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A week later, Julia was still having trouble sleeping. Unconsciousness versus learning the programming language of the universe was an easy, easy choice to make.

There was so much in the Manual! Spells to find things, spells to go places, spells to pause time, spells to mend, spells to preserve. And they were surrounded by chapter upon chapter of theory, on names and time and space and energy, and stranger things like claudications and retrocausation and other worlds and things that didn’t even have names in English, and so were written in the book in the Speech itself.

There were scarier things, too. The warnings around some of the spells were very clear. This one, if spoken wrong, would unmake the caster. That one would bring ruin. Even something as simple as a name, said wrongly, could twist reality- and while there were spells for un-twisting it, they were some of the scariest in the book.

Julia was trying to ignore the little twisting in her stomach every time she worked magic, every time she said the name James, conjugated in the Speech. It… it was probably fine. She was probably just nervous. She hoped.

To clear her head a little, she’d ducked out from home, taken the train north to the Arboretum. It was quiet in winter, sleeping trees and few people. Julia walked and wondered- what had these trees seen? What might she be called on to protect them from?

The trail she was on was long and quiet, winding through the woods. Wind whistled somewhere overhead, but the air at the ground was still. It wasn’t even that cold, for all that the weather had changed to the cold, clear, continental mode that was the other option for Seattle winters.

There was a red maple here, impossibly bright against the deep evergreens surrounding it. Julia paused for a moment, taking in the beauty- a little snow would be perfect, she’d have to walk this trail again if it snowed this year.

Stopping moving let a little more cold into her- Julia continued along her way. There was another red maple, and another, and it wasn’t quite so cold under the trees. And then the deep brown trunks gave way to silvery maple, and she stood in an entire grove of silver branches and red leaves.

Julia hadn’t known that there was such a grove in the Arboretum. She hadn’t known that maples kept their leaves into December- they weren’t evergreens, right? She hadn’t known it was going to be this warm- she unzipped and then removed her overcoat, pausing to stuff it into her backpack next to her Manual.

When she straightened up, she realized she could see through the trees- and out there wasn’t the deep greens and faded grays of Seattle. She was on a hilltop, looking out over a sea of red trees that weren’t quite maples. There were miles of the trees, a great forest- and looming over them all, the perfect cinder cone of a stratovolcano.

There was a cloud coming off the top of the mountain. It wasn’t the white of steam, it wasn’t the black of smoke- it was the pale gray of volcanic ash.

There had been something in the Manual about an Ordeal. A trial which every neophyte wizard faced, uniquely chosen by the universe to test them to their limits. Or beyond- the book had words of caution, names and stories, of wizards whose Ordeals had claimed their lives.

“You,” Julia said to the mountain, “are going to be a problem, aren’t you.”

Julia- who still believed she was a boy, who still believed her name was James, woke at slightly past three in the morning.

She’d been having a pleasant dream- a book full of magic, an oath sworn to unlock it, words spoken and spells cast. She was surprised she could remember it so clearly- her dreams usually faded to nothingness before she woke.

But she was awake, and certain pressing reasons had brought her back to awareness.

“I could use some light, please,” she said, and almost jumped out of bed as a blue-white light flared into existence next to her head.

Julia stared at the light, and only then did she realize that she hadn’t asked for it in English. She’d spoken twelve syllables, eight of which had been her own name- and all of it had been shorthand, a repetition of a spell she’d spent an hour on last night.

That realization was enough to knock her out of bed entirely. From the floor she looked around- the book, her notes, it was all here, illuminated in the calm glow of her mage-light. It hadn’t been a dream. She’d spent hours last night reading the Manual, theory and practice and vocabulary, and put pieces of it into practice just before going to sleep.

Biology reminded her that there was a reason she was awake, and she went to take care of it, already knowing that there was no way she’d get back to sleep. Not with actual working magic lighting her way.

---

Assorted Notations from the Author

Okay, so it's short. I had more planned, but it'll fit better into the next- I have places I want this story to go that aren't narrating a research binge.

I second Doc for PG- I think he'd do good.

“Come on... come on... come on... YES!”

He pumped a fist in the air. “Alright, no damaaage, no damaaage, not a single hit was made, YES!”

Kala rolled her eyes and shooed Sumisu away from her workspace. “Are you even playing on hard mode?”

