A Novice Magician

The cabin was far from ideal. There was a draft, the floorboards creaked, and you were certain that the next gust of wind would knock the building down. Still, it was secluded. No one from the village would dare to wander this far into the forest and isolation was a must.

You reach into your pouch, remove the spellbook, and lay it on the ground. The strange runes that marked its cover begin glowing as you run your fingers down the book’s spine. You open to the bookmarked page and start to prepare for the ritual.

First you need chalk. You grab a stick of it from your pouch and start drawing on the wooden floor. You sketch the symbols ♉, ♈, and ♍ into the floor and connect them all with a spiral. You draw a circle in the centre and ready yourself for the next step.

Inside the pouch are some lilac flowers, candles and a knife. You place the flowers in the centre of the circle and the candle to the side. Then you grab hold of the knife. Your breath is rising and you feel your panicked heart beating against its chest. You place your hand just above the flowers as you slice across your palm with the blade. It’s a shallow cut, you lacked the courage to make it deep, but drops of blood drip onto the flowers. Hopefully it’s enough.

You look back to the spellbook. It shows a diagram of the ritual, which you have recreated perfectly. Below the picture is a Latin phrase. Of course it’s Latin you think to yourself. The final step is easy, simply say the phrase.

Unsure of what will happen next you utter: Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.

At first, nothing. I must’ve done something wrong. You look back to the diagram in the spellbook to see if you got the symbols correct.

Then the candle lights up. You flinch as you first notice the light. It is a small flame, barely bright enough to light the room. You put your hand by it and realize that the candle doesn’t produce any heat. Odd.

The feeling of vertigo swells up inside you. The cabin begins to rock around you, as if it was a ship being knocked to and fro by heavy waves. A ringing comes out of nowhere followed by a sharp pain in your head. The chalk symbols turn blue and start to glow. The pain in your head worsens.

It worked you think just as the pain becomes too much and you pass out.

[Arthur's note: if you enjoy this story, or any particular chapter in it, please like it. Likes are incredibly powerful in motivating authors to write more and they also show the author what their audiences wants. If there is anything you want to see in this story, please also comment so. I want to write a story that my audience will love, I just don't always know what that is.]