“Lightning is a puzzling spell,” the upper classmate acting as a tutor says to the small group of students – all gathered on the edge of a couple hundred foot wide ivory-like disk suspended several hundred feet in the air on a spindle of the same material. “There is reason to believe that it’s a force as fundamental, or maybe more so, as fire. But there are far fewer spells that utilize it. In fact, the academy only has record of two: the standard in which a brief but extremely powerful bolt emits from the caster, and a more advanced one where it emits from a targeted cloud.

  “All attempts to modify these spells, be it to increase or decrease power, duration or even something as banal as colour have ended in utter failure – without even learning a lesser spell to compensate for the time invested. Some say that the Eye does not wish for us to learn more about the principles behind this spell. This is, of course, a dangerous reification of the anthropomorphising metaphors we use to discuss the Eye. Despite calling the phenomenon by which we access magic “The Eye”, it is not sentient, and despite saying we negotiate with it, it has no will.”

  A girl in the group, glancing nervously at the approaching thunderstorm, raises her hand, but speaks before being acknowledged. “We know all this. We’re running out of time for optimal studying.”

  The tutor blushes. “Right, um, sorry, it’s just one of the things I’m supposed to mention for your first session. So um, let’s see… Right. How many of you subscribe to the pure math approach to spell acquisition?”

  A few hands rise, my own not among them. I do occasionally use math to help learn spells, but I already know that none of the related formulas make sense to me.

  “Great, great. Um.” He points to the wheeled chalk board which he has already written several familiar equations. “So um, these are some of the equations that some from your approach came up with right before finalizing their negotiation with the Eye. Obviously, I don’t know what they mean anymore. The standard difficulty of teaching any spell of course being that you need to know the spell to teach it, but in learning it you forget most of the things needed to learn it, so can only give hints.” He winces as the girl glares at him. “But I can at least tell you what the variables are supposed to mean, if you don’t already know, of course. Even though I am more of an intuitist myself. Meaning I hold that the math isn’t fundamental to reality and is just a useful tool we create to help describe phenomena. Thus, directly understanding the spells via the Eye is the best method to…” he trails off as the girl begins tapping her foot impatiently. “Right, I suppose I best get…” A boy raises their hand causing him to stop. “Yes, question?”

  “Yeah,” the boy says, unaware of the irritated girl glaring at him, “I get that the world removes the knowledge of the spell from you as the cost of learning it, but why can’t you just relearn it?”

  “Right, um. So, some spells you can actually do that. In fact, there’s a few that you have to do that to advance to higher versions. But in the case of casting lightning, your ability to perform the spell unravels the more you relearn. Any more questions? No? Great, let’s get started. So, luckily for you, there happens to be a thunderstorm coming in, which is just perfect for learning the lightning spells. Everyone look at it, and then invert the gaze of the Eye onto yourself while chanting the spell. I’ll be going around offering advice where needed.”

  I do as instructed and am immediately struck by how much more intense the phenomenon known as ‘the eye that makes the world inverting its gaze upon me’ is. The several hundred foot view over the city no doubt being part of it – the sense of being apart and a part that elevation always brings – plus the obvious approaching storm. But it’s more. This place itself feels special. The Eye is a sort of world harmony, but the tower forces that harmony towards itself.

  It was expected, but it’s still a bit unnerving.

  Ignoring this I focus on the storm and chant. My perception seems to float away from me and into the twisting chaos. Strings of power whip around, twisting into each other and dispersing like overly soggy noodles before reforming. When these ‘stings’ coalesce in just the right way, a blinding bold of lightning bursts into being before they disintegrate.

  Even the chaos of the storm is a harmony, one that reaches out to me. Every action I make is part of it, and influences it. I could reach out, control it…

  The whirling chaos snakes out into me, its strings merging into mine. I try to control it, then just shut it out, but it’s too much. It overwhelms me. In panic, I revert the Eye – falling to the ground with a short cry of … well not pain per se. It doesn’t quite match physical sensation, but suffice it to say it was too much.

  “You okay?” the student teacher asks, looming over me.

