Calem was speechless for a moment. It had happened so fast that it didn't even feel climatic, just out of pocket.
The only explanation he could come to was the aspect of this world he had learnt to get used to: magic.
So was that it? Was this a magical scroll? And since it called him master, was it going to grant him three wishes?
If that was the case, he already knew what his number one wish would be.
He waited for something else to happen, but the crimson glow from the scroll just remained, glowing against his face. Calem stared, heart hammering against his ribs.
His eyes read the sentence once again; 'The Forbidden Scroll Has Identified Its New Master.'
Maybe this scroll was some kind of evil relic. And it could be worth hundreds of gold! Maybe he could sell it to someone else, take the money and find a heal—
"Huh?" he paused.
The ink was moving again.
First, like dark water swirling, the existing sentence dissolved. And after that, new words bloomed across the ancient parchment in stark, elegant script— the kind of handwriting classmates would gloat about as they proudly lent everyone their notebooks just to boast.
[Master Calem Margrave]
[You hold the Soulforge Quill and the Forbidden Scroll. I am your pawn, a tool for your aspirations. As long as you abide to the laws of my power]
Calem paused, staring at the words. 'A tool for my aspirations. Laws of your power? What is this?'
He wondered if he could speak to the scroll. "What are you?"
The earlier words disappeared and new ones took over.
[Master can only communicate with its pawn by writing with the Quill on the paper.]
"Oh," he muttered. 'How's that going to happen when I can't even write a letter?'
Ignoring the question, the scroll pressed on, a new line of texts appearing on the paper.
[The Forbidden Scroll and the Soulforge Quill has granted you an SSS Ranked Spell: Soul Bind]
Calem's eyes widened. 'Soul Bind?'
[The Forbidden Scroll bears the casual name; Binding Note. Whatever name you inscribe on the fabric of this paper, your Soul Core will bond with theirs, and you will instantly claim every Spell they learn in the future— gaining immediate mastery as well].
Calem nearly sprang from his chair, but his palm was too weak for such a sudden motion. "What an overpowered Spell!" he mumbled. "I've never even heard of an SSS Ranked Spell before. And now I have one?"
He wouldn't need to chant.
He wouldn't need to read tomes.
He wouldn't even need to listen to teachers. He could cheat the system; merely write the name and enjoy the gain.
That was exactly what this scroll was saying to him right now.
But what about those laws of its power?
As if anticipating his thoughts, the scroll materialized new words:
[Laws of The Soul Binding Spell]
[I. The Witness: Power flows from sight. To claim a spell, you must first SEE it woven by the caster's hand. It will not work through memory, second-hand storytelling, or reading about it.]
[II. The True Name: Every spell has its name. You must KNOW it. Hear it shouted by the caster, find it written, or unravel it through research. The name is the key that turns the lock within the caster's soul.]
[III. The Hourglass: You have SEVEN DAYS from the moment of Witness. With the Soulbind Quill, you must WRITE the caster's full name before your seven days run out.]
[IV. The Binding: Complete the name. The bond snaps taut, soul to soul. The spell you witnessed and named is YOURS, mastered instantly, as if born to your will. And henceforth... every spell that Mage learns shall be given to you as well, perfect without effort. Their struggle is your harvest; their future, your larder.]
[Now go ahead, write your first name. The Power Awaits Your First Strike.]
Calem read the words, once, twice. There was really no way that this was real. How could a simple scroll connect his Soul Core— the very mana reservoir of every mage —to another's, granting him not only the spell he witnessed but every future spell they learned?
That wasn't just SSS. That was outright illegal!
Yet, what would be even more criminal was if he didn't try. Calem's gaze dropped to the Academy flyer he slowly pulled from his pocket.
What if this was actually real?
Calem saw that he barely had any time left to question whether or not it could be real. As shown in the flyer, the scouts were arriving this weekend.
He remembered Liam. That sneering face flashed before him, reminding him: "My father's already secured my recommendation. I'll be learning real magic while you're still sweeping Harven's filth..."
Calem's eyes narrowed. A wild, desperate hope, sharper than any pain he'd ever felt, lanced through him. 'This scroll. This impossible, forbidden thing... it could get me in. It can't hurt at all to try.'
He didn't need years of healing. He didn't need working hands. He only needed to see one spell. Know its name. And write the caster's full name.
He needed to do it before the scouts came.
Before the weekend.
If they saw him do even the slightest magic, they would take him to the Academy.
Ignoring the throbbing agony in his hand, Calem frantically rolled up the scroll. He shoved it deep into his inner pocket, the hard quill pressing against his ribs like a promise and a threat. He lurched to his feet, his limp forgotten in the surge of adrenaline.
He flung open the cottage door. The strong afternoon light stung his eyes. Frost still crunched underfoot. He didn't look back at Harven's hovel. His gaze swept the muddy path leading towards Ivorydale, towards the training grounds near the market, towards anywhere a young mage might be showing off before the scouts arrived.
His breath plumed in the cold air, ragged with pain and desperate hope. Every step sent jolts through his bad arms, but he pushed harder, breaking into an awkward, limping run.
He had to find someone casting a spell.
Now.