"Don't move, he's watching us," I muttered, trying not to look in the direction of Archmage Donovan.
The hall was packed with mages from across the region, all gathered for the quarterly demonstration of new spells. I didn't even want to be here, but when the Academy summons, you answer—whether you're enrolled or not.
Ren nudged me with his elbow. "He's been staring at you for like ten minutes, Luca. What'd you do to piss him off?"
"Exist, probably," I said, keeping my eyes forward as Master Elliot droned on about proper wand form.
Truth is, I knew exactly why Donovan was watching me. Three days ago, I'd created a small flame in the market district without holding a staff, wand, or any other focus. Just a quick snap of my fingers to light a merchant's lantern when the wind blew it out. I didn't think anyone from the Academy had seen it. I was wrong.
My right arm itched under my sleeve where my newest tattoo was still healing—a phoenix in flight, wings spread from my wrist to my elbow.
I got my first tattoo when I was sixteen, nearly five years ago. It was a small lightning bolt behind my ear—a rebellious act against my parents who wanted me to follow the traditional path of magic. Formal education, proper channeling techniques, the works.
The night after I got inked, I accidentally shocked my cat Jules when I touched him. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make his fur stand up and earn me an annoyed glare. I thought it was static electricity.
By the time I had three tattoos, I knew something weird was happening. The rose on my back made plants lean toward me. The wave pattern around my ankle let me create small splashes in my bathwater without touching it.
I kept getting more, and with each new design, my control improved. No wand needed. No staff required. No focus crystals or enchanted jewelry. Just my skin.
"—and these undisciplined street performers are making a mockery of our sacred traditions!"
I snapped back to attention. Archmage Donovan had taken the stage, his long robes sweeping dramatically as he paced.
"There are reports," he continued, "of individuals performing magic without proper focus implements. This is either cheap trickery or dangerous experimentation."
I pulled my sleeves down further, making sure all my ink was covered. Next to me, Ren looked confused.
"What's the big deal?" he whispered. "If someone figured out wandless magic, shouldn't they be celebrated?"
Master Elliot cleared his throat. "The problem, young man, is that our understanding of arcane energy requires a focus to prevent dangerous discharge. Without it, the caster risks not only themselves but everyone around them."
That wasn't true for me. My tattoos were my focus, each one allowing me to channel a different type of magic with more precision than any wand I'd ever held.
After the lecture, I hurried toward the exit, hoping to slip away before anyone could corner me.
"Luca Nowak."
I froze at the sound of my name. Turning slowly, I found myself face to face with Mira Chen, the Academy's most promising student and, unfortunately, someone I'd known since childhood.
"Been a while," I said, trying to sound casual. "How's academy life treating you?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Cut the crap. I saw you at the market three days ago."
My stomach dropped. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? Because I was buying herbs when a certain someone lit old man Gregor's lantern with nothing but a snap."
I glanced around nervously. "Look, can we not do this here?"
Mira grabbed my arm, right over the phoenix tattoo. I winced.
"What are you hiding?" She pushed my sleeve up before I could stop her, revealing the vibrant red and orange ink. Her eyes widened. "When did you get this?"
"None of your business," I hissed, yanking my arm back and covering the tattoo. "And lower your voice."
"Tattoos?" she said, looking me up and down. "That's your secret? How many do you have?"
"Enough." I started walking again, faster this time.
Mira kept pace. "They're connected, aren't they? The tattoos and the magic."
I stopped abruptly. "How would that even work?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I've been watching you for five minutes, and you haven't fidgeted or reached for a wand once. Yet the air around you is crackling with potential energy."
She was observant - too observant. That's what made her the Academy's star.
"Fine," I said. "Yes, they're connected. No, I don't know how it works. And no, I'm not telling anyone else."
Two days later, I was in the studio of Omar, my tattoo artist, getting a small mountain range added to my left calf.
"So the Academy's in an uproar," Omar said as he worked. "Rumor has it someone's doing magic without a focus."
I tensed, then forced myself to relax. "Yeah? Sounds like bullshit to me."
Omar chuckled. "That's what I thought too. But then I started thinking about you and all these elemental designs you keep getting."
The needle stopped. Omar sat back and gave me a knowing look.
"You ain't subtle, Luca. Fire, water, air, earth - you're collecting the elements on your skin."
