Professor Sarah Goldman was a tiny wisp of a woman. Maybe an inch away from five feet and a buck-fifteen if you dumped a gallon of water on her. Her hair, which would have been a normal, curly brown ponytail on any other woman, touched the small of her back. Her arms were defined. Andrea could see that even from her spot in the back of the gym, but were not at all big. All of this made the idea of her tearing a hole through a brick wall with a punch, laughable. But yet, here they were, watching a petite, action figure of a woman do exactly that.
Andrea could tell who was from a magic family by how big their eyes got watching this scene—and even though she knew that Aisling came from a sorcerer family, watching her wear the same old smile on her face that she would have whenever having a mundane conversation with Andrea was a little disconcerting.
Professor Goldman turned to face the class, her expression stern and cold. Whereas her body and power were at odds, her face fit to a T. Her eyebrows were thick and angled downwards at all times. Her petite nose was always scrunched and her thin lips were a straight line that never once—neveronce—threatened to smile.
"That," Goldman said, her voice cold and smooth. "Was reinforcement. Show of hands, how many of you understand the concept of reinforcement?"
Out of a class of twenty-eight, maybe only seven hands went up—one of them belonging to an excited Aisling.
"Ms Ryan," Goldman said, and Aisling grinned.
"Yay! Hi Professor. Okay, so reinforcement is shrouding your body in your magic and aura."
The Professor snapped her fingers. "Exactly. Thank you, Ms Ryan. Yes, what I just did was cover my body in magic, and that allowed me to demolish a wall that would otherwise have broken my hand."
Andrea had spent the entire morning trying not to let her aura flow out. But it was just her luck that the first lecture was about releasing her magic and showing everyone how weak she was.
"Now, those of you who are from non-magician families may be impressed by that. But those like Ms Ryan know that there is another level to this."
Andrea was not sure what she was looking at, but Professor Goldman's fist seemed to be…shimmering—kind of.
"Whereas my first example was just shrouding my body equally in my magical aura, there is another level to it. Any takers as to what this is?"
Again, the same seven hands went up, but this time the Professor shook her head.
"Yes, you lot are clever boys and girls. But perhaps someone who didn't have the privilege of growing up in the world of magic."
The hands fell, and what was left were twenty-one students looking anywhere but the intense eyes of a woman who looked like Andrea could put in her pocket.
"You," she said, pointing at Zoya, a girl who was the only daughter of a Pakistani family that had immigrated to England a few years ago.
Zoya looked like she had been struck by lightning, and would have stuttered a lot longer were it not for Goldman's interruption, "Better to be wrong than hesitant," the Professor said, "So come on girl, say something stupid."
Jesus Christ…
"You put a lot more of your magic into your fist than anywhere else," a boy named Anthony said. He was from a magician family, Andrea thought, but apparently not a prominent one, as the recognition for it was not there like for Aisling's or Arthur's. Anthony was boyishly handsome, with a cheeky smile, cleft chin and big, blue eyes beneath a curly chestnut nest of hair.
It was the first time she had ever seen Goldman smile, and Andrea prayed that she never saw it again.
"Aww, a hero?" she laughed. "Introduce yourself to me, hero."
"Anthony, Anthony Masters," he said, and it was the first time Andrea noticed hesitation in him.
Damn, he said something dumb and hesitated…
Professor Goldman nodded her head, her smile now gone, "Good save, Mr Masters. Yes, I have concentrated my magic into a fist. This," she said, turning to throw a punch towards the class that blew Andrea's head back despite standing towards the back, and sent several students in the front who had been caught off guard tumbling.
She gave them a moment to regain their composure before looking towards Anthony, "Mr. Hero. Do you know the three spheres of magic?"
He had regained his composure too, and his confidence returned, "Mind, Soul and Body."
"Correct," she nodded, before finally returning her attention back to the rest of them, "And all three spheres have their perfectum, that sphere of magic being realized to its full potential, and perfected by the individual. The Mind has the sicut respiratio, the Soul has the animus, and the Body has the Una unda – the One-Wave. Mr Balden, tell us what the One Wave Hit is."
