Saahira found the door to hexlations about twenty paces to the left of Gallowood’s spellcraft classroom just seconds after the final bell. There were precious few other students still hastily rushing to their classes otherwise, and the fountain’s quiet splashes were louder than any of the remaining footsteps.
She carefully opened the enormous door and stepped inside, praying to anyone who would listen that class hadn’t yet begun.
The classroom was built on a downward slant, and each step downward had a table on either side of the middle walkway. All eyes turned in her direction from the rows of seats leading down to a podium, where a sharp-chinned man with long, pointed ears returned her stare.
“Name?” His voice was low and resonant, echoing against the wooden panels hanging on the walls.
Saahira cleared her throat. “Saahira Montarac.” It still felt so scratchy and uncomfortable to speak. Doubly so when she found Talia’s arrogant glare among the curious gazes.
The professor drew his quill across the podium’s surface, and the sound reverberated around the room in the same way Saahira’s voice would bounce inside the entrance of a cave.
“Either be punctual or be absent.” His sea green eyes swept the room as he placed the quill beside the ink bottle. His gaze was as dark as his hair. “That goes for all of you. From this day forth, I will lock the door on the final bell. If you—”
The door behind Saahira opened, and a pink-haired whirlwind stumbled inside.
“Sorry I’m late!”
“Nia!” Saahira said.
“Oh. Hey.” Nia flashed an awkward smile and shrugged. A short peal of giggles sounded from the lower right of the room. They ended abruptly with a single look from the professor.
“Name?” he said with an even more clipped tone than before.
“Ah, Nia Folayan.”
A quick tug on Saahira’s cloak called her attention to her left. Cyprus grinned and patted the empty seat beside him. She quickly lowered herself into the chair, snatching the hexlations book out of her satchel alongside her paper, quill, and ink.
“Sit.” The professor pointed to an empty chair beside Kaylee. Nia rushed down the steps to take it.
After scratching another line across the podium, the professor raised his hand toward the door. “Terr’lith siro.” His low voice resonated against the wooden panels, bouncing between them and filling the room with an energy that Saahira could only imagine was his magic. The click of a lock followed behind his words, and every student glanced over their shoulders to see the door bolt itself.
Hardly a few seconds later, there was a tug at the now-locked door and a frustrated murmur. The door rattled with a second attempt, and a voice called out, “Is anyone in there?”
“Theodred Vasyie.” The professor’s quill scratched along the podium. “I expected more.”
As Saahira readied her paper and ink, she recalled the groups of students she’d seen in Odalric and the rush inside the Final Bar as she’d left it the night before. Despite the strict curfew, it seemed at least two of them had overslept.
The quill lowered. “Now that we are four minutes past the bell, let us begin. As all of you know, I am Professor Agandaur Lodovico.”
Saahira glanced at Cyprus. He picked up on her silent question and slid his book of hexlations to the center of the table. Quietly opening its cover to the second page, he pointed to the name beneath the title. ‘Penned by Agandaur Lodovico.’ Ah. She offered a quick nod before turning her attention back to their teacher.
“Please let me in, Professor?” Theodred knocked again. “My mother will kill me otherwise.”
Lodovico frowned and raised his hand once more toward the door. “Klaos tor’vyn.” The panels seemed to reflect each letter of his second spell, and in the same moment that the final syllable escaped his lips, silence blanketed the room.
“I will repeat myself one final time.” His expression soured, and Saahira wondered how many students he’d barred from entering the class over the years. “Be present or be absent. Tardiness will not be tolerated in my classroom.” He closed the book on his podium and surveyed his students. “I will lock the door with the final bell, and, if you are not in your seats, you forfeit your marks for the day.”
Lodovico adjusted the cuffs of his robe and rested his hands on either side of the podium. “In my classroom, each and every word you utter will carry weight and intent. To waste your breath on tiresome expressions and empty pleasantries during our time together is to waste my time and yours.
“The study of hexlations may seem simple to the casual onlooker. In saying this, I have no doubt at least one of you has attempted to speak and cast a hex from your parents’ spellbooks.”
Saahira glanced at Nia, but it wasn’t just Nia who winced at the remark. At least three other students around her avoided meeting Lodovico’s eyes.
“Before we continue, consider this your one single warning: hexes cast on one another without the approval and observation of a professor are not permitted and will see your immediate expulsion from the Sanctum.”
Nia’s hand went up. Saahira felt equal parts anxious and interested to see Lodovico’s reaction to her roommate’s questions.
“Yes, Miss Folayan?”
“We’re going to cast hexes on one another?”
“Yes, Miss Folayan.” The crinkle in Lodovico’s brow was telling. “I would think this obvious.”
Kaylee snorted, earning a cold glance from Professor Lodovico.
“Since you’re intent on squandering our lesson, please, tell the class what you know of hexlation, Miss Folayan.”
