The tower was quieter than usual as Ayana made her way back to her room, the hum of its magic a low, steady thrum in the background. The sun had begun to set, its fading light filtering through the narrow windows and casting long, golden shafts across the stone floors. The corridors were mostly empty, the apprentices either at dinner or sequestered in their rooms, and Ayana’s footsteps echoed softly as she climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  She reached her chamber and pushed the door open, the familiar scent of old wood and faintly musty air greeting her. The room was small but tidy, the bed neatly made and the chest at its foot closed. On the desk sat the tome she had purchased earlier that day, its leather cover gleaming faintly in the dim light. Ayana crossed the room and picked it up, running her fingers over the intricate runes etched into its surface. The weight of the book in her hands was a reminder of the steep price she’d paid—not just in gold, but in the risks she was taking to grow stronger.

  She flipped open the tome, her eyes scanning the pages filled with diagrams, runic sequences, and step-by-step instructions for [Shadow Bolt]. The spell seemed straightforward enough, but mastering it would take time—time she wasn’t sure she had. The factions were mobilizing, the tower was on edge, and Ayana knew she couldn’t afford to fall behind.

  Closing the tome, she carefully tucked it into her pouch, the same one that had held the murlock corpse just days before. The book fit snugly, its weight a comforting presence at her side. She left her room, closing the door softly behind her, and made her way to the first floor. Her destination was the spell practice room, one of only three in the tower reserved for apprentices.

  The first floor was quieter than the upper levels, the air heavy with the scent of damp stone and old wood. The utility rooms were located at the far end of the corridor, past the storage chambers and the apprentices’ common area. Ayana had never been to the spell practice rooms at this hour, but she knew they were rarely empty. The tower’s apprentices were a competitive lot, and even the early evening was prime time for training.

  When she reached the practice rooms, she was relieved to find the door to the third one slightly ajar, the faint glow of magical light spilling into the corridor. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her.

  The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single worktable, a few scattered chairs, and a large, circular rune etched into the floor. The rune glowed faintly, its intricate patterns shifting and swirling as if alive. Ayana set her pouch on the table and pulled out the tome, opening it to the page on casting the [Shadow Bolt]. She took a deep breath, the familiar scent of a damp old room stiffening her lungs ever so slightly.

  The runes and diagrams seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, as if alive with latent energy. She traced a finger over the instructions, her eyes narrowing as she read:

  “To summon the shadow’s essence, the caster must first gather the dark power within. Visualize the energy as a river flowing from your core, through your arm, and into your hand. Once concentrated, the energy will manifest as a sphere of shadow, hovering above your palm.”

  Ayana took a deep breath, the familiar scent of damp stone filling her lungs. She stepped into the centre of the rune etched into the floor, feeling the faint hum of magic beneath her feet. Closing her eyes, she focused on the instructions, trying to visualize the flow of energy from her core to her hand.

  She started with her breathing, slow and steady, just as the tome instructed. In her mind’s eye, she pictured a river of darkness flowing from her chest, down her arm, and into her palm. But the energy resisted her, slipping through her grasp like smoke. She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling up inside her.

  “Relax,” she muttered under her breath, forcing her hands to uncurl and her shoulders to sink. She tried again, this time starting from her heart and moving the energy more deliberately. She felt a faint spark, a flicker of shadow at her fingertips, but it dissipated before she could solidify it.

  “Why isn’t this working?” she thought, her frustration growing. She had done this before—reached her elbow, even her hand—but tonight, her mind was too cluttered, her body too tense. The more she tried to relax, the more her thoughts spiralled. The factions were mobilizing, the tower was on edge, and she was caught in the middle of it all.

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  She took another deep breath, trying to push the thoughts aside. “Focus,” she told herself. “Just focus.” She started again, this time trying to visualize the energy flowing through her body like a river. But the river kept hitting obstacles—rocks of doubt, whirlpools of fear—and the flow broke apart before it could reach her hand.