Arthur stepped forward. He was a lanky boy; with honey blonde hair neatly cut into a taper, and hazel eyes that stared forward and only forward. His face was a little gaunt and hollow, but he seemed nice from the little that she had observed of him.
"The One-Wave Hit is where every ounce of one's magic is filtered into a fist just as a punch lands."
Goldman nodded, now walking through the students, observing each and every one of them. "Good. Yes, the One-Wave Hit, or just the One-Wave, is the perfection of the physical form of magical combat. Observe."
Andrea took a step back as Goldman's presence became suffocating. Even Aisling grew uncomfortable being around Goldman, taking a big step back with her. A cow was brought in as Goldman spoke, thrashing around the closer it got to their Professor. "I will try and show you this form of magic."
Andrea thought it impossible to hit the cow from where Goldman stood, but within a blink of an eye, Goldman stood in front of a destroyed wall that was covered in blood, bone, and viscera. The sound hit her a second before the visual, and Andrea felt like, for a moment, she was in the middle of a tornado.
This time, there were no straight faces. Basic bitches and uppity magic kids both were shook by what they just saw.
"I have been alive for ninety-seven years," Goldman said, as she turned to face them again. "And spent eighty-four of those years training to strengthen my body and perfect my craft. I know that a foe that sees me will underestimate me, and so my first attack, must be my best. That is why I have trained, almost every single day, to be able to land a One-Wave Hit."
She flexed her hand in front of them, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes sad, "And yet… I've only ever landed a One-Wave Hit once in my entire life. In all ninety-seven years lived, in all seventy-four years of training. I have only achieved that perfection once."
Andrea's eyes went wide. What. The. Fuck? So that punch wasn't even it?!
She put her hand away and her coldness returned as she looked back towards the class, "That is the price of pursuing perfection, true magical perfection. There are thousands of magicians who have mastered a form of magic to have it qualify as a sicut respiratio. There are hundreds of sorcerers with an animus. But there are maybe a dozen people alive who have landed the One-Wave. An attack in which human physicality must meet magical aura, in exactly the same moment. All of it witnessed by the Source…"
She looked at them with an intensity that seemed inhuman to generate, "That is the cost of mastering this magic. But those are the benefits of physical combat. Can anyone tell me the weaknesses?"
It took a while for hands to go up before Goldman nodded at a girl Andrea did not know, "Ms Jomi. Explain yourself."
"Yes Professor," Maisey said, her voice sounding like a bell. "Concentrating magic means you have less magic to defend yourself."
Goldman nodded her head, "Good. Exactly. There are advantages to concentrating punches, and disadvantages to them as well. Shrouding your body in magic makes your strikes weaker, yes. But it leaves your body protected should your enemy counter you and telegraphs your attacks less."
The Professor showed them her shimmering fist again, "And it drains less energy as well. Concentrating punches makes you more of an offensive threat, but more vulnerable to returns. It is no different to power punching in boxing, but with wagering."
Their professor noted her raised eyebrow and Andrea gulped, "You there," she said, and Andrea stepped forward, "Professor?"
"You seem confused."
Andrea tried not to wilt at the sounds of giggles coming from her classmates, "Uh, yeah, but only a little!"
Goldman waited for her to expand on that point, "I mean… the whole wagering thing."
The Professor rolled her eyes and stepped closer towards the crowd, and Andrea took a step back.
"What do you know of the Source?"
She quickly searched through her memories with Julian, which was not her idea of a good time, before returning to the carriage with Mr Nothing.
"The Source connects to all life. It gives us life when we are born and starts to take it back when people stop growing and start ageing… right?"
Andrea was surprised to see Professor Goldman nod her instead of reprimanding her for delivering the barest of bare minimum.
"Okay, expand upon this."
