“…considerations of the metaphysical must never be given undo precedence in the face of the mythical…” Thaddeus droned on and on, as he always did.

Lenora’s mind began to wander, as it often did. The slanting rays of the sun were tinting the sky over the Holgren countryside, her homeland, over her parents’ farm in the distance. Barnabas gave her arm a peck and a spray of raven snot for good measure.

Her attention so rudely returned to the lecture, she heard, “…among the spells involved in basic magical self defense, all require an emotional context from which to draw their strength…”

Again the close of day took Lenora’s thoughts outside the tower classroom. Sold the previous year to this magic man in his twilight years, even she knew it was still better than what her life would have had otherwise. Still, it didn’t mean she had to like it.

“…but this one, dangerous one indeed, requires something darker, something like anger or bitterness…”

“This,” thought Lenora, “is one spell I can do.”