In a world where magic is a science, Siobhan is a
genius.
But even geniuses need schooling.
A Conjuring of Ravens
A Practical Guide to Sorcery Book 1
by Azalea Ellis
Genre: Epic Fantasy
In a world where magic is a science, Siobhan is a genius.
But
even geniuses need schooling.
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casting magic, magic school,
Sebastien’s magic spun her ball even faster, until the sand began to heat with its passing, and then slowed it abruptly. The minimalist spell array glowed with inefficiency as the ball slowed, and then dimmed as the ball began to spin the opposite direction and gain speed again. Undoing the momentum the ball had built up so quickly required a level of energy she couldn’t channel all at once.
Perhaps one day, the ball would stop in an instant, with a cracking sound like a miniature bolt of lightning. She could dream, at least. “But is there any actual way for the coppers to catch the thief, if she or one of her accomplices doesn’t carelessly reveal themselves? Are there any leads?” she asked another student, trying to seem nonchalant.
Westbay looked from her spell Circle back to his own with a frown, spinning his ball faster. He was good, better than most of their classmates, but it was obvious to Sebastien that he hadn’t practiced as much as her. “The Raven Queen is skilled, and has been careful,” he said. “But she’s cocky, too. She wants to be seen, to be noticed, that’s why she commits such outrageous crimes in broad daylight. She will act again, she cannot help it, and when she does, she will make a mistake, and we will catch her.”
Sebastien raised her eyebrows, indignation at that assessment rising up inside her. She clamped down on the emotion and sent her ball on a series of fast, jerking turns back and forth.
Alec Gervin, who had grown bored with losing his game, stood up and stepped closer, watching with interest. “How are you doing that?”
Without thinking, she replied, “I can explain it to you, but I cannot understand it for you.”
The cogs between his ears moved slowly as he processed her words. His eyes widened. “Did you just insult me?”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. My intention was to insult you without you noticing.” The words spilled from her in a bout of ire, and it was only after they were out, hanging in the air like little guillotines over her neck, that she realized it may have been slightly uncalled for. Perhaps even a little rude?
I’m the type of person that often has a wacky, shocking, or silly–but totally true–story to tell about my life.
(Like the time my brother and I were chased through a secluded strip of woods in the middle of the city, for over a mile, by a naked man with an erection.)
(Or the time a trucker threw an open bottle of pee out his passenger side window without looking right as I was walking by. You can guess what I got splashed with.)
(Or the time a man hit me with his pickup truck on purpose while I was riding my bike to school, and then insisted I get into the vehicle with him so he could drive me the rest of the way as an apology. Needless to say, I resisted.)
The early part of my childhood was spent on a small farmstead, and I’ve got an active imagination that tends toward the outrageous and the macabre, which led to me being voted “most likely to borrow someone else’s car to transport a dead body.”
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This looks likeva great novel. Thanks for hosting this tour.
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