Nia furrowed her brow and pulled her pink braid over her shoulder. Errant hairs stuck out from the plaiting, giving it the appearance that it was hastily twined together. “Right, well. Hexlation is the safe translation and study of hexes, and hexes imbue words with magical power.” She licked her lips and glanced at her book. “The words must be spoken in a certain order for them to work, and incorrectly pronouncing or intoning the spell can cause an entirely different effect.”
The wrinkles in Lodovico’s forehead relaxed, and he nodded. “At its basic form, yes, that is mostly correct. What is important to distinguish is your use of the term ‘imbue.’ Hex words, or qalen’rua as they are called in Réimse na Sleachta, hold immeasurable power on their own. They are ubiquitous, residing within all organic lifeforms; vessels of the elements waiting for an experienced tongue to speak their names. As Miss Folayan mentioned, the purpose of hexlation is to uncover these precious words and unlock their abilities.”
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Saahira dipped her quill in the ink and quickly copied his lecture into her notes. She silently cursed her left hand as the letters blurred behind it; she really had to get used to lifting her wrist just a little higher.
“Because the qalen’rua are solely found in the living, you will find it impossible to hex inanimate objects. We will speak on pronunciation and intonation later. First, it must be said that qalen’rua, much like enchantments, require specific intent. Yes, Miss Chavadieu?” Lodovico raised an eyebrow. His expression challenged Talia to make better use of his time than Nia had.
“Yes, please. Since the qalen’rua are ‘vessels of their elements,’ as you put it, do they not already have an intent of their own upon release? For example, a fire qalen’rua setting its bearer aflame?” Talia asked.
For the first time since class began, a tiny smile turned the corner of the professor’s mouth. “A worthy question. The qalen’rua are a language all their own. Just as our words have multiple meanings, so too do they. In your fire example, the spoken hex could very well hold the intent to set your victim aflame. Or it could be combined with a second word to speed a particular process. Like urging a heart to race until it bursts.”
Saahira shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Knowing there were words embedded into her skin that could be used against her was unsettling, to say the least. Cyprus looked curiously unfazed.
“Are there any among you familiar with the process of combining qalen’rua? Miss Lothaire?”
The girl who lowered her arm had brown hair swept back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, and she smoothed her hands over the skirt of one of the dresses Saahira had seen in a shop window the day before. “Combining two qalen’rua is called ‘conjugation.’ Doing so can assist with the caster’s intent and create a more potent spell at the cost of additional energy.”
“Very good, Miss Lothaire. As some of you may have read in my studies, my colleagues and I have discovered over one hundred qalen’rua within each element. Together, they form into conjugations that, cast with the proper intent, have infinite possibilities for the final effect.”
‘Conjugations, elemental affinities, infinite effects.’ Saahira paused only to add more ink to her quill. And to feel a little jealous of Miss Lothaire’s dress. But only for a moment.
Lodovico gestured toward the door. “Let us use my hex against Mr. Vasyie, for example. ‘Klaos’ is a dark magic qalen’rua root that can translate to ‘chaos’ or ‘cacophony.’ The second portion, ‘tor’vyn,’ is a wind magic qalen’rua, which can ‘take’ or ‘move.’ Who can tell me the intent and result of my hex?”
He wanted to quiet Theodred, so he stole his voice. Nia had said she’d hexed her sister similarly. But the answer seemed too simple. There had to be something more. Saahira tapped her quill to the paper, creating tiny blots of ink in its corner.
“You wanted Theodred to stop yelling, so you stole his voice?” Melony asked from two rows down.
“Not quite.”
The knocking and rattling went away with Theodred’s voice.
“You took away his sound!” Saahira exclaimed. This time, in the sea of her classmates’ amused gazes, she found Leon’s violet stare. She flushed and drove her attention back to her notes.
“Your enthusiasm is perplexing, Miss Montarac, but you are correct.”
Cyprus nudged her with his shoulder. She peeked at him from beneath her hair as he mouthed, “Good job.”
She wanted to crawl beneath the table.
“Question, Miss Erikson?”
“Yes, you said hexes must be used on conscious targets. How, then, did you hex the lock?”
“That was not a hex; it was traditional spellcraft.” This time, Professor Lodovico’s response sounded amused by Kaylee’s question rather than perturbed. Saahira had started to wonder if anything outside of hexlations brought a smile to his statuesque face.
“A-ah… Of course,” Kaylee said, lowering her hand.
“Returning to Miss Folayan’s initial explanation of hexlation, it must be repeated that proper intonation and pronunciation are both significant in the practice.” Lodovico raised his arms, pointing at the wooden panels hanging from the walls. “You will have noticed the unique layout of this room and the peculiar decorations by now. My classroom was constructed with the auditory senses in mind. You will find these deliberate choices most effective as we practice singular qalen’rua until your pronunciation and intonation of each letter and syllable are perfect. There are many qalen’rua that sound similar to one another, and activating the incorrect one with a conflicting intent can have devastating effects.”