Fuck, "Okay, uhm… the Source is like the ocean. I guess. Like how waves slam on the turf and the tide returns the water to the sea."
Her Professor's expression was less positive this time, and so Andrea scrambled, "I mean like, the Source is the wave, and we are the turf. It gives, but eventually takes back. And in this exchange, when it takes back, it takes not only our lives, but our personality, dreams and being. By giving to humans, it entirely becomes human..."
"A clunky metaphor that is overly poetic," Goldman said, eyeing her for a moment. "But a sound enough explanation. Good. What is your name?"
"Andrea," she answered at once, "Andrea Salem."
One of her bushy eyebrows was raised, "A magician with the surname of Salem?"
"Yes ma'am."
She shrugged and walked back to the front of the class, "For those of you who do not know, Ms Salem's answer was correct. The Source, after thousands and thousands of years being forced to intake human emotions and personality, has one of its own. What that is, is never consistent, but it is there. The Source appreciates the concept of give and take."
Aisling nudged her shoulder encouragingly, and Andrea could not help but smile back.
"In essence, the more you risk, the more you are rewarded. So a concentrated strike that is you going all in may just be twice as effective as one is capable of. But that will be for later lectures. Pair up."
Andrea did not have to wonder once who her partner was and so she stood even closer to Aisling as their Professor scanned the group before smirking, "Anthony, our local boy scout. Be a dear, and come here…"
Anthony was right to hesitate, pointing at himself before moving to the front of the class.
"Now, class, pay attention," Goldman stood facing Anthony. "Most fighters resort only to shrouding, with concentrated strikes serving as either a finishing move or a means of last resort. Today, I wish for you to master shrouding."
She smirked up at Anthony, whose chest was level with Goldman's scalp, "And I will show you the importance of this on Mr Masters here. And at the same time, teach him an even more important lesson…"
Anthony looked terrified, "What—"
"Zoya," the Professor said, turning towards the pretty girl in the hijab, "You have a choice to make. Shall I demonstrate the exercise on you, or Mr Masters over here?"
Zoya's big and light brown eyes darted to Anthony, and then to Professor Goldman, and then to Anthony, then— "Fine then, allow me to choose for you, I pick—"
"Anthony!" Zoya said, burying her face in her hands, "I'm so sorry Anthony."
He glared at her before turning to face Professor Goldman, "Keep your sorry, you—"
Goldman was on him before he could finish his sentence, and Andrea was certain that she was about to flatten him when her fist connected on his forearms and it barely made an impact.
"Good," the Professor said, "Just like that. This exercise is about learning to shroud yourself enough to defend yourself. I do not want anyone going crazy and harming anyone. Understand?"
She then turned and looked at Anthony, that evil smirk of hers back on her face, "Remember, hero. At the end of the year, at least two of you in this class are going to fail and die. At least that's what the statistics say. Magic is a selfish art, and this college promotes a selfish curriculum. Worry about yourself, because when the time comes, and it really matters, no one else will."
Damn…
She, the Professor who seemed hard as nails and as cold as ice, mystified Andrea.
"Do you think that she is right?" Andrea asked, and Aisling furrowed her eyebrows before she realized what Andrea was talking about.
Aisling's smile fell away for a moment as she thought about her response, "Goldman is right, kinda. Magic is selfish. We take from a Source that is meant for everyone, and use it for ourselves. To make us stronger, more powerful, and longer-living… And we do it making damned sure that we exclude as many people as possible…"
She cocked her head and said nothing, taking in this new side of her friend who seemed so… serious, and mature… is this really my Aisling?
It was another reminder that Andrea did not know her, not really, anyways. It's only been a day and some change, if that, she thought, and we're from entirely different worlds. How can I say—
"I'll go first!" Aisling grinned, "Which one do you want? A punch or a kick?"
Andrea frowned, "First of all, Bruh, who said you're going first? And secondly—"
"Punch it is!" Aisling smiled and Andrea yelped, barely getting her guard up in time.