“I don't know,” Eclesia replied, “but doesn't it remind you of that time?” 

“You mean when our little devil got into your calligraphy inks and summoned that water spirit? Or when you set him down in the dirt for five seconds and he summoned a necromantic earth spirit?” Jerumel shook his head slowly. “It reminds me of both of them.” 

“Our baby turned two that year, didn't he?” Eclusia smiled. She loved her boy more than anything else in the world. He was the product of pure, immaculate love, refined in the fires of life, unmarred by the whispers of the world. 

Jerumel chuckled. “It was such a surprise when you gave birth to both him and a wind spirit.” 

“I didn't give birth to Rixi,” Eclesia corrected, “Pericles made a contract with her from inside my womb.” 

“Still crazy,” he replied, “our boy's growing up.” 

“That he is.” Eclesia put an arm around her husband and leaned her head against his shoulder. “But, I can't help but wonder: what kind of spirit needs a summoning circle that big?!” 

The two of them exchanged a look. “You don't think…?” 

“No, it couldn't be.” 

*** 

Mancer, meanwhile, was doing exactly as they suspected: drawing a summoning circle for an esoteric spirit. While elemental spirits represented physical forces of nature, such as earth, water, and wind, esoteric spirits were the avatars of intangible concepts like time, space, mana, light, and shadow. 

The circle Mancer was drawing resembled a clock with infinite hands, telling every time at once, but never the same time twice. The center of the circle held a twelve pointed star within a star, and the outer portion was scrawled with Feyrian numerals. 

Mancer wiped the sweat from his brow as he connected the final line in the circuit. It was hard work drawing it by hand, but his six year old body didn't have the mana for magic writing of this caliber. He leaned on the stick and caught his breath. Drawing this circle had taken the better part of the evening, but it was far from perfect. There were plenty of flaws and imperfections that could compromise its function. He studied it critically, judging his handiwork with a careful eye. 

As he corrected a superficial mistake, he became aware of a footstep behind him, and he turned to see Angelina standing at the edge of the clearing, looking fearful, yet determined. Mancer returned to his task, not in the least bit curious about what she had to say. 

Angelina approached uncertainly, wondering vaguely why he was scrabbling in the mud and how he was keeping his feet from sinking in. Her own shoe sank into the ground, muddying her azure dress. She was about to take another step, but Mancer stopped her. With a wave of his hand, an invisible wall formed in front of her, and she bumped her head against it. 

“Don't. Touch. The lines,” he said forcefully. Then he returned his attention to the dirt. 

Angelina watched him anxiously, waiting for a chance to speak. At last, Mancer finished with the summoning circle and reluctantly turned his attention to her. She hesitated, worried he would dismiss her as quickly as she had dismissed him. 

“If you have something to say, say it already,” Mancer demanded, “I'm kind of busy here.” 

Angelina bit her lip. “How… how do you know… that my father's dying?” 

Mancer scoffed. “If that's what you came to ask, you're wasting your time. I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to.” He was about to step into the circle, but Angelina grabbed his arm. 

“Wait! Tell me how to save daddy!” She dropped to her knees on the muddy ground, further soiling her once vibrant dress. Tears fell from her face, mingling with the grass and muck in a dirty display of desperation. Her hands clutched at his ankles, holding him feebly in place. “I've already lost momma,” she wailed, “I can't lose daddy, too!” 

Mancer scoffed, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “Ugh. So annoying,” he grumbled. 

He looked down at her, then reluctantly extended his hand. She took it gingerly and he lifted her up to stand on her own two feet. She stared back at him hopefully, not daring to breath for fear that he would change his mind. He shook his head and smirked. 

“Fine then. I guess it's time for your first lesson,” Mancer declared. 

Angelina smiled hesitantly. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. 

He stepped into the summoning circle. “Follow me,” he said, “it's time for an object lesson.” 

Angelina followed after him, confused. They stood in the middle of the circle, their feet wet and dirty. With a word from Mancer, Seiche sucked the moisture from the ground around the circuit, drying out and hardening his lines. The ground shook briefly while Tumulus erased their footprints, and the preparations were complete. 

