Class begins, Libarius sitting in his corner as Gracia gives a lecture. He doesn’t find her lecture very interesting; to him it covers things so basic that they come to him naturally. Meanwhile, the students seem either interested in the topic or quite confused by it, though a small contingent of them seem set on not listening at all, or at least giving that impression. In a group are Callidus, Poto, and another student Libarius does not know, and while the unknown student truly doesn’t seem to be listening as the three of them talk amongst themselves, Callidus and Poto seem to twitch at the most vital parts of Gracia’s lecture.

  Libarius finds several ways to keep himself interested. The first, at least, relates to the lecture. As he listens to Gracia, he matches what she says to the work she’s likely taking from. She blends multiple texts together well, and so Libarius has a bit of fun differentiating them. At the same time, he keeps watch over the students, hoping that one will catch his fancy. Lucky is once again absent. He is still too unlucky, or so Callidus reports. This fact irritates Libarius immensely, for he does not believe in anything but pure strength, especially not something as nebulous as fortune. However, he does not know where the dorms are, and as such can do little about this matter. He tries to put it out of mind.

  Libarius turns his attention to the three students he is still yet to work on, Flamma, Flos, and Levo. He watches them more intently as he works through what page a certain idea Gracia presents had been, already having grown bored just of asking which book, hoping one will seem more interesting. However, they remain just as dull as when he last saw them, and the lecture comes to a close before he can make a decision.

  He, Gracia, and all the students then make their way to training fields. As they arrive, Libarius turns to Gracia.

  “Tell me, who ought I train today?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then…” Gracia looks over her shoulder at the students behind her, then chooses one at random. “Flamma.” Libarius taps his cane against the ground as though in agreement, then splits off from the group.

  He waits for a moment, then Flamma is sent to him by Gracia. Libarius looks at her with his unchanging eyes.

  “Now then, cast a proper spell.” Flamma doesn’t understand.

  “A ‘proper’ spell?”

  “Indeed. An interesting one, if you can muster it.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Though Libarius still doesn’t make sense to her, Flamma simply presumes that he means a spell that requires her to incant something, rather than just summon up an image and let her circuitry do the work. She begins to work through the words of a spell slowly. She seems unconfident, scared of making a mistake in the words, though Libarius is able to stave off his boredom some with another game. As he listens to the words of the spell, each new word revealing a new aspect of the image, he works through various verses, looking for one that might summon up a comparable image to the spell. He’s quite entertained by the exercise, having spent the past decade only doing it in the reverse, retrofitting spells into the magic language.

  At last Flamma finishes her chant. Though he already knew the form the spell would take, Libarius still takes an interest in watching, her spell being of fire rather than the electricity she had used in Libarius’ previous tests. Next to Flamma, a figure made of fire emerges. It has the same silhouette as her, though the fire is hardly hot and the figure is wavering. The spell itself is somewhat strange, though in no small part because it has no immediately apparent advantage to it, but in Libarius’ mind that is enough for it to bear greater investigation. And even further than that, forgetting his role as teacher, Libarius wants to test his answer, and wants to experiment with the as of yet mysterious curse upon him. Libarius grins.

  “Lo, the sunbeams that shine down upon us, the flickering fires that bring light to darkness, all nothing more than the shadows cast by heaven.”

  Libarius is pleased by the result of his experiment. In the best outcome he could hope for, his spell is cast, the image given form. A giant figure of a man forms out of fire, its hands held near the center of its body, one overlapped with the other. It towers over Libarius, and doesn’t at all resemble him, but the essential nature of the spell, a person made of flame, remains the same. That the material result of the spell differed so greatly in his attempt is only a greater success in Libarius’ eyes, the limits of his curse showing themselves more clearly now.

  Meanwhile, everyone stops at the sudden appearance of the fiery giant. The flames are so powerful that they can feel the edge of it even from a distance just outside of comfortable listening. The figure is so intricately constructed that even with ever-shifting flames the muscles have a clearly rendered depth. However, it does not move at all. The giant matches perfectly the stillness of its creator.

  With the giant still at his side, Libarius begins to think about it critically. Looking at it, he supposes that to a regular person, such a figure, in both its grandeur and its uncanny features, might be somewhat frightening. Furthermore, he hadn’t even meant for the figure to come out so detailed, meaning—and Libarius further recalls a similar proposition in a more recent text he was once allowed to read while imprisoned—that the image of a human body is simply incredibly easy for a person to summon up, and so it becomes a spell easier to cast and control with consistency, especially for a less competent mage. He makes the spell disappear, and decides that it is quite an interesting concept, though not one that would serve him well.

  Meanwhile, Flamma falls backwards, a combination of the intense heat and the shock of being upstaged so greatly. Her own spell disappears involuntarily. Libarius, having concluded his experiment, remembers his task and walks over to Flamma on the ground. He taps his cane against the ground several times, just beside Flamma’s ear. Though he ultimately found the concept of the spell interesting enough, he found himself deeply uninterested by her own casting of it. He thinks about where he would like to begin his critique, preparing to point out each flaw as it might manifest in a battle.