“You’re overthinking it, boy,” Baba Yaga chided.
I gritted my teeth and focused. My right hand was held two inches above a lone egg.
My task was simple: turn the egg into a square. When Baba Yaga told me to do it, I thought she was joking, but she wasn’t; she said she was going to teach me and she was going to do just that, even if the very idea of it was ridiculous. The lesson was divided into three, very simple steps. Step one was the easiest to follow; all I had to do was reach out to the egg with my magic. The very act of reaching inwards for the strange warmth in my belly was actually rather easy and I even got a pat on the head for it.
The second part was harder. I had to take that magic and utterly suffuse the egg in it. Magic wasn’t like a solid thing that could be held and molded into whatever shape I wanted; I couldn’t even call it a liquid for that matter. And yet, it was constantly flowing, like the rushing waters of a river, swirling within me. Giving it a new direction was easy enough; I just pictured a new furrow in my head for the flow of magic to flow into, hence the reason why the first step was easy. Actively giving it shape was an entirely different matter. It responded to my will in the way a cat might respond to commands – sometimes it works, but mostly it doesn’t. The magic within me had a will of its own that was only vaguely related to mine.
The third step was enforcing my will upon the egg itself, forcing it to turn into a square. But I wasn’t there yet. I was still stuck on the second step.
“And now you’re under-thinking it.” She commented.
My outstretched hand balled into a fist and my eyes snapped open. For a moment, I felt my magic stir and explode within me, but I hardly cared. The egg shook and cracked, before exploding into a mass of tiny tendrils, gaping maws, and jagged teeth. Baba Yaga snapped her fingers and the writhing monstrosity burst into flames.
I sighed and leaned back. “What am I doing wrong?!”
On the other end of the room, Olga effortlessly juggled three balls of fire with her bare hands. She was far better at this than I was; her control was finer and her magic listened to her for some reason. But, she had problems of her own: namely, using her magic for something other than setting things on fire; the old witch also used an egg on her, telling her to set it on fire without burning it. Olga failed, but at the very least, she finished the second stage of her task and was only stuck on the third, which led to the juggling.
“Not to worry, fine control is not expected of Neophytes; by my reckoning, you’ll probably be given a wand to help you better understand the feel of shaping magic. What I’m trying to teach you is more advanced, but it’ll make you more powerful than your peers in the long run; the topic of Innate Affinities won’t come up until your second year in the Academy, I think.” The old witch had a pensive look for a moment, before shrugging. “Bah, it won’t be my problem by then; for now, just focus on the task I gave you. Remember, boy, Flesh-Crafters are capable of manipulating flesh, bone, and sinew from the bodies of the living and the dead, mortal or otherwise. An egg shouldn’t be a problem for a natural Flesh-Crafter, such as yourself.”
“But I’m doing exactly what you told me to do,” I shot back.
“Hmm, yes, quite; your magic is interesting. It’s not flowing out of you in any natural way as it’s supposed to be doing. It is as though your magic has a will of its own – interesting. Not useful, but interesting,” Baba Yaga chuckled and whacked me in the head with a ladle. Before I could even complain, she spoke, “Perhaps, our approach is wrong; hold the egg in your hands.”
She held out an egg from somewhere and gave it to me.
I nodded and did as instructed. As frustrating as it was, I also could just barely hold back the excitement that bubbled within me. Magic! I was doing magic! How crazy was that?! Sure, I was failing, but this was literally my first lesson; failure was expected, annoying, but expected.
With the egg between my fingers, I closed my eyes and performed the first step, pulling on my magic and giving it a new direction from my belly and into my hands. It was warm, just as I remembered it being. But it was also wild and unruly, and lazy. But, with enough mental prodding, I got my magic to start moving. And, with my hands just barely touching, it was easier to spread it across the surface of the egg as opposed to having a single hand hovering an inch away from it.
Keeping it on the egg was difficult, but doable. Baba Yaga grumbled something inaudible under her breath, before she spoke, “Now, enforce your will upon the immaterial and the material; turn that egg into a square!”
“Hrm!” I closed my eyes and focused, not quite sure how I was supposed to enforce my will. But, I tried anyway, projecting my thoughts upon the egg. My magic stirred and responded sluggishly, but it did and that was good news. Turn into a square! Turn into a square! Turn into a square!