  “Yeah, I um, let the Eye seduce me for a bit there.”

  “Ah, yeah. Don’t worry, it gets everyone from time to time, especially here. Let me take a look.” He stoops down and briefly takes on the sort of focused unfocused associated with inverting the Eye before snapping out. “You should be fine, still pretty distinct. But take a break for a minute to be safe.”

  I nod in appreciation, not eager to resume my efforts with my magical muscles still ‘sore’ (there is a headache that accompanies the sensation, but it is not primary. It’s like a dull pain that covers my whole body, except it somehow doesn’t feel physical. Some mages think that finding better ways to describe the sensation will unravel some secret, but most think it’s basic and intractable.)

  I take the moment to idly examine the intricate carvings on the tower’s surface. They’re far too complex and expansive to get a sense of what they do, but I do get the impression that it’s a variable array. Meaning that there are more carvings of symbols and geometric lines than could possibly be used for a single ritual. Likely it’s enchanted to fade what’s not in use and enhance what is.

  Well, it’s not like I’ll be able to figure it out right now. It is one of the most extensive magical artifices in the empire after all, behind only the underground, the imperial palace and possibly a few hidden strategic assets. There are of course rumours as to what it can do, though nothing that’s confirmed. The leading theory on the street is that it can erect a shield spell over the entire capital. I don’t find this credible, since, as big as it is, it’s probably not big enough to do something like that. Though the city has grown significantly since it was made a few hundred years ago. Perhaps it’ll shield the centre and leave the outer sections vulnerable. One thing certain is that many high powered mages have living quarters in the spindle, and that there are assigned mages to be present in it at all times.

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  Well, theories aside, it is also one of the best places to learn spells in the city, possibly the whole empire. One of the benefits of enrolling in the academy is being scheduled a crepuscular study session here once a week. A session that I suddenly feel like I’m wasting with my break.

  Taking my eagerness as a good sign that I’ve recovered I stand up, but feel a momentary ‘wooziness’ so take a few more seconds to take in the scene. There are about a dozen more groups along the edge of the ivory disk, each led by a student teacher teaching from the standard set of spells. In the middle is a short pyramid of stairs leading to a platform where a faculty member is teaching the basic shield spell to the few who do not already know it. It’s one of the spells required to pass this class so they’re getting it out of the way.

  I spot Ellen in the group. She doesn’t look happy learning the combat related spell, but it does have application out of it, so she’s likely choosing her battles on which spells she’s too noble to learn.

  She sees me seeing her and smiles. Embarrassed at having to take a break during this optimal study time, I smile back weakly and look down over the ledge. The dying hustle of the city below fills me with a small peace. I spot at least a dozen figures on rooftops likewise gazing at the coming storm or setting sun. More mages taking advantage of the vespertine hour to progress. Odd. I’ve known that other mages must have similar study patterns to me, but I’ve never seen them from the roofs I tend to chant on. Seeing so many below now creates a sense of shared purpose that I focus on as I resume my negotiations.

  This time I see them as part of the harmony too, each having their own string entwined with the greater chaos.

  I chant until a few minutes after the sun fully sets – this time successfully ignoring the Eye’s suggestions to connect myself too strongly – when I feel the liminality end and that further progress will be trivial. Looking around, everyone else seems to have come to the same conclusion at nearly the same time.

  There’s a lot of blinking, mumbling and twitchy behaviour all around. We’re all sore (well, not sore, but sore-like) from the intense negotiations we’ve been through. Flayed is a common description, reacting to every little stimulus. Nobody wants to talk to each other and they all silently file down the stairs at the base of the pyramid.

  Well, everyone except Ellen who walks to the edge and chants a spell before flying down. I look down at her, then to the crowd cramming down the stairs. I wasn’t looking forward to the long walk down the echoing spiral stairs in my state, much less with more than fifty other frayed students. So without thinking much more, I jump.