“Like what?” Leon asked, looking far more entertained than his peers.
“Commanding the blood to leave your body, or the air to leave your lungs. Permanently blinding yourself, or encouraging your nails to detach from your fingers.” The malevolent smile that quirked Lodovico’s lips made the small hairs on Saahira’s arms stand on end. “These are just a handful of consequences witnessed in this very room, Mr. Iosava.”
Saahira felt her shudder imitated by her peers. Except Cyprus. He caught her staring and winked. Her eyes widened and her heart skipped as she snapped her attention forward. Class! Pay attention to class!
“We will not practice conjugation for a time, but I strongly encourage you to read their relevant chapters in advance. It will prepare you for what’s to come. Today, we will practice one of the root qalen’rua for wind.”
Lodovico turned to the wall behind him and traced lines into the air with his fingertip. Four letters appeared on the stone, glowing just enough to still be legible to the rows farthest back. Siro.
“Before you begin, let us discuss the correct pronunciation.” He carved more letters into the air beneath the word. Zhee-roh. “The first syllable uses a hard, succinct ‘S’ followed by the soft resolution of an ‘H.’ Si. The second syllable must linger on the tongue. Let the ‘O’ hover in the air until the wind sweeps it away.” Turning back to the class, he inclined his head and raised a hand toward the class. “Choose a partner and practice on one another. Hold the intent of summoning a gentle current in your mind. If you perform it correctly, you’ll summon the current around your partner. Incorrectly, and the current will encompass yourself. Begin.”
Saahira’s hand was on fire. Her notes were a blurred mess, riddled with misspellings and scratched-out words. She leaned back into her chair, opened and closed her hand a few times, and waited for what was still legible to dry.
“Partners?” Cyprus asked.
Saahira nodded. “Yes, please.”
They took turns trying to call the qalen’rua on one another. Saahira was relieved that Cyprus had just as much trouble with the opening syllable as she did. It was hard to reform her tongue to the unfamiliar ‘Zhi’ sound as opposed to ‘Shi.’ Each attempt tousled their own hair and shifted their notes and pages on the table.
“Wow, Alexis, you’re really good at this!” Miss Lothaire’s partner exclaimed two rows down.
Alexis blushed. “My father specializes in hexlations.”
Of course he does.
Saahira’s next cast gained an edge of frustration. As she hissed, “Siro!” the “gentle current” turned into a burst of wind around Cyprus, blowing her brilight paper notes away. Oh, no! She watched them float down the rows in horror. Did she chase after them? Wait for it to end?
“Well, Miss Montarac, your excitement serves as a good example for the class.” Lodicovo’s wry smile returned. “Intent must be held without emotion. They will alter and destroy your hexes.”
“R-right, Professor.”
She decided to wait until the end of class, not wanting to make even more of a spectacle of herself. Cyprus was successful in his final three castings.
“This qalen’rua certainly makes a mess of things.” He smiled and brushed Saahira’s tousled bangs from his spell out of her eyes.
Saahira wished she could blow the blush away from her face.
Lodovico glanced at the single clock hanging between two wood panels and nodded. “As we draw to a close, I bid you to study the list of root qalen’rua for the wind element and each of their potential intents. We will discuss them in our next class. You are dismissed.”
“He certainly doesn’t mince words,” Cyprus murmured as he packed his book and notes.
“And yet there were so many of them,” she laughed weakly. “What’s your next class?”
“Enchantments, then fate and arcana. You?”
“Necromancy, and then the same.” Saahira smiled. “Can I walk you to your class?”
Cyprus strung the satchel over his shoulder and nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Let me just…find my notes.”
They waited for the rest of the students to file out. When Leon reached their row, he paused and looked as if he wanted to say something. Then his stare shifted to Cyprus, and he frowned. Before Saahira could ask what Leon wanted, he was gone. Nia also hesitated on their row, but Kaylee prodded her shoulder until they kept walking.
Talia approached, wearing a somehow more lavish robe than she’d donned the day before. Saahira’s stomach jumped into her throat when she saw her notes in Talia’s hand. “I could never imagine using a surface that does not absorb ink for such important information.” She laid the notes before Saahira and looked at her fingers. Tiny blots of ink stained the surface of her thumb and pointer finger. “Cheap, worthless paper for a cheap, worthless girl.”
Saahira’s face flushed, and her fingers curled into a fist.
Cyprus touched her wrist. “May you journey in sunlight, Talia,” he replied. “Birds don’t do well in the dark.”
“Schlinchts. Both of you,” Talia murmured before marching out the door.
“You’re a popular girl, Saahira,” Cyprus mused.
What keeps you so calm, Cyprus? The question burned her tongue, but she swallowed it back as she packed her notes.
They left the room just as Theodred rushed through the doorway on silent footsteps and raced down to Professor Lodovico’s podium.
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