"This isn't working," Seiren said out loud, running a frustrated hand through her hair, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of her rented bedroom in Benover. Books scattered the entirety of the tiny room, opened at various chapters about burst magic in practice showing sketches of burst mages, in various poses. Some snapped their fingers like her. Others clapped, pointed fingers, or punched. The gesture in question did not matter; it was the focus provided by the gesture that was the requirement.

It had been a week of her endlessly practising. Rowan tried his best, but ultimately burst magic was best learnt by practice. Empty your mind. Peace, quiet, tranquillity. All the sounds faded. Her world turned black when she shut her eyes. Her pulse slowed until it was a steady drum in the background. Madeleine inhaled at the same rate as her, evening her breaths.

Seiren drew on her magic. She focused on a point in the wall. Eyes snapped open. She threw her arms forward and snapped her fingers. A tiny spark flashed, lasting less than half a second. She sighed in frustration, leaning back against her bed.

"Why isn't it working?"

Her eyes landed on the nearest book, The Essentials of Magic. One of the earliest books she acquired when she enrolled into King's and the basics for any trainee mage. The badly-repaired and dog-eared book opened onto the introductory chapter on burst magic. A tea stain – acquired long before the book came into Seiren's custody – covered most of the sketch of the man projecting a torrent of water from the palms of his hand.

Common mistakes in trainees include failure to fully empty the mind before drawing on magic, altering their target after conjuring the magic, and responding to distractions during the conjuring.

I don't know. Madeleine sounded equally puzzled. I don't think you're doing anything wrong. Could it really be you just don't have a gift for burst?

To the point where I'm completely impotent with it? When all the idiots in my class could do it with their eyes shut?

Maybe we're just missing something.

What is missing is Rowan understanding that burst is a complete waste of my time. I could be perfecting the rune to bring you back, but instead I'm mimicking flatulence with my fingers.

See it as extra studying, not something you need to do to please Rowan.

Seiren gave it one more try. This time, a spark didn't even appear. With a frustrated growl, she leapt to her feet and picked up her chalk with one hand and her cloak with the other.

"I'm going runing," she said out loud, glaring at the haphazard pile of books on the floor. A bit of rune magic would sort out her brain. Runes followed rules. Runes were predictable and could be deconstructed and reconstructed. Burst left no traces, promised nothing.

The night air proved to be relaxing. That tiny Benover bedroom was claustrophobic and far too dark for proper studying, even with candles.

If we were still in Garlinge we could maybe have kept that room. Madeleine mourned. I did quite like the quilted art on the wall. I think if I practised more I could maybe have made something like that.

Well, until my wage from being a state mage in training comes in, we'll have to put up with this hovel. Bloody capital rents are extortionate.

As with everything.

Even the oranges cost four times as much. Seiren missed eating oranges.

Her boots tapped on the stone slab ground. Benover, as the capital, was also the main finance centre of the country, and maintenance was better financed here than any other city or town. Artificial shrubs, probably carved from green runes, decorated the paths. The streets were silent, empty. Yellow runes glowed in street lamps that lined the streets.

Seiren picked up some dead leaves from the base of a tree nearby as she neared a clearing. A semi-circle of smoothed rock protruded outwards, allowing a clear view of the harbour and the river that ran through Benover from the south. The water appeared black, merging in with the shadows. A chilly wind passed, raising goosebumps on Seiren's arms.

Her stress melted away. Madeleine hummed some childhood tune that sounded familiar. Bouncing some chalk in her hands, Seiren then sketched out the base rune: one circle within the other. During the night when she'd finished driving herself up the wall over burst magic, she'd been reading up on magic to do with life. Runes were theorised to be the best way to go about it, as they were clear and trial and error could be recorded. Utilising life energy to heal via green runes was established as a new way to channel celestial energy only about ten or twenty years ago and its potential was likely vast, although currently only limited to expediting what the body itself could naturally achieve. Humans had great potential to heal by themselves. Bleeding stops, infections clear, broken bones knit back together all by themselves with no intervention. By extrapolation, when accentuated with more developed green runes, mortal wounds could heal, missing limbs regenerated...

