Parwana’s fingertips drummed against the wooden tabletop, mimicking the sound of raindrops against the slate roof above. In the low light of the library, her other hand propped up her chin, her body slouched over the long reading table, hovering over an open tome. The stone perched between her body and the book, its charcoal surface glistening occasionally from the dull sheen of constant contact with her skin.

  Bored with the grinding study, her mind drifted in memory. Three years had passed since that day in the field outside Bulbredh when the fragment fell into her world, and she had kept it close ever since. Perhaps a bit silly, but she believed it brought her luck, so she always carried it. She and Sa’al never discussed it again after that day. Even through two consecutive poor harvests, the village treated him with reverence, continuing to pray beneath the ordinary stone that was framed and mounted in the gathering hall, hopeful of a better future.

  If he ever suspected her duplicity, he never let on, dutifully performing her harvest chores as agreed, modest though they were given the anemic crop. As the seasons passed, Parwana’s talents continued to flourish. At fifteen, D’arm, the village healer, declared her the greatest magical potential she had ever seen, urging her parents to consider sending her to Irdri in search of a more skilled teacher.

  Her father had only shaken his head with a smirk at the idea. With barely two silvers to rub together, they had neither the means nor the inclination to divest themselves of their eldest child. Parwana, however, remained undeterred. The idea of escaping the monotony and insignificance of village life had been a long-standing, unspoken goal. The wise woman’s suggestion merely crystallized her means of achieving it.

  For weeks, she lobbied unsuccessfully. Regardless of her approach or the glowing opportunities she described for herself in the city, the objection was always the same. Her parents would look at her with sympathetic eyes and wistful smiles, but always returned to the harsh reality of the circumstances.

  “I’m sorry to have to remind you again, sweetheart,” her father would say, “we are modest people, reliant upon a humble crop share to feed ourselves from one season to the next.”

  Inevitably, her mother would echo his apologetic tone. “We don’t have enough coin to pay for your passage, and without you, how could your father and I possibly manage the plowing, seeding, planting, and harvesting? Your brother and sister are still far too young to help. I’m sorry, but we need you here.”

  Ironically, it was her arcane capability itself that eventually won the day. Even now, pride mixed with annoyance bubbled in her chest because, though elegantly clever and effective, she hadn’t recognized it sooner.

  It was a crisp afternoon, perfect for market day. The trade waggoners had already begun to trickle into town. With the village’s second consecutive meagre harvest bundled, she found her parents in the storeroom, dividing their share between the portion intended for sale and the reserves that would see them through the winter.

  “Not much for market this year,” her father observed, hovering over the bags of grain and baskets of root vegetables. Stepping under the thatched overhang of the family storage hut, she watched her mother give his arm a gentle squeeze.

  “We’ll get by—we always do. I’m sure next season will be better now that we have the sky stone. D’arm said it takes a couple of cycles for the gods’ favor to manifest.”

  Parwana’s eyes rolled involuntarily. Hidden in the pockets of her smock, one hand rubbed a snake’s tongue against a small piece of honeycomb, the other palmed her good luck charm. Having never cast it before, she wasn’t sure the Suggestion spell would work. Pushing down the butterflies in her stomach, she straightened her spine, projecting her words and the incantation at their turned backs.

  “I suggest you sell the whole crop to secure my passage to Irdri and put some coin in my pocket for a fresh start. I deserve it. You don’t need it this year, you’ll be fine.”

  When the words left her mouth, they were accompanied by a billowing green arcane mist, reminiscent of the steamy tendrils that came with every exhale on frosty winter days. As the billowing arcane cloud broke across the turned figures of her parents, she held her breath.

  Their posture straightened, and they turned as one, grins splitting both their faces.

  “You’re right, of course, sweetheart,” her father said in his soft tone.

  “Hurry now. Go and pack your things while we bring everything out for the traders!” her mother agreed.

  Two hours later, Parwana looked back from the wagon’s front seat at their smiling faces, waving her on her way. A smile spread across her face as she half-heartedly raised one hand in return.

  The trader had seemed kind enough at first, respectfully making small talk as the wagon bumped down the rutted road, bouncing the grain sacks and baskets that represented her family’s entire summer harvest.

