Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 2 - Aster

My veins are acid. Blood drips out my burning nose, down my lip, and onto the stone floor beneath me. My arms curl around my body as I shrink into a rocking ball, back and forth, back and forth. The pressure building in me increases as the magic shrieks for me to free it, but I cannot complete the spell.

I knew it was too complicated.

A scream echoes through the room, and distantly I realize it's my own. It takes the place of the ancient words of power that I should be speaking. Now I'm drowning in agonizing incompetence, unable to release myself from this prison of pain.

Suddenly, the pain and pressure drain away, slowly at first, then faster and faster until I'm nothing but a broken shell, a failure of a caster. Empty.

The tall magician crouching beside me removes his hand from my shoulder and stands, turning to face me. As if it will shield me from the weight of the failed spell, I stay slumped over, aching body limp. Blood still trickles from my nose, leaving my head light and thoughts slow.

"Aster!" he reprimands.

My head jerks up, dizziness washing across my mind and feeding the black spots dancing through my vision.

He looks at me for a moment, derision and disapproval filling out his sharp features. His cloak sweeps behind him as he paces the austere room.

"You've failed again," he finally growls.

I force myself to straighten and sit cross-legged. Pulling a handkerchief from my cloak, I pinch my nose to staunch the bleeding. Across the room, the wooden ball my spell should have held in place slowly rolls toward the wall, mocking me. My gaze tears away from it and returns to my master.

"I'm sorry, Agraund. I will figure it ou—"

He whips around to face me again. The firelight from one of the ensconced torches flickers across one side of his face, twisting his features into a demonic glower. "Aster!"

I flinch.

"This is the third time you've failed this spell, the third time I've had to save you from it, and the third time you've made such a promise. What makes you think that the next time will be any different?"

"I—I—" I stumble around for words, apparently. The malaise in my thoughts isn't helping, and all I can think is how I want to tell him that although it might not be next time, I will get it right eventually. But I would never dare.

My spine tingles.

"Uncle, I'll do better! I'll work harde—"

"You shouldn't have to work for it at all! You're the upcoming Second Son, next commander of all magicians in Morineaux. You're an adult, seventeen, for Antium's sake. Magic is in your blood. Jacqueline is in your blood. This should come naturally to you. It comes naturally to me, it came naturally to the Second before me, and the one before him. It is your fate, boy, and you need to decide what exactly it is that's keeping you from it. You're supposed to be the greatest magician in all of Morineaux, but you can hardly cast!"