The air buzzed with excitement and murmurs as one hundred students piled into the grand hall now repurposed as a classroom. The entire chamber seemed to have been sculpted out of an enormous piece of black rock. The chairs, the desks, the sconces. The students found their names carved delicately on the backs of their assigned seating. Surprise came when the students found the stone seats, strangely pliable, form fitting and comfortable.
It wasn’t long before someone noticed the candles were going out, in pairs. The room became even darker, and more eerie as the light fled. In moments, the chamber was engulfed in darkness. The murmurs became whimpers.
A white line appeared in darkness. It stretched open into a grim smile. Purple eyes shone above it. All at once the candles lit, a ghostly wind whipping through the room. And there he floated. His shock-white hair meticulously pulled back into a long pony tail. As always, he was dressed in his iconic black and red spidersilk tunic and pants. His boots were black, scaly, and trimmed in scarlet. A purple rune could be seen pulsing on his chest through the robes.
“Good morning class.” He let the pleasantness of his greeting hang over them for a moment. The class responded hesitantly, as if by unspoken consensus, it would be worse to not respond.
“I am Draen Do’Gra. Headmaster of Necromancy this month, likely head of Abjuration next month. I am currently in charge of shaping your tiny little minds into something useful.”
No one made a sound.
“This is my second year teaching Arcanum 101,” he said with a grin. “I did not think I would be back, but I actually enjoyed myself.” He held up 3 fingers. “And three students actually passed the final.”
He let that phrase hang as he floated about the room. One student fainted as he drifted by.
“They will be a force to be reckoned with,” Draen said simply, “Their legacies may even outlive them.”
He spun to face the class with a glare. “For our first class, I have decided to do something different, and discuss magical legacies.”
“We all aspire,” Draen glanced at the room, “We should all aspire to become greater than we are. Even a single percentage greater tomorrow, is better than remaining stagnant. That is all well and good, but that’s not legacy. In magic, there is no greater legacy than to become master of magic unlike any other. There are three typical ways to do that. Create new spells. Rediscover lost magic. Master magic not meant for mortals.”
Creating New Magic
Draen drifted to the front of the class and rose into the air. He gazed down at the students, and could see everyone, including the one desperately trying to hide in his seat. The archmage’s smile was predatory.
Creating new magic is not easy. Countless mages lived and died before you were born. There will be countless mages after your demise. Later for some. It is a task that requires tremendous courage.
“One cannot take a fireball, for example,” he began, and a fiery sphere appeared in his hand, “Transmute the element, and consider the task complete.” The sphere shimmered, and smoothed out, becoming an icy halo. “While clever, particularly for dispatching certain enemies, it is not a new spell. Naming it after yourself will only cause ridicule from your peers, at best. You may insult Kor’Tunni with the attempt, at worst.”
“Understand that crafting new magic requires patience, and time. One may think this gives the edge to elves, dwarves and other long-lived beings. That would be incorrect. Humans have proven quite adept at creating new ways to obliterate their enemies. They have also proven adept at nearly destroying reality. The two extremes go hand in hand.”
Draen floated in a lazy circle around the room, completely unbothered by his movements. Several students were quite bothered, particularly when he floated in proximity to them.
“Creating new magic is an art. To be considered new, it must do something different than the spells that exist today. A ray of fire and a fireball both burn, yet they burn differently. Let’s say you decided to create a spell that burns not the flesh but the spirit. You would need to research the school of magic, evocation is likely, but it may require dabbling in infernal or draconic magic. Depending on your level of self-preservation.”
“The part that changes a spell from new magic, to legacy is the one that most casters love and fear most. Fame. As a caster, you become known for signature spells. These aren’t just magic formulae. They are so engrained in your soul you can cast them without the usual restrictions, that spells may have. Then with your Soulfire spell unburdened, you would likely cast it more often. Then it may become known as Tiana’s Soulfire. “
The female student facing Draen fainted.
“Or maybe not.”
He continued to float past. “Then you will be faced with two problems. The first is how does that spell live on after you are gone. Even elves leave the mortal realm after a few millemnia. You can choose to teach it, or gift it to Eldaar’s library for future learning. Or keep it in your spellbook, a secret of your own. The latter will create its own problems. Your apprentice will want it. So will magic seekers. So will your enemies. Decisions, Decisions.”
He floated back to the front of the class and paused. Every single soul stiffened. He turned his head slightly.
“I would be remiss if I did not say that creating new magic is not limited to spells.” He stretched out a hand, and rivers of metal flowed out from his palm until they sheathed his hand in a platinum gauntlet. It was tipped with long claws, and on the back of his hand pulsed four gems.
“Magical items are a form of magic after all,” Draen continued. “Enchanting a sword, or a crafting a wand is magic as utility. Creating something unique, like the dragon gems, or a gauntlet to contain their power, is legacy.” He snapped his fingers and the gauntlet faded away as if it never was. When it was completely gone, Draen floated back to the front of the class.
Rediscovering Lost Magic
Draen snapped his fingers. Instantly the air shimmered with heat and the stench of sulfur and blood filled the room. With a gasp the students realized that the classroom itself was now in some hellish landscape.
“Welcome to the Pit,” Draen said simply. “It’s easiest to imagine the Pit as exactly that, a plunging hole in the fabric of reality. Truthfully it’s more like a valley or trench. We are on the outskirts of the Pits, where adventurers often come to seek their fortunes. Or where they are captured by rune elves on Duir’Aion, to be sold here. Due to this, many heroes and villains have fallen here. And with them, many unique and potent magical items. Some of these are artifacts. Some are spellbooks with forgotten magic. There are several locales, forges, laboratories that serve as tombs and vaults for such items.”
Draen snapped his fingers again and the classroom returned to its customary place. Everyone looked around. Only one seat was empty. The one in the corner. “Well,” the rune elf said dryly, “Two years in a row. First day. One loss. Becoming a tradition. The corners of his lips twitched as he drifted in contemplation..” He floated up the side of the wall, until he was upside down. Curiously neither his hair, nor his clothing obeyed the laws of gravity. “Simply put, if you can reclaim powerful magic, be they artifacts, spells, or even creations and claim it as your own, it can be your legacy. The dead have no need of such things.” He paused, “Though some might object.
“There are also schools of magic, entire magical theorems that have been lost, seats at the Council Arcane that sit empty. Those schools wore either censured or removed but never destroyed. If you can find them, and prove worthy of them perhaps that legacy would endure.”
Mastering Magic Not Meant for Mortals
“If treasure hunting is not in your blood,” Draen said still upside down, looking even more predatory if possible, “Seeking out what some would consider ‘forbidden’ magic may provide the longevity you seek. Understand that the prior example, that of rediscovering lost magic can be tied to this one as well. Sometimes that magic is not lost at all. It is hidden. Chronomancy for example is not commonly found for very good reasons. Apparently, time was undone once, maybe twice. Never know with humans. There is a particularly irritating human who has single-handedly restarted the Fortunavi school, bringing with him a form of magic once reserved for gods and fate alone.”
Draen floated back down to the floor, hovering a few inches off the surface. “Class dismissed.”
The candles began to go out again. “I wouldn’t dawdle,” Draen added. “Legacy waits for no one.”
A Darkness Rising 