The morning arrived with a cool breeze sweeping through the corridors of Aldaria Academy. Logan walked along the white‑marble halls, his steps echoing softly as he headed to his next class. Beside him, Blake stretched his arms, still recovering from the morning's sword training Professor Darius had assigned.
"Man, my shoulder is throbbing," Blake grumbled, rotating his right arm. "That last exercise was brutal. Who knew swinging a wooden sword could be so exhausting?"
Logan smiled. He knew the feeling well—his hands still tingled from the previous night's combat practice, when he had secretly trained with the Grimoire of Shadows.
They stopped at the entrance to a room Logan had never seen before. Unlike the academy's usual rectangular or circular classrooms, this one was a perfect oval. Smooth, pale stone walls—polished to a soft sheen by the light of crystals suspended from the ceiling—curved around the space. Most impressive, though, was the center of the room.
In the exact middle, a circular platform rose a few steps above the floor. A short woman stood upon it, arranging materials on a dark‑wood table. Concentric rows of benches spread outward in semicircles, giving every student a clear view of the platform.
The professor was striking despite her modest height—about five‑foot‑three. Night‑black hair, braided elaborately, fell over her left shoulder. Her tanned skin glowed under the crystal light. Something in her posture conveyed both authority and kindness, a combination Logan found intriguing.
Blake and Logan took seats in the third row beside Kassia, who was already there, watching the professor with evident curiosity.
"Do you know who she is?" Kassia whispered as they sat.
"No idea," Blake murmured, settling onto the bench. "But I'd bet she traveled far. Look at her clothes."
Logan looked more closely. The professor wore a teal tunic embroidered with gold into intricate, flame‑like patterns. The cut differed from the other professors' attire—more fitted, with flared cuffs finished in what looked like gilt scales.
Other students filed in. Logan recognized Marcus, seated several rows ahead with his usual military posture. Nyx chose a spot near a window; her elven ears twitched, catching sounds others missed.
When the last student had settled, the professor raised a hand. Silence fell—not by command, but by presence.
"Good morning, young mages," she said. Her voice carried an accent Logan couldn't place—melodious, with certain syllables rounded differently. "I am Professor Astrid Hightide, and I will be guiding you through the mysteries of Arcane Invocations."
She paused, her dark eyes taking in each face.
"Before we begin, you should know that I come from Emberath—the Dragon Country—specifically to teach here. The techniques I will share are the fruit of centuries of draconic tradition, adapted for mages in training."
A murmur rippled through the room. Emberath was legendary, known for ancient magical traditions and its proximity to beings of immense power.
"But enough introductions," Professor Astrid continued, pacing slowly around the platform. "Let's get to what matters. Who can tell me what invocations are?"
Several hands went up. She pointed to a girl in the first row.
"Invocations are magics that bring creatures or entities to help us," the student answered, a bit nervously.
"An adequate, if incomplete, answer," Astrid said with an encouraging smile. "Anyone else?"
Marcus raised his hand. "Invocations are a form of magic that establishes a temporary connection between our world and other planes of existence, allowing us to bring beings from those planes to assist us."
"Much better, young Steelheart," the professor approved. "But there are still more layers."
She gestured with both hands, and the room's light seemed to condense around her.
"Invocations are, fundamentally, the art of forming temporary bonds with entities beyond our material plane," Astrid said. "It is not simply about 'bringing' something here. It is about establishing a respectful connection—a mutual agreement—where both parties benefit."
Logan leaned forward, fascinated.
"There are two main types of invocations you will learn," she said, lifting two fingers. "The first are Elemental Spirits."
With a fluid motion of her right hand, small golden sparks began to dance in the air around her.
"Elemental Spirits are beings of pure energy, born from the very essence of the elements that shape our world," Astrid explained. "They excel at controlling fire, water, earth, air, ice, lightning, light, shadow, and more. When invoked, they can drastically amplify a mage's elemental magic or act independently under the invoker's instructions."
