Phantom,
I wonder, do all people have an Affinity? Is every man and woman an untapped magical being? Is everyone simply waiting to Manifest?
I have been reading about the history of magic and it seems sorcery is connected with some of our oldest traditions. I never realized that the mirror that passes from one Head Crone to another was intended to be a vessel for keeping the Mother’s own magic within.
The writing on the Crone’s mirror led me to find a work by a man named Karmingham. He discussed magical transference via conductors and storage via vessels. Is anything a sorcerer touches a magical vessel?
Sincerely, Vhalla Yarl
Some days she would reread the notes. She’d stare at that slanted, tight script and wonder whose hand wrote it. No one ever came forward, from Tower or library staff. The longer the game went on, the more she began to think he really was a phantom haunting the library. She would joke with herself that he was the same man who had been lurking in her dreams for weeks.
Vhalla Yarl,
Your tone has changed. Are you beginning to consider sorcery with something more than your prior ill-conceived, ignorant notions?
I regret to inform you that not all people have a magical Affinity. Most are simply close-minded Commons who fear something only because they do not know and cannot understand it. You are special. Magic has chosen you, and it is time you accept that.
I am impressed that you picked a work like Karmingham and deciphered it. Perhaps something has sunk in these past few weeks.
You are correct; a magical vessel can either conduct or store magic. It is impossible to have an item that does both. But vessels are difficult to create, even for experienced Waterrunners. While unintentional vessels are possible, they are highly uncommon because a sorcerer’s will must be very strong to form one. More often, a vessel is created when a sorcerer leaves a magical trace in something he or she makes. Not true power, but like an inky fingerprint upon a blank page.
The Phantom
Her dreams became a growing problem that Vhalla ignored by daylight. Every night, she dreamed of trying to reach a figure in the darkness. The only explanation was that those dreams were a result of the mysterious notes.
Dear Phantom,
Your praise warms me in an odd way, despite your bleak outlook on the world. I think it should be a sorcerer’s obligation to share magic with Commons, as you seem to call non-magical people, in a way that is easy to understand—like you have done with me.
I am not special. I have never been someone who is special. But perhaps you are right that my tone has changed these past weeks under your tutelage.
Here is my question for you today: Why is it that Affinities seem to prefer geographical regions?
Sincerely, Vhalla
While they continued to exchange notes through the introduction book, Vhalla’s reading now extended far beyond that primer. There were times that she wanted to share her notes with Roan or anyone. But then Vhalla remembered what the writing signified. No one other than her phantom would share her enthusiasm for magic. Well, no one other than her phantom—and other sorcerers in the Tower.
As result, in an odd way, her phantom was becoming easier to confide in and speak openly to than her closest friends. The anonymity fit Vhalla’s inquisitive mind and she found it easy to reveal things about herself.
Vhalla,
Call me bleak; I call you na?ve and optimistic. Shall we deem it even?
I do not praise you to warm you; I praise you so that you may continue to learn. But you may take what you will from it.
No sorcerer seems to know why Affinities favor geographical regions. It is known that the majority of Firebearers are from the West, Waterrunners from the South, and Groundbreakers from the North.
You think you are under my tutelage. Do you consider me your teacher?
Sincerely, The Phantom
Vhalla wasn’t sure how to respond, so she spent that night tossing and turning. If she confessed she had begun to see the phantom as a teacher, did that make her a sorcerer? The girl within her ran in terror at the thought. But after their correspondence began, there was also a budding woman inside her who faced the idea of being a sorcerer with a level head.
Dear Phantom,
Perhaps I do consider you my teacher. The last sorcerer I spoke to drugged me and kidnapped me to the Tower. At least your worse offense is your sharp tongue and that you have not told me your name. Who exactly are you?
You covered South, North, and West. But, what of the East?
Sincerely, Vhalla Yarl
“Vhalla!” Roan gave her a shove as they wandered toward the library from breakfast.
“Roan, sorry, what?” Vhalla mumbled, rubbing her shoulder.
“What is it with you lately?” Roan studied her up and down.
“I’m tired.” The truth of her words seeped into them.