It didn’t take Dilmir and Ilrin long to reach the main gate after Aldir had met them. Ilrin was still silent, her anger at Aldir clearly taking time to subside. Dilmir knew she didn’t want to talk about him, so he bade her farewell once they passed through the gate. Ilrin nodded, and set off for the forest, while Dilmir turned left.

As a Lifeformer, Ilrin trained in the forest next to Eld’rin, where she was surrounded by trees and other plants. Dilmir however still trained near the gates of Eld’rin, in one of the bowl-shaped depressions in the ground, formed for the purpose of practicing spells. He found the proper one, and descended into it.

His trainer, Elmir, was waiting for him. To Dilmir’s surprise, Elmir had requested to continue teaching him magic, and had done so for three years now. Trainers usually specialized in only one year, but Elmir seemed to have developed some sort of interest with Dilmir. Not that he ever showed it. Elmir was the model elf, his face conveying nothing, his words even less. Nothing could rattle him.

“Dilmir,” he said.

“Aseleth, Manithar,” Dilmir replied. It was customary to greet one’s superiors in Elvish.

Elmir took a breath, breathing in the cold air. Then he looked at Dilmir. “Today is a special day,” he remarked. “Today we begin counterspells.”

Dilmir nodded, neither particularly excited nor displeased. While Ilrin had chosen to become a Lifeformer, he had chosen to become a mage. Mages were warriors, wielders of magic tasked with the protection of the elves. Given his magic, it had seemed the logical choice to Dilmir. He had no intention of joining the army, as most mages did, but the extra knowledge of magic could prove useful in unraveling the Curse some day.

However, Dilmir didn’t use magic the way other elves did. A Cursed elf could only control the magic within themselves, and so were forced to form spells and then cast them if they wanted to affect something at a distance. Dilmir could control the magic in a wide field around him, reworking it at will. Casting spells would just slow him down. However, he used spells during training. It was still a good idea to learn how Cursed mages operated, and Dilmir could still practice truly using his magic after dinner. Therefore, he listened as Elmir spoke.

“Counterspells are among the most difficult to cast,” he said. “The mage attempting to do so must first gauge what spell he’s been attacked with, and then form one to counter it, all before the spell he’s trying to counter reaches him.”

“How?” Dilmir asked. He of course could just sense the spell’s composition as it flew towards him, but no Cursed elf could do that.

“Guesswork,” Elmir said simply. “And practice. All spells look a little different, unless intentionally designed to mask themselves, and that’s not something most have time for during battle. You must look at the spell, guess what it is meant to do, and form a spell to unravel it.

“For example,” he stepped back, indicating Dilmir should do the same, “what would you guess this spell is?” He raised his palm, and fired a spell into the ground between them.

It had only been visible for a split second, but Dilmir had seen it was a light green-blue, shimmering with yellow around the edges. That didn’t help him. He had never needed to identify spells by how they looked. He looked up, shaking his head.

Elmir nodded. “Practice,” he said. “Over the next year, I’ll teach you how to recognize the composition of spells based on their appearance. But first,” he added, “let’s see how well you do with no practice. Try your best to counter my spell.”

Dilmir raised an eyebrow. This was the mystery of Elmir: for some reason, the old elf wanted to see Dilmir’s magic. He would never admit it, but he consistently set Dilmir challenges far above the capabilities of a Cursed elf. Whether he was trying to actually train Dilmir’s magic, or just see what he could do, Dilmir didn’t know.

He obliged, finally letting his magic flood out of him, filling the bowl they were in. He knew Elmir wanted him to use his full magic; a Cursed elf simply wouldn’t be able to counter a spell with no practice. They both knew that.

Elmir fired the same spell at Dilmir, green-blue with yellow edges. But the instant it left his hand, Dilmir could feel it with his own magic. Normally he didn’t bother to identify the composition of the spell, but he took the time to notice that it was completely harmless: a spell designed to make what it touched glow with a yellow light briefly. Just a training spell. Dilmir merged his magic with that of the spell, and easily unraveled it, absorbing the magic into his own. The spell disappeared in mid-air.

Elmir nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Now onto practice. We will start with some basic spells used in combat…”

And so it continued. Elmir would fire a spell at the ground, teaching Dilmir how to identify it. Soon he had Dilmir firing simple counterspells, trying to both guess composition and aim correctly at the same time.

As he worked, Dilmir’s magic eddied about him, idly flowing in and out, dimly aware of everything going on around him. He could sense magic and energy with it, meaning he could feel other trainers and their pupils nearby, practicing their own spells. He used to try to keep his magic within, afraid of what would happen if he let it out, but no longer. He was in complete control, his magic almost like a sixth sense, allowing him to feel his surroundings.

That was how he felt the spell before he saw it.

His magic had been unfocused, gently washing over the training field, idly feeling everything from the grass to the spells from the other training elves. But then Dilmir felt a spell, a spell so unlike anything he had ever felt, that his magic automatically stiffened, focusing on it purely by instinct.

Dilmir controlled magic. He could sense it, merge with it, and bend it to his will. But not this spell. He could feel it as it sped across the field towards him, but he couldn’t touch it. It was shielded from him, slippery somehow. His magic slipped around it, somehow denied access.

“Focus, Dilmir,” Elmir said. Dilmir had suddenly stopped trying to counter spells, focused completely on what his magic had sensed. The spell was still soaring over the training field, arcing down towards him.

Dilmir wasn’t particularly concerned yet. He plunged his magic deep into the ground around him, locating the thick roots of Eld’rin which spread out from the city, and causing them to send several shoots the width of his arm upwards. The roots burst from the ground in front of him, and quickly grew into a protective latticework, covering the entire bowl Dilmir and Elmir were in.

The spell struck a moment later. Dilmir felt it slam into his roots and dissipate instantly. Aside from a small burst of flame, the spell seemed harmless. This puzzled Dilmir. Firstly, who would fire a spell at him? And secondly, if they did, why wouldn’t they make more of an effort to actually harm him? And how had they managed to shield the spell?

Dilmir let the vines retract back into the ground slowly, thinking. Elmir watched him silently.

“Rogue spell,” Dilmir said, hoping the explanation would satisfy. He could tell Elmir knew there was more. The only reason for the shelter of roots would be because he had been unable to unravel the spell. But Elmir said nothing, and merely continued with the lesson.

Dilmir kept his magic alert the rest of the morning, but didn’t feel anything like the spell. Who had cast it? It clearly hadn’t been lethal, so was it just a test? And if so, why?

Something wasn’t right.