The three friends met up in the Library during their free period the following day.

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” asked Jayce.

“Anything that can help Tristan break the link with Malice,” said Luna. “If the dragons free. We need to do something.”

“Like what?” asked Jayce. “We can't fight a dragon. That's like pissing into the wind and calling it rain.”

“I've read three books about Malice,” said Tristan. “One said that the dragon is one of three primal dragons that can take human form. Once said that Malice is actually an army of corrupt magi called the forbidden. This one says that Malice is the name the ancestors used for a tsunami that swept across the shores and destroyed many islands back in the day and the hero was actually someone that could predict the weather.”

“What does that even mean, hoa?” asked Jayce.

Tristan shook his head. “It means that these books are useless.”

They continued flipping through books for another hour until Jayce became bored and started building a house out of books on the desk.

“From what I have heard the hero sealed Malice away for a century,” said Tristan, thinking out loud. “If we’re looking for a way to break the connection to Malice the solution begins with the hero.”

He flipped open a faded book and skimmed through the chapters.

“This is the fifth history book I’ve looked through,” he said. “If this hero is so famous, why is there nothing about him in here?”

He flipped the page of a book then flipped it back again.

“It's missing pages,” he said.

Luna nodded then looked around conspiratorially.

“Whole chapters are missing from some of these books,” she said. “But this could be helpful. This book says that the magi have no authority over the temples.”

Jayce looked up from his tower of books. “Ok, why do we care?” he asked.

Luna shook her head and flipped another page. “Because,” she said. “If the magi ordered the history of the hero to be destroyed the temple wouldn't have to follow that order.”

“So the temple might have untampered records?” Tristan asked.

Luna shrugged and put down the book she was reading.

“Maybe. But which temple would allow academy students into their temple?”

***

It was a cold new moon's eve that found the students treading a path through the hidden forest that was located on the back side of Tempest academy. The forest stretched all the way up the side of the Hibronesian mountain range and opened up into a wide valley. The Juniper river sliced through the center of the valley from the top of the mountain all the way down to the ocean.

Nervous chatter accompanied the sounds of plants crunching underfoot and toads croaking as the students followed the river up the mountainside.

It was to be their first Spellcrafting lesson. So far Tempest was more boot camp than magic school and all the students were eager to learn how to control the powers that so often boiled up uncontrolled inside of them.

A vaste mist rose up before them as they reached Penella’s falls. The water roared as it smashed against jagged rocks far below the students. The moonless sky and the bright evening stars cast odd shadows all around them that turned the mist into something mystical and frightening.

“I read in, A History of Magic,” said Luna. “There is a great snake that lives in the water. Folk say that it swims up the falls on nights like this and devours the moon, throwing the land into darkness.”

Embers glowed nearby as an old man sitting on a log dragged on his pipe.

“Right you are Luna Ward,” said Headmaster Aurelian. A necklace made of hundreds of bells hung around the Headmaster’s neck and rang as he stood up.

“Your usual Spellcrafting instructor, Master Calista, is away for health reasons,” said Aurelian. “I will be your substitute teacher until further notice. I hope you find this to your satisfaction.”

The Headmaster exhaled a puff of smoke.

“The ancients called the snake, Naga the Serpent god,” said the Headmaster. “As you said Miss Luna, they believed that Naga climbs the waterfall each cycle and reaches up into the heavens to devour the moon.”

“Is that why we are here?” asked Ambrose. “To see this serpent god?”

The Headmaster shook his head. “Naga is long dead, Ambrose Dominus. This story illustrates an idea.”

Tiny sparks flew as Aurelian took another drag of his pipe.

“When people don't understand something,” said the Headmaster. “They look for mystical answers but when we enter the world of the mystical we stop seeking the truth.”

“What answers?” asked Luna.

The Headmaster tapped his pipe on the rock and emptied out a stream of glowing embers. Instead of falling down onto the ground the embers rose into the air.

