"Will and command, huh?" Lyra whispered, leaning back against her pillow and tapping her wand against her palm thoughtfully. The book's words lingered in her mind. She had already noticed during her earlier attempts that even the slightest distraction threw off the Clear Spring spell's precision.
At least with practice, she wouldn't always have to keep her mind in that razor-sharp state of focus. But the idea that mental focus was so essential worried her. 'Thoughts are slippery things,' she mused. 'No one can keep their mind clear all the time. And if every spell demands perfect focus, what happens in battle or emergencies?'
The implications made her shiver. If she couldn't cast spells instinctively without intense concentration, she'd be too slow, too vulnerable to defend herself. She made a mental note: 'Focus is important, but muscle memory is key. The more I practice, the easier it will get. I need these spells to flow naturally, without thinking.'
She exhaled and continued reading.
"The third factor that affects the effectiveness of the Clear Spring Technique: emotions and emotional outbursts."
Lyra leaned closer, sensing this part might explain her earlier mistake.
"Emotions not only influence willpower but also shape the flow of magic itself. During spellcasting, heightened emotions can amplify the magic, causing it to surge uncontrollably. When this happens, the magic being cast can become a dangerous outlet for that emotional energy, resulting in an explosive release."
Her heart sank as she read further.
"For the Clear Spring Technique, emotional outbursts typically manifest as an overwhelming surge of water that far exceeds the spell's normal limits. If the witch fails to stabilize her emotions quickly, the spell can drain her magic power within moments. In severe cases, if magic continues to flow unchecked even after the mana is depleted, the witch's life force may begin to drain instead, leading to exhaustion, collapse, or even death."
Lyra's stomach flipped as she re-read the warning. "Fatal…?" she whispered aloud, her eyes widening.
She thought back to her earlier attempt. For a brief moment, the excitement of successfully casting the spell had overwhelmed her. The water had burst forth like a broken dam, and she had only managed to cut it off just in time. 'If I hadn't stopped it…' A cold shiver ran down her spine.
Gripping the edges of the book tightly, she flipped to the section on typical mana consumption for the spell, hoping for some clarity.
"Mana consumption varies depending on the witch's proficiency and innate water magic talent, so precise numbers cannot be given. However, for witches with the lowest talent in water magic, casting the Clear Spring Technique to fill an average water tower will typically consume no more than 6 mana."
Lyra's fingers drummed anxiously on the page.
'Six mana?' She frowned, doing some mental math. 'My water magic talent has no upper limit, converting magic into water should be easy for me. So why did my attempt cost me 20 mana?'
The answer hit her almost immediately. 'The loss must have come from when I lost control.'
She rubbed her temples, thinking back to her earlier casting. The loss of control had lasted less than three seconds, yet it had drained so much more magic than it should have.
'If that outburst had gone on for a full minute…' she realized grimly, 'even a witch with intermediate-level mana reserves would be completely drained.' And if she hadn't stopped the flow in time, her magic wouldn't have been the only thing drained; her life force would have been on the line, too.
Lyra's mind flashed to the academy's rulebook, specifically a warning she had seen in the 'Young Witch Series': '"Witches under the age of thirteen are prohibited from practicing magic, as it can damage their magical foundations."'
Now she understood why. 'Young witches struggle with emotional control. If they lost control mid-spell…' She shuddered. A child's mana was limited, and a sudden emotional outburst during spellcasting could cost them everything.
At least here at the academy, there was always a teacher like Ms. Amisha keeping an eye on things. But not every witch was so lucky.
Lyra's thoughts drifted toward one of her classmates. 'Why didn't Shana's mother realize she was a witch before she arrived at the academy?' Even without the ability to see a witch's magical aura, there were always signs; small hints that a child possessed magic. How could her mother not have noticed?
She furrowed her brow. Now that she thought about it, something strange had happened during the entrance ceremony. Most of the young witches had been just as clueless about their abilities, as though none of them had ever sensed their own magic before stepping foot in the academy.
"How is that possible?" Lyra whispered.
Witches typically developed some sense of their magic before being formally trained, even if it was clumsy and unrefined. Yet the girls at the ceremony had seemed completely unaware of their talents until the academy identified them.
The question gnawed at her. 'What's going on here?' The book held no answers, only deepening her curiosity.
Lyra closed the book slowly, her thoughts swirling. 'Maybe I need to ask someone directly.'
Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as a thought struck her. 'How about the Dean?'
Imagining the scene in her head, Lyra chuckled to herself. '"Dean, before the girls entered the academy, didn't their mothers know they were witches? Didn't anyone notice the missing magical auras?"'
She could almost hear Ms. Amisha sighing in exasperation at the question.
"A certain Amisha," Lyra mused with a playful smirk, "would probably just stare at me like this..." She made a stern face, mimicking the professor's ever-patient but slightly exasperated expression.
With a laugh, Lyra closed the book, feeling both more informed and more curious than ever. There were questions she needed answers to, and mysteries that demanded solving. And knowing herself, she wouldn't rest until she uncovered the truth.
"Tomorrow," she whispered to herself, "I'll ask. One way or another, I'm going to figure this out."
