Point of No Return

Everyone jostled for their seat in the classroom on the fifth floor for another Spell Weaving lesson. At the front of the room was the familiar pudgy face of Scholar Cuig, shuffling through some papers and getting his bright yellow jacket off, revealing only a simple white shirt underneath. It was fascinating seeing him in his different attires, and it made Mortius wonder if all the Dwer were like this as well, with eccentric fashion sense. Every single lesson, he seemed to have an entirely new ensemble ready for the class. In his mind, Mortius was still itching for answers on what he’d learned. He’d already spent a good few days doing research on the Cult and still managed to keep coming up short on answers. In between classes, he’d be in the books again, looking up on various branches of magic but finding no way to properly connect the dots.

“Alright everyone, settle down and let’s get the lesson started. Now, in the past months, we’ve already covered the base elements, learned the terminology and whatnot, so for today we will be doing a silent essay on all you’ve learned this year so far”, he said happily. The class collectively groaned and Cuig waved his arms to settle everyone down. The students opened their textbooks and began to write in their notebooks, as did Mortius. Writing the neatly placed notes in his book, he began thinking again about the steorrādōn and everything he’d discovered in the Dark Vault. Looking up, Cuig was writing notes of his own and occasionally looking around to ensure everyone was working too. They locked eyes for a moment and Cuig simply gave Mortius a smile and nod. Mortius did the same and quickly returned to his work.

“Something on your mind, Sir Maleos?”, Cuig asked. Mortius looked up and noticed some of the other students turned around to look at him.

“No sir, nothing at all”, he replied, smiling again and returning to his work. Cuig raised his eyebrows but returned to his own notes and the students did the same. A few minutes passed by and Mortius was itching for answers.

“Sir, what is Āglǣccræft?”, Mortius finally asked. Some of the students perked up and looked back at Mortius, looking next at Cuig who was looking slightly nonplussed, unable to answer for a few seconds but then his posture adjusted to his usual self and he got up on his little stool to answer the class.

“Well, I don’t know where you found that information but I suppose there’s no harm in telling you all. Āglǣccræft is a very advanced magic that requires certain… Let's say ‘ingredients’. Things such as multiple supplements, and various runes, bound into one unifying platform… known as?” Cuig found a bit of fun in the explanation, prompting hands to go up.

“Ābrāci.”

“Correct. And a lot of spell fers on top of this. It’s very difficult and complex magic and isn’t taught to you here. You can learn it yourselves after graduation but I urge caution to any who try. Āglǣccræft is notorious for breaking the restraints on magic we work so hard to maintain, and can cause bad things to happen to those who do not have the strength to use it”, Cuig explained, smiling and nodding before starting to come down from his stool. Mortius then shot up his hand very quickly again and Cuig stumbled a little.

“Yes?”, he asked again, keeping his happy demeanour but showing a little bit of annoyance.

“So, what do you know about one called Szu Vollft Rieth?”, Mortius asked again. Cuig’s smile was immediately wiped off and he twitched slightly, showing he was very uncomfortable.

“Szu Vollft Rieth… I haven’t heard that phrase in a long time. That particular spell is an old one… requiring a lot of things and demanding even more afterwards but, to my knowledge, it was a spell designed to harness the power of Rieth, the Old God of Time, and bring an end to the world by fast forwarding to the very end of all things. When the Old Gods would reign in the darkness for many ages again…”, Cuig answered. The whole class was silent and staring at Cuig who seemed to be off in a world of his own. Mortius stared directly into the eyes of the Dwer and saw nothing but pure fear at the very thought of this spell. It sent a strange chill vibrating up Mortius’ spine, knowing that only knowledge of this spell could instil such fear in a person with the power and skill of a Scholar.

“But that spell is unknown to everyone, even the most powerful of magic users so no need to dwell on it! Now, if there aren’t any other questions, back to your essays!”, Cuig said shortly, almost leaping off his stool and returning to his desk, burying his face in his notes. Mortius looked back down at his own writing too but still had more burning questions in his head and the seeds of a new plan were being sown. The lesson ended much later and Mortius gathered his belongings, starting to leave the classroom.

