Two days after he had made his choice and agreed to even harsher training from Magnus, Lucas regretted his decisions just a little bit.

  The older man had taken to the task with gusto and had spent that night and the following two nights putting Lucas through the wringer. Just like he’d warned, Magnus didn’t hold back in the spars. He rushed Lucas and went on the offensive, pushing Lucas into a corner and leaving him just as battered, beaten, and bruised as he had claimed he would.

  He drilled the various strikes, counters, blocks, parries, and dodges that Lucas could and couldn’t make with his weapon into the young man’s head, often through painful and repeated lessons. And while the lessons were brutal and painful, Lucas knew he was making progress. Each time they sparred, Lucas was able to last just a couple seconds longer against the man when he attacked.

  To spice things up, Magnus would even change his weapon of choice each time. Sometimes he would wield a staff, other times he would use a sword. That night, Lucas had learned how much a pair of metal tonfas could hurt.

  He hissed quietly as he dragged the damp rag across his bruised arm. Magnus may have been brutal in his teachings, but he wasn’t without mercy. Once they were done sparring for the night, Magnus would send Lucas to take a warm shower and head to bed. The first night it had happened, Lucas found a familiar looking green potion on his bed along with a clean rag and a letter.

  “Soak the rag in the potion and slowly rub it across your wounds. It should be enough to get rid of the bruises by morning. Be ready for the same thing tomorrow. -Magnus”

  He’d found the same potion resting on his bed the following night, and the trend had continued into the next day. Three brutal sparring sessions, three potions to help relieve the pain and leave him ready for more the next day.

  Once more, he was thankful for the strange darkvision that his affinity had given him, as it allowed him to easily see the multitude of welts and bruises covering his chest, arms, sides, and even his legs. With only the moon proving any sort of light in the dark room, Lucas found the grey-toned vision he had to be quite useful.

  He moved slowly, his body aching and protesting as he rubbed the soft, damp cloth over each bruise and small wound. Thankfully, it only took a few seconds for the healing potion’s slight numbing effects to kick in and dull the pain. And once he was done, Lucas bundled up the rag and tossed it in the laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

  Training had gone a bit late that night, mainly at Lucas’ insistence. But he really did need some sleep, especially if he would be visiting his other teacher the next day. Wren hadn’t called for him Saturday or Sunday, so Lucas was fully expecting that he would end up seeing the old woman the following morning or afternoon. And despite his best efforts, he still hadn’t been able to make a proper illusion yet.

  But that could wait. His body was exhausted, and he needed to rest. Sleep first, then he would practice magic in the morning.

  Falling back into bed, Lucas grinned as Dusk curled up against his side. The warmth from his familiar and the softness of his pillow was quick to lure Lucas into the realm of dreams. A few seconds after his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Everything was a blur, the trees flying past as the moon hung high in the air overhead. It illuminated the forest around him, showing the way and revealing both his position and his pursuer’s.

  He could hear the pounding behind him, the sound of impacts against the dirt and leaves scattered across the ground. Even at a full sprint, Lucas knew he would barely be able to outpace the beast.

  He vaulted over a large, downed tree, pouring on even more speed as he noticed the forest becoming less and less dense. The gaps between the trees were increasing. That meant he was almost there, almost safe!

  Behind him, he could hear the shattering of wood and felt the rush as splinters and chunks of the fallen tree flew past his head. The beast hadn’t even stopped to jump over the tree, just plowed right through it. And it meant that it was still right on his tail.

  Finally, the forest ended and Lucas dashed out into the open air of the massive clearing surrounding the city of Helstrum. The thick stone walls, illuminated in the darkness of the night, were like a beacon of safety to Lucas. He just had to get inside the walls, and he would be safe.

  He heard the haunting, booming howl behind him and spared a single moment to glance back over his shoulders. Like the first time he’d seen it, an icy chill of fear shot down his spine as he saw the beast as it charged after him, its acid green gaze locked onto him.

  It was massive, a Direwolf bigger than any he had seen before and built like a tank. The creature was as big as a car, its muscles dense and visible beneath the fur as it stalked him through the forest. And when it had started running after him, Lucas could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet as he’d fled. Those teeth, horrible dagger sized fangs ready to cut through his body and consume him. It was terrifying.

  Lucas ran as fast as he could, sprinting faster than even trained runners could as he cleared the grassy field surrounding Helstrum. He could hear the beast howl again as its paws slammed against the ground with thunderous force. It was catching up, but he could make it, he knew he could!

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  But then he saw the gates, the thick wooden doors of the gates were closed, and there was no one outside the gate on guard. He managed to sprint to the gates, pounding on the doors and screaming, begging to be let in.

  But no one answered his cries for help. The doors stood, a firm obstacle blocking him from safety.

  A hot wind brushed over Lucas, and his body went stiff. He looked back, finding the towering beast standing mere feet away from him. It’s green eyes practically glowed in the night as it stared at him, and it almost looked like the creature was grinning at him as it bared its fangs.

