Shattered Glass

“And that’s all for today. Remember that I want your essays on Grimmaw’s Four Rules on my desk on the very first day back from the holidays, alright? Happy Holidays everyone!”, said the deep but cheery voice of Scholar Mitire who began putting his papers away.

“Sir, do we need to practise the battle rune over the holidays too?”, one of the students asked as everyone was packing up and leaving their desks.

“Oh! Yes!! Try to practise it a few times over the holidays and get it done proper. Remember, there must be two people involved to get it right”, he added as everyone left the classroom. All the students left and among them was Mortius, nonchalantly swirling his staff around before placing it on the magnetic back holster he’d bought himself from the Supplement Store. It had been a while since the trip to the Dark Vault but Mortius hadn’t forgotten all that transpired during that time. Mortius walked to the elevator and got in with a few other students. The chatter was immense and rife with talk about what holidays they were celebrating and what they were going to be doing. In the 8th Month, there was very little studying in order to accommodate the holidays held in the cold season, with students spending most of their time self-studying, revising, and celebrating. It was interesting to find out what kind of events and rituals people would be doing for the winter season. Anglas, of course, celebrated their Father and all of his apparent great accomplishments. D�"monas seemed to have their own holiday called the Winter Sacrament where they would endlessly fight, feast and fornicate for the length of the holiday, engaging in a giant festival of primordial orgies and debauchery. Disgusting, but very much their style. The most interesting festivity, without doubt, was the Ælfcynn festival which they called Winter’s Moon. During the 8th Month on every odd number day, the Ælfs would go outside and sing under the moon. Since the moon came out fairly early during this time, it was within curfew rules so there was no issue there. Then, on the 27th Day, the Ælfs would meditate in the snow for four days until the 31st, where they pray to the Old Gods. It was funny knowing that Ælfcynn believed in the Old Gods like Warlocks but their interpretations were entirely different. In Warlock lore, the Old Gods were pictured as grotesque monstrosities that ate people for fun. Ælfs saw them extremely differently and painted them as elegant and tall, the absolute picture of beauty. Even Bælr was portrayed as a tall, sexy and for some reason, very well endowed man. This was likely the main reason Warlocks and Ælfs didn’t like each other very much and why they weren’t in the same place as Warlocks in the Chapel.

Still, Mortius hadn’t much idea what to do for the winter season. He was certain he wouldn’t be engaging in the traditional Warlock festivities which were more benign than he originally thought. Warlocks celebrated Dhülemer, which was essentially a month-long house party. There was alcohol, music and even dressing festively in all kinds of colourful clothes. It seemed like a lot of fun but nothing Mortius felt like participating in this year, maybe next. This year wouldn’t be one of festivity for Mortius as he had other plans by himself. A family reunion, so to speak. Whilst other students were going to be returning to their homes during this holiday, Mortius would be among the third of students staying at school, informing his mother of a ruse that he would be focusing hard on his studies for the next half of the year. So far, thankfully, he’d learned how to fold the messengers well, and it seemed they were more than capable of flying out away from the Institute and crossing countries to reach their destination. Mortius made his way out of the elevator and toward the exit where the Void Pools were, passing the ones that lead to the dorms and cafeteria and walking into the left pool at the very back. The black ooze moulded around him as he sunk into the pool, walking slowly downwards. Inside the pool, he entered a narrow, black corridor with old walls and cobwebs everywhere. It was pitch black and Mortius took up his staff, placing his hand on the jewel.

“Fe’ore leat.” The staff jewel glowed in deep purple, illuminating the surrounding area and bathing the environment in a light purple radiance. Mortius began a long walk toward the end of the corridor. It soon led to a broken and battered wooden door which was peeling off and had bits of wood broken away, showing bits of the room inside. He pushed the door open and slowly walked inside, revealing a very old and deserted room within. It was dusty and webs covered every corner or the room. It was only small and square, with a few shelves scattered around, a few trinkets on some of them and some old and unused supplements on the others. There was some scattered furniture inside but from the marks on the floor, they’d been moved aside to the edges of the room. In the very middle of the room was a giant sigil, a circle with what looked like four different runes inside it, all divided by lines. He’d already spent so much time preparing the room for his spell, making sure nothing was missed out or slightly wrong.

Walking inside, he set down his bag on one of the old, crooked stools, walking around the circle and checking on all the runes. He opened up his bag and took out a sigils book, flipping through the pages and checking all the runes in the book to ensure all of them were correct. Satisfied, he closed the book and put it back, pulling up another book. This one looked much older, not as new and well maintained as the other. It had a worn, black cover with the words ‘The Ancient Tomes: A Record of Spell-Manufacturing’ written over the front in green. There was no author and no other words, only the information inside. Mortius opened the book and carefully turned the withered and yellow pages, searching for something specific. He then came to a page titled ‘D�"aþ æt Ciristōl’ and depicted a ghost-like figure emerging from a mirror.

