ReIgnite

(Innocence: The First Paradigm)

Book 1: An Unwanted Dragon

On the same day that would go down in infamy, the day on which The Traitor murdered Prince Jvaren and half Renand's councillors in a perfectly-executed coup that no one saw coming, there was also another plan being put into action. One much less deadly, but no less carefully conceived.

Alisa Veyara lay facedown on the rooftop opposite her co-conspirator, Sadie. The two girls grinned at each other as their mutual foe approached, unaware that elsewhere their world was being thrown into chaos. Their concern was much smaller in scope.

They each held one end of a spell, power hissing and straining, stretched taut over the street between them as they waited for their nemesis to cross into its range.

Francine LeTanieur strutted down the road as though she owned the place, an air of superiority about her even when she thought herself unobserved. Alisa made a face, pursing her lips and sticking her chin exaggeratedly high in the air, causing Sadie to shake with silent laughter. Her movement set the spell vibrating between them, glints of rainbow light beginning to show through tiny fractures as it warped out of shape.

Alisa immediately turned serious again, tightened her grasp and cycled more power to stabilize the invisible thread of energy.

Sadie made an innocent face, pointing at Alisa with her free hand. Alisa didn’t acknowledge the accusation, but knew it was true. The plan had been days in the preparing, months in its inception. It would be a dreadful shame if she ruined it now with simple incaution.

Alisa leaned forward slowly, twisting carefully to maintain proper tension on the spell thread. A quick check of her target showed that Francine still hadn’t replaced her prized amulet. Alisa smiled triumphantly. The amulet might have saved Francine, so naturally sabotaging it had been the first step in the day’s plan.

She smiled across at Sadie, giving a quick nod once she’d scooted back out of sight.

No one else was coming. Time to put the last piece in place.

Gently, they payed out the slack on the spell, letting it stretch and drift lower toward the ground. A brief tug, and they released and let the thin thread tangle around the one who’d stepped into it all unsuspecting.

It was torture, waiting until they were sure Francine had passed by to look again, but when they finally leaned eagerly forward, their target had continued on past entirely unaware that she was now entangled with the power trigger that would spell her doom.

As soon as Francine was out of sight, the two girls shimmied down from their respective roofs, met in the center to exchange fist bumps of congratulation, then set off at a run to make it back to school by the longer route before Francine made her grand appearance.

They absolutely had to be there to see the result of all their careful planning.

Alisa was so caught up in her anticipation that she failed to notice the crackle of magic over the palace district, dismissed the faint flavor of burnt honey in the air.

Sadie lagged behind, pausing to frown at the sky.

“Come on, hurry up!” Alisa insisted, and Sadie hurried after her.

“Does something feel a bit off to you?” Sadie asked.

“Only your sluggish feet!” Alisa giggled and ran faster. Sadie raced after her.

The two girls arrived at the gates of the Renand Grand Academy of Higher Magic breathless and laughing. Though Alisa could outrace Sadie in short bursts, her friend had much better endurance, and they’d arrived at nearly the same instant.

Hastily absenting themselves from the front entrance, they split up to check the spell triggers they’d painstakingly carved on either side of the gate. If a custodian had discovered them in their absence, the whole plan would be ruined.

Alisa found the tiny circle packed tight with powerscript, checked it against her mental blueprint and found it to be perfect. Exhaling with relief, she waved at Sadie in the affirmative, receiving a frantic wave accompanied by desperate head-shaking in return.

Alisa’s spirits plummeted. Though she was already out of breath, she pushed herself into a sprint. They had, perhaps, four minutes until Francine would enter at these same gates; three if her estimate of time was lacking. If all was not in readiness, the opportunity would be lost irreparably, for Francine may be deceived once but was cunning enough to never fall for the same ploy a second time.

“What is it?”

Sadie gestured frantically to the circle, and Alisa leaned closer to look. She cursed, seeing at once the flaw Sadie had detected. Some chance spell must have flown awry, for a chip of stone had broken away and left the powerscript marred. It would leak dreadfully, and probably not even accomplish its given purpose.

“Do you have a stylus?" Sadie asked frantically. "I left mine in my desk!”

Alisa fumbled at her bag and pulled out her stylus. The crystal-tipped instrument vibrated for far too long a moment as it slowly re-attuned to her power levels, then the point lit up indicating it was ready for use. Alisa leaned forward, tracing the circle deeper into the stone with as much care as she could manage through the internal screaming of hurry hurry hurry!