“...easy mode... shut up.”

Kala carefully spun the last screw into the motherboard. “Why are you playing on that battered old laptop, anyway? I’m building you a better computer right now.”

“...sentimental value? And a desire to get a few more moments of use out of this system before it—“

There was a loud puff sound, and Valon started coughing.

“Bhfack! —does that. Well, bugger.”

“Did you get everything backed up off your computer?”

“For once, I actually had the presence of mind to do so.”

“Good. You’ll have to play your DS for a while, though, this beast ain’t gonna be complete for a couple hours yet.” Kouroki helpfully held up the soldering iron, which Kala took and immediately started using.

“How DID you get into computers, anyway?”

“Adéle.”

“Fair enough.”

...what does a badfic sporkable by DOGA look like? Because I have a couple agent ideas that I feel are really good, who I put in that department, but on the other hand, from what I've seen, it doesn't look like there'll be much in DOGA stuff, and I have some equally decent agent ideas in the Department of Floaters.

Also, what would happen to an agent in the DBS as a consequence for making an attempt on their partner's life? I'm trying to double-check the backstory of another agent idea, thinking she'll be moved to another department (which?), but it might be otherwise.

-Twistey

I'm pretty sure Astartes are at least slightly understatted in 40k, but even if they aren't, Psychics are as close to confirmed as working the way they do in the game as is possible.

So Thoth is underpowered regardless.

It's both a fun circular reference and exactly how a Manual would have tried to snag me, back in the day. I have no clue if the rest of the series is also a thing, in this story? But that's not the point.

I love the background behind it, and the idea of the Manual basically being one of the series. But more than that I just love the way you've written it.

hS

Purple is great fun, and I'm glad he's getting a following. As for the glow spell, I have plans for it. Comic plans. =]

Thanks for your kindness. =]

I was pretty pleased with that little thought, and just how much wizards and magic has affected history and culture. It's no coincidence that Siobhan's Manual took the form of a famous book on ethnography.

The joke about what year is it is, er, nicked shamelessly from Night Watch by PTerry. I just couldn't resist a line like that.

Thanks again for the positivity. =]

Thanks for the point about spells being spoken; I should have grokked that, given how magic is called the Speech, and I'll amend that in future chapters. It's all a learning experience! =]

I'm glad you like Purple - he's great fun to write too! I couldn't help the music refs in the way he views magic, and I would apologise for that but I know my audience. The whole thing is based on how much parrots and cockatoos and that love loud noises. There's a great video of a bloke kicking the tar out of a crappy old cage with his cockatoo screeching along in time. =]

Oh, and the botched glow spell? I did that deliberately. Let's just say that there's a reason why I had it go tits up the way I did. =]

Thanks once again for your kind words. It means a lot. =]

The bookstore was practically a warren- it had expanded one room at a time through what once had been a trio of apartments, shelves growing like creeping vines along walls and down hallways. It smelled like books, the unique scent of old paper saturating the air.

Julia wandered. It was raining- the walls were thin enough that she could hear it beating down, even from a room away from the outdoors. She was in the fiction section- somewhere in the ‘C’s, between the old comfort of Bujold and the futurist wonder of Doctorow, when her fingers found something familiar.

The Wizards’ Oath. An old hardback, missing its dust jacket to show the simple binding beneath. Julia pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open.

She had read it before, she decided, as she paged through the first chapter, still wandering the bookstore. It was familiar- children swearing an oath to protect life from entropy, cloaked in christian-compatible imagery of a Dark One who had turned from the path of life. Magic was language- the Speech- although she could have sworn that in her memories, in the printing she’d held years ago, the curly blocks of the Speech had been a cursive script, familiar words in fancy clothes. These were something else- deep, dense, the curling glyphs had a rhythm to them but meaning danced out of reach.

The story turned into an adventure, as Julia’s favorite fiction was want to do- she only barely noticed the chair, tucked away in a convenient corner, or that she was sitting in it. She wasn’t just skimming any more, she was reading, page after page. How had she not loved this book? How had she only barely remembered it?

And then, on a page halfway into the story, a creature of the darkness killed one of the characters.

Julia was no stranger to character death- sacrifice and redemption were regular occurrences in fiction. But this one was different. It wasn’t a noble sacrifice, a hero laying down their life for their companions. It wasn’t a byronic fall, a person redeeming their unredeemable flaw by dying for it. It was just… death. Sudden, shocking, unfair. The darkness had reached for a person and she hadn’t been able to stop it and now she was gone.

