this new knowledge to ask more, I returned my attention to my spell and began the painstaking process of drawing the array—the longest and most tedious part of artifact construction. Over fifty lines and curves would fill the circle by the time I was done, but despite having to measure each angle about six times to ensure I wasn’t screwing anything up, excitement buzzed through me. My very first spell!
“What is all this?” Zylas picked up a monster-sized protractor and turned it over in his hands. “This is magic?”
“No, these are tools for making spells. I have to draw it all out very carefully. See this here?” I pointed to the hexagon I’d drawn inside the circle, its corners touching the white ring. “This contains the spell and directs the magic inward. And this”—I indicated a triangle with one line missing, positioned like a downward-pointing arrow with its tip outside the circle—“will direct the power into whatever object I place here.” I touched the small circle I’d drawn under the triangle’s point. “It all has to be exactly perfect to work.”
Turning to the book, I flipped three pages ahead and showed him the finished array. “I have to add more lines to direct the different elements, and runes to dictate how I want the magical forces to behave.”
I expected a scoffing “zh’ūltis” but he was frowning at my book.
“You will draw this on the floor? And that will make the vīsh?”
“Yes. When I’m done, the magic will be imbued into an artifact.”
Another frowning appraisal. I waited. His tail swished, then he sat beside me, legs sprawled out, and propped himself up on one arm.
My eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you going to comment? Tell me how dumb and useless and pointlessly complicated this magic is?”
He smirked, which only increased my defensiveness. “I already knew vīsh hh’ainun was weak and slow.”
Ah, the insult. Finally. I felt better now. “Well, we can’t all wave our hands and make magic appear out of thin air like you.”
Smirk widening to show a hint of teeth, Zylas pulled the book away from me.
“Hey!”
I reached for the text but hesitated, confused by his intense focus. He analyzed the detailed arrangement of lines, angles, shapes, and runes, the seconds ticking past.
At three minutes and fifty seconds—I counted—he handed the book back to me. Answering my unspoken question with the return of his wolfish smile, he raised his arm. Crimson light sparked across his hand and veined his wrist. He spread his fingers as concentration tightened his face.
A glowing red circle flashed into existence, hovering an inch above the floor, perfectly aligned with the white one permanently marked on the smooth surface. But his spell was … was …
I looked down at the diagram in the book. Back up at his glowing red spell. Pure demonic power … in the shape of an Arcana array. The Arcana array I’d barely begun to create, except his was complete, showing every line and rune. Based on how perfectly his spell aligned with my work in progress, I didn’t doubt that every angle was flawless.
“How …” I whispered.
He relaxed his hand and the glow died away. “My vīsh is not so different, but I do not draw it. So slow. Gh’idrūlis.”
“Then how do you …” I recalled his careful study of the diagram. “You memorized it?”
“My vīsh must be perfect too. I learn and learn it, practice it until I can never forget.”
His insane memory—the way he could memorize a thousand puzzle pieces in a few minutes—suddenly made a whole lot of sense. All those complex, tangled demonic spells I’d seen him cast … they didn’t appear from some mysterious spell cache in the ether; he’d memorized them all in perfect detail, down to the exact angles and tiniest runes.
“Wow,” I whispered.
His lips curved, but I wasn’t sure if he was gloating or flattered by my awe.
“Are there limits?” I asked. “How many spells have you memorized?”
“I do not know the number. Hundreds and hundreds.” He leaned back again, braced on one hand. “Sometimes it is hard to think of the one I want.”
“But if you know it, you can cast it instantly?”
“Hnn. I need … some seconds? I must see it perfect and clear in my mind before I cast. Bigger spells are more difficult. If it is wrong, it is …” He tipped his head back, gazing at the skylight. “It is dangerous.”
I absently ran my finger down the page of the book. “That sounds like it requires a lot of