Sadie paced behind her, making small noises of concern, but Alisa tuned her out and focused on the circle. Fortunately, only three of the lines were impacted by the damage, and she was able to replicate them from memory.

She felt the moment the break sealed, the power running through the stylus encountering resistance as it traced against an active powerscript, and she sat back in relief.

“She’s coming!” Sadie hissed, and Alisa's relief immediately translated back into panic. They ran for cover behind the ornamental bushes by the lecture hall, peering out through the branches to watch their nemesis round the corner and step into the academy grounds.

Chin high in the air, strutting like she owned the world, Francine crossed the threshold of the spell designated by the circles.

Their effect was one-time use, a complex illusion that had required the better part of three weeks to perfect - and many late nights of laughing at each other as they tested it out - which would only impact someone who carried the matching spell thread. Otherwise, it would go off the first time anyone entered and, more importantly, be detectable by anyone. As hilarious as it would be to see the effect of their trap on a teacher, the most likely outcome would be its silent dismantlement before anyone got to see its results.

And the results were glorious.

Behind Francine, swaying with her every step, sprouted an unmistakable rooster tail nearly as tall as herself. Atop her head a bright-red comb clashed terribly with her auburn hair. And, the crowning achievement, hanging beneath her upraised chin swung the most magnificent wattle.

It was all the mischievous pair could do to stifle their laughter. They’d known it would work, planned every detail, but until seeing it in its completion they hadn’t been absolutely sure Francine mightn’t have some other protective token about her in case her amulet failed.

Francine strutted into the building; Sadie and Alisa followed at a reasonable distance, trying not to fall over from laughter. It didn’t take long for the other students to take notice of Francine's new look.

Titters and giggles followed the LeTanieur heiress through the halls, until she finally seemed to notice the unwanted attention. She stopped, hands on hips, and Alisa quickly slipped into an empty classroom to escape notice, Sadie right behind her.

“What are you all laughing at?” Francine demanded shrilly, her voice echoing.

“Y—your—” someone sputtered between helpless giggles, sending the instigators into equally tumultuous rounds of silent mirth.

Francine’s scream of fury was every bit as satisfying as the renewed laughter from her peers.

Of course, Francine immediately fled to a teacher to have the spell deconstructed, but the damage was done. Rumors and laughter spread in her wake, and she grew more and more coldly furious every time Alisa saw her.

She clearly knew it was them. She glared at Alisa or Sadie whenever she saw them with a hatred even more intense than usual. But without even a shred of evidence, her favourite trick of setting the authorities on them wouldn’t work.

Your move, Prancy Francy, Alisa thought gleefully.

But any retaliation from her nemesis would be a long time coming. As they all settled into their seats for the first afternoon class, not every whisper was about Francine’s mishap; not every pointing finger was directed toward the disgraced heiress.

The teacher arrived late, looking flustered and harried. He strode to the front of the classroom, but did not open his books or look at his notes.

“Attention please, students. Classes are canceled for the remainder of the day. Please make your way to the magestorm shelter immediately, and you are to remain there until further notice. There have been reports of high levels of magic discharge taking place within the city.”

Alisa and Sadie exchanged looks, and only then did Alisa recall noticing the faint scorched-honey flavor that heralded the clash of magic and dragonfire.

Wordlessly, she stood and joined the queue of students hurrying toward the stairs. Other classes filed out to join the stream, and before long they arrived at the blue-crystal doors standing open to admit them.

Any other day, a chance to see what lay beyond those mysterious doors would have seemed a marvelous adventure; now a shadow of uncertainty lay over the student body. Not for generations had the fallout shelter been used; its doors had always lain closed and sealed.

Now, as they filed into the well-stocked rooms that imitated the upstairs but for the complete lack of windows, even Francine’s magnificent rooster impersonation felt pale and distant. What should have been a grand victory would be reduced to little more than a footnote.

Over the following days, a handful of students departed with parents who came to collect them, mostly those who were from distant cities far from the chaos.

What form exactly the chaos took, Alisa wouldn’t learn until later. For just over a week, everyone remained in the shelter. Classes resumed, but no one expected them to actually pay attention. Alisa couldn’t bring herself to care about the subtleties of powerscript conjunctions, not when she sat in uncertainty under a city that may be aflame, or perhaps already transformed into the scarred wasteland that remained when the powerful clashed too near.