The sparks reshaped into tiny, humanoid silhouettes walking on air, each radiating a different hue.
"The second type," she said, lifting her left hand, "are Familiars—intelligent beings that inhabit other dimensions or worlds parallel to our own. They may be magical animals, fantastical creatures, or entities that were once like us. Familiars possess personalities, memories, desires, and will. The relationship with them is more… personal."
A shiver ran down Logan's spine. The way she spoke of Familiars stirred something inside him, as if waking a dormant memory.
"One important thing about Familiars," Astrid added, "is that they return to their home realm after some time—or whenever the invoker or the Familiar decides to end the bond. They are not slaves; they are temporary partners."
Blake whispered, "How do we tell whether we're dealing with an Elemental Spirit or a Familiar?"
"An excellent question, young Frost," the professor said, having clearly overheard. "The key lies in communication. Elemental Spirits seldom speak; they convey sensations, emotions, intentions. Familiars can converse, negotiate, even refuse requests."
Kassia raised her hand. "Professor, is there any way to classify these beings? Some must be stronger than others."
"Absolutely, Miss Grey. As with humans and other magical creatures, there is a classification system for Elemental Spirits and Familiars." She touched a section of wall; golden runes flared, forming a list.
"The tiers, from weakest to strongest, are: Inferior, Superior, Royal, Arcane, and Ancestral."
Logan studied the glowing script. Something about the word Ancestral made the mark on his back tingle.
"An Inferior‑tier Spirit or Familiar can help with simple tasks," Astrid went on. "Lighting a fire, purifying water, carrying light objects—ideal for beginners, requiring less mana and control."
"Those of the Superior tier possess more impressive capabilities: elemental barriers, mid‑intensity attacks, or complex tasks."
"Those of the Royal tier…"—she paused—"are formidable. A Royal Elemental Spirit can devastate battlefields, alter weather over wide areas, or grant access to extremely powerful magic."
"Arcane tier beings are rare, ancient, and incredibly powerful. Few mages in history have summoned entities of this caliber."
"And Ancestral…" She smiled slightly. "For most of us, those are more legend than reality."
Marcus asked, "How do we know which tier we can summon?"
"That is one of the most important questions," Astrid replied. "Your ability to summon—and, more importantly, to maintain—a Spirit or Familiar depends on both its power and your own."
She returned to the platform's center. "If a mage lacks sufficient mana, control, or resolve to summon and uphold, say, a Royal Spirit, the connection will not establish. It's like trying to lift a weight beyond your capacity—you cannot do it until you develop the necessary strength."
Logan nodded. Limits made sense; otherwise any novice could call catastrophic forces.
"Now," the professor said with a bright, anticipatory smile, "I will demonstrate a basic invocation."
She extended both hands, palms up, and closed her eyes. The air around her vibrated with almost‑tangible energy.
"The magic I use is called
Mana condensed, forming small golden whirlpools around her hands. Moisture in the air—the ambient vapor, humidity, even the saliva in students' mouths—drew toward a point a meter before her. A shape took form: first a wavering outline, like heat above summer asphalt, then substance. A half‑meter‑tall humanoid of pure water, surfaces rippling like a tiny river bound to a body, hovered inches above the platform, shedding drops that pooled at her feet.
"This is an Inferior‑tier Water Elemental," Astrid said, offering a hand. "Observe how it responds to intention."
She moved her right hand; the spirit circled the platform. She curled her fingers; the spirit compressed, densifying. She opened them; it expanded, more translucent and fluid.
"Appearance and size vary even within a tier," she continued. "As people differ in height and features, so do the beings we summon."
Blake whispered, "It's like she's controlling living water."
"Not exactly controlling," Logan murmured back, recalling her words. "More like… collaborating."
Astrid smiled. "Exactly, Mr. Black. Not control—cooperation. This spirit chooses to help because we formed a respectful bond."