  After they passed through the neighboring village, residents lining its only road, ready for market day, his hand landed on her thigh, and the conversation became more intimate. Her plan evolved instantly.

  Rather than shy away from his overture, Parwana leaned into it with a smile, snuggling close to the man, whose name she couldn’t recall, before placing one hand on his chest. He smiled back in surprise, entirely distracted by the unexpected fingers tracing an idle pattern on his tunic; he didn’t notice her other hand on the bench, fingertips rapidly weaving in the air.

  She felt his heartbeat rising through the fabric until she spoke the incantation’s final word, launching three arcane darts directly into his chest cavity. His body shuddered with percussive reverberation as the magic bounced off ribs, ripping through organs. When he stilled, his heartbeat too was gone. Taking the reins from his faltering grip, she shouldered his corpse off the wagon, watching it tumble and roll twice before disappearing into the high roadside grass. With a snap of the reins, the horse resumed its unhurried pace on the long journey to Irdri.

  An hour later, as she rounded a long bend in the road, the next village came into view. Identical to the last, its inhabitants were busy laying out their sacks and baskets in anticipation of the wagon train of traders. Her rapidly changing circumstances surfaced another idea, and she pulled in, bringing the horse and cart to a halt.

  “Are you still purchasing? It doesn’t look like you have much room in the cart,” a man asked curiously as she stepped down from the seat.

  Parwana painted her face with a look of exasperation and relief, letting out a deep sigh before turning to face them. “I’m so glad I made it! I’m from a few towns over. My family was late getting our harvest in, and I missed the traders.” She scanned their faces, finding sympathy and understanding in their eyes. “My father instructed me to ride ahead and see if you would be so kind as to let me join your market day.”

  “Of course!” the man replied instantly. “Neighbors helping neighbors is the Siremirian way. Let me give you a hand unloading.”

  An hour later, she had sold her family’s harvest for the second time, five more gold coins joining the three already in her pocket from the first transaction. Trading the draft horse and wagon for a riding steed and saddle, Parwana left town in the direction of Irdri at full gallop, and never looked back.

  Her fingers continued to softly mimic the resonance of the ongoing downpour on the table’s surface, even as the memory brought a wistful smile to her face and a warm tingle to her abdomen. The source of the fondness, however, was not what or who she left behind. Instead, Parwana basked in her decisively clever intelligence, recognizing those early opportunities for what they were, and her quickly calculated resulting choices. It had all brought her to where she was today, studying under one of Irdri’s most recognized arcane masters.

  With only three active protégés, her opportunity to work with Juron Kliger was coveted by many. She had shown him, and them, that she was most deserving, one way or another, and even made a friend along the way.

  Shay was an elven woman, also studying under Kliger. The two had bonded immediately over their shared contempt for the third in their group—a lecherous human man named Fort. Their early commiseration over his repulsive advances blossomed into a friendship forged in common modest origins and shared ambitions. The pair had become inseparable over these last few months. It was the clack of Shay’s footfalls against the stone floor that pulled Parwana from her reminiscences in the library’s falling darkness.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Par, are you in here?” Shay called from three stacks over.

  “Yep, over here,” she called back. “I’m just finishing up.”

  The sound of heels on stone drew closer as Parwana closed the heavy tome in front of her with a thud. Picking up her good luck charm, she could barely make out the yellow crystals studding its grey surface in the fading light.

  “How can you even see in here? Turn on some lights, woman!” Shay called, rounding the corner into view.

  Eyes still on the stone, Parwana’s fingers began to weave a simple pattern, red energy tracing their movement as she spoke the words of the cantrip to conjure four dancing lights into position around the edges of the table. Her utterance of the final word, however, materialized twelve orbs instead of four, positioned not only at the corners of her table, but along the nearby stacks all the way back to the corner Shay had just turned. What the—?

  She sat, stunned for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. The incantation’s capability was limited to four globes, max, yet she had just conjured twelve. Shay’s voice jolted her back into the moment.

  “What did you just do?” The elven woman’s face looked puzzled. “What spell was that?”