“Sir Maleos. A word, please”, Cuig said, causing Mortius to stop just as he reached the door. All the other students walked out, all of them glancing at him as they left. Some looked with pity but others looked with mockery, sniggering as they knew he was likely in trouble for his previous questioning. The students all left and the door closed on Mortius and Cuig. Mortius sighed and turned around, looking at the desk where Cuig sat. He continued writing and then put his pencil down, looking over the papers and then clearing his throat. Moving his seat back, Cuig got up and walked around the desk to face Mortius. It was only now that Mortius noticed exactly how small Cuig really was.

“Let’s not wander about the trees here, everyone in the faculty knows about your trip to the Dark Vault… I’m sure it must have been very enlightening for you”, Cuig said sternly. Mortius gulped a little but stood tall nonetheless, trying his best to not look even a little slighted by Cuig. He shook his head and chuckled.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to give you detention or ward you off. I’m sure Emeritus handled that nicely himself. What I want to know is… What do you plan to do with the information you acquired?”, Cuig asked, leaning in slightly as if to press the answer out of Mortius with his eyes alone. Mortius didn’t know exactly how to answer this question and felt a slight quiver in his hand.

“Nothing, sir. I found out something odd about my family. Everyone has moments like that, I guess”, he answered quietly. Cuig narrowed his eyes slightly but then began laughing a bit too loudly, throwing his head back and widening his tiny mouth.

“Well if that isn’t true! My family was never the best at transparency either!” Cuig commented in between the laughter. Mortius chuckled quietly but only gave a small and dry smile. Cuig shook his head and continued laughing as he turned around and walked back to his desk, jumping up and taking his seat. He then looked around and pulled up one specific piece of paper with different and more familiar handwriting on it, looking even less like Cuig’s handwriting but more elegant and refined.

“So if you found nothing of interest, then what is this copy of the spell you asked about doing in your bag?”, he asked as he held up the paper. Mortius was shocked for a moment and was trying his best to formulate an explanation in his head. There were many different lies he could tell but all of them seemed to end in him getting in even more trouble than he was in now. Soon enough, he took a sharp breath and hoped his next words would be believable.

“After the Dark Vault, we learned more about the Warlock cult I asked you about in the Library. I went there to find out more about the cult and found the book on Āglǣccræft, so I noted down all the information and hoped to find more books to learn more. It’s just very interesting to me, that’s all”, Mortius said calmly. He stared into the eyes of Scholar Cuig who was staring right back, analysing his movements, his breath, his thought process, everything. Mortius felt like he was being encased in stone through Cuig’s intrusive gaze, digging into his mind and soul for the true answer. Cuig then sat back in his chair, eyes still fixed on Mortius. He then picked up the paper and read over it quickly before returning it.

“Well, if you’re so interested in learning. I host extra classes out of hours which you can attend once your detentions are done. We start at 5 and finish at 6”, Cuig chirped happily, smiling in a way that seemed like a mix of happiness and a bit smug. Mortius opened his mouth to protest but closed it quickly, taking the notes back and stuffing them quickly into his bag. He turned around to leave but was stopped when Cuig asked for his attention again.

“If you go to the library again, make sure you gather up a second-year grimoire. You’ll need it for the advanced stuff I’ll be teaching you. It’s called Elegant Spells for the Strong Minded”, Cuig smiled and ushered him out of the door. Mortius left the classroom and went on his way to the library for the lunch break. He was already going to head there for the plan he had in mind and all he needed was the means and the location. Early on in the day, he’d asked Saminha to meet him in the library to discuss any possible hidden areas she knew about in the Institute and where he might go for his plan. Arriving at the library, Mortius looked around but saw no sign of Saminha in the tabled areas or in the stacks, so he continued to the main desk at the very far end of the library. Sat behind the oval shaped desk was a tiny lady with half moon spectacles on the end of her nose. Her hair was pure white and she was fairly wrinkly all over. She wore a long black robe that covered her entire body and sat crouched over a giant book, gliding her finger down and muttering to herself. Mortius stood for a moment, wondering if he might disturb her but soon got tired and rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a particular book.”

