properties, which is partly dependent on how the plant was cultivated and any variations made during growth or after being cultivated. More information on this topic may be found in other more specialized texts.” Jasper paused. “Editors do not seem to be in high demand here.”

Weston had now moved on to the bottles, jars, and vials. He placed the unlabeled bottles on an upper shelf. The others he counted, calculated how much each container held, and wrote down his findings on a sheet of paper labeled “liquid components”. He found some familiar ingredients, such as naga venom, pygmy orchids, and angel tears, which they used at camp. Most were completely new: liquid flaming ice, elenzo venom, bitter murkwhispers, and some that Weston didn’t even think he could pronounce if he tried. Some of them were pure as water, some were thick dark sludge. One was a brilliant green, another a misty orange, which Weston couldn’t even tell if it WAS a liquid. A few boiled in their jars, such as the aptly named “Roiled Fervor”.

Then, there was, in the back of a small cabinet, a tiny vial, filled with an unassuming light blue liquid, labeled “Death”.

“Well, that’s not meant to pique the curiosity or anything.”

Jasper glanced up. “What is it?”

“Death,” Weston said.

Jasper’s frown deepened. “Well,” he commented, “bit morbid.”

“Not even essence of death, or draught of death, or anything,” he said. “Just straight-up death.”

“Huh,” Jasper said, going back to his book.

Weston finished up the potions, and turned to another set of containers, these holding solid items: assorted crushed gems, multicolored powders, something called dire sand. He took note of the bowl of rocks labeled Indigo’s Weave, which smelt like some odd fruit, the oddly shaped crystal called Summer’s Blessing, the sheer bag filled with tiny balls, that chimed when they rolled together. When he had sorted, counted, and labeled all of these, he moved on and finally found the completed potions.

There were close to a hundred basic tends and comparatively fewer full heals. There were performance-enhancing potions, stone skin potions, endurance potions. Then there was every kind of debuff poison he could think of and several specific antidotes along with more general cure-alls. The poisons were less helpfully labeled. So, while a beneficial potion might be labeled “Enhancement of Speed, mod.” a toxin would be named “Night’s Whisper”. Still, Weston shrugged and labeled and sorted them.

By the time Jasper finished reading, Weston had long completed his task and was now flipping through a recipe book.

“Done, I see,” Jasper said.

“Oh, sorry, are you finished?” Weston asked, not looking up.

“Would you like to create something?” Jasper asked. “I’ve researched quite a bit and have a general idea of potential gotchas we might encounter.”

Weston grinned. “Fuck yeah. I was just reading over this tend recipe. Gotta be a useful potion.”

The two of them set to work gathering the ingredients. Two fresh pygmy orchids had to soak in a glass container with 200 mL of diluted siren tears and 5 mL of Rose Nectar. After soaking for 3 minutes, the solution needed to be heated over a low flame, which could be found on any of the small burners. It needed to be brought just to a boil before it had to be quickly removed. Then they had to add the juices released from chopping the stems of the pink lilies, along with adding in 1/10 of a milligram of crushed ruby. This would be stirred until it drastically changed color once before it was put back on the burner for 10 minutes.

Weston frowned. “None of this makes sense,” he said. “There has to be some kind of logic to it. Something more than just blindly following rules. How are we supposed to expand on things if it doesn’t have any reason? How does any of this work?”

Jasper smiled. “How indeed.”

Weston glared, arms crossed sulkily over his chest. “Alright, I guess I’ll read the damn books.”

“I don’t think you need to right away. Let’s get our hands dirty first, have some fun.”

The two continued on before setting it on the burner, once more, after adding the rubies and stirring. Weston consulted the small clock he had found in one of the small cabinets “Alright, ten minutes,” Weston said. “What’s next, after it boils?”

Jasper scanned the page, muttering the directions under his breath before stopping. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?” Weston asked. “That’s never good.”

Jasper pointed at a footnote on the page.

*Ensure all rubies used have been distilled to remove their heat properties while still maintaining flame properties. Pure rubies will cause the solution to burn and may combust consumers.*

The two exchanged a glance, before glancing back at the potion, boiling merrily away in its heat resistant glass pot. “Um,” Jasper said, quietly. “I don’t know anyone who wants to combust.”

Weston groaned, going back to the shelf of solids. He found the jars of ground crystals, specifically the one labeled Dist.rubies. He’d just written it as distrubies, assuming they were just another random Echoterran component.

“Well, we fucked up!” he said, throwing his arms in the air.

Jasper frowned. “I’m sorry, that was probably my fault. The very first rule of alchemy is: ‘Read every instruction and footnote first.’”

Weston shook his head, frustrated. “And you were the one who read the book!”

“Well, so long as no one drinks this and combusts, no real harm done.” He smiled at Weston. “Did you think we’d get it right the first time?”