  Parwana regained her senses, quickly forcing a look of bland indifference while her mind hunted rapidly for any rationality.

  She met her friend’s gaze. “Dancing Lights, why?”

  “No, no, that’s not possible,” Shay’s look was worried now. “Dancing Lights tops out at four.” She scanned the area, counting the spheres of light. “You’ve just called twelve.”

  Parwana’s hand holding the stone slowly slid out of sight as she rose to face her friend. Slipping it back into her pocket, her knuckles bumped the twig of Wychwood—the material component she should have needed to cast the spell, and everything clicked. The meteorite acts as a spell focus! I knew it was lucky!

  She had been concentrating on the stone when she cast the spell, and it should have fizzled without holding the Wychwood. Not only did it work, but it amplified the result by three times. Internally, she was doing somersaults, her mind exploding with the implications, but she kept her countenance flat while she simultaneously scrambled for a reasonable response to Shay’s challenge.

  “Oh, that’s not the first time that’s happened to me in here with Dancing Lights.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I think Kliger must have imbued the library with some enchantment…otherwise, you’d have to cast the spell about ten times to light all these sconces.” She fixed the elven woman with a look of confusion. “Haven’t you ever had that happen in here before?”

  Shay’s eyes narrowed as she looked around. “No, and I’ve cast that spell in here many times…”

  “Maybe you just didn’t notice?” Parwana offered with a shrug. Inside her, butterflies congealed into a knot. She’s not stupid; she knows it’s impossible.

  “I don’t think so,” Shay hesitated. “And what kind of area enchantment can multiply the result of any spell? Even within a fixed space like this?”

  Parwana shrugged again before picking up the tome and returning it to a nearby shelf. “I have no idea, you’re much more experienced than me, but I know it’s happened before.”

  “We need to talk to Kliger about this. I’ve never come across any enchantment that can multiply a magical outcome, and if he’s holding back on us…” Shay’s voice trailed off. “I think we need to go have a word.”

  They can’t find out about the stone. I need to buy some time.

  Hiding the growing tension in her shoulders, Parwana held up her hands in resignation, her eyes begging for sympathy. “Okay, but can we do it in the morning, at breakfast? This sounds like it could be a deep conversation, and I’m beat.”

  Shay relented. “Okay, but we are definitely going to get to the bottom of this with him!” Her tone softened, one eyebrow raised questioningly, “I came here hoping to talk you into a few glasses of wine.”

  Parwana let her shoulders slump. “I’d love to, but I’m totally spent from practicing my finger work, tomorrow?” She walked back toward the library entrance, fighting the urge to run back to her room. The stone could change everything for me. I have to know for sure.

  “Fine,” Shay pouted. “But we’re going back to the Haggard Dragon, maybe those two Nerin sailors will be there again!”

  “Deal!” Parwana chuckled before dispelling the twelve torches as the two left the library. “Meet at the well at first light?”

  Shay nodded, and the two embraced in a hug before separating toward their respective quarters.

  The rain had slowed to a quiet patter on the slate roof above as Parwana lay across her bed, propped up on her elbows, turning the stone over in her hands. How can it break the fundamental laws of magic? It has to be the crystals—three crystals, triple amplification. She knew all about spell focuses. Usually a gemstone, a focus allowed the caster to dispense with the need for material spell components, concentrating the arcane energy through the spell focus instead. In practice, they were reserved for the most established of wizards, due to the cost of appropriately sized, high-quality gems. Regardless, they never altered a spell’s outcome or limitations.

  She sat up, pulling her legs underneath her, and looked around the room, her gaze landing on the desk in the corner. Controlling three simultaneous targets is the key. Concentrating on the stone in her palm, she began weaving her fingers in the air and summoned a Mage Hand. With a soft pop, the first spectral hand materialized across the room above her desk. Two more hovered next to her position on the bed. She considered the results of her experiment. I must have all three specific targets and instructions firmly in mind—at the same time—during the casting. This will take some practice.

  She dismissed the spectral hands and gazed around the room once more. The desk, the window, and the door. She repeated the cantrip, concentrating on multiple destinations. This time, the Mage Hands popped into existence exactly where she wanted them—one above the desk, one at the window, and the third by the door. Now, if those were fireballs, or meteor storms…a slow smile crept across her face. I wield the power of three casters!