“Each one of you has been gifted magic by a jinn,” said the Headmaster. The embers swirled and formed the shape of a heart in the air.

“We are hosts to creatures we don't fully understand. We could pass it off as mystical and just move on but if we pull back the blinds we begin to see a picture unravel.”

The students listened in rapt silence.

“Jinn cannot survive long without a host. Those chosen by jinns are no coincidence. A fracture takes place in the hearts of some that have experienced a sharp rending of the soul. A tragedy or great fear can open the door for the jinn.”

The ember heart split in two. The Headmaster blew a puff of smoke into the heart. The heart mended but changed into a brilliant purple hue.

“Spellcasting is linked to memories and emotions, which is why many of you are able to cast spells when you are angry or afraid.”

The heart broke into thousands of tiny butterflies that drifted away on the cool evening breeze.

The Headmaster stroked his beard. “Can any of you cast a spell of light?” he asked.

A few people raised their hands including Luna.

“Luna Ward,” said the Master. “If you would be so kind.”

Tristan watched Luna close her eyes, a slight smile played across her lips and a golden orb radiating warmth appeared in Luna’s hands.

“That's beautiful,” said the Master. “How do you summon the light?”

“Um, I imagine a child snuggly wrapped in a blanket,” said Luna. “I feel the warmth and comfort and then the light appears.”

The Master smiled. “A good memory. Can anyone else cast light?” he asked.

Sylvia Grenlock raised a trembling hand.

“Yes Sylvia,” said the Master. “Cast your light for us.”

Sylvia clenched her fist and a minute passed before a host of oily green lights appeared around her balled fist.

“Now that's a good looking spell,” said the Master. “How did you summon it?

The girl looked at her feet and shifted uncomfortably.

“If you aren't comfortable saying,” said Aurelian. “That's ok.”

The girl nodded. “The memory of hiding in the closet while my parents fought brings the magic out,” Sylvia said in one quick breathless sentence.

The Headmaster nodded sadly. “Thank you for being so brave,” he said. “There are thousands of magi that can cast similar spells each with a different method. What works for one will not work for another. For two reasons. Spells are limited by the type of jinn you have and spells are cast by unique memories and emotions.”

The Headmaster held his hands in front of his mouth and blew on them. Silver starlight reflected off of a sword as it materialized in the air. He caught the sword before it hit the ground and handed it to Luna.

“Luna,” he said. “I want you to summon your light on the count of three.”

Luna nodded.

On the count of three, two sabers made of purple light appeared in thin air and struck Luna's sword.

“Cast the spell Luna,” the Headmaster said over the sound of steel against steel.

The swords continued their barrage of blows.

“I can't think while I'm under attack,” Luna shouted.

The Headmaster raised a hand and the swords stopped their attack.

“Exactly,” said the Master. “And here we find our problem.”

“So you’re saying that magic can't be used in battle?” asked Luna.

“Oh no, Miss Luna,” said the Headmaster. “Magic is linked to memories and memories are linked to emotions, but emotions can be triggered.”

“How?” asked Luna.

“Are there odors you smell that bring back memories?” asked the Headmaster.

The students nodded.

“The smell is the trigger,” he continued. “But we can create new triggers, instead of using smells we can link a word or phrase to the emotion or memory that casts the spell.”

The Headmaster took his position opposite Luna.

“You attack me now,” he said.

Luna stepped forward and swung her sword nowhere near the Headmaster.

“Try harder,” he shouted.

Luna jabbed at the Headmaster.

“Luxado,” said the Headmaster in a commanding tone. And a lantern appeared and hung suspended on nothing beside him.

“Thank you Luna,” he said.

“The words have no power,” said the Headmaster. “They are simply a trigger linked to a memory.”

“What language is that?” Tristan asked, he thought it had a familiar ring to it.