  He was going to die.

  But… He had a weapon. He had a sword! He’d been trained by Magnus, and he knew how to fight! He couldn’t get to Helstrum, but he could fight and kill the beast himself. It was what he’d trained for!

  Slowly, he drew the same blade that he had been working with, the growl of the Direwolf following the motion as it stared him down, as if daring him to actually fight it. It was Lucas’ only chance to live, he had to win.

  He swung with all his might, bringing the blade up in a rising slash aimed right for the beast’s exposed neck. It didn’t even move or try to stop him, and Lucas beamed as his blade connected.

  And then stared in horror as the blade shattered against the Direwolf’s fur.

  Lucas stared blankly at the broken hilt of his weapon, despair sinking in as he realized what was about to happen. And when he looked back up, a drooling maw full of razor sharp, gleaming teeth greeted him.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Lucas just barely managed to muffle the cry of fear as he bolted upright. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wasn’t drenched in sweat this time, at least, but it wasn’t too much of a consolation when Lucas glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and noted that it was only three in the morning.

  The clock was a new addition to the room, something he’d asked Lissa and Magnus if he could get the previous day. They just figured that he wanted to know the time, but the truth was that Lucas wanted to know how early it was whenever he woke from the inevitable nightmares that plagued his unconscious mind.

  Thankfully, Lucas hadn’t woken Dusk up that morning. At some point she’d moved from her spot at his side and he could see the fox curled up at the foot of the bed. He’d been quiet enough that the familiar had managed to sleep through his abrupt awakening. He was getting good at keeping from making a lot of noise when his nightmares woke him, though Lucas wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

  He fell back into bed with a sigh, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. After a minute, he managed to calm his pounding heart and steady his breathing. But unfortunately, he could feel that he wasn’t going to be able to get any more sleep. It seemed like five hours of sleep would be his limit that night.

  With no chance of getting any more sleep, Lucas debated on what to do. There wasn’t a ton that could be done at such an early hour, but Lucas could also see far better than most could in the dark.

  Slowly, so that he didn’t wake Dusk, Lucas sat up in bed and crossed his legs beneath him. His meeting with Wren was sure to be that day, and he hadn’t made nearly enough progress. It may have been hours before he’d planned on waking up, but Lucas wasn’t going to waste his time doing nothing. In the end, he simply looked at it as having a few more hours to practice.

  He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into that deep sea of darkness that represented his mana. A small smile spread across his lips as he felt the comforting warmth. And with a twist of focus, Lucas began to slowly push that mana out, into his palm. He envisioned that same pencil once again, trying to will his mana to take the shape of the small object and create a realistic looking illusion.

  He felt his mana reacting, moving and shifting under his control. But despite his efforts, it never seemed to work. Like all of his prior attempts, Lucas felt like something was wrong, and as he opened his eyes he saw no illusion, just an empty hand.

  “I’m doing something wrong,” He whispered to himself, running through every idea he could as he tried to figure out some different way to create the illusion.

  Illusions, general and targeted, both focused on the senses of people. What Lucas wanted to create was a small, general illusion that anyone could see. And the way that Wren had described it was as if anyone in the area would see the illusion.

  “Area…”

  Lucas’ eyes widened as an idea began to take shape. What if he was going about it all wrong? So far, he had been trying to force his mana to take the shape of what he wanted to make. But it didn’t seem like anything like that could have happened with Wren when she had made that copy of herself. Instead, it had just fully appeared before his eyes, well away from the old woman herself.

  What if, Lucas thought, instead of trying to shape his mana into what he wanted to see, he filled the area with his mana and tried to influence the senses of anyone inside the area. He wasn’t trying to create anything, he was trying to manipulate, to deceive the senses, even his own.

  Mustering his focus, Lucas breathed deeply as he let his mana flow, imagining a bubble of magic deep in his core. He let it grow, slowly swelling it as he pushed a slow trickle of mana into the mental image. He let it engulf his body and spread, growing large enough to engulf the entire bed.

  Dusk twitched in her sleep, seemingly noticing the shift in the air, but Lucas was too deeply focused to notice.

  The bubble was stable, and Lucas smiled as he glanced down at his hand. He opened his palm and imagined, focusing on the familiar image of the same kind of pencil he’d used for years in school. And before his eyes, Lucas watched as the image of a simple, number two pencil appeared in his palm. The image was shaky and blurry around the edges, and he couldn’t feel it, but he could see it, and that was everything that he needed.

  “Finally.”

  He kept quiet, but he couldn’t muffle the soft laughter that erupted from his chest as he looked at the successful illusion.

  He’d done it. He could do magic.

  Lucas glanced at the clock, seeing that only half an hour had passed. He still had hours before anyone else would be awake. The dark-haired teen’s grin grew a bit as he dismissed the illusion, slowly trying to create another bubble of magic around himself. He had hours more to practice, and he intended to use each and every minute.

  He was going to impress Wren when he saw her next.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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