...dead bodies revived...

She sketched the basics of a green rune on the base she'd created, neglecting the locking circles that would reduce energy wastage; the wasted excess would mean any mistakes would not result in too much damage. She completed the healing rune, but left out some of its branches, which she filled with elements of a modifying violet rune. She placed the dead leaves in the middle. The lines were all in place, her rune in a perfect circle. She snapped her fingers.

The rune glowed with a green mixed with violet, and brighter than a typical pure rune. Seiren held her breath. The magic swirled around the rune, pulsing along the chalked lines. The leaves bathed in it, the crisp, brown surface taken over by the light. When the light dimmed and the white chalk withered to dust, the leaves were green, moist.

She grinned. The leaves remained green for perhaps two minutes before fading to brown and then crumbled to nothing.

Nicely done, sis.

She nodded, her grin stretching. Books spoke of merging runes, but most documentations were still in experimental stages and anecdotal attempts. Most mages preferred to use locking circles on the edges of their runes and add extra spells in those locks to keep their experiments safe, contained. Seiren preferred to neglect the locking circles and extra spells when trialling and blending her runes. The excess wasted energy through not adding locking circles in her rune didn't offer the control, but ensured nothing she created would be disastrously strong anyway.

See? Runes make sense. You add locking circles around the edges and you reduce energy waste. You add sigils within those locking circles to make the rune last longer or shorter, or hide it, or make it harder to be smudged. You add more locking circles to make the whole rune more stable. Opening sections to release energy, closed sections to maintain it in an area. You can analyse it. Can you do that with burst magic? No. Boom and it's gone.

Speaking of 'Boom and it's gone'....

Madeleine's voice trailed off. Seiren looked up and darted behind the nearest bush. A familiar-shaped short figure rushed by, his head turning back every now and then as if he were afraid to be caught. Seiren peeped at Rowan between the branches. It was at least two in the morning. What on earth was he doing outside?

She pocketed the chalk and snuck after him, keeping a safe distance. It was definitely Rowan from the way he walked and the way the cloak's fabric swished around him. The state mage out in the middle of the night looking like he didn't want to be followed was just plain suspicious. Seiren kept to the shadows. Rowan took several side paths away from the promenade and disappeared in an alleyway behind the shops. She frowned. What secrets did he have to hide – one that forced him out at such a peculiar hour?

You're not going to use it to blackmail him or something, are you?

Seiren scoffed. Of course not. But this is dodgy stuff, you have to agree.

He's stopped. Just behind the rubbish piled up. He's... he's there. Madeleine's voice sounded odd.

Seiren waited in one of the alcoves in the adjacent wall, ensuring she was fully bathed in the dark. She could hear Rowan muttering to himself but couldn't make out any words. There were sounds of rustling and... whimpers? She frowned. It didn't sound human.

After what felt like an eternity, the sound of movement reached her ears again. Rowan hurried past, ignorant of her presence. He mopped his eyes with the edge of his cloak and sniffed, and disappeared into the night.

Seiren stared after him. The sound of whimpering reached her ears again. Casting a final look at the part of the street where Rowan disappeared, she snuck into the alleyway towards the source of the noise. Something small, black, and wriggly caught her eye behind one of the bags of rubbish. She knelt down and peeled back the broken wooden lid that covered it. A cold tongue licked her finger.

She slid one of the runes from her pocket and snapped her fingers. A slow, dim yellow light bathed the alleyway and onto a fluffy, round face and black eyes. A tongue lolled out at the side.

I thought Rowan was doing something illegal. Like supplying unlicensed runes or beating up thugs in the streets or something.

Your imagination is quite impressive, Seiren.

Yeah, but a dog? A dog?!