Logan raised a hand. "Professor, what defines a spirit's strength? Is it just size?"
"Excellent question. It's a combination," she said, as the spirit settled in her outstretched palm. "Intrinsic power and the invoker's capacity. This little one can purify contaminated water, create small pressurized spheres for defense, or aid with precise liquid manipulation. Its limits lie less in size and more in how much mana it can channel and the complexity of tasks."
"If I attempted an Arcane‑tier Water Spirit right now," she added, "I'd fail. My mana would be insufficient to establish—much less to maintain—the connection. Imagine pulling a rope tied to something far too heavy to move."
***
The explanation made sense to Logan—but it also stirred a memory.
He recalled, vividly, one of the few times he had seen his mother, Queen Gália, use offensive magic. Two years earlier, assassins had breached the castle.
From a tower, he watched her raise her hands and chant in an ancient tongue. Shadows flooded the courtyard—spectral wolves, crows of black mist, and others he couldn't name.
Dozens—perhaps hundreds—moved as one to surround and overwhelm the attackers. Among them, some wolves radiated a presence that made the very air vibrate.
***
He lifted his hand again. "Can the same spell summon either many minor beings or a single, stronger one—depending on the need?"
Astrid's eyes brightened. "Precisely.
She gestured; the small water spirit drifted up. Astrid closed her eyes and repeated the incantation with a different intent. Mana condensed at multiple points around the room.
One after another, small spirits formed: a dancing flame, a translucent puff of air, a squat creature of rock and soil, and more.
"Six Inferior‑tier spirits," she said as the beings orbited her. "Each can handle simple tasks; together they're versatile."
With a smooth motion, she dismissed them all but the original water spirit. "Now the contrast."
She concentrated again. The room's pressure deepened; anticipation hung in the air as if reality held its breath. This time, the materializing form was larger—almost adult‑sized—and carried an intimidating presence.
"This is a Superior‑tier Water Spirit," Astrid announced. The difference wasn't merely size: crystalline water seemed to shine from within, movement more controlled, power palpable. The air grew more humid; vapor eddied wherever it moved.
"The difference isn't only visual," she said, sweat beading on her brow as she maintained both manifestations. "This spirit can raise ice barriers, launch pressurized projectiles that pierce armor, and alter humidity over an area large enough to affect local weather."
She dismissed them. "Now, to practice." She distributed small, brown leather‑bound volumes. "These are your basic invocation grimoires. Inside you'll find two fundamental magics:
Logan opened his copy. Thick, yellowed parchment glowed faintly under the light.
"Use
Kassia raised a hand. "Is it better to have one strong affinity or several weaker ones?"
"Both have advantages," Astrid replied. "A strong primary affinity allows more powerful summonings of that element; multiple affinities offer versatility. But they're rarely equal—there is usually a hierarchy: primary, secondary, and so on."
Logan read the instructions for
"You may begin," the professor announced. "Work individually. Don't worry if it takes a few tries—this is a delicate diagnostic."
Blake went first. He extended his hands and recited, "
For a moment, nothing. Then two crystals formed beside his hands: one pale blue, pulsing with cool tranquility; the other translucent white, radiating freshness and motion.
"Ice and water," Professor Astrid said, inspecting them. "A natural combination, Mr. Frost. Your ice‑elf lineage shows." Blake grinned.
Kassia followed—and something extraordinary happened. Instead of one or two, multiple crystals appeared: red (fire), blue (water), brown (earth), translucent white (air), deep violet (shadow), gold (light), and more. Astrid froze, eyes wide.
"Extraordinary," she murmured. "Miss Grey, you display affinities with all the basic elements. This is… extremely rare." A wave of surprise and admiration swept the room. Kassia flushed, secretly pleased. "Is that good or bad?" she asked.
"Impressive—and demanding," Astrid said. "You'll have many paths to explore and will need extra time to discover where your true strengths lie."