The woman continued muttering and sweeping her finger across the pages and slowly turning them over. Mortius leaned over the desk to see what she was reading but it was all in some strange, freaky language. Nothing he’d encountered so far. Mortius sighed and waited a little longer, ringing the tiny bell on the desk as well, in hopes of getting her attention but her focus refused to sway from her huge book. 

“Okay, so I’m looking for a specific grimoire, if you could just point me there, I’d appreciate it”, he said quickly, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. The old woman continued perusing her book before finally closing it, to Mortius’ relief, adjusting her spectacles and looking up at him.

“You young Warlocks have absolutely no patience, do you?”

“No but we have assignments and such, so…”

The old lady frowned and pointed to her left at a stack nearby that extended to a corridor, guarded by a small gate that was no bigger than him. It looked rather dark and untouched and as Mortius looked into it, she handed him an old brown key to open the gate to the corridor.

“Get what you want quickly and be wise enough to leave quickly”, she muttered, opening her big book again. Mortius got a glance at the cover which read “The Teachings of Hæsca”. Strange read but that was a question for another day. Mortius picked up the key and walked down the stack which read Ābiscræft and headed to the gate. Inserting the key, it rotated twice clockwise by itself and the gate unlocked, slowly opening with a particularly daunting creak. Mortius looked around but paid no mind to the fearful factor in this place, striding in with confidence even though the gate closed extremely quickly. He didn’t want to seem like he was feeling his nerves, but ensured he had his staff positioned to easily grab just in case. Wandering through the narrow corridor, Mortius searched around for what he was looking for. Looking through the stacks became a greater challenge as the darkness became thicker the further he went in. Closely looking at each shelf, Mortius squinted hard, searching for the grimoire he needed. He found one book that had a catalogue of Īdelcræft and he felt ever so tempted to pick it up, but he remembered the librarian’s words and pressed on. Soon enough, he found the grimoire he needed, a dark blue book with the name down the spine. He opened it up to briefly peruse the pages and saw a relatively simple looking spell. It was a fire spell that served as a utility to provide light when needed. The grimoire noted that each person's weapon would emit a different coloured light but it was useful for exploring most dark places such as caves and dark hallways. Mortius put the book on the floor, looking between the page and his staff. Putting his hand on the jewel, he took a deep breath.

“Fe’ore leat.”

The jewel on his staff glowed in a bright purple light and illuminated the surrounding area. Mortius was both marvelled and delighted by the light but something even more interesting caught his eye. At the very back of the corridor was a stack of extremely old books that had been dumped at the back of the room in a messy pile. He walked up to them and looked carefully at the pile. The books were scattered and worn and most of them seemed very ripped up and unintelligible, save for a few at the bottom. He reached for the first one he could see and pulled slowly and carefully, ensuring the rest wouldn’t fall as well. As the book came out, he dusted off the front and saw the title, “The Ancient Grimoires: A Record of Spell-Manufacturing”. This was certainly a new phrase that Mortius was not familiar with since he only knew about spell weaving. Looking back at the gate, Mortius figured he could try to sneak the book out without the lady knowing. Stuffing it into his bag, he walked back down the corridor, picking up the spells grimoire from the floor on his way back. The gate opened nicely and he grabbed the key after letting it lock itself again. He quickly placed the key on the desk of the old woman, who was looking through her book yet again, and walked briskly to the other end of the library where the reading areas were.

