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- Young Wizards
The Bright Book burns in El's arms, the pages hissing the words of the universe.
The Lone Power holds out a hand. "Give me the book, child."
El holds the Book to her chest. She's barely thirteen, a child who knows a handful of spells and is staring at the face of a being older than time itself. The pocket dimension seems to warp and stretch around them. The small electric lights that line that hallway on either side flicker ominously, slowly blanketing the space in shadows.
Starsnuffer, the pages warn her. Kindler of Wildfires, the Snake in the Garden…
"Remember," the Lone Power says in a low voice. "I know every miserable thought in your head. Every dark action. You cannot stand against me forever. Give me the Book, and I will let you go home."
Home. The safe circle of her mother's arms, the flowers at the commune. Tears prick at El's eyes. Home, home, home.
The Bright Book murmurs something, and the shape of a spell slowly starts to form in her mind.
- The Magicians
Magic comes from pain is the lesson every magician learns.
Blue-white flames grow at the edges of Orion's body, his form flickering in and out like a skipping reel.
"I bind you," El recites. The air is heavy with the start of a storm, but something in the universe obliges her command. The Niffin Box hisses; the runes burned into the wood faintly phosphorescent. "Orion Lake, I bind you."
Orion falters. Somewhere, he is between a boy and pure magical energy. For a brief second, there is a wild moment of hope that she can save him and turn him human again by pure willpower alone.
Power lashes between her fingers, stinging her skin.
Magic comes from pain. El grits her teeth, remembering how Orion once showed her simple kindness. But kindness is never enough to survive Brakebills, and what she can only give him is mercy before he hurts someone else.
- The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina
The Devil whispers in her ear. Let me in, Galadriel. Let me in…
"Oh, darling," her mum mummers. She places a hand on El's forehead like a child home sick with a cold. "Why did you sign your name in the Book?"
Because I have to save you, El wants to say. It was the only choice left. Instead of answering, she turns away, watching the October shadows stretch into her mum's garden. The Devil lurks in the back of her mind, muttering promises of power, rare abilities, and a chance to burn the whole world down in Hellfire.
Her mum's simple hedge magic isn't enough to protect them from witch-hunters and monsters, and only the pool of power from a coven can ensure any long-term safety.
El hardens her heart. "All I'm asking from you is to trust me."
Mum carefully cradles El's face between her soft hands. "But is it worth your soul?"
- Ninth House
Orion is fond of reciting the Lethe motto whenever he's feeling particularly noble. "We are the shepherds."
"Shepherding right to the slaughterhouse." El looks down from the gallery, glaring at where an unconscious man is undergoing vivisection.
The sons and daughters of the Ancient Eight have always been cruel, but there is a specific sadistic joy in Jack's eyes as he plays the role of the Haruspex, reading the organs of a living man to predict the Dow-Jones Index.
Something twists in El's stomach. Is it guilt – anger at what few limitations Lethe can place on the Ancient Eight?
A shadow moves in the corner of her vision, distracting her. The dead man takes shape and looms near the boundary's chalked line that keeps the Bonesmen's magic in place.
"Take care," El hisses through her teeth. "No one is immortal."
The Gray reels back, and Orion steps forward with a stick of bone chalk in his hand.
The Haruspex continues to recite in Dutch, and El and Orion resume their watch, guarding the practitioners against the dead.
- The Heir Chronicles
El wraps her hands around Orion's bicep, pulling at his magic.
Orion shouts in surprise, dropping his sword. His spell spills into whatever endless void exists inside of her. "What was that?"
"The Roses never warned you about me?" she says, releasing him. Mud splatters her skin as she bends to pick up his weapon. The metal is heavy in her hands, but her time with Aadyha and the other sorcerers in the sanctuary has taught her to recognize enchanted objects, and this sword sings with the old, old power.
Orion blinks the rain from his eyes, watching her carefully. "You're not Weirland."
"And you're a Wizard with a Warrior's blade." She lowers the tip, pointing directly at his heart. "Aren't we curious creatures."
He makes a strange sound. "Listen, we're running out of time. The Guilds are in danger, and I need your help."
BONUS: Harry Potter
"SLYTHERIN!"