Julia distinctly remembered closing the book there, returning it to the shelf, leaving the library.

Not this time. Julia turned the page, kept reading.

The story continued, chapters passed, evil was defeated- not perfectly, not without sacrifice, not permanently. But it did end, three hundred pages after it had begun, and… a curious distance from the closing cover of the book.

“Appendices?” Julia asked nobody in particular, and turned to the next page.

Appendix A: The Oath

There was a page’s worth of warnings. While the narrative was fiction, the Oath, the Art, the Speech- and most importantly the Enemy were all terrifyingly real, or so the book said. To swear the Oath was to reshape your life, or even lose it. This was the real world, not fiction, and the real world killed people.

And then there it was, a block of text set aside from the rest, starting with In Life’s name and for Life’s sake.

It seemed- well, not silly. They were serious words, but she’d plucked the book from a shelf full of books full of serious words. But at the same time…

Bookstores were usually quiet, this one was no exception. But right now, even though the rain was still beating on the windows and steam was hissing in the radiators and the floor overhead was creaking as someone moved, the little corner Julia was in was unusually quiet. Like the universe was waiting. Like the universe was listening.

Julia read through the Oath again, more carefully, not quite mouthing the words as she went. They were good words- she could agree with them, even if they were nothing other than a promise to herself.

She took a breath and read the Oath to the listening room. For an instant, it felt like she was on a stage, reading to a room full of… everything. For an instant, it felt like the everything exhaled, letting out a breath it had held for fifteen years.

And then there was someone else, leaning on the shelf, looking down at her with a bit of a smile.

“I’m afraid we’re closing,” the shopkeeper said, “and I must kick you out into the rain. Come on, I’ll get you at the front counter.”

Julia followed, book tucked under her arm. She didn’t expect to read it again terribly soon? But something was telling her that she couldn’t just swear an oath and then walk away.

Also, I think of the MEQ thing as more of a case of Space Marines not living up to the hype. Games Workshop states that much of the fiction is propaganda, or otherwise inaccurate in-universe. For example, they used this to get around the existence of C.S. Goto's Dawn Of War novels:

https://regimental-standard.com/2017/10/18/5-reasons-to-despise-the-perfidious-aeldari/

(Part 4 of the article is where this comes into effect.)

It's small, its dingy, and the holos are suggestive.

The Truth Hurts: Dust in the Wind, by Metool Bard (Spoilers for "Wonderbolt Academy" and "Rarity Investigates")

This is a one-shot in which an OC named "Haymaker teaches Lightning Dust a lesson the only way she'll understand[,]" using an unexpected visit from Wind Rider as an object lesson.

Of course, there had been a lot more than just reading involved - not that it made Marisa love her new program any less! If she'd had any mobile form of computer, she would have loved to have been able to take it from place to place. As it was, she only got time to progress on the readings in the evenings (as long as she did her normal schoolwork - unlike in the Harry Potter books, she'd learned she was not going to be taken to a faraway place where her home worries would cease to matter), and to practice some of the associated exercises on her own time.

The exercises had also gotten strange - not strange bad, but in the sense that she was learning what seemed like a foreign language (something else her parents would have been pleased with - as it was, they just thought she had gotten increasingly studious and better mannered. There were worse things.), and being tested in her comprehension on that through her readings. And, almost naturally it seemed, there had been writing and vocal exercises to go with it as well.

All to the good, as far as Marisa was concerned, for the stories were amazing. Never before had she seen fiction (or nonfiction) from the perspective of AI that seemed - somehow - so accurate.

Maybe that other worlds thing is real! she thought with glee- only to be brought to reality by a familiarly distressing buzzing.

Such was the pain of being outside - bugs. Sure, she couldn't think of one solid reason they made her so upset; maybe it was the noise they made, that they were so often small and fast (and could get in her face), that they could sting her, or maybe it was because when they got in the house everyone got upset.

So, switching moods from "cheerful at school and her new AR program" to "EXCESSIVE DISTRESS", she screamed.

/Go AWAY, bug!/

It had come out in that new language she'd been learning - but no one else on the playground had looked at her odd. In fact, the only being that really noticed was exactly that bug, which flinched and, somehow surprising Marisa, flew away a short distance.

