A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1) by D'Artagnan Rey (best romance ebooks txt) 📗

Templar’s somewhat offended scowl by looking away to gesture at the other young man. “If I had to take a guess…I would go with evocation.”

“Is that so?” Wulfsun asked as Devol picked up the last object. “Many majestics are that so it’s a safe bet, but not everyone falls into a class so easily.”

“Agreed, but did you look closely at that blade?” the young apprentice inquired. “That light inside… I might not be a smithy or majestic researcher yet, but that looks like it channels a power source of its own. Many evocation-type majestic have something similar to that.”

“Similar yes,” the giant agreed. “But not quite like it either.”

“So, am I finished?” Devol asked as he put the mace down. “They were all different but none felt quite right.”

Zier nodded. “It would appear so. Did any of them feel unique?”

The boy shrugged. “They all felt about the same, to be honest. I don’t think I had any problems controlling any of them, but I don’t think I was exactly great with any either.”

“Not that I noticed.” The dryad frowned. It would appear that they would find no hints there and he felt a small surge of excitement. This had rapidly become something of a mystery, one he was eager to solve. He beckoned to Jazai, took the scroll from him, and unrolled it. For a long moment, he studied it in silence before he nodded at Devol, who stepped forward hastily.

“So what’s next?” he asked eagerly.

Zier turned, stretched the parchment, and knelt to place it on the ground. “We try to discover the class of your majestic.”

“Class? Like its type or attribute?” the boy asked, his gaze fixed on the scroll as the scholar stood.

“Nice deduction,” Jazai commented. “Think of it as what category the power of your majestic falls under—like cantrips. Usually, this is for the user to see what magic class they are most in tune with to help to choose a majestic or exotic for them. But in this case—”

“We would normally do something like this over a period of time,” Zier interrupted and earned his apprentice’s ire. “You would use these scrolls several times over months or potentially years if you were a novice. Gradually, a symbol would develop on the scroll that indicates your class.”

“Oh, I see.” Devol nodded and regarded the blank page with both excitement and nervousness. “But it won’t take that long for me, will it?”

The dryad shook his head. “You already have a majestic. We are merely trying to find out what it does.” He gestured to the scroll, which was entirely blank, and then at the boy. “Funnel your Mana into it through the blade and it should produce the symbol immediately.”

Without hesitation, he unsheathed his blade and looked from it to the parchment. He would finally have an answer to what the light could do. A part of him felt eager while another part felt a little uneasy, and he did not know how to describe the odd contradictory sensations. So much had been thrown at him so quickly, but he reminded himself that this was the main reason why he’d come. He needed to find the answer as soon as possible so he could look to his future without doubts to hold him back.

“Place your majestic on the page,” Zier instructed.

“Make sure to not stab through it,” Jazai warned.

The scholar shook his head and sighed. “I truly hoped that was self-explanatory.”

The boy nodded and placed the tip of the sword gently onto the scroll, letting his Anima gradually gain power as he transferred his Mana into the blade and through it onto the page. The others gathered closely and awaited the results to see what future this young Magi had in store.

Chapter Twelve

Devol removed the sword from the scroll and bent to pick the parchment up as the others took a step back. He could see nothing other than a faint shimmer of silver from his Mana. Disappointingly, no words or symbols had appeared.

Wulfsun scratched his head, his expression confused. “Did we get a bad one?”

Zier shook his head firmly. “No, even if Jazaiah had chosen a defective scroll, I examined it myself before we started.”

The other boy glared at his mentor. “I think I hear a faint tone of sadness that you can’t blame this on me.”

The scholar brushed his protest aside and extended a hand toward Devol, asking for the majestic. He handed the weapon to him and looked on with concern as the dryad ran his hand over the sword and checked the tip of the blade thoroughly. “Odd. It seems fine and the boy was obviously able to use it.” He frowned and returned it. “Well then, it is not impossible for the scroll to not work, merely quite rare.”

“Want me to get another?” Jazai asked, his arms folded. “Do remember I’m getting them from your personal supply.”

Zier pointed to the scroll in Devol’s hand and the boy handed it to him. He examined it carefully to be thorough before he shrugged and rolled it. “Nothing seems the matter with this one. It looks like we’ll need to try other methods.”

“What other methods?” the boy asked and rested the blade on his shoulder.

“You’ll see in a moment,” he promised, pointed to the other boy, then indicated one of the cabinets in the far corner. “Jazaiah, I’ll fetch a crystal. Get the pedestal ready, would you?”

His apprentice whistled in surprise. “You gonna use the crystal now? I don’t think I’ve seen one of those used yet.” He continued to mumble as he and his mentor went in separate directions. Devol followed the younger scholar.

“What’s this about a crystal?” he asked and peered over his shoulder to where Zier and Wulfsun looked in different cupboards on the opposite wall.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Jazai said reassuringly. “It’s another way to potentially discern the class of magic your majestic fits into. Although I should mention that this one is trickier.”

“Oh, got any pointers?” he