Page 28 of Evergreen

Cass took it and gave it an experimental wave, his expression skeptical. “It’s heavier than I expected.”

“That’s the point,” I explained, moving back to the spellbook. “The weight helps distribute the magic more evenly. And glass is heavy, so it won’t bend under the pressure. Now, before we do anything else, I need to draw the circles on your palms. They’re going to help channel your magic into something more precise. Something you can control.”

He held out his hands, and I noticed they were steady. That was good. Whatever nervousness he was feeling, he was managing it well. I pulled out a small vial of a special ink infused with silver, and carefully began to draw the intricate symbols on his palms. Each line had to be perfect, each curve precisely measured. One mistake and the entire spell could fall apart.

As I worked, I was acutely aware of how close we were. How the warmth of his hands contrasted with the cool ink I was applying. How he was watching me intently, his green eyes tracking every movement of my brush. How small his hands felt in mine.

“This is going to feel strange,” I warned as I finished the final details on his left palm.

“Already does,” he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. “What happens if I mess this up?”

“Then we start over,” I said simply, moving to his right palm. “Magic is trial and error. Even the best practitioners mess up sometimes. Professor Paulson has told me stories about spells gone wrong that would make your hair curl.”

“Great,” he muttered. “No pressure then.”

“You can’t hurt the greenhouse now,” I said, doing my best to make it sound reassuring instead of accusatory. “So just do your best.”

I finished the circles and stepped back to admire my work. The silver symbols glowed faintly against his skin, pulsing with potential magic waiting to be channeled. They were beautiful, actually. I hadn’t expected that, but there was something elegant about the way the designs complemented the natural lines of his palms.

“They look cool,” Cass said, flexing his fingers experimentally. “I can feel something. Like... electricity, maybe? But not aggressive. More like a hum.”

“That’s a good start,” I nodded. “That means I did the circles correctly.”

I handed him the spellbook and watched as he studied the incantation, his brow furrowing in concentration. The words were in an older dialect, the kind that most practitioners spent years learning to pronounce correctly. But Cass was determined, I could see it in the set of his jaw, the way he was mouthing the words silently to himself. Thankfully, the spell was a short one.

“Okay,” he said finally, looking up from the page. “I think I’ve got it. What do I do first?”

I led him over to a damaged glass panel that had been carefully leaned against the western wall. It was warped and blackened, completely unusable in its current state. But that was the point. We needed to practice on something that was already ruined before moving on to the actual reconstruction work using raw silica.

“Place your wand against the glass,” I instructed. “Feel for the magic in the circles. Let it flow from your wand into the material.”

Cass approached the panel cautiously, as if it might bite him. He pressed his wand tip against the warped surface and I watched as the silver symbols began to glow brighter, responding to his touch.

“Now speak the incantation,” I said quietly. “Don’t rush it. Let each word settle into the magic before moving to the next.”

He took a deep breath and began to recite. His pronunciation was rough, the words tumbling out in a slightly different accent than the traditional one, but the magic didn’t seem to care. The glass beneath his hands began to shimmer, the blackened edges starting to fade as they heated up. I could feel the magic working, the way his power was being siphoned and controlled for a specific use for once.

The warped panel heated up until it was a dull orange. With the thick wand, Cass was able to manipulate the glass, straightening out the twisted edges. For a moment, I thought it was actually working. Then there was a sound like ice cracking, and the entire panel shattered into a thousand pieces.

Cass jumped back with a curse. “What the hell just happened?”

“You lost concentration,” I said, moving closer to examine the fragments. “The heat has to stay steady and constant. If you let it cool too fast or make the glass too uneven, it’ll shatter.”

“I thought I was being gentle,” he protested, but I could hear the frustration creeping into his voice. “I did exactly what you told me to do.”

“I know,” I said, and I meant it. “But your magic doesn’t know how to be gentle yet. Or specific. That’s why we’re practicing on the broken stuff first.” I met his eyes. “Try again. This time, imagine you’re painting instead of commanding. Think about it like you’re coaxing the glass into shape rather than forcing it. And don’t forget to keep the power flowing evenly so it stays hot.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he just grabbed another damaged panel and set it in front of him. This time his approach was different. His hands moved more slowly, more deliberately. When he spoke the incantation, his voice was softer, less aggressive.

The glass began to glow again, this time with a more controlled warmth. I watched as Cass worked, his entire body focused on the task at hand. The panel heated slowly, evenly, and I could feel the difference in his magic immediately. It was still wild, still untamed, but there was intention behind it now. Purpose.

Slowly, carefully, he began to reshape the warped edges. The thick wand moved with surprising grace, and I found myself holding my breath as the glass responded to his touch. It was working. Actually working. The panel was still malformed, but it was no longer shattered into a million pieces.

When he finished and stepped back, the panel had cooled to a more manageable temperature. It wasn’t perfect. The surface was still uneven and there were a few small cracks forming along the edges. But it was infinitely better than the first attempt.

“That was better,” I said, and I could see the relief wash over his features.

“It didn’t shatter,” he said, like he was surprised by this development. “That’s... something, I guess.”