Gwuenevere and her First Spell

 

A short mini-comic about Gwuenevere casting her first spell at 32. It did not go well. 

Ink and ink wash for the majority of this sketch. Acrylic paint and ink for the crystal.

 

And a special blurb that inspired this below! Warning, it's a bit rough, so mispellings and typos abound! CW for self-injury, body horror, and near-death.

Behind the broken walls of her abbey, Gwuenevere discovers an old but rare grimoire of war magic shortly after her village, Golden Peaks, was invaded by Janthizerains. The grimoire is a small but dense old book that is partially burnt with its spine broken. At first, Gwuenevere noticed that the book once belonged to a royal who somehow lost it in Golden Peaks since its founding about two hundred years ago. But thanks to her naturally strong curiosity, Gwuenevere sought to repair the book herself, so to keep her ownership of it secret, and learn war magic from its pages.

But there’s a problem, Gwuenevere is a fragile object. A light and thin cloak made of cotton and lace. A form so vulnerable to fires and tears, which makes learning magic quite difficult. Any form of magic could harm her, or worst, kill her. For most of her life, Gwuenevere wears a magical suppressor to protect herself from her own magic. But she is determined, she hated being so helpless watching her own village burn under the flames of the Janthizerain war-torches. Imagine fighting against the swords or shields and stopping them in their tracks. Or better, stopping an entire army with power unmatched by any other war-object.

For a few months, while her village is rebuilt, Gwuenevere read the book in secret at night while all the other altrices and curios are asleep. She managed to secure a private study to research in. But there’s another obstacle, how could she cast magic without it destroying herself.

Hardy objects have solid strong cores and their ichor structure is denser with their materials. To cast magic, they must loosen their ichor structure to make their magic flow more easily. There's also the fact that they don't have to repair themselves more often from injuries or damages. Using advanced training, they could push themselves further to master all sorts of powerful and dangerous magic. Core and ichor strength training is paramount for any hardy object seeking to become a war-object.

Fragile objects are the opposite: their magic flows far too easily due to having softer or fragile cores that in turn weaken their ichor structure and increase the chance of serious injury. Fragile objects must repair themselves more often than hardy objects. A simple light spell for a hardy object could cause a fragile object to spontaneously combust should they cast it.

Realizing these limitations, Gwuenevere can't strengthen her core to better tolerate the way magic can affect her. But she could strengthen her ichor. Training under normal means is out of reach for her, for obvious reasons, but she could use her own head to think of something clever. What if she could thicken her ichor without using magic or advanced training?

Sometime later, Gwuenevere found that one of the tasks she does around the library of the Golden Peaks Abby could be the answer. Sometimes, the young curios living in the abbey play rough around the halls and rooms, knocking things over and making a mess. Gwuenevere, often the one who babysits the rambunctious curios would have to make sure anything that's fragile is safe in its containers before the curios playtime begins. She would use boxes, containers, and other means to keep things tidy and safe. One of which, a curious packing box surrounded by soft padding filled with thick liquid, is often used for protecting delicate things. When dropped, the padding would hit the floor and the liquid would suddenly thicken up as it absorbs the shock of the impact.

This simple discovery later has Gwuenevere research how to "thicken" her ichor using a technique called shifting. All living objects shift their ichor whenever they move their limbs. It's a natural thing, but true creative shifting for the purpose of changing the shape of the ichor structure beyond its usual use is what Gwuenevere is looking for. Most known knowledge of basic shifting is available for civilians while more advanced knowledge is held for all workers and war-objects, often used as a part of ichor strengthening training. But understanding the basic concepts of shifting allowed Gwuenevere to understand how to move the mass and volume of her ichor throughout her ichor structure.

It was a difficult and slow thing at first. Just moving an arm comes naturally, but controlling it to make itself into a different shape is something else entirely. Gwuenevere must mentally go back, imagining herself as a little curio first moving her limbs. They were stumps after just hatching from her pericarp, but did she ever think of moving them and shaping them during that time? It just came to her. More like an instinct flowed out when she wanted to reach out to something, like to the voice of Mother Ella who found her on her hatching day.

So, Gwuenevere reached. She reached for something distant. She imagined a broken book with a missing spine that needed fixing. It was under a desk, trapped by dust and grime. A curio misses it so dearly, so Gwuenevere must reach for it. And so she did. And when she opened her eyes, she saw that her arm had stretched itself thin. Scared by the sight, she thought again that she got the book the curio needed and will repair it as soon as possible. Her arm quickly returned back to its shape but left her feeling odd. Her ichor shifted.

So, now from the implications of this, Gwunevere further developed this technique but this time to thicken her arm using her imagination. First, to shield her from an overactive knife curio with a newly sharpened blade. Then, from a bad fall from a high ladder with books falling on top of her. Eventually, she was able to shift her ichor on command. Now with thickened ichor, she wants to put it to the test. She wants to try to cast her first spell.

After long nights of studying, Gwuenevere thought she was ready.

It was simple really, she thought. Avoid any magic that may be destructive to her core, such as fire, water, and light magic. Earth magic is possible, but she thought it would be rather suspicious if she started growing leaves out of nowhere. But crystals are easier: slightly difficult to cast but easier to hide, with a low chance of self-injury.

Still wearing her suppressor, Gwuenevere started small, really small, very small. From her left hand, a small spark of light and then a tiny sliver of crystal. It was her first casting, the first of many, and the first to show her the potential of magic. But she wanted to do more. And so taking her suppressor off, she cast again. Another crystal, but one slightly larger than the last one. She feels a slight pain in her arm, but still, magic! She is casting magic!

Gwuenevere saw the future, glowing and growing just beyond her reach. She could use this, fight to save her village, and prove her worth to her kingdom. She remembers that the book mentioned how to “forge” her magic into a weapon using a spell. She remembers the spell, its structure, and form, the fact she needs to pour her ichor into it and shape it into a weapon. A dagger is a small but simple weapon with an easy shape, so she casts again.

But as the dagger from, Gwuenevere feels a sharp sudden pain in her arm. Before her eyes, crystal shards grow from her ichor from her hand through her arm, then her left side. The crystal dagger grows uncontrollably and Gwuenevere tries to stop it. She collapses in pain and tries to cancel the spell, but the crystals keep growing as they tear through the fabric of her core. Realizing her suppressor is still nearby, Gwuenevere grabs for it just in time before the crystals grow upon her head. Just by touching it, the suppressor begins to absorb her excess magic. The crystals slow their growth and shrink down. Gwuenevere breaths heavily as the crystals recede, still pinned by the largest of them. She then hears someone walking up to her, their voice just barely recognizable. She recognize the object before her, even with her vision swimming and blurry. All she heard before she blacked out was, “Oh, Gwuenevere, no!”