Then, on the ninth day, word came that the fallout was cleared, the city had survived with only minor damage, and, oh, by the way, the royal family had all been assassinated along with everyone who might possibly have supported them, and now the relatively unknown Lord Ranosiael had declared himself ruler. No one opposed his claim.

Perhaps it was the effect of already having been locked away fearing the worst, or perhaps the news was simply too big to be acknowledged, but instead of panic it seemed to incite a sort of numbness over the student body. If any one of the nobles had been killed, it would have evoked fear; so many at once, and no one knew how to react. It felt distant, almost unreal.

Things began to move very, very quickly after that.

Those students who had family among the prince’s supporters were informed of their losses; many of them departed Renand Academy to take up their inheritances, never to return.

For a few days, everything slipped back towards normal. The halls felt emptier without those who’d departed, but so many things had changed that it only felt appropriate.

Speculation ran rampant. What was going to happen? How had this happened? Were the royal mages complicit? Was the city safe any longer? What would this mean for the future?

They wouldn't have long to wait. Scarcely a week later, the next earthshaking announcement was relayed: Lord Ranosiael had decreed that the kingdom was going to war.

New teachers arrived. Schedules were reshuffled. Things that would ordinarily take months or years to make their way through bureaucracy were cemented in days by specific and detailed decrees.

Everyone not already taking war-magic classes would do so. And every student, regardless of specialty or area of study, would be required to bond with a dragon.

The first shipment of eggs would arrive in two days.

“I don’t want to be a dragon mage!” Alisa bemoaned to Sadie. “Bad enough being a battle mage, but dragons?”

“I don’t think I’ll mind,” Sadie said. “More power is always an improvement.”

“Maybe for you, but I need my control! How am I supposed to come up with anything new if my spells are all transformed into big clumsy exploding things?” Alisa groaned, slumping lower in her seat. “Bad enough to be paired with someone else for life. At least if it were a person you could still do normal things. But a giant lizard? Ughhh, kill me now.”

Sadie mimed stabbing Alisa with her stylus. Alisa responded with patently false convulsions, then flopped limp. It didn’t make her feel any better. She groaned and dragged herself back up into the chair properly. “Dragons. Why?”

Sadie shrugged. “Lord Traitor demands it, we have but to obey.”

Alisa lolled her head over to stare at her friend. “Lord Traitor?” she echoed. “You mean Lord Ranosiael? Shouldn’t you be a bit more discreet?”

“Everyone’s calling him that. Traitor, The Traitor, Lord Traitor, Traitor King. He doesn’t care. As long as we do as he commands, we can call him Lord Slobberface and he won’t do anything about it.”

Alisa snorted into her sleeve. “The Slobberface Traitor.”

“Lord Bumblebritches.”

“Sir Slugstomach.”

“That Ugly Bastard.”

“Slayer of hopes and dreams.”

They continued in this vein for some time, until their creativity was exhausted and they’d thoroughly amused themselves at their new king’s expense. Not that either of them had seen the man in person. By all accounts, after seizing the kingdom and issuing hundreds of pre-planned edicts, he’d immediately gone to the south to prepare the standing troops for the upcoming invasion.

But making mockery of their master did not change the reality of their circumstances.

As Alisa lay in bed that night, watching the distant moon rise behind the silhouette of the city, worry seeped back into her heart.

Dragon Mage. All her studying, all her preparation, setting herself on the path to wealth and influence as a spellcrafter, and now instead she’d be forever bonded to a stupid fire-breathing lizard who’d throw off her magical attunement and leave her incapable of anything more precise than a spear of ice.

Dragon mages were stronger, yes; they were the primary frontline fighters in all magewars for a reason. Even an experienced battle pair could scarcely match a dragon mage for sheer power. But try to create anything more subtle than a meteor and there was a good chance the power would explode rather than coalesce.

She opened her journal to the last page, where her study plan for the next three years had been lovingly inscribed. She very gently tore it free, returned the journal to its place, and lay back down, staring up at the single page that represented her long-held dreams for the future.

But her future was no longer hers to determine. The Traitor had stolen it along with everything certain about the world.

Alisa fumbled for her bag, drew out her stylus, and carefully inscribed the powerscript for destruction across the center of the page, pushing magic smoothly into the lines as she went. Then the script sealed, and she released the flow of power.

The paper flashed once, then dissolved into dust.

Alisa lay in the darkness and quietly wept for the future that would never be.