Saminha still hadn’t shown up and Mortius took a seat at an empty table, opening the grimoire and looking through the pages. It was indeed as old as the rest, with a lot of pages hanging out and looking very old and withered. The paper had browned over time and the writing was almost illegible. Exercising caution as he flipped, very carefully, through the big book, he came across a multitude of spells that were nothing like what he’d been learning in classes. At the end of the book was a brief that explained everything within the grimoire.

‘Spell Manufacturing is a forbidden art that involves the mixture of various different schools of magic together in larger spells. This sub-form of spell weaving is the most experimental of all the sub-forms but the most prone to failure. Any person that attempts spell manufacturing should ensure that they are fully confident in their capabilities and have studied the ways of their magic for many years.’

Well of course only the best could think of attempting magic like this. Still, Āglǣccræft seemed interesting and Mortius felt like he would find an answer to his problem here. Carefully studying the pages, Mortius looked through and found a lot of advanced spells. Fȳrdrac Ācurs, Wyrm Unnīedige, and another very interesting one that involved a creature that Mortius couldn’t believe existed. This was such an interesting read and he was so ingrained that he didn’t even notice the prying eyes of a student that had quietly sat down next to him.

“The Fȳrdraca aren’t real, you know”, the student said suddenly. Mortius jumped and quickly closed the book on the page that caught his interest.

“Why are you spying on me?”, he asked, narrowing his eyes and trying to conceal the book.

“Pfft, I’m not spying. I’m studying. You just had a really old book and it looked interesting.”

“Well stick your nose somewhere else. I’m reading important stuff”, Mortius said as he slid the book away and opened it out of sight. The student, who appeared to be an Ælfcynn judging from the slightly pointed ears and flawless skin with lines running throughout, shrugged and resumed reading their own book. Mortius remembered a key trait of the Ælfcynn, having the ability to reshape their own bodies in something they called ‘metamorphosis’, changing their physical features to match the partner that they would choose, or the life they intended to lead. They didn’t really have significant male or female qualities, so it was very difficult to tell even after the metamorphosis, but as normal as anything in the wider world. Mortius continued to read and found the spell he believed would help him in his mission. D�"aþ æt Ciristōl. An extremely advanced and complex spell that merged various schools of magic, including Edscræft. This particular spell required four different runes in one large sigil and the combination of different supplements. He looked  further through the required items and saw the list read; rǣðfien, īdelglæs and subject drȳlīf. That particular word was familiar to him already, learning a bit about it in Spell Weaving classes. Mortius opened up a notebook titled The A-Z Supplements Encyclopedia and tried to search the ‘D’ category for it but nothing showed. The curious Ælf was prying once more and searching over what he was looking for.

“Drȳlīf… life magic. It’s a substance of matter that is imbued with a person’s magical imprint. We all have stuff like that, even made entirely of it”, they explained casually, pretending to be more engaged in their book than the grimoire. Mortius sighed and looked up at them.

“So like a piece of clothing or something?”, he asked.

“Not quite. It has to be something the person wore often, held or used a lot. Or anything that has distinct personal significance to them. A person’s weapon is the strongest type of imprint since we carry them all the time everywhere, second to body parts of course. However, they are rarely used as drȳlīf due to their unpredictable nature. The best thing would be maybe a school uniform or a significant piece of jewellery like a wedding band.”

“Huh… what if a staff has been given to someone else? Can it still work?”

“Nope. Then it becomes imprinted to the new holder. The old user’s essence on it fades very quickly if the staff is accepting of them.”

Mortius thought about this carefully. His staff belonged to his father but after all its use and time spent with him, it probably belonged to him more than his father now. He figured the best course of action would be to return to his house and find something of his father’s to use in the spell.

“Are you planning on trying this ritual? It’s very illegal in some parts and will probably get you kicked out of the Institute'', they said, darting their eyes between Mortius and the ritual.

“Well obviously not…”, he replied. They narrowed their eyes and returned to their book.

“Shame. Because if you were, I would know a good place to try it…”

Mortius stared at them suspiciously. Why was this student taking so much interest in his ritual? There was no way they were just casually helping out of the goodness of their heart. There was definitely a catch here and Mortius had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.

