Page 24 of Magic in My Bones

“Some additional translations, if you're up for the challenge,” he'd said with one of his usual warm smiles. “I think you'll find them quite illuminating.”

I'd nodded eagerly, trying to play it cool even as a thrill of excitement warmed me. Professor Crowe asking me to do extra work? It was like being handed a golden ticket to the chocolate factory. Only instead of candy, it was deliciously complex necromantic runes. And okay, maybe Professor Crowe was a more mysterious wizard than Willy Wonka, but still. I was honored that he trusted me with this.

I spread the papers out on the table, weighted down by my latte on one corner and a little ceramic cat figurine on the other.The runes were unlike any I'd seen before, all graceful curves and sharp angles twining together in intricate patterns. They seemed to shimmer on the page, as if imbued with some hidden power.

Grim perched on my shoulder, peering down at the runes with his beady black eyes. He chittered excitedly, his mandibles clicking. I got the distinct impression he was asking if he could eat my homework.

I chuckled, gently bopping Grim on his fuzzy nose. “No snacking on these, buddy. Professor Crowe is counting on me to figure them out.”

Grim let out a disappointed chirp but settled down, curling his caterpillar body around my neck like a living scarf. His soft fur tickled my skin, making me smile. For all his mischievous antics, Grim had become more than just a familiar to me over these past weeks. He was a true friend, a constant companion who somehow always sensed when I needed a bit of extra warmth and comfort.

I took a sip of my latte, savoring the creamy sweetness shot through with the spicy kick of cinnamon and nutmeg. The first taste of pumpkin spice was always the best, like taking a big bite out of fall itself. It never failed to make me feel cozy and content, wrapped up in the simple pleasures of the season.

Picking up my pen, I began to carefully copy the runes, my hand moving in smooth, practiced strokes.

As I worked, my mind drifted to Professor Crowe. Dorian. His name felt like a secret on my tongue, one I rarely dared to speak aloud. He was brilliant, enigmatic, and unfairly gorgeous, with his chestnut hair and piercing green eyes.

From the moment I first saw him in the hallway, I'd been captivated. The way he spoke about necromancy, with such passion and reverence, made my heart flutter in my chest. Hehad a way of making the macabre beautiful, of finding light in the darkness.

And the way he looked at me sometimes, with that soft, knowing smile... I wanted to believe that there was more there than a teacher student relationship, even if it would’ve been inappropriate.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the distracting thoughts of Professor Crowe. I needed to focus on the task at hand. These runes weren't going to decipher themselves.

I bent over the papers, my brow furrowing as I studied the complex symbols. Each graceful line and sharp angle seemed to dance before my eyes, the shapes both foreign and achingly familiar. Some looked like they'd been written in ink that shifted color depending on how the light hit it. Others seemed to have been scribed with something darker, the strokes carrying a weight that made my fingers tingle when I traced them. There was something almost organic about the way they flowed together, like the branching patterns frost makes on windowpanes, or the delicate lacework of spider webs in the moonlight.

The longer I stared at them, the more they seemed to whisper at the edges of my consciousness, like spirits trying to catch my attention. Whatever this spell was, it carried echoes of old magic, the kind that lived in forgotten graveyards and ancient bones. It was like trying to recall a half-forgotten dream, the details slipping away like mist between my fingers.

But as I began to transcribe the runes, letting my pen flow across the page, something shifted. The shapes started to make sense, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. I could feel the power thrumming through each stroke, an ancient magic that set my blood singing.

This was the thrill of necromancy, the heady rush of touching the veil between worlds. It was like being let in on a cosmicsecret, privy to the whispers of the dead. With each rune I copied, I felt more attuned to the ebb and flow of spiritual energy, the delicate balance of life and death.

I recognized some of the symbols, like the curling spiral of the soul, the jagged bolt of the body. But there were others I'd never encountered before, runes that seemed to bind and braid the two together in intricate knots. It was as if the spell was weaving a tapestry of spirit and flesh, creating something entirely new.

The more I studied the runes, the more I realized just how complex and advanced this spell was. It went far beyond the basic principles of soul transference and resurrection that we'd been learning in class. This was high-level necromancy, the kind of magic that could rewrite the very fabric of life and death.

I could only make out bits and pieces. I deciphered a symbol that represented the flow of energy between realms, another that spoke of balance and exchange. But large portions of the spell remained frustratingly opaque, the meaning dancing just out of reach. It was like trying to read a foreign language with only a rudimentary grasp of the alphabet. I could sound out the words, but the deeper meaning escaped me.

Still, I couldn't help but be drawn in by the sheer elegance of the composition. The way the runes flowed together only for the pattern to break apart on the next line… It was almost as if someone had intentionally scrambled things, like looking at a line of corrupted code. I didn’t know exactly what the spell did, but even I could tell that something about it wasn’t quite as it should be. Like its purpose had been transformed somehow.Twisted.

Grim chirped curiously, his antennae tickling my cheek as he leaned in for a closer look. I smiled, scratching him gently under his furry chin. “Looks like Professor Crowe really challenged us this time, huh, buddy?”

Just then, the bell over the cafe door jingled merrily, announcing a new arrival. I glanced up to see a group of Blackstone students come through the door, all laughing and chatting with one another.

I watched as the students made their way to the counter, a colorful whirlwind of cozy sweaters, artfully ripped jeans, and boots crunching on the hardwood floor. They looked effortlessly cool, like they'd stepped out of an indie movie about witches at a liberal arts college. I recognized a few of them from my classes. There was Silas, the willowy blonde who always had his nose buried in an ancient tome, and Esther, the edgy brunette with a shock of purple in her hair, who sat in the back and doodled intricate sigils in her notebook.

As they waited for their orders, I couldn't help but overhear their animated conversation. They were talking about the upcoming Samhain masquerade, their voices rising with excitement.

“I heard Professor Nightshade is going all out with the decorations this year,” Silas said. “Apparently she's enchanting a whole pumpkin patch to glow in the dark.”

“I can't wait to see that,” Esther replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Have you decided what you're wearing yet?”

Silas grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I'm thinking of going as a plague doctor. What about you?”

“I've been working on a Morrigan costume,” Esther said, practically bouncing on her toes. “I found this amazing feathered cloak at the thrift store, and I'm going to make a headpiece with raven skulls.”

Their excitement was infectious, and I found myself wondering what the masquerade would be like. I imagined the Great Hall transformed with shimmering jack-o'-lanterns and swirls of enchanted mist. Everyone dressed in their most elaborate costumes, music and laughter ringing out beneaththe starry ceiling. It sounded magical, like something out of a storybook.

But then a flicker of doubt crept in, my old insecurities rising to the surface. Would I even fit in at a fancy event like that? I'd never been to anything so grand, and the thought of trying to come up with a costume that could match the creativity and craftsmanship of my classmates made my stomach twist with nerves.

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