The most obvious rule–the one students tend to offer first–is that mages cannot use the opposing element to their primary. Fire can’t cast water, earth can’t cast air. Simple and obvious.
Every creature that used thaumaturgy followed this rule. Elves, goblins, dragons and their related kin, and even the species of fae that practiced proper thaumaturgy. Most fae used their own magic but often tried to disguise it as thaumaturgy for whatever nonsensical reasons the infuriating creatures came up with.
Yet one of the books Eva lent her had a creature described within that wielded all four elements.
It was an impossibility.
Thaumaturgy was the only magic capable of manipulating the elements. Even the Elysium Sisters only appeared to use air magics. Their lightning bolts were not true lightning.
Zoe herself could do a similar trick. As an air mage, she could perform telekinesis on metal or rock and fling the items around.
With a sigh, Zoe dropped the book into her storage pocket in between. Any time she got the urge to test anything she read in the books, she immediately stopped. It was a dangerous mindset to get into.
The stack of ungraded essays on her desk hadn’t shrunk while she was reading. She pulled the top one in front of her and pulled a red pen out of her desk.
She started working on the essay. Her eyes scanned down the tight, neat handwriting of Jordan Anderson. The analysis of learning nonthaumaturgical methods of magical manipulation that he wrote last semester raised several good points on the subject of ‘dark’ magic and how dark was subjective.
He gave the example of using skeletons and flesh golems as a manual labor workforce. Apart from regular work, the dead could go many places the living would be hesitant to enter. People could have donor check boxes on their identification that would allow their bodies to be used in case of death for the betterment of the living. It would allow a morally acceptable use of necromancy in society.
Controversial views, especially for the son of Governor Alex Anderson, but a valid idea nonetheless.
It was always the younger students that surprised Zoe. She had only been teaching for five years–five and a half now–but it was a pattern that held up for all five years. Older students gave textbook answers, the kind of answers that would get them a passing grade without effort.
That magical theory tended to be a highly disliked subject in comparison to the practical magic classes only compounded the students’ apathy.
So Zoe enjoyed reading the essays of students who had yet to learn ways around the system. Bright students such as Jordan were easily the highlight of her grading periods.
Zoe got to the bottom of the essay she held in her hands three times before she realized she hadn’t read a word.
Leaning back in her chair, Zoe arced her back and stretched her arms over her head.
She stood from her comfortable chair and crossed the room. The one-way wall showed an empty classroom on the other side. As expected from after school hours. A flick of her dagger and the door clicked locked.
The walls of her office tipped backwards and fell into nothingness as the cool embrace of between took hold around her. An empty side street rushed in to replace the white space of between.
Zoe straightened her butterfly tie and walked down a few steps to a well-worn wooden door. With a gentle push on the brass handle, the door opened without the faintest sound of a squeaky hinge.
The room beyond was warm even in the middle of February. The dark oak bar and tables, backed with red brick and lit by tasteful orange lights, only added to the warm atmosphere. Rows and rows of bottles rested on the shelves behind the bar.
A young man in a white shirt and black vest stopped washing down one of the tables as the bell on the door chimed. He looked surprised for a moment before kindly smiling. Simply seeing his charm filled smile vanished most of Zoe’s tension and worries.
“Zoe,” Tom said, “I haven’t seen you in a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just a little unwinding,” Zoe said.
“Ah, I know just the drink for that.”
“A small one, I do have work to get back to.”
He moved behind the counter and pulled off a handful of bottles. “Technically, I’m not open yet. I think I can make a small exception.”
“I appreciate it,” Zoe said as she moved to one of the stools in front of the bar.
She watched as he mixed her drink. Tom even put on a small show by flipping the bottles and the mixer, almost juggling them. He tossed one behind his back and caught it on his elbow while he poured with his other hand. The bottle on his elbow tumbled off, spilling just enough into the tin before he caught it.
