Sorcerer's Shadow

Chapter 3: Sorcery

I looked up at the cloudy veil that cloaks the Imperion Empire, without a hint of the brilliant orange-red sky my grandfather had spoken of from his Terran homeland. He often described the starlit nights, and I experienced them vicariously through his shared visions.

He had the unique ability to share his thoughts with me, which was an integral part of his teachings on sorcery. It was this education that led me, a sixteen-year-old, into the jungle.

Despite being overcast, the sky lit the jungle enough for me to navigate. I dismissed the minor scratches from the foliage on my face and arms. Gradually, the nausea from the blink teleportation that had transported me here subsided.

There was a noticeable irony in using Imperion magic to place me where I could further my understanding of Sorcery. I adjusted my backpack and stepped into a clearing.

This clearing seemed suitable. The rough circular area was covered with dense grass extending about forty feet. I cautiously examined the surroundings, my eyes darting around to detect any hidden traps, like a Fenxera's net.

After confirming the clearing was vacant, I moved to its center and unloaded my pack. I extracted a small black brazier, a bag of coals, a single black candle, an incense stick, a deceased Baku, and a few dried Thorncreeper plant leaves, considered sacred by certain Terran religions.

Carefully, I crushed the leaves into a rough powder and sprinkled it around the perimeter of the clearing.

I returned to the center and practiced a relaxation ritual, achieving a near-trance state. With my body relaxed, my mind had no choice but to follow suit. When I felt ready, I arranged the coals in the brazier, one by one, feeling their form and texture, letting the soot mark my palms. In Sorcery, every action can be a ritual. Proper preparations before an enchantment can significantly increase the odds of success, compared to merely casting one's mind onto the desired result and hoping for the best.

There was something uniquely satisfying about performing Sorcery, different from the usual Wizard's magic.

Once the coals and incense were set, I focused my gaze on the candle's wick, urging it to ignite. I could have used a flint or simple magic, but this method helped attune my mind better.

Perhaps the ambience of the jungle night was favorable for Sorcery; within a few minutes, I noticed smoke spiraling up from the candle, soon followed by a small flame. It was reassuring that I didn't feel any mental fatigue usually associated with performing a significant spell. There was a time, not too long ago, when such an act would have left me too drained even for telepathic communication.

I'm absorbing your teachings, Grandfather.

Next, I utilized the candle to ignite the coals, imposing my will to kindle a hearty fire. Once it was roaring well, I planted the candle on the earth. The sweet, soothing aroma of the incense wafted up to my nostrils. I shut my eyes, secure in the knowledge that the circle of crushed Thorncreeper leaves would deter any wandering animals from interrupting my ritual. I waited patiently.

After an indeterminate period, I opened my eyes.

The coals were softly aglow, the air filled with the scent of incense, and the jungle sounds held at bay beyond the clearing. I was prepared.

Fixing my gaze into the depths of the coals and synchronizing my rhythm with my breaths, I intoned the incantationuttering each word slowly and meticulously, as per my grandfather's instructions. I dispatched each word into the jungle, with the aim of reaching as far and as lucidly as I could. This was an ancient spell, untouched over the millennia in the Terran lands, as my grandfather had shared.

I obsessed over each word, every syllable, exploring its nuances, savoring the unique sounds it made in my mouth, and compelling my mind to comprehend the significance of the thoughts I was transmitting. Each word, once spoken, left an imprint on my consciousness, seeming to take on a life of its own.

The final echoes gradually faded into the jungle night, taking a fragment of my essence with them.

Now, the fatigue was palpable. As was typical after performing such powerful spells, I had to be cautious not to lapse into a deep trance.

I took deep, even breaths. In an almost somnambulistic state, I picked up the lifeless Baku, positioning it at the clearing's edge, visible from my sitting position. Then, I waited.

Only a few minutes had passed when I detected the fluttering of wings nearby. I opened my eyes to spot a Vorgan near the clearing's edge, next to the deceased Baku, its gaze locked on me.

We observed each other for a moment before the Vorgan cautiously approached the Baku and took a small nibble from my offering.

If it was a female, its size was average; if male, it was slightly large. If my spell was successful, it would be female. Its wingspan was roughly from my shoulder to my wrist, slightly less from its vulpine head to tail tip. Its teeth delicately grazed over the rodent, sampling each part before tearing off a morsel, chewing, and swallowing. It ate unhurriedly, maintaining eye contact.

As it neared the end of its meal, I began to ready my mind for telepathic connection and dared to hope.

It wasn't long before I sensed a tiny, probing thought within me. I allowed it to flourish until it became clear.

"What do you want?" The question resonated within me with startling clarity.

This was the critical moment. If this Vorgan had responded to my spell, it would be a nesting female, and my next suggestion wouldn't incite an aggressive reaction. However, if it was merely a passing Vorgan attracted by the available carrion, I might face danger. I had a few antidotal herbs for the Vorgan's venom, but their efficacy was uncertain.

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