  Finally, she gave up on standing and sank to the floor, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees. She closed her eyes and began a sitting meditation, just as she had practiced before. Starting with her heartbeat, she focused on the pulse in her chest, then her pelvis, her knee, and finally her toes. This time, the connection felt stronger, more stable. She reached her elbow, then her hand, and finally her fingertips. The shadows in the room seemed to respond, swirling around her like a living thing.

  “This is it,” she thought, her excitement growing. “I’ve got it.”

  She opened her eyes and held out her hand, palm up, trying to channel the energy into a visible form. The shadows gathered above her hand, swirling and condensing into a faint, smoky ball. But just as it began to take shape, the energy faltered, and the ball dissipated into nothing.

  “No!” she hissed, clenching her fist. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. “Again.”

  She repeated the process, starting from her core and moving the energy through her body. This time, she focused on maintaining the flow, keeping the river steady and unbroken. The shadows gathered again, forming a small, flickering sphere above her palm. But as she tried to stabilize it, the energy slipped away once more.

  “Why can’t I hold it?” she muttered, her frustration mounting. She glanced at the tome, scanning the instructions again. “Visualize the energy as a river,” it said. “Concentrate it into a sphere.”

  She closed her eyes and tried again, this time imagining the energy as a tightly coiled spring, compact and controlled. The shadows gathered more quickly this time, forming a small, dark orb above her hand. It flickered and wavered, but it held. Ayana’s heart raced as she stared at it, her hand trembling slightly from the effort.

  “I’ve got it,” she whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. But as soon as she spoke, the orb flickered and dissolved, the shadows dispersing into the air.

  “Damn it!” she growled, slamming her fist on the floor. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. “Again.”

  She repeated the process, over and over, each time getting a little closer. The orb lasted a few seconds longer, grew a little more stable, but it always slipped away before she could fully control it. Her frustration grew with each failure, but so did her determination. She wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, she managed to form a small, stable orb of shadow above her palm. It hovered there, dark and shimmering, its surface rippling like liquid night. Ayana stared at it, her breath caught in her throat. She had done it. She had gathered the dark power and shaped it into a tangible form.

  But as she marvelled at her success, the orb began to flicker again. She focused all her will on maintaining it, but the energy slipped through her grasp, the orb dissolving into nothingness.

  “Almost,” she whispered, her voice tinged with both frustration and pride. She had come so close. She could feel it—the key to using [Shadow Bolt] was within her reach. She just needed more practice.

  She glanced at the tome, its pages still open to the instructions for [Shadow Bolt]. Whatever it took, she would master this spell. She had to. The shadows were her ally, and she would learn to wield them, no matter what it took.

  Ayana was about to attempt forming the shadow orb again when a sharp knock at the door interrupted her concentration. The orb flickered and dissolved, the shadows dispersing into the air as she turned toward the sound. The door creaked open, and a tall, lanky apprentice with a bored expression poked his head in. He wore the standard gray robes of a tower apprentice, his sleeves rolled up to reveal ink-stained hands.

  “Practice rooms are closing soon,” he said, his tone flat and uninterested. “It’s almost twenty-two hundred. You’ve got ten minutes to wrap up.”

  Ayana blinked, surprised at how much time had passed. The faint glow of the rune on the floor had dimmed, and the shadows in the room seemed deeper, more oppressive. She nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  The apprentice shrugged and closed the door, his footsteps fading down the corridor. Ayana let out a frustrated sigh and glanced at the tome on the worktable. She had been so close to stabilizing the shadow orb, but now she’d have to start over tomorrow. Still, she couldn’t deny the progress she’d made.

  She tucked the tome into her pouch and left the practice room, the corridor outside now quiet and dimly lit. The torches cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, and the faint hum of the tower’s magic seemed to echo in the stillness. Ayana climbed the stairs to the second floor, her footsteps soft against the stone, and slipped into her chamber.

  Finally back in her room she had some spare time to finally start copying more of the book she received from Vayentha called: The Beginnings of Magic Circles.

  Remembering her dizziness from the first time she copied data to the screen, she made her way towards her bed, “clever idea considering I’ll need to do my meditation as well after copying” went through her head.