“And where would that be?” he asked cautiously.

“If I tell you, then you owe me a favour.”

There it was, the inevitable hook piercing the dumb fish that swam without question to the fresh food. Mortius didn’t like this one bit, but for this plan to work effectively, he needed somewhere to do it without being seen or caught.

“Fine. Where do I go?”, he asked. The student grinned mischievously and closed their book, putting it away and motioning for Mortius to follow. The two left the library, unaware of the watchful eyes nearby, and Mortius followed them out and down the elevator, noticing the small runed dagger attached to the back of their belt. The two exited the Institute and they began walking briskly to the Void Pools. Approaching the pools, the Ælf walked right past the entrance to the Morzesti commons and proceeded to the furthermost pool at the very back. Standing before it, they pointed inside, motioning for Mortius to go in and, with a sense of caution but also curiosity, he went down into the pool with them following behind. Getting inside, Mortius was greeted by a long and narrow corridor which was pitch black and the feeling of dust and cobwebs was in the air. He lit up his staff and the corridor was bathed in purple light. Another deep blue light came up behind him as the Ælf student’s blade was illuminated as well. Mortius got a good look at it and saw a short golden blade, now mixed with a blue hue, with a curved crossguard and a blue flower in place of the pommel. The two walked forward for quite a while and reached a very old and battered door which Mortius pushed open with difficulty. The door grinded on the floor and opened up to a medium sized empty room which hadn’t been used in, what seemed like, centuries. There were shelves and old furniture scattered around, broken chairs upturned on the floor with legs missing and tables that were very much lopsided and missing some large chunks. There were some old books on the shelves but they all were too dusty to see what they were exactly and others just looked too broken to even pick up.

“So what is this place then?”, Mortius finally asked.

“An old classroom for Īdelcræft that got disused and then became a storage area but now it’s just a dead space that nobody pays attention to anymore. Students have used it for smoking and drinking, sexual deviancy, after hours parties or orgies, sometimes both. Everyone makes sure not to disturb the old and abandoned look though, so none of the Scholars find out.”

Mortius looked around and nodded. This place was perfect for the ritual. He opened up the book and checked the rest of the requirements for the ritual. Mortius would have to pick up his Inmirc book from the dorms to find the runes required. The drȳlīf would be covered soon and he could maybe get this īdelglæs from the Supplements Store, but this last ingredient was difficult. Rǣðfien. Mortius had learned about it somewhat but was unsure where to get it. The other student leaned over to see what his finger was on and chimed in again.

“Ah! Rǣðfien! I know where we can get some of that fresh!”, they exclaimed, jogging to the exit. Their enthusiasm was slightly suspicious and somewhat unsettling, but Mortius decided to bear it for now. They led both of them back up and out of the Void Pools, looking around to ensure nobody saw, and proceeded to the other side of the crystal-lit outside, approaching a tall section of forestry. It didn’t look completely real but more sort of magically constructed. Kȏskȍry Woods, where the Kherza were housed. It had been made apparent that Kherza severely disliked Morzesti and Mortius prepared himself for a gang of them to come barging out of the woods and shoving their hyperactive egos in their faces. As expected, a couple of older looking Kherza came walking out, talking amongst themselves and looking at a book the leader was holding. As the two approached, the group stopped laughing and glared at the both of them.

“What are you doing here?”, the leader asked.

“Excuse me. Duren. Are you trying to imply that I, a member of the Ælfcynn, cannot walk in the sacred forest of one of my legendary ancestors?”

“I’m not talking about you, I’m talking to the Morzust-worshipping Warlock trash next to you.”

Mortius glared as the leader pointed at him. This guy gave the same vibes as Jericho except he looked more slimy and like the kind of lanky underachiever that would get the bigger boys behind him to do all the work. Mortius looked deeper and saw the familiar blue tinted skin of the Merweard race. His eyes kept darting toward the Ælf student as well, seeming like he didn’t like them either.

