The Light Mage's Shadow
What Helen was about to do would get her not only thrown out of the academy but stripped of her magic and possibly interred in the Wayward Crypts. Alive.
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Prompt from DailyPrompt.com
Where there is light, there is always a shadow close behind. The first lessons for light magic were about that fact, and why you should fear it.
What Helen was about to do would get her not only thrown out of the academy but stripped of her powers and possibly interred in the Wayward Crypts. Alive.
Her fingers trembled as she wrapped her hands around the sealed glass jar, the candle within sputtering to life despite lack of air under her focused gaze. She had laid no wards. No secondary lights, no glowing shroud, nothing at all to hold back the arcane darkness which rushed in the moment it smelt light magic. Even this simple ignition spell called it like blood tempted sharks.
Goosebumps sprouted along her nape and arms at its chill touch. She squelched the urge to scream. The light flickered with her shuddering focus, causing the shadow to draw back. Weakening with the fading light. For a moment she couldn’t distinguish it from the mundane dark.
Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Out. One. Two. Three. Four-
The flame grew and steadied and the shadow wrapped around her once more. She kept her gaze fixed on the dot of light, maintained the count, only the edges of her awareness probing this strange guest.
It… wasn’t trying to eat the light. Or her. Its presence wasn’t smothering or vicious or grasping at all, it felt like… like…
Her fumbling mind pulled up a memory. As a small child, climbing a wall (one that felt very tall at the time) and walking along it. Those first wobbling, teetering steps, until instinct drew her arms outwards for balance.
That. That’s what the shadow felt like.
Every previous spell she’d cast, the weight of focus, maintaining the channel, had been a strain. Like walking along a wall with a heavy object in one hand. Whereas this, with the shadow cradling her like she cradled the candle… counter-balance.
The realisation stole her breath - and her focus. The candle sputtered out.
And the shadow peacefully dissipated. Its job done?
Helen reached into her bag, groping for the crystal. This one was raw, unenchanted, because no enchanter would be willing to inscribe only the spell for light into their wares. Wards. There had to be wards, to keep the shadows away. That living dark which was the bane of every light mage.
She held the crystal aloft, level with her eyes, taking a moment to settle her tremors of fear and excitement. This spell was stronger, and unlike the smothered candle would not douse itself. A real risk.
At the first glimmers the shadow returned. Manifesting from the vacant darkness and embracing her like the clinging weight of an old, wet coat. And… yes, with it at her back the light spell in her hands felt… not weightless, but its weight no longer dragged.
Helen slowly shifted the crystal to one hand, then the other. Held it out to the side then above her head. With each movement the shadow flowed perfectly, naturally, maintaining the counterbalance. It wasn’t avoiding the light. It just… existed where the light wasn’t. The two forces treating her as a pivot.
With the crystal outstretched before her Helen steeled herself and reached back, into the shadow. Her hand dipped into the living, swirling darkness, finding nothing substantial yet awash with power. A nebulous, formless power exactly unlike the clear rays of magic she was used to.
This was a power that you couldn’t grasp. Couldn’t pin down and define. Couldn’t control.
Just like that, the fear made sense. And lost its hold on her.
Helen turned her face into the shadow, letting it coat her face like a second skin, and felt it touch her tongue-tip in an eldritch kiss as she whispered a promise of partnership. Of learning all it had to teach her.
A new school of magic was born.
Prompt was the first sentence.