The security guard didn’t even check my ID. That was a first. Every other morning before this, they always made sure to check my student ID despite wearing the uniform.

  Here's a little background. Right before high school, there was a great lockdown. A flu more viral than the catchiest social media dance videos swept across the globe. In the wake, what followed was sweeping reforms of work culture and education.

  In virtual lessons, kids saw that everyone’s houses looked different. That some kids even had multiple homes. The term ‘vacation home’ entered the classroom, replacing Saturday morning cartoons and which club to join.

  And when there’s difference, there’s a system. And when there’s a system based on difference, there’s the ones on top and there’s the ones on bottom.

  Having in-person classes again ushered in an era of social distinction through cultural capital: vacation spots in france, the three star eateries in the city, the latest fashion trends by this designer and that. Who knew that the price tag of your t-shirt serve as better identification than your student ID? I sure didn't.

  Still riding high on the metaphorical fumes of my little tantrum, I flashed my school ID just because. Sometimes, you just gotta stick it to the man, even if he is another 9-5 guy trying to make ends meet.

  The guy was just doing his job. Not my proudest moment, that’s for sure.

  ‘Where are we heading?’ Hwari asked.

  I checked the crowd around me, just to make sure no one heard that. In my head, I knew no one should hear it but it was hard to ingrain that in my head.

  “Courtyard.” I answered as quietly and quickly as I could.

  “Where is that?” Wol effortlessly slid past the legs of everything between Freshman excited for their first winterbreak, gaggles of gossiping highschool girls, and groups of guys getting their morning testosterone flexing in.

  I stuck to the walls, nearly unnoticed. But a few faces did see me and recognition dawned on them. Also I wasn’t wearing a uniform, which made me stick out even more than normal.

  My cheeks felt hot and the back of my neck stung from all the stares. The gossiping lips were passing my name up and down the hallway now.

  The talks only intensified and I heard my name ‘Hallow’ said more than once.

  “Just follow me.” My voice dwindled from a whisper to a mousy little squeak.

  “Jain?”

  I mumbled something incoherent and rushed out of the hallways and into the courtyard.

  Charter Academy is actually repurposed project housing. Not a lot of people know this, but project housing has a certain shape to the structure. Like an evenly spaced Y or an X. It has to do with government funding and how elevators are a luxury. The buildings are shaped like that so everyone is equidistant from the single elevator in the entire place.

  Of course, Charter Academy tore down a wing to make it an L shape. Where the former wings once stood was a nice little courtyard. Usually, kids would be clamoring around the courtyard but it was too cold for that. Though the school groundswork staff had cleared it out for us.

  I found a nice little empty table by the corner still covered by the awning and settled down there.

  “Why are we outside when we were just inside?” Wol leaped up onto the table in a single bound.

  “Privacy.” It was partially true.

  Hwari floated around the place, submerging in the shadows and popping up wherever her fancy took her then disappearing again. Wol studied her antics.

  “I know what school is.” Wol said at last, “Perhaps not of this land, but it can't be too different. Do you not have to go to class?”

  I tossed my pink backpack on the table. “I have English first period, and I read Nineteen Eighty-Four like three times. I think I have time to invest into the Practice, mostly on account of my life riding on it.”

  Wol flicked his tail, pleased. Then he used his claw to drag my backpack over to him and spread himself out on it. “Then let's begin. You’ve read Prerequisites?”

  “I’ve skimmed it.”

  “You will need to read it front and back.”

  “But–”

  “After this is all over.” Wol cut me off, “For now, we can just cover the basics.”

  I nodded.

  “First, let's begin with what all practitioners believe, that the world is made of the Material, Mental, Astral, and the Spiritual plane.” Wol began. "Do not ask questions."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  My hand shot up. There was no way he could just drop that no me and not expect one.

  He ignored me and continued. “They are as they sound. Material plane is the physical, where mortals feel their will exercised the strongest. But know that everything that happens in the material plane is a result of the cause of other higher planes.”

  “Ok, you’re starting to lose me here.”

  Wol’s claw shot out and slapped my hand.

  “Ow!”

  “What just happened?” He asked.

  "You're asking me?" I hissed. “You scratched me, that's what!”

  “No, I thought about scratching you and decided to scratch you. My intent and decision to scratch you were the cause of me scratching you, from the Mental to the Material.”

  I cradled my hand but the pain was already receding, my brain starting to focus on what Wol was saying. “Whoa. What?”

  “I can't explain it better than that. That's about all I know. The point is that when something should work but fails, it is because you’re interacting on the wrong plane. Like Hwari, she mostly exists in the in-between of different planes.”

