The training ground is silent. The acrid smell of ozone from Akira’s assault, the dusty scent of shattered stone from Nico’s, still hang in the air.
Paige Hellen steps forward. Her small, slender frame looks almost out of place on the brutal, war torn field.
She clutches her grimoire, Lellibel, to her chest. Her knuckles are white. The audience watches.
Some faces show a quiet, almost pitying look. After Akira and Nico’s explosive, high impact demonstrations, the quiet, bookish girl from the Great Archive seems like a gentle intermission.
A palate cleanser before the next display of raw power.
Carter watches her. A knot of nervous energy tightens in his stomach.
He knows how brilliant she is.
How sharp and analytical her mind is. But this is not a library. This is a battlefield. He hopes she has a trick up her sleeve.
Paige walks to the center of the field. She takes her place before a fresh, pristine training dummy.
She doesn’t open her grimoire. Instead, she kneels down. She places a small, flat wooden box on the flagstones. She unlatches the lid.
Rows of small, cork capped glass vials are revealed. Each vial is carefully labeled. They contain different seeds, spores, and dried mushrooms.
A wave of confused murmurs ripples through the audience.
“Uh… what is she doing?” one combat agent mutters to his friend.
“Are those… seeds?” another asks. He squints.
“Is this a magic test or a botany lesson?”
Carter smiles to himself. He’s seen this before. On his morning runs. The ten miles he still puts in every day before class.
He’s often seen Paige in the lush, wild gardens around the Library’s headquarters. He’d see her kneeling in the dirt.
Carefully collecting samples. Her fingers tracing the patterns on leaves and mushroom caps.
A look of intense, focused curiosity on her face. He didn’t know what she was doing then. He’s starting to get the idea now.
Paige works for a long time. She uncorks several vials. She begins to plant seeds in the small, dirt filled cracks between the stones.
She arranges them in a wide, deliberate circle around her and the training dummy. The silence in the courtyard is thick and awkward.
Only the faint, scratching sound of her fingers against the stone breaks it. It takes her a full minute and a half.
The entire audience watches in baffled anticipation.
She is done. She closes her box. She stands up. She brushes the dirt from her trousers.
She takes a deep, centering breath. A look of quiet, focused determination settles on her face.
She opens her grimoire. Its pages flutter in the gentle breeze.
She speaks her first command. Her voice is not a shout, not a roar. It is a soft, melodic whisper. It seems to hum with a strange, vibrant life.
“LELLIBEL! GROW!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Lellibel + Grow{Fás}
- Phonetic: Lellibel (Grimoire Name) + Fás (base)
- Irish Gaelic Base Spell Translation: “Grow”
The effect is not explosive. It is quiet, insidious. In its own way, it is far more terrifying than any fireball.
The seeds she just planted erupt. Not with a violent, upward surge. But with silent, relentless, supernatural speed.
Thick, thorny vines, hardy green grasses, and strange, bioluminescent fungi sprout from the cracks in the stone.
A vibrant, emerald carpet flows across the gray flagstones. It covers the entire center of the training ground in seconds.
She has created her own personal forest in the middle of a stone courtyard.
The audience is stunned into silence. They had expected a flashy, energetic display.
Paige speaks her second command. Her voice is still a soft, melodic whisper. Now, it is laced with an undercurrent of hard, unyielding power.
“LELLIBEL! SHEILD!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Lellibel + Shield{Cruthaigh sciath adhmaid beo}
- Phonetic: Lellibel (Grimoire Name) + Cruthaigh sciath adhmaid beo (base)
- Irish Gaelic Base Spell Translation: “Create a shield of living wood”
The thick, thorny vines closest to her respond instantly. They writhe and twist. They weave together at an impossible speed.
In seconds, they form a dense, impenetrable, dome-like shield around her.
Sharp, wicked-looking thorns point outward. It is a perfect, living fortress.
A testament to her absolute control over the battlefield she created.
The leaders watch with new, intense focus in the viewing stands.
“She’s not just casting spells,” Agamor says. A low, appreciative rumble is in his chest.
“She is conducting an orchestra. She prepared her instruments, set the stage, and is now directing them with a conductor’s precision. This is not the work of a fighter. This is the work of a general.”
Gendric lets out a low, thoughtful grunt. A flicker of a smile is on his lips. “That brings back some memories.”
“What kind of memories?” Killian asks. He leans forward, intrigued.
Ruby chimes in before Gendric can answer. A proud grin is on her face.
“He’s talking about the first day of combat training. When he sparred with all of us. She pulled the same move on him then. Trapped him in a cage of vines.”
Killian looks at Gendric. His eyebrows raise in surprise.
“She trapped YOU?”
“Aye she did,” Gendric rumbles. A booming, appreciative laugh is in his chest. “For a few seconds, anyway. The young lady has a good head on her shoulders.”
“She knew she couldn’t beat me with force, so she beat me with brains.”
As if responding to the memory, Paige’s voice rings out from within her thorny shield. It is clear and confident. Her final spell is not a command, but a gentle, melodic invitation.
“LELLIBEL! HEAL!”