  The magic item seller (Thomas, I think was the name) said that I should be able to land from any height with the cloak and boots on. This seems to be testing it to the limit, but there is a garden below with plenty of soft looking ground to aim for. The cloak spreads out and expands into the optimal shape for catching the air and slowing me down, rigidly refusing to be forced higher than my shoulders. I pass Ellen on the way down, and a second later my feet hit dirt.

  Even with the items the fall is too much to stick the landing, but I anticipated this and bent my knees to properly absorb the impact as I collapse and roll to the ground. I lie supine on the grass as I check myself for injuries, find none and decide this is a pretty nice spot to be right now, considering the metaphorical soreness of the study session.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Ellen shouts as she runs over to me, causing me to bolt upright which in turn causes her to come to a dead stop a few steps away.

  “Hey,” I say awkwardly.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I was just… lying down.”

  “Oh, I thought maybe you saw me fly down and thought there was an enchantment on the building.”

  “Oh, no, I have an item. I um, saw you fly up.”

  She blushes. “You did?”

  “Yeah, um, don’t worry, it wasn’t that awkward of a landing.” She apparently didn’t know that there’s a head high shield effect along the rim of the disk to prevent people from falling off. On her first attempt to fly up, she struck the shield and fell a few dozen feet before recasting the spell and making it over.

  “So, it was awkward? How many others saw?”

  “Oh, um… anyways, I’m fine.”

  “Right…”

  “So…”

  “So…”

  “Um…”

  “Did you…”

  Ah! I hate talking to people after studying magic, especially an intense session like that. I’m so much more conscious of them than usual. It’s so much worse when the other person just studied too. I can tell she’s finding interacting with me after flaying herself against the world just as agonizingly awkward as I am.

  “The storm’s coming.” I finally blurt.

  “Right, we should get going then.” I turn to leave but she calls after me. “Did Erika invite you to the club?”

  “She did,” I say rigidly.

  “Will you come?”

  “Um… maybe.”

  “We really need the members.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I half shout as I clumsily dash away.

  I make it back to the dorms embarrassing quickly. I pretend it’s to stay dry as the rain starts to splatter on the cobblestones, but I know my cloak will easily handle this much.

  I spot a figure still chanting on the roof as I enter the courtyard. Do they intend to study in the storm? Are they mad? It might be effective if you can manage it, but few can avoid being seduced by the Eye in such intensity. I look closer to see who’s foolish enough to try this stunt and discover that it’s Emily.

  Her face is rhapsodic.

  Whatever, she can probably handle herself.

  Melvin is waiting for me when I enter my room with a letter in hand and a faint smile on face. “A message from Princep Vincent, my lord.”

  I irritably snatch the letter, open it and scan down until I find the purpose. ‘… do magnanimously invite you…’.

  I toss it in the fire.

  “My lord?” Melville asks, clearly shocked, but quiets as I take a paper and write my reply to the princep.

  ‘I decline.’

  Then I seal the missive and hand it to him.

  “Forgive me for being cravenly, my lord, but what should I say if he questions me about the content of this message?”

  “Say that I decline,” I say with misplaced irritation.

  “My lord, I do pride myself on obedience, but I draw a line at getting executed for Lèse-majesté.”

  Sigh. “Then say that I received the invitation while being flayed by an intense negotiation with the Eye.”

  “I see. If my lord isn’t feeling well, perhaps you would care to delay your reply until morning?”

  “But then I wouldn’t have the excuse of being flayed by the Eye,” I say, quite reasonably.

  “Of course… though I do wonder what your cousin might say about this refusal.”

  I stare daggers at the attempted manipulation. “Allan’s the one who told me to keep away from him to begin with.”

  “… Right, of course. Well, if that will be all my lord, I’ll retire for the evening.”

  I nod dismissively and begin undressing for the bath before he has time to exit. Feeling tired and pressured by morning classes I limit myself to a quick one hour soak before going to bed. The storm is in full force when I do.

  I go to the window and look up to see Emily still on the roof, her face still in ecstasy. Feeling… something (Frustration? Dismay? Uncertain? Frustration at my uncertainty?) I slam the shutters close and bury my face in the soft feathered pillows.