Marcus's crystals burned dark red (fire) and gray‑brown (earth), fitting for someone from Eryndark. Nyx's revealed shadow and light—apt for a dark‑elf heritage.
Finally, Logan stepped forward, nerves prickling. What if he had no affinity? Or worse—what if his affinities revealed a nature he preferred to keep hidden?
He took a breath and recited: "
At first, nothing. Then a crystal formed beside his left hand—a purple so dark it bordered on black, pulsing with an energy that made the room's shadows lean toward it.
"Shadow," the professor murmured—not surprised, exactly.
A second crystal appeared by his right hand—silvery‑blue, vibrating with restless, free energy. Small currents of air swirled around it, ruffling Logan's hair.
"Storm," Astrid said, genuinely surprised this time. "Mr. Black, you show affinities for Shadow and Storm. A very… interesting combination."
Logan watched the two crystals orbit him. They felt familiar, like extensions of himself. Shadow resonated with the part of him tied to Fenrir; Storm echoed his hunger for freedom and movement.
"Will summoning other elements be difficult for me?" he asked.
"Not impossible—just more demanding," Astrid replied. "Working outside your natural affinities requires greater effort. You'll likely need intermediaries—magical items that bridge the gap: a fire staff for igneous spirits, an earth amulet for terrestrial ones."
"Does that apply to everyone with multiple affinities?" Kassia asked.
"Yes—and remember: even with multiple affinities, one is primary. It will always feel easier and less taxing to work with your primary element."
Logan studied his crystals, trying to sense which felt stronger. Both pulsed vividly, but the shadow crystal felt more intimate—closer to his core.
The academy bell rang, signaling the end of class. Astrid made a small motion, and the crystals dissolved.
"For next time," she said, "read the first three chapters of your grimoires and practice
She added, more serious, "Remember: invocations are founded on mutual respect and consent. Never try to force a connection. If a spirit or familiar refuses, accept it and try again later—with a different approach."
"You may practice during free time—but only in the designated areas. Dismissed."
In the corridor on the way to the dining hall, Logan, Blake, and Kassia practically buzzed.
"That was incredible," Blake said, still thrilled. "Ice and water—imagine the possibilities. An ice spirit for temporary weapons, a water spirit for defense."
"You're lucky your affinities complement each other," Kassia teased. "I don't even know where to start. All the elements… blessing or curse?"
Logan drifted into thought. Memories of his mother's invocations returned. Now that he understood the art better, Gália's feat seemed all the more staggering—dozens of familiars at once, some clearly Superior or even Royal.
"Logan?" Kassia prodded gently. "You okay?"
"Sorry." He refocused. "I was thinking about what the professor said—about multiple affinities… and about respect."
"Right?" Blake said. "Most magic we've learned is about shaping and controlling energy. Invocations feel like… diplomacy."
"Exactly," Logan said. "It reminded me of something I saw my mother do. She used a massive invocation—dozens of familiars at once."
Kassia stopped. "Dozens? Simultaneously? That must have taken absurd mana and control."
"I didn't grasp it then," Logan admitted. "After today… I realize it was even more impressive than I thought."
Blake nodded. "Makes sense that Queen Gália could do it. Ancestral vampires are known for near‑inexhaustible mana."
Pride warmed Logan's chest. Determination followed. He wanted to master invocations—not just to honor the Black name, but because the art resonated with him.
Fenrir's heritage surely included knowledge of summoning across planes. And now that he'd discovered his affinities for Shadow and Storm, his path felt clearer.
"I can't wait to train," he said as they entered the dining hall. "I have a feeling invocations might be exactly what I need to understand my own nature."
Blake and Kassia exchanged a knowing look. They understood the weight Logan carried as an heir; if invocations could help, they'd support him.
As he sat to eat, Logan couldn't stop thinking about the crystals—the deep violet of shadow and the silvery‑blue of storm. They felt like keys—promises of parts of himself he had yet to unlock.
The Invocations class was only the beginning. His true magical journey was just beginning.