/Not so loud!/ the bug replied - and Marisa's eyes went wide. /Why don't you just run away from me, like most humans do?/

Marisa had been surprised, so the bug - a bee, maybe? - got an honest answer.

/Uh, okay. I can do that next time...? Just please go away; I don't like bugs,/ she said quickly.

She got an impression of a /harrumph/ from the bee, which then flew away obligingly, back over the nearby fence. Apparently being polite had worked.

Well, her program's agreement had said 'all sentient beings'. She just hadn't really considered that bugs counted.

Learn something new everyday, she thought slowly - then deliberately turned back to the playground, vowing to be more polite to bugs. Maybe they'd leave her alone, then...

Purple is my new favourite bird (though don't let Peach hear me say that). I love his description of magic as he sees it - you've excellently melded worldview and nature together.

The one thing that worries me is the 'rough approximation' of her light spell. The Speech is a perfectionist's tool - mucking up the lines could lead to Issues down the line. Obviously it did, with the parameters for brightness being all out of whack - but I'm concerned that if the Manual provided her name for her (in very simplified form, since she didn't have to put in any parameters), she might have messed that up...

(Oh, also you have to speak a spell to get it to run. The diagram is actually the less-essential half.)

hS

And the Primal Scream sounds... very odd, but also very much canon-like. It's a good combo. :>

Hope that glow spell comes back again! Or gets turned off; whichever happens first.

Doesn't me explaining why I shouldn't be elected count -4?

HG, still clinging to his cosy corner :-)

I love the Gordian Knot reference- that is such a clever connection of ideas!

Purple is also going to be great fun. Magic as the art of screaming at things!

I'm not sure how "what year is this?" fits into the dialogue? The answer is great, and shoes some of how Purple thinks about the world, but it seems out of place and not necessary to get to the punchline.

Julia’s day had been a lot like the previous day- gray and empty. Part of this was due to the weather- the year was grinding to its dark conclusion, days shrunk to eight hours of rain-choked dimness before the long nights. Most of it, though, was that she still clung to the belief that she was a boy named James.

She did a reasonable James impression. The name and gender had been hung on her at birth, like a sign, and she’d gotten used to their weight. Mostly. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care. It worked. Mostly.

But in the dark afternoons of the dark months of yet another year, it all felt.. Hollow.

And so she was wandering. Looking for an adventure- she'd certainly read enough books like that, a wandering child drawn into a fantastic adventure. Not that she was a child any more. But somehow, she didn't feel like an adult, either- she was caught in the in-between place, stuck in an emptiness she couldn't let herself describe.

And so she was wandering. The day was starting to fade, or maybe it was just the clouds thickening.

Second chances sold cheap, caught her eye, and it took her a moment to realize it was a small sign in the window of a used book store. There was a whole collage of them, little notes, advertisements. On second look, she couldn't even see what she'd thought she'd seen- there was used books sold cheap and second-hand books and the name of the place, Twice-Sold Tales, text knocked out of alignment by the cat sitting on it.

It was starting to rain, it was starting to darken. A bookstore seemed like a reasonable place to catch her breath, browse a bit. The girl who thought she was a boy named James opened the door and stepped inside.

Since the nomination thread is rather dead at the moment and about to fall off the front page, it's about time to call some elections and ask for more opinions in others.

First off, I think it's safe to say, Larfen J. Stocke, esq. and Hieronymus Graubart, please come to the podium to receive your official Permission Giver hats! Congratulations, both of you.

Second, to keep all the results in one place, Akrinor has been elected as a Discord moderator for about two weeks now.

Third, I, Tomash was nominated for moderator (which, if it had gone through, would have been my second time holding that position per this post). Given that PoorCynic objected, and not many people actually had an opinion, I'm going to say the nomination fails (barring the case that almost no one actually saw the nomination and a whole pile of people come out to be in favor of it).

Now, on to potentially unfinished business:

doctorlit has six votes below, and the only person who's unsure about the nomination is doctorlit himself, who's concerned he won't be active enough to be a good PG. I'm currently interpreting his post about this as being hesitant about taking the job but not actually turning it down, so I'll say if we get another 5-6 more people in support of the nomination, doctorlit will get a hat too.

- Tomash