- Spell Tag On Grimoire: Lellibel + Heal{Torthaí a iompar a thugann beatha + a leigheasann an corp tuirseach}
- Phonetic: Lellibel (Grimoire Name) + Torthaí a iompar a thugann beatha (base) + a leigheasann an corp tuirseach (effect)
- Irish Gaelic Base Spell Translation: “Bear life-giving fruit”
- Greek Effect Spell Translation: “that mends the weary body”
The thorny vines of her shield do not retract. Instead, they blossom. Hundreds of small, white flowers burst into bloom all over the dome’s surface.
It is a silent, breathtaking display. The flowers then wither and fall away. In their place, small, golden fruits swell to ripeness in seconds.
Each one glows with a soft, internal light.
The thorny dome unwinds. The vines retract back into the lush grass.
Paige stands in the center of a small, miniature orchard of glowing fruit.
She plucks one from a low-hanging vine. Its golden light reflects in her intelligent, smiling eyes.
Her demonstration is over. She has not destroyed a single target. She has created a bounty.
Paige plucks one of the glowing, golden fruits from the vine. It fits perfectly in her palm. Its skin is smooth and warm. It pulses with a gentle, rhythmic light. She takes a small, hesitant bite.
The taste is incredible. It’s a complex fusion of sweet honey, tart citrus, and something else.
Something that tastes like pure, liquid sunlight. A wave of warmth and vitality spreads through her body.
It erases the fatigue from her earlier spellcasting. It soothes the nervous ache in her muscles.
A slow, confident smile spreads across her face. She has not just passed her test. She has created a miracle.
The leaders are stunned into a momentary silence in the viewing stands. They have witnessed displays of immense power, of destructive force, of tactical brilliance. But this… this is something else entirely.
Lady Seraphina is the first to speak. Her voice is a hushed whisper of pure, professional awe.
“Incredible,” she says. Her turquoise eyes are wide with wonder.
“The purity of that magical energy… to create a biological substance with such potent, restorative properties, and to do it so quickly, so effortlessly… that is an invaluable asset.”
“For long-term missions, for field medics… a gift like that is worth more than a thousand destructive spells.”
Anansi nods in solemn agreement beside her.
“It is the magic of life itself,” he says. His voice is filled with a quiet reverence.
“A rare and beautiful thing to behold.”
Agamor is practically beaming. His golden mane seems to glow with a proud, paternal light. He turns to Wulan, who still looks skeptical.
“Her magic is not about destruction, General,” he says. His voice is a low, satisfied rumble.
“It is about support. She will make an excellent strategist.”
Wulan shows flicker of grudging respect in his eyes.
Paige begins to pluck the other fruits from the vines down on the field. She places them in a small, woven basket she conjures from tall grass.
She walks towards the viewing platform. Her earlier nervousness is completely gone. It is replaced by a quiet, scholarly confidence.
She offers the basket to the leaders and her fellow recruits.
“Please,” she says. Her voice is clear and steady. “Have some.”
Hesitantly at first, then with a growing sense of wonder, the others take a piece of the magical fruit. Carter accepts one.
Its golden skin is warm against his palm. He takes a bite. The flavor is incredible. A burst of sweetness and vitality sings on his tongue. He feels a wave of warmth spread through his body.
It erases the lingering tension from his own upcoming test. His mind feels sharper, clearer, more focused than it has all day.
He looks at the other recruits. Yulian, who had been nursing his bruised ego after his earlier collapse, has a look of pure, childish delight on his face. Keyona, Nico, and Amy murmur in appreciative wonder.
Then, Killian’s voice cuts through the quiet reverence. It is loud and unapologetic. He pops the last of his fruit into his mouth. He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.
“Hey! My hangover is gone!”
he announces to the entire crowd. He turns to Paige. A look of genuine, almost desperate hope is on his face.
“Can you make a whole tree of these? Maybe a vineyard?”
Gendric and Wulan laugh maniaically. They slap their knees and hold their stomachs from the absurdity of Killian request.
“K-Killian shut up dumbass… I can’t breath!” says Miguel as he laughs with tears coming out of his.
Seraphina finds Killian’s humor quite funny as well.
Freya, standing beside him, shoots him a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. Her red eyes flash with irritation at his lack of decorum.
Wulan throws his head back. He lets out a booming, appreciative laugh. Gabriel simply smiles.
A look of serene amusement is on his angelic features.
Carter watches the scene. A genuine smile is on his own face.
That’s Paige, he thinks.
A sense of profound respect settles over him.
She didn’t try to win with force. She didn’t try to intimidate. She changed the entire atmosphere of the test.
Paige’s face is a light shade of pink from the praise. She gives a small, respectful bow to the leaders. Her demonstration is over.
She has not only passed her test. She has proven that there is more than one way to be a warrior.
Sir Agamor steps forward. He is beaming with a pride that is almost palpable.
“An inspired and truly exceptional demonstration, Ms. Hellen. Your understanding of the deeper, more subtle arts of magic is a credit to this institution. Take your place.”
Paige returns to the line. A quiet, confident smile is on her face. The air in the training ground is lighter now.
The oppressive, competitive tension has been replaced by a sense of shared wonder and camaraderie.
Sir Agamor’s gaze moves to the next recruit in the line. His voice echoes across the now-silent courtyard.
“Mr. Volkov. You are next.”