“It's Grimorian,” said the Headmaster. “An old language that was uncovered by the hero. Magi use this language because it is not commonly used. The brain can make better associations with things that are uncommon. The scent of cinnamon might remind you of Beltane but if you ate cinnamon every day it would stop having the same powerful association. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” said Tristan.

“You have all been given a copy of the Grimorious Codex,” said the Headmaster. “I want each of you to find a basic spell you have used before and to link it to a word or phrase.”

“How do we create the link?” Luna asked.

“Training,” said the Headmaster. “Like how they train dogs. You say sit and push the dog's butt down and then give it a treat. Soon it associates the word ‘sit’ with its butt going down and it receiving a treat. Eventually when you say sit it sits without you even having to push it down.

Say the word, draw on the memory and cast the spell over and over until they are so intertwined that you can say the word without the image and the spell will be cast.”

The students practiced for the remainder of the lesson.

“There is one final warning I feel I must give you,” said the Headmaster. “Jinn are neither good nor evil but they are selfish. They cannot live without a host but they are not always satisfied with being the passenger.”

***

Later that night Tristan sat on his bed reading his copy of the Grimorious Codex and eating a stick of gruffalo jerky. There was something that had been bothering him lately. If all the magi had jinn as the source of their magic then how was Tristan able to use magic.

He held the jerky out in front of him and concentrated on it.

“Burn,” he said.

Nothing happened. The Headmaster had told him that he should not endanger his fellow students with Malice’s powers but he had said nothing about using it when he was alone.

Tristan flipped through the book and found the translation for fire. He closed his eyes and pictured the horrors he’d seen in Porthaven. He saw the bodies burnt and buried. He saw Fannens white eyes as she tried to choke the life out of him.

“Ignis,” he said.

Still nothing happened.

He squeezed the stick of jerky tighter and closed his eyes. This time he visualized his father walking out of them. He felt the rage stirring deep inside. He visualized Gus yelling at him, telling him he’d amount to nothing.

“Ignis,” Tristan whispered again.

He opened his eyes and watched as blue flames engulfed the stick of jerky.

Buzzbeak landed on the windowsill, his feathers oily black in the darkness and his blue eyes fixed on the charred piece of meat.

“You want this?” Tristan asked.

The bird tilted its head and cawed out loud.

He tossed the jerky at the stormcrow and the bird caught the meat and tore it apart devouring it in seconds.

Tristan laughed. He dug around in his coat pocket and pulled out another piece of jerky.

He closed his eyes and repeated the process. Blue light flared once again in the room and the smell of burnt meat filled the air.

“Are you casting spells, hoa?” Jayce asked as he entered the room.

The mohawked youth eyed the stormcrow uneasily for a moment before he sat down on the edge of the window sill.

He seemed uneasy. “Blue flames,” said Jayce. “Malice’s fire.”

“I told you about that before,” said Tristan.

“Ah,” said Jayce. “Hearing is not the same as seeing. There’s something about those flames. My senses are warning me.”

The mohawked youth looked out the window into the starry sky. He had a far off look about him.

“Why are you here?” Tristan asked.

“In this dorm?” Jayce asked.

“No, I mean this academy.”

“It's the law,” said Jayce. “I have no choice.”

“But what are you going to do when you leave this place? What's the point in learning this magic? You heard what the Headmaster said, the jinn have their own agendas. They change your personality, they put restrictions on us all for a bit of power. Is it worth it?”

Jayce leaned back against the window. “I always thought I’d grow up like my pa,” said Jayce. “Get my own fishing boat, maybe marry Scarlet, have a few kids and one day die on that island. It was a good dream while it lasted. I can't see what tomorrow will bring. It looks like Malice is back like you say and instead of the dream, we’ll probably get a nightmare.”

Jayce fell silent for a moment.

“You can't worry about that stuff, hoa,” he continued. “Dreams or nightmares they’re all the same thing in the end, possibilities that may never happen. Maybe it's the jinn in me speaking but I say, live for right now, this one moment and forget the rest. Why am I here? Because today I choose to be here.”