Not just any dog, but the most pathetic, malnourished thing she'd ever laid eyes on. Its limbs looked like they could snap if it sneezed. There was no flesh, just skin sunken into its ribs. A festering wound on its back leg the size of two of Seiren's palms attracted flies all over it. Its eyes lacked the brightness of the dogs she'd seen before. It couldn't even lift up its head; a skinny strip of a tail thumped, once, against the side of the wooden crate. Dog food sat in a pile, untouched, beside a bowl of water.

Poor thing, said Madeleine. I wonder why Rowan doesn't just take him home.

Probably because he couldn't. He stays at the state mage's accommodation, right? They don't allow pets there. Especially not mangled runts like these. It's probably got some transmittable disease.

But it's so cu-u-ute.

Seiren took in its dull eyes and shallow breathing. Yeah, and it's about to die.

Madeleine hitched a breath. Isn't there anything we can do?

Seiren looked at her hands and hesitated. Was there? Maybe. Would she?

It wasn't like the dog had much of a chance anyway, not with that festering wound.

Seiren took out a piece of chalk and stepped back, clearing out enough space with her feet to allow her to draw. Circular base. Six locks around the edges, each marked with a sigil to prolong its effect. She connected the locks in a hexagram, securing it. She sat back on her heels, thinking. She overlapped a circle, adding a square inside it and securing their connecting spots with gradients that allow healing in a green rune, and overlapped it again with another circle, adding more gradient points.

She sat back again, scrutinising it. It was a stable enough rune, with enhanced, longer-lasting effects, and locked down to prevent unpredictable results. There were enough gradient points marked at symmetrical intervals to ensure an even healing. The overlapping shapes transformed it as a violet rune, theoretically enhancing the regenerative powers and immune system of the dog's natural body on top of what was provided by the green rune.

It should be enough. Assuming there was any hope the dog could heal by itself.

You've never tried this rune before.

Seiren swallowed a lump in her throat. Her mouth was so dry. She had nothing to lose. The dog had nothing to lose, either. Sliding the chalk back in her cloak pocket, she undid the clasp at her throat and let the cloak flutter to the ground. She stepped carefully around her creation. With gentle hands, she scooped up the dog. Its bones pressed against her hands. Fleas hopped on its body. The dog reeked of dirt and pus and blood. Yellowy-red liquid oozed out of that open, stinking wound. It whimpered, but gave her another enthusiastic lick, its tail wagging weakly.

She placed it in the centre of her circle. It lay there, its tongue flopping out, innocent eyes meeting hers.

Easy does it, Seiren.

She held her breath and snapped her fingers.

The ground lit up in a bright emerald tinged with violet light. It highlighted every short hair and hollowed ribs in the dog. The dog seemed oddly calm, its eyes full of trust – trust that Seiren probably didn't deserve. The light covered the dog, so bright it almost matched that of a yellow rune. She squinted. When it faded, the dog remained still on the ground. Her stomach dropped.

Her legs trembled as she knelt to the ground. She offered a shaking hand to the dog. The alleyway was quite dark after the abrupt flash of light from her rune. Something cold licked her hands. As her eyes adjusted, her stomach did another somersault.

In her head, Madeleine gasped.

The dog's eyes, dull and dark before, was bloodshot, red, and almost popped out of their sockets. Its tongue was larger than ever, too large to fit in its mouth. It stood on wobbly legs that had quivering bulges all over them. The festering mess on its leg was gone, replaced instead by sinewy flesh that covered its entire body.

"What have I done?" Seiren whispered, feeling sick. Saliva dripped out of its mouth and splatted onto the floor. It teetered on those tumorous legs, long nails clacking on the ground. One of its legs buckled and, with a stomach-churning crack of breaking bone, it crashed to the floor, panting, its bulging eyes rolling in all directions. Its leg was healed, but she had created a monster.

It's in pain.

Whimpers emanated from its throat, sad and pathetic. Its legs twitched. The body was so heavy its legs couldn't support it. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes. Her hands remained still as she sketched a rune, leaving an outlet at the top of the circle pointing at the dog. When it was complete, she reached out and touched the animal gently on its wet nose.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking.

She snapped her fingers. There was another whimper, and then it was still.

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