  Initial targeting was one thing, but many spells, like Mage Hand, involve ongoing mental instructions to manipulate the magic. That was often challenging with just a single target, particularly in the heat of a tense moment or battle. To maximize the potential of the stone, I need to, somehow, triple my instructional thought.

  She took in all three Mage Hands floating patiently around the room. Closing her eyes, she focused her mind on multiple outcomes, attempting to send them on three distinct, concurrent tasks, achieving only partial success. The first Hand swept around the edge of the door frame. When it finished, the second picked up a stack of papers from her desk, and finally, the third hand opened the window. Sequential activity, but not concurrent. Mastery will definitely take some time. But she had seen enough.

  Parwana dismissed the Mage Hands in a puff of arcane dust and adjusted her position to lean back against the pillowed wall at the head of her mattress. Anyone using this stone holds a massive power advantage in any confrontation, doubly so if the opponent is unaware of the stone’s ability. Just knowing of its unique power will also be an irresistible harpy’s song to any powerful caster. She knew what needed to be done.

  Dawn arrived clear and bright, the courtyard flagstone glistening with the sheen of the previous night’s rain as Parwana walked to the well with purpose. Arriving first, she took the opportunity to review her plan. When Shay approached, she greeted her friend with a smile and a hug.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked casually as the two stood next to the circular stone knee wall in the center of the courtyard.

  “Better than I anticipated before you rebuffed my wine overture!” the elven woman quipped. “You? Better this morning?”

  “Very much, thank you,” Parwana replied, turning toward the well, ducking under the cap to lean on the ledge, gazing deliberately across the courtyard. “So, how do you think we should tackle the conversation with Kliger?”

  Shay mimicked her friend’s posture, leaning on the top of the wall. “I was thinking about that,” she began. “Either he knows about it and is hiding some pretty powerful enchantment capability from us, or he doesn’t, and something weird is going on.”

  Parwana nodded idly, one hand moving subtly to her pocket and the stone.

  “So, you’re thinking we go in curious and confused, and see how he reacts?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Shay pondered. “And decide our next move based on his explanation. What do you think?"

  Parwana continued to nod, gazing straight ahead. “I think that works. So, we regroup after the conversation and make a plan.” She took one last look around the square, confirming they were alone and unobserved.

  “Exactly,” Shay confirmed, turning to look at her friend.

  Seeing that she had Shay’s attention in her peripheral vision, Parwana saw the opportunity to improvise. She furrowed her brow and gazed down into the dark depths of the well. “Wow, we got a lot of rain last night. The water level is really high.” Leaving the stone in her pocket, she picked up a pebble from the top of the wall and quickly cast a light spell, causing the pebble to glow brightly. She tossed the pebble into the well.

  With her friend’s gaze distracted, following the glowing stone’s descent into the well’s depths, her left hand went back into her pocket and the stone. She caught Shay completely by surprise with a triple Hold Person spell, thanks to the stone’s amplification. With her friend paralyzed in place, Parwana crouched down, grabbed the elven woman by the ankles, and casually tipped her headfirst into the stone cylinder.

  Unable to move, unable to cast, Shay’s frozen form slammed into the far side of the stone cylinder during her descent. Preceded by the glowing pebble, she hit the water headfirst, plunging several feet into its rain-swollen depths before bobbing stiffly back to the surface. Parwana felt her friend break the first magical hold as she idly noted the blood from Shay’s head wound clouding the surrounding water. Backlit by the pebble’s eerie glow, her body started to convulse, water filling her lungs with every attempted breath.

  After a casual glance at her courtyard surroundings, her gaze returned to find the elven woman’s corporeal shudder intensified into a rapid spasm. It won’t be long now. The second magical hold broke just before her body went still. Too little, too late.

  With one last glance at the water’s diminishing ripple cascading from the spread-eagled shadow of her friend’s corpse, confident of the result, Parwana straightened. Brushing some grit from her sleeve, she tossed her head, flipping her hair back, and walked to breakfast.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

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