It was late. Zachary keLeigwark fought back a yawn as he drew the last of the lines of the ritual circle. Ideally he would be completing this in a cleaned and purified ritual room with half a dozen advisers checking (and rechecking) his lines, not kneeling in the grass next to a lake and listening to crickets chirp while frogs belched out obscene sounds.

The difference was the price he paid for working illegal magic.

Zach had yet to graduate from the mage academy, so he wasn’t yet permitted to do a ritual like this. Even if he’d graduated, this specific ritual would still be banned. This was ancient royal magic. Only those with royal blood could even see the books outlining how to complete the spells. Theory only; they were forbidden from practicing it due the highly volatile nature of the magic. Ancient magic was more flexible than the structured magic now taught to anyone with the means to pay for an education. Flexibility let it do more than those cookie-cutter spells. That same flexibility, however, cost a mage control.

Sometimes royal magic had a will of its own.

Zach wasn’t some nobody off the street, though. He was the king’s nephew and he would prove he was capable. He would be acknowledged as one of the royal line.

Zach took a breath and focused his thoughts. Not too far away lay his ring. The ring held something that could be called the very core of Zach’s being: his heart.

Putting his heart inside something else was also very illegal royal magic, though that particular spell was often practiced by the king, queen, and crown prince as a safety measure against assassination. Zach didn’t plan on telling his uncle he was taking the same measures though, so he doubted that would be an issue.

Magic poured into the clearing as Zach began the chant that would direct his question to the ancient powers. The chalk lines began to glow, and slowly the runes and symbols he’d spent the last two hours drawing lit up. Shadows danced between the trees as if Zach were at the center of a fire.

To the right was the soul mark drawn in water for fluidity. His heart was a part of his soul separated from his body like drops of water from a pond.

Beside the soul mark was the symbol for matching, the twins, drawn with the tip of an owl’s feather for added wisdom. He needed to find the heart that matched his soul, and not any other heart. The one that was his.

On his left was a summoning rune drawn with expensive dragon’s blood. One of the strongest monsters that still retained some intelligence. Zach might some day need that strength to call his heart to himself, and he knew he would hoard his heart like a dragon did treasure. Zach had too many goals to give any part of himself up. If ever his heart was taken, he needed to know this ritual worked to bring back what was his.

Zach could feel the magic filling the clearing. It spun around him and passed through him and saw into him in a way no living being could. He kept chanting. He refused to be intimidated by power.

Around him the symbols and runes glowed brightly. The twins. The soul mark. The summoning. With dozens of supporting characters flickering, these three shone almost bright enough to light up the whole forest. His parents would be furious if they found out, but Zach wasn’t about to let that stop him. He chanted again, pushing one last time.

Bring me my heart, he demanded. Bring me my soul’s twin.