‘In the history of magical use and the combination of the different schools of magic, there exists many ways in which all species have attempted to use magic to bring back the lives of the deceased. Most believed Ābiscræft was the most plausible answer, whilst others believed in the power of either Līfcræft or Īdelcræft. From the combination of these three, came the school of Edscræft. Many have experimented with this form of magic and believe it to be the answer to summoning the dead back to their original form. This spell involves combining all three of the aforementioned branches to bring an almost carbon copy of the deceased. The required items are:

Īdelglæs supplement, shattered and scattered

Drȳlīf of the reanimated subject placed central

Rǣðfien scattered thoroughly’

Mortius looked at all the requirements and double checked the sigil drawn underneath just in case. Everything seemed to check out, so he went to his bag and pulled out all the ingredients needed. He had a full bag of torn up rǣðfien which he scattered all over the sigil, making sure every rune was covered and that none went over the edge. He then carefully pulled out a jar of broken black shards, taking the lid off and carefully sprinkling all of the shards evenly across the sigil, ensuring they were moved around nicely. Finally, he pulled out an old, dusty jacket and folded it neatly, gently placing it on top of the jar. Everything was ready and in place. All that was required now was for the spells and magic to happen. Mortius’ eyes darted between the sigil and his staff and he made a side glance toward his bag. He remembered that the spell employed the use of Ābiscræft, and the idea came to his mind to bolster the spell using a supplement. This was going to be a great trial for him to control, and the more help he had, likely the better the results. Making his mind up, he pulled out Krowlei’s Steorrādōn from his bag and held it in his hand. Walking around the sigil, he started at the northern sector, preparing to activate the runes.

“Inmirc d�"aþ”, he said as he tapped his staff on the first rune, making it glow in a green light.

“Inmirc drȳ”, he tapped on the east rune and it glowed purple.

“Inmirc duru”, the southern rune began to hum and glowed pink.

“Inmirc līcor”, he tapped the final west rune and it glowed in a blue light. Mortius looked around and felt his heart beating heavily. His hand was gripped firmly on his staff and he prayed this wouldn’t backfire. The brilliant shining lights were overbearing and terrifying to witness, humming loudly as the energies combined and became so powerful that he could feel them in his bones. Quickly opening the book, he came to the incantation for the spell and placed it on the floor next to him so he could read it. He placed the steorrādōn on the tip of the jewel on his staff which began to rotate slowly, the four floating jewels on the staff rotating with it at the same pace. He then positioned his staff vertically in front of him, gripping it tight with both hands and concentrating every bit of power he had in him.

“Ābrāci āfōn þ�"an flǣsc….”, Mortius began the incantation, the steorrādōn spinning a little quicker now as the colours of the runes started to pulsate and almost vibrate. The pressure of the room was thicker and heavier on Mortius’ body. 

“...naur ra’ir felaisk…”,  the entire room was shaking now as the power of the spell began to terrify the calm space. The glass on the floor began to shimmer and heat up, smoking and almost vibrating as the jacket in the middle of the room caught fire. The colours of the spell combined into a silver beam that made the entire circle and space inside it light up.

“...duura ahsku geita…”, Mortius could feel the electricity everywhere and he wanted to stop and catch his breath. The spell was taking every bit of strength he had but he had to carry on, it needed to work more than anything. As he carried on, a large mirror phased out from the inside of the circle and stood tall in front of him. This was it, the make or break time.

“...leiscor swe’irh innume’in…”, Mortius lifted his staff from the floor and pointed it at the sigil circle, the steorrādōn spinning uncontrollably. Looking up, Mortius could see the shape of a man inside the mirror, coming closer and closer. This was what he was working for and he knew that it was going to work.

“...dunes!!”, Mortius screamed and the humming immediately stopped, the colours faded and an enormous blast of silver light roared from the end of his staff. He could feel the force pushing him backwards but he stood his ground as the blast banged against the mirror over and over. The feeling seemed like it lasted a lifetime until the earth-shattering scream of a man pierced the room and the mirror suddenly cracked into pieces. The light went out instantly and he looked in the mirror. It was dead silent until the rǣðfien on the floor suddenly set aflame, the mirror exploded in a mass of black smoke and the glass flew everywhere. Mortius turned away to cover his face and any other parts of himself from the flying glass and stayed covered until all was silent and still again. Breathing rapidly and struggling to find himself, he turned back around again to look at the room. All was still and calm again and the black smoke was slowly dissipating. The mirror that had appeared in the centre of the circle was gone, the pieces of glass on the floor were disintegrating into black smoke and the charred mess of the spell sigil was nothing more than a giant black smear on the floor. There was no indication of the spell working and no other presence in the room but himself. Mortius fell to his knees and sighed, taking in a deep breath. Slamming his fist on the floor, he screamed into the searing stone, feeling the burning of the still hot floor on his hands and knees. His staff fell to the floor as well, with the steorrādōn falling off the top and rolling over to one of the shelves in the furthest part of the room. Looking down at the floor, Mortius tried to calculate how it went wrong, what he missed or possibly if he was lacking in the proper strength to do the spell properly. Either way, this was his only shot at doing it. He only had one chance and it was gone just as quickly, after all the months of preparation. All there was left to do now was clean all of it up and leave the room.