“Who are you calling trash, blue balls?”, Mortius smirked. The student began to advance and gripped his tome menacingly but he was stopped by his friends.

“We’re just grabbing some lesson supplements. Rǣðfien, correct?”, they asked, glancing to the side at Mortius. The girl at the back of the group pointed deeper into the western side of the forest, directing them to the best area for the weed. Mortius’ eyes lingered on her for a moment, noticing a bandage eyepatch on her left eye that had a red stain on it. It reminded him of Anikot, but this girl was different. She had a purple bowl cut hairstyle and carried her books close to her chest, hunching over slightly in a blatantly timid way, but also seemingly hiding something as well.

“Great! Thanks! We’ll be on our way then”, the Ælf student chirped as they began walking. Mortius walked right up to the Kherza gang leader and stared him down for a good few seconds.

“I’d be careful who you call trash around here. You’re lucky I don’t make an example of you in front of all your girlfriends…”, Mortius warned Duren as he walked slowly away, ensuring he left an impression. Duren commanded everyone to get moving as they all continued on their way to the Institute.

“Wow, you’re one scary Warlock”, they remarked.

“What was his problem?”, Mortius asked.

“Oh that’s just the way Duren is. He loves to pick fights against Morzestus, Warlocks, D�"monas, Ælf and even Dwer. He tolerates Anglas loosely and the same with Nedra. Ælf and Mer have always hated each other. Ancient wars and all that. Be careful though, he has powerful friends.” Mortius scoffed as they continued through the forest. Anyone who had ‘powerful friends’ was one not for action and easy pickings alone. The two continued along the forest path and Mortius looked around at the environment. The woods were relatively dark, with a thick fog gently wandering through it, but somehow the leaves and grass seemed so vibrant. Even the dusky red of the trees and bushes almost glowed and the soil looked perfectly, almost too neatly set. In the air was the soft sound of the slight breeze that smelled floral and soothing, accompanied by the crunch of the leaves on the floor of the forest. It was ever so peaceful and Mortius was somewhat surprised such an amazing place could produce such uptight a*****e students. They continued the walk until the other student stopped suddenly and pointed to a side area just off the path they were on. Mortius looked and saw a collection of black weeds with large leaves sporting blots of red markings that went across the leaves and down the stems. This was the rǣðfien that appeared in the grimoire, looking exactly the same as the drawing. Grinning, Mortius made note of the directions to find it so that he could easily locate it when the time came for the ritual. All that was left was the supplement and then get home and find something of his father’s to use in the ritual. As Mortius put away his notes and walked back to the edge of the forest, he turned to the Ælf student.

“What’s your name?”, he asked.

“Maraya.”

“So why did you decide to help me, Maraya?”

Maraya didn’t answer at first, choosing to look forward and continue walking, still smiling and not looking like they intended to avoid the question or had bad intentions.

“Curiosity I guess. Boredom too. Studying in the library gets old after the first decade…”

Mortius’ eyes widened again. The first decade? How many times do people fail at this school?! It must have been one hell of a difficult place to complete if so many people ended up staying here for so long. Mortius could only guess at how many times they’d restarted, not to mention how old they may have been but that was immaterial at the moment.

“So what’s this favour you intend on asking of me in the future?”, Mortius asked. The team finally reached the edge of the forest and out in the open where the Institute lay just a few yards ahead. Maraya took in a deep breath and stared out into the distance happily, thinking over their next answer.

“If I told you it would spoil the surprise. Besides, I only asked for a favour from you, not a specific task. I could ask anything. The only catch is that you can’t say no.” Mortius raised his eyebrow but chuckled. It sounded ominous, dangerous and probably something he would deeply regret later. All the makings of an interesting time in his eyes. Mortius nodded and smiled slightly, walking off to the Institute to continue his lessons and begin the next stages of his plan.