The egg vibrated for a moment before exploding all over me.
Baba Yaga cackled. “Ah, this might’ve been too advanced for you. Maybe, just focus on manipulating your magic for now. Truth be told, the fact that you’re even capable of harnessing your magic so early on is quite ridiculous; most students learn to do so, without the aid of a wand, at the end of their Neophyte Year. So, don’t beat yourself up over it, child. You’re already doing better than you might think.”
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With a snap of her fingers, the scattered egg shells and slime disappeared with a soft hiss. “However, the Shadow Academy will not show you leniency; you must be prepared to do all that is in your power to succeed and rise above all or you shall be trampled and, most likely, killed by your peers. Hone your mind, your body, and your magic; do not disregard even the tiniest factor that might become an advantage for you in the future.”
I nodded and sighed, leaning away from the table. She was right; I needed to train not just my magic, but also my mind and my body. A knife to the eye was just as deadly as a spell that turned a person inside-out. Similarly, running away from potential danger, without becoming exhausted within a few seconds, was just as important as being able to escape using magical means. Every part of me must become a deadly weapon.
“You only have two hours before you’re transported back into the Academy; make the most of your time here as best as you can,” Baba Yaga’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’ll never find rest in that place; to sleep defenseless is to die, to relax is to die. In everything you do, you must be weary of attempts on your life.”
“But I’m only a Neophyte,” I said, shaking my head. “No one knows me enough to want to kill me, I think.”
“Yes, I suspect no one’s going to try to kill you over a grudge, but someone’s going to try and kill you over something that doesn’t involve you personally,” Baba Yaga answered. “You might just be a good candidate for a magical sacrifice; that’s already a reason someone might kill you. A necromancer might need a fresh corpse and decide that you’re good enough for it. Heck, a student might just look at you and decide they don’t like you and, therefore, you must die. The unspoken rules aren’t set in stone, hence the name; they can be bent and sometimes broken. You can’t rely on them to protect you.”
“So, everyone’s going to try and kill me. Got it.”
Baba Yaga shook her head, before glancing towards Olga, who was doing her best not to burn an egg. “No, not everyone; you’ll have allies. In fact, it’s important to establish alliances early on. As powerful as you might become, you’re not quite there yet, boy; you’ll need people to watch your back and cover your flanks.”
“How do I know who to trust? Another student literally told me that we’ll probably be killing each other the next time we meet.” I chuckled at that. As grim as it was, the fact that a school is able to function, despite everyone inside wanting to kill each other, was kind of hilarious.
At that, Baba Yaga shrugged. “That’s up to you. At the very least, you can already count on that girl as your ally.”
I nodded, before a stray thought caused my brows to furrow. “What’d you do to that other kid, anyway? Olga told me you dropped him in a Red Army Camp; is that true?”
The old witch cackled. “Kekekekekekekekeke! You should’ve seen the look on his face when I dropped him right off and the soldiers started screaming at him, weapons aimed and all!”
I frowned. She was laughing at him. True enough, the kid was afraid of almost everything, but… he didn’t need to suffer through any of this – none of us did. Olga and I just happened to be stronger. I never even caught his name. Baba Yaga wiped a stray tear from her right eye and continued, “Oh, don’t look so crestfallen, boy! He’s not dead; I made sure of it. But he’s definitely not having a good time with the Soviets; I can tell you that much. You’ll see the brat again, though I can’t say just how long he’ll live through the Academy, as fearful as he is.”
“Well… at least, he’s a live – for now.” It was all I could say, really.
I nodded and breathed in. “I think I’m going to practice with my magic a little more; two hours is plenty of time.”
“Good,” Baba Yaga nodded as she turned away from me. “That is good. Train and grow strong. And you might just have a shot at becoming a true terror among the Followers of the Dark. See you soon, kid.”
She left me to my own devices, after that. Whilst I toyed with my magic, trying and failing to shape it and bend it to my will, time seemed to drift and no sooner had I started that two hours passed.
And the sound of claps brought me out of my meditation.
“Eleven were sent out and ten return; how promising.”