Raw magic power swirled around them as Mancer activated the magic circle. Angelina reflexively stepped closer to him, squeezing his arm. 

“W-What's happening?!” she stammered. 

“Miss Baltimore,” he said casually, “can you tell me what the most important element of magic is?” 

“Umm… Mana?” she guessed. 

Mancer shook his head. “It's imagination,” he corrected, “if you can't imagine it happening, you won't be able to do it. There's no place for doubt when you're casting a spell.” 

The circle pulsed, and a swift wind bent around them. It was his second time performing the ritual, but his capacity for magic was now greatly reduced, and this time, he had a hitchhiker. 

Mancer's mana flooded into the circle, and the hands of the clock began ticking infinitely. The sound roared through the forest, cascading across the grounds and reaching the manor on the hill. Party guests hurried outside to find the source of the sound, but all they could see was a brilliant flash of light as Mancer and Angelina ascended to the spirit plane. 

*** 

“What is this place?” Angelina asked. She stared wide eyed into the space around her, blinded by the sudden extreme brightness that surrounded her. 

Mancer didn't answer. His heart was burning again, as though he had cast it into the center of a blacksmith's forge to be smelted into ore. The crack in his eighth circle widened, and a stray shard of mana pierced through his lung. 

He glared into distance and shouted furiously, “Chroma! Get your ass over here!” 

With a soft poof, the time spirit he'd invoked suddenly appeared, floating gently before him. Chroma was kicking back and relaxing with his face buried in a peculiarly thin book. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Mancer demanded. 

“I'm reading a comic book,” Chroma explained absently, “it's really quite good. You should–” He broke off the sentence as soon as he realized what he was saying, looking around nervously as if someone might have heard him. He tossed the book behind him and it disappeared into the air. “Hey, Mancer!” he chuckled awkwardly, “what are you doing here?” 

Mancer glared at him. “I came to find you, selfish little bastard.” He picked him up by the back of the neck and lifted the struggling Chroma to eye level. “Spirits aren't normally this stupid,” he said to Angelina, “so you've got to be careful when you make a contract with one.” 

Angelina looked at him curiously. “What could happen if you're not careful?” 

“Anything from eternal servitude to the forfeiture of body or soul,” Chroma answered, “it's nasty business, so watch out!” 

Angelina poked him in the back. “What kind of spirit is this fluffy gray guy? He seems really cute…” 

“Believe me. He's not,” Mancer replied, “I've gone through two mana droughts now because of this thing.” 

“Look, it's not my fault your mana use is super inefficient!” Chroma protested, “try using it properly for once! Geez. I do one thing and suddenly I'm to blame for his magical ineptitude. That makes complete sense.” 

Mancer flicked him. “Shut up! You're the one who just disappeared without a word. You have got to be the laziest spirit I've ever met!” 

“Well, maybe that's because you don't let your spirits have their own free will! They're basically slaves!” 

“You want to try saying that again?” 

“Look, just because I don't simp for you–” Chroma covered his mouth as if he'd said a bad word. He looked around again fearfully, like a child wondering if his mother was around. 

Mancer scowled. “I'm done with this. Into the bottle with you!” He pulled a glass jar from his raggedy bag and stuffed Chroma inside, stoppering the lid so he couldn't escape. 

Angelina watched closely. “Is that how you normally make contracts?” she asked hesitantly. 

“No,” Mancer replied, “this is what you do when the spirit won't hold up their end of the deal.” 

Chroma tried to say something through the glass, but his voice was too muffled. He slammed against the bottle, trying in vain to break it. Eventually, he gave up, sitting in the jar furiously. 

“That's all for today's lesson,” Mancer said, “tomorrow I'll teach you about magic circles.” He smiled. “Think you can find your way back?” 

“What?!” 

Mancer pushed Angelina away and released his spell. The light faded, and he returned alone to the clearing, right to the waiting blade of Othello Rigby.