With that, she extinguished the lamp by her bedside and settled under the covers. Even as her eyes drifted closed, her mind kept racing, already planning the questions she'd ask and imagining Amisha's inevitable look of disbelief.
Amisha observed Lyra quietly, unsurprised by the fact that the little witch now treated her like a personal mentor. After all, Lyra's relentless curiosity and tendency to jump from one idea to another made it hard 'not' to supervise her constantly.
"Reference book: 'Traces of Energy,'" Amisha said patiently, pointing her out to the next source of knowledge.
"Oh!" Lyra exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she eagerly flipped open her witch's book, fingers already searching for the reference.
Amisha gave her a stern look. "It's two in the morning, Lyra. Close the book and sleep 'now.' You can study tomorrow. A lack of sleep will mess with your magic power growth and impair your learning."
Lyra froze, halfway through flipping a page. 'Growth of magic power?' She clutched the book close to her chest, alarm spreading through her. "S-sleep! Yes! Sleep! I'm going right now!" She hurriedly put the book down, nestled herself under the covers, and lay flat, trying to look as if sleep had already claimed her.
But, naturally, her mind refused to rest. A thousand thoughts swirled around, too loud to ignore. She shifted under the blankets. "Dean," she whispered, "isn't there a spell or something that could make me need less sleep? Eight hours a night? It's impossible! After class, there's no time left to study anything properly!"
Amisha gave her a knowing smile, sitting calmly in the dim moonlight. "Who told you witches need eight hours of sleep?"
Lyra blinked in confusion. "…Isn't that just how sleep works?"
"Not for witches." Amisha shook her head. "Young witches under the age of thirteen? They need about seven to eight hours, sure. But after that? Five or six hours will be plenty. And when you reach adulthood, three to four hours is more than enough. With experience, you may even need less than that. Of course, if you want to sleep more, there's no harm in it."
Lyra's jaw dropped, her brain struggling to process this revelation. "'What?' (°°)" she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief. "That wasn't in the 'Young Witch Book'!"
Amisha chuckled softly. "Well, it will be from now on. If you're that curious, you'll find a copy of 'Healthy Living for a Young Witch' in the first-year library. But for now—" Her expression shifted into a look of gentle authority. "'Close your eyes and sleep.'"
Lyra lay still, her mouth agape. Amisha, the ever-serious dean, now sounded exactly like a tired parent urging a child to bed. She suppressed a smirk, but internally she thought, 'So it's being added to the curriculum 'now,' huh?'
She let out a small sigh. Maybe it was her memories from her past life that made her cling to the idea of needing a full eight hours. Back then, in her lazy days at Velancia, she'd slept in as long as she pleased, napping whenever she felt like it, without a second thought. If she woke up early and saw it was still dark outside, she would just roll over and sleep some more.
Now, it all made sense 'the academy schedule, the bells ringing at six in the morning, the gloomy lighting during the entrance ceremony…' Life as a witch clearly didn't conform to the ordinary rhythms of the day and night.
'Witches don't follow sunrise-to-sunset schedules,' she thought. 'They follow magic and magic doesn't wait for a full night's sleep.'
Still, even as her mind buzzed with excitement over this discovery, she knew better than to fight Amisha's command. Suppressing her desire to read more, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on sleep.
She counted sheep. Slowly. Methodically. 'One sheep, two sheep…' But thoughts of spells and techniques kept creeping in.
Before she knew it, the morning bell rang, and Lyra groaned, feeling the familiar weight of not having had enough sleep.
Yawning, she rolled out of bed, muttering to herself, "Breadfruit again… that's the only way I'll survive today." As she slipped into her clothes, her mind lit up with excitement. She remembered the new spell she had learned the night before, the Clear Spring Technique.
Her hands worked quickly, pulling on her robes with new enthusiasm. "I'll grab some water from Vasida's water tower!" she muttered, her excitement making her clumsy as she hurried to finish getting dressed.
She headed out earlier than usual, eager to test her spell again. The dorm was still quiet, her friends, Vasida and Sylph, were likely still asleep. For once, it was 'her' turn to be ahead of everyone.
With a grin, she dashed to Vasida's yard and called out, "Vasida! Is there any water left in your tower?"
A groggy Vasida appeared at her window, rubbing her eyes, her messy hair sticking up at odd angles. She squinted at Lyra, confused. "There's some left. Do you need it? You can use it first; I'll refill it when I get back later today."
Vasida assumed Lyra needed water for her morning wash, unaware of her real intent.
Lyra beamed. "No need! I've got it covered!"
Before Vasida could respond, Lyra whipped out her wand and bolted toward the backyard, excitement buzzing in her veins.
Vasida stood there, half-awake, watching her friend disappear. She yawned, blinking slowly. "...Wait. She didn't even take a bucket. What is she 'doing?'"
Bemused, Vasida scratched her head, wondering what kind of wild plan Lyra was up to now.
Meanwhile, Lyra reached the backyard, wand in hand, practically vibrating with energy. She pointed her wand toward Vasida's water tower, already visualizing the clear, steady stream she wanted to summon.
"This time," Lyra whispered with a grin, "I'll get it 'just right.'"