Defensive Magic

FALL TERM - October 5th

I'd like to say the incident with Aries in the courtyard was an isolated one, but that would be a lie.

Since then, he's taken just about every opportunity he can to instigate another brawl. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother casting anything my way. He's tackled me in the hallway of the Vodalysa dormitories, tries to put me in a headlock if we cross paths during the day, and shoves me when we meet for lunch. Because, oh yeah, Aisling still invites him along. He's there in the courtyard, often waiting for us, with a packed lunch and our combat lessons textbook set open to a casting diagram for the week.

It's frustrating, but at least now I realize the error of my ways. It doesn't matter if I try to hit him back or cast slow on him. Aries thinks this is just what friends do. He thinks we're friends.

I shouldn't be so shocked. It wasn't as though I didn't see the way he treats Noodle, his only other companion. The two of them are always wrestling. Noodle calls it play fighting. Call it my ignorance, I just assumed it was a dog-folk thing. But if anything, it's an Aries thing. With that said, there's an added layer of intensity with me that's never there when I see him and Noodle fight.

I have more nicks, scrapes, and scratches than I think I ever have had in my life. There's a bruise on my cheek that's made it hard to sleep on one side, and my knuckles bleed when I cast. The mark of Orendell hurts whenever I don't have Kelyn's poultice over it, and it hurts worse any time I try to avoid coming to blows with Aries. The wolf always wants a fight.

At least Aries looks just as rough. Aisling reminds us daily that there's a patchwork potion that will make little cuts like these heal almost instantly, but it feels wrong to take it. Aries won't take it either.

He won't say it, but he suspects I'm a werewolf. It's not like we've talked about it, but I heard him the first time we dueled. That moment, the first time I felt the wolf take control of my body, he'd said it. There you are. Every blow that's come since, I can see him searching my face for another sign of the wolf. As though he intends to catch me in a lie.

I tell myself I'm not a werewolf. I'm not a werewolf. I have two days until the full moon and I guess then, I'll know for sure.

In the meantime, I checked out a book called Folk Tales of Caburh. It was the only thing in the library I found with so much of a mention of Orendell. I plan to check in the Sanctum next, but there's no organizational method to the books in there. Only volumes and volumes of information, arranged by age of the text, most of which are handwritten to begin with and don't exactly make for light or easy reading.

There was another thing that happened. I've mostly put off writing about it because I like to think if I don't write it down, it didn't happen. But I'll need this committed to memory. I'll strive to record it here as accurately as I can.