  “And I’m guessing there are trade-offs.”

  “As always. A note, before we move on." Wol put his paw on the back of my hand, lowering his tone. "If anything, anything, even Hwari, invites you to the Astral Plane, say no. Doubly so if it is a ghost, and triply so if it's a ghost that has been visiting you while you sleep. Quadriply so if it is a ghost that has led you to believe it needs your help and tried to trick you into thinking it's not a ghost.”

  "...Why'd you have to go and turn it all creepy like that?"

  He didn't elaborate, “Let's move on.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Time is one luxury you cannot afford to waste.” Wol insisted. He withdrew his nail, fixing me in place with his eyes. The cat had a way of fixing you in place with his undivided attention. “There are eight disciplines of the arts. You’ve already encountered a few of them.”

  “Evocation, Enchantment, Conjuration, Abjuration.” I listed.

  “The other four are Illusion, Thaumaturgy, Transmutation and Divination.” Wol hooked a claw over my backpack zipper and unzipped it. “Write this down.”

  I took out a pen and notebook.

  “Draw an octagon.” He nodded once I was done, “Now on each of the points, write it down in order: Evocation, Illusion, Thaumaturgy, Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Transmutation, and it should return you to Evocation.”

  I looked down at the drawing. “You said I’m a Conjuration wing Abjuration. Does the fact that they’re next to each other have something to do with it?”

  “Yes, but we haven't checked. But I'm relatively sure. The fact is, you attempted three different summonings and succeeded on your first try without anyone else helping you.”

  “And wing Abjuration means?”

  “Look at the octagon once more.” Wol urged. “All practitioners have a talent in one discipline but they also lean towards one or two others. Usually, in one direction but sometimes in two. But no practitioner is talented in more than three practices at most.”

  "Just like an Enneagram."

  "I am not familiar with the reference." I wondered if that was a pun but he continued before I could ask, “I personally think your secondary talent lies in Abjuration."

  I looked down at Conjuration.

  “I’m noticing that Evocation is literally the opposite of Conjuration.” My mouth suddenly feeling dry.

  Wol looked sympathetic. “I know what you're thinking. Evocators make excellent combat mages. And yes, the nature of their practice makes it easiest to learn in a short amount of time.” His eye strayed over to a bird that flew nearby and landed on a table. “The further away from your primary talent you go, the less power you will be able to exercise within that discipline. You will most likely never be a competent evocator, if at all.”

  “Doesn’t that put me at a disadvantage for this trial then?”

  “It depends.”

  I licked my lips. “Ok, different question. Will the current me going up against an evocator… be tough?”

  “Now? Yes.” Wol replied, “The one we encountered yesterday was an amateur and he almost killed you. You remember him?”

  “Oh right. I almost forgot because being almost burnt to death is just another Monday for me.” My tone dripped of sarcasm.

  “Do not be snide. It is unbecoming." He sneered, then continued the lecture. "Evocation is simple and more versatile for it; his practice synergized exceptionally well with his familiar. I'm sure you can imagine what an actual competent evocator can do.”

  I blinked, remembering the man and his ghost. His flames had been imbued with the ghost’s experiences of being burned to death. “Run it by me?”

  “Enchanted fire purifies even better than salt. He could have rendered Hwari ineffective for a significant amount of time. He could have burnt your circles away.” Wol muttered. “There is a reason why evocators are so coveted. No one survives a war better than them.”

  “Natural Selection, huh? So if I went up against one, it’d spell my death?” Spell my death. Haha, get it?

  I joke when I get nervous and Wol picked up on it immediately.

  Wol blinked. “Jain Shin Hallow. You seem worried.”

  I swallowed. “I think one of my competitors is an evocator.”

  Wol stood up. “...From one of the families? What makes you think so?”

  “His familiar was a tiny lizard made of fire. ” The blood drained out of my face as I said it. I described it in more detail to Wol.

  How could I not have recognized it?

  “Mmm. It sounds like a Salamander.” Wol confirmed, nodding solemnly. "But we can't be too sure."

  I agreed, “It sounds right though.”

  "Not every fire-aligned familiar contracts to an evocator." Wol didn't look worried. "He could be a transmutator or an enchanter. Perhaps an abjurer like yourself. It would be presumptuous to elect defeat without finding out more."

  I tried not to put weight to the fact where he basically said I was toast if Victor Valentine was indeed an Evocator. Pun not intended of course.

  God I was funny when my life was on the line.

  "Chances are slim, my Practitioner. Let's continue."

  Yeah. What are the chances?