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Lio had to suppress a shiver as he entered the office. The shiny card on the door said ‘Professor Galo Thymos / Magical Integration’. But there was no sign of the professor in the office. In fact, the office didn’t even look much like an office. Lio’s own office was much more typical of what one would expect a professor’s office to be. He had a desk, some comfortable chairs, a few bookshelves crammed with texts on both magic and mundane subjects, and a few magical oddities lying around here and there that he’d picked up throughout his life.
If it weren’t for the card on the door, Lio might have assumed that he’d wandered into a mechanic’s storeroom by mistake. There were metal parts, tools and wires everywhere.
Lio got a shock as he took a step into the room and what he thought was a coil of wire moved on its own. It lifted one end of itself up like a snake, and Lio carefully stepped around it. He watched it slink beneath a bookshelf, which was stuffed with what looked to be technical manuals and notebooks.
“Professor Thymos?” he called.
There was a crash, coming from very close by. Lio jumped as a pile of parts fell onto the floor. A blue mohawk poked around the side of a suit of armour (Lio really didn’t want to know what the professor was doing with that!).
“Lio!”
The professor finally showed himself, dusting off his clothes as he set a wrench down on the table. That dislodged a drill, which fell onto the floor. Galo didn’t seem to notice as he grinned at Lio.
Lio felt incredibly out of place in his maroon magicians’ robes. Galo fit much better in the space, with his black t-shirt and jeans. His only