The magical circles carved into the stone began to glow. Intricate geometric patterns, symbols, formations that she'd seen in his books but never up close like this. They surrounded her completely, a maze of glowing lines and perfect curves.
"These are basic magical formations," Dravin continued, his tone back to that lecture voice. "Observe them. Study their structure. Replicate them as best you can."
You want me to draw these?
"Your baby hands won't be able to produce anything accurate. That's not the point. The point is to train your mind to think in patterns. To understand magical geometry and internalize structure." He turned to leave.
Wait—that's it?! That's the whole training?!
"Draw, Hania. Every day, until you can reproduce these patterns from memory." He walked toward the door.
But I can't even hold chalk properly! My hands are too small! This is impossible!
He paused in the doorway, looking back at her over his shoulder. "Enjoy your learning," he said. And then he was gone.
She lay there on her stomach, surrounded by glowing circles she couldn't hope to replicate, staring at a piece of chalk that her baby hands could barely grip. I hate this so much.
But what choice did she have? This was her life now. She grabbed the chalk. It took three tries because her fingers kept slipping. When she finally had a grip on it, she dragged it across the stone. It made a pathetic squiggly line that looked nothing like the perfect glowing circle two feet to her left.
She tried again. Another squiggle. Her hand was already cramping. This is going to take forever.
By the end of the day, she had managed to draw exactly three shapes that could be called "circles" sort of.
Her fingers and arm hurt. Her neck hurt from holding her head up to see what she was drawing. Every muscle in her tiny body was protesting.
When Kofery came to collect her, he stopped in the doorway, "Oh, little moon." He rushed over, kneeling beside her. "What did Master make you do?"
She was covered in chalk dust. Her face, hands, clothes, everywhere. There was chalk dust in her hair. She looked up at him and whimpered.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said gently, picking her up. "Then dinner and bed. You've had a very long day."
You have absolutely no idea.
He carried her to the nursery, cleaning her hands with a warm damp cloth that felt like heaven against her aching fingers. Fed her milk. Changed her into clean clothes. Settled her into the crib. Then he pulled out a book. "Bedtime story!" he announced with a cheer.
Oh no.
He opened it. "Fundamentals of Mana Theory: A Comprehensive Introduction."
Kofery. No. Please.
"Chapter One: The Nature of Magical Energy and Its Relationship to Physical Matter." He started reading with his gentle voice which he always used with her.
She'd spent all day drawing magical circles until her hands cramped. She absolutely could not handle mana theory as a bedtime story. She squeezed her eyes shut. Forced her breathing to slow and deepen. Let her body go completely limp.
Please believe it. Please think I'm asleep. Please...
"Oh!" Kofery's voice went soft. "You're sleeping already. Good. You need rest after... whatever Master put you through today."
The book closed with a gentle thump. She felt him adjust her blanket, tucking it around her carefully. "Sweet dreams, little moon." His footsteps moved toward the door. It opened. Closed with a click.
She waited a full minute, counting the seconds, before opening her eyes. Finally.
The magical stars Kofery had conjured still floated above her crib, drifting in lazy circles. They cast soft purple light across the ceiling, peaceful and quiet.
She flexed her fingers. They were still sore. The joints ached. Her palm had a red mark from gripping the chalk too hard.
What an exhausting day. My hands are killing me. This is ridiculous. I'm supposed to be learning magic, not medieval art class.
A sound interrupted her internal complaints. She dismissed it immediately. Kofery's probably organizing his books again. He does that when he's stressed.
But then she remembered: Kofery never worked in her nursery while she slept. He always left to give her quiet.
The sound came again, closer this time. Her eyes snapped toward the corner of the room. A shadow moved. Then stepped into the light.
A beautiful woman that made her brain short-circuit. Long dark hair that shimmered like it had stars woven into it. Pale skin that seemed to glow faintly. Eyes too large, too luminous, colored like honey, molten gold. She wore a dress that looked like spider silk, moving around her like it was alive.
When she saw Hania was awake, she smiled. "Hello, baby." Her voice was musical, like bells. "Why are you still awake? Good babies sleep early."
Hania stared. She wasn't thinking who is this or what is she doing in my room or should I be scared. Just one thought filled her entire mind: Beautiful. She reached her hand out instinctively.
The woman's smile widened. She moved closer to the crib, leaning over the railing. "Oh my! Do you want me to carry you?" She extended her hand toward Hania.
That's when Hania saw the nails. They were too long and sharp. Each one curved slightly, tapering to a point like a blade. They gleamed in the starlight. The woman's hand descended toward her face.
I take back what I said earlier. I very much take it back.
The woman's clawed hand kept descending toward her face. Hania's brain finally caught up with her eyes.
Claws. Those are claws. ABORT. ABORT MISSION.
Panic flooded through her. The woman was still smiling that sweet smile, completely unaware that Hania had just mentally categorized her as a potential threat.
"Come here, little one," she cooed, her clawed fingers reaching for Hania's cheek.
NO. NOPE. NOT HAPPENING.
Hania tried to teleport, just like that time when she'd been angry and desperate to see her father. Just push the mana out, want to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but nothing happened.
The God-damned seal her father had put on her mana. She could feel it there, that barrier between her and her power, keeping her locked away from the ocean of magic that should have been hers.
FATHER, I'M GOING TO HAUNT YOU FOR THIS. I'M LITERALLY ABOUT TO BE ASSASSINATED AND IT'S YOUR FAULT.
TRUE BEAUTY IS LETHAL AND YOU LEFT ME DEFENSELESS.
She pushed harder against the seal, desperately. The ten percent of mana she still had access to surged in response. Not enough to teleport, but enough to do something. Her body lifted off the crib mattress. Just floated up, hovering a foot in the air, right as the woman's clawed hand reached the spot where her face had been.
The woman froze. Blinked those huge golden eyes and stared at the floating baby. "Oh my," she said, her voice caught between surprise and delight. "Oh MY."
Hania hung in the air, her tiny arms and legs flailing slightly, her baby body having absolutely no idea how to control this new vertical situation. This is better than being face-stabbed. Now what?
The woman circled the crib, watching Hania float with fascination. "You can fly already?" She laughed. "Of course you can. Of course the lunatic Archmage's daughter can fly at this age." Her tone shifted to bitterness. "That man doesn't deserve you. Doesn't deserve such a cute, powerful baby."
I agree. He absolutely doesn't deserve me. Hania tried to nod but her neck muscles weren't strong enough and her head just flopped to the side.
Which broke her concentration and her floating spell collapsed. She started falling. OH NO—
The woman moved fast. Her hands came up, fingers splayed, and from the tips of those deadly claws shot strands. Spider webbing. Multiple strands shot out, crossing and weaving in mid-air, forming a net that caught Hania mid-fall with gentleness. The web was soft, slightly sticky, and comfortable, like being caught in a hammock made of silk.
Hania lay there in the suspended web, staring up at the woman who was now leaning over her, still smiling.
What... what was that? Did she just—
Did she just spiderman me?! Is there Spiderman in this world?! She looked at the woman more carefully now. Oh. Not Spiderman. A beautiful spider woman.