My throat went dry. "It's just art."
"Sure, and I'm just an artist." He tapped my completed phoenix tattoo. "But I've been doing this for twenty years, and I've never seen ink that glows faintly when the person thinks I'm not looking."
I didn't know what to say.
Omar leaned in. "Look, I don't care if you're doing something the Academy doesn't approve of. But I think you should know—you're not the first."
"What?"
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a complex geometric pattern that covered his entire arm. Then he touched it with his other hand, and the lines lit up like circuits.
"Not all magic comes from their precious schools," he said. "Some of us found other ways."
The summons arrived the next morning—a formal request for me to present myself to the Academy Council. Someone had reported me.
I considered running, but where would I go? The Academy had eyes everywhere. Better to face them and deny everything.
When I arrived, I was led to a circular chamber where seven mages sat at a high table. Archmage Donovan was at the center.
"Luca Nowak," he began, "you stand accused of practicing unauthorized magic without proper focus implements. How do you respond?"
I shrugged, trying to appear confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Witnesses say you created fire with no wand or staff."
"Witnesses are mistaken."
Donovan's eyes flashed. "Then you wouldn't mind demonstrating your magical abilities for us? With no implements?"
It was a trap. If I refused, I looked guilty. If I did it, I confirmed their suspicions.
"Fine," I said. "But I'll need my things from home."
"That won't be necessary," said a voice from behind me. Mira stepped into the chamber. "I brought them."
She held out my practice wand—a basic wooden rod I hadn't used in years. I took it, silently cursing her.
"Now," Donovan said, "light the candle."
I pointed the wand at the unlit candle on the table, knowing it wouldn't work. The wand was practically decorative at this point.
But I had my tattoos. The phoenix on my arm seemed to burn under my sleeve. I just needed to channel through it without being obvious.
I made a show of focusing through the wand while actually directing energy from my tattoo. The candle lit.
Donovan looked disappointed. Mira looked confused.
"Try water next," Donovan ordered.
I flicked the wand while channeling through the wave around my ankle. A small sphere of water formed above my palm.
One by one, they had me demonstrate basic spells, and each time I pretended to use the wand while actually using my tattoos.
Until Donovan said, "Now hand the wand to Mira."
I froze.
"Go on," he urged.
Reluctantly, I passed the wand to Mira.
"Now," Donovan said with a cruel smile, "the candle again."
I stood there, trapped. Without my wand, I had no excuse for how the magic would happen. But with seven of the most powerful mages watching me, there was no way to hide what I was doing.
"I can't," I said finally.
"Can't?" Donovan raised an eyebrow. "Or won't?"
"Fine." I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the phoenix. "I won't pretend anymore."
I snapped my fingers, and the candle's flame doubled in size.
Chaos erupted in the chamber. The Council members jumped to their feet, some grabbing their staffs defensively, others shouting questions.
"Silence!" Donovan roared. When quiet fell, he stared at me with a mixture of fear and fascination. "What are you?"
"A tattoo mage," I said, the words feeling right as I spoke them. "My ink is my focus."
That was six months ago. Now I stand before a new class at the Academy—the first students of the newly established Department of Alternative Channeling.
I roll up my sleeves, showing the twelve tattoos that cover my arms.
"Traditional magic teaches that we need external tools to focus our energy," I begin. "But the body itself can be the focus, if prepared properly."
Omar stands beside me, displaying his own magical tattoos.
"Your body. Your magic. Your rules," I tell them. "Let's begin."
In the back of the room, Archmage Donovan watches with a tight expression. He fought against this class but was overruled. The younger Council members saw the potential.
Magic is evolving. And for once, I'm not fighting the current - I'm creating it.
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This is really good ! A nice tight story, well-paced, and well written.
Then I went and read some of your other posts. How come I haven't noticed you before now ? You've got serious storytelling talent ! Definitely added to my favourites list.
Hopefully you'll join the Scholar & Scribe Invitationals when they get posted. It' like that meme.... "Finally ! a worthy opponent ! Our battle will be legendary !" 😁
Smiles..
I appreciate you taking the time to read the story.
Well, I've not exactly been very active.
And the Scholar & Scribe Invitationals? Sounds like a challenge I can’t refuse! Let’s make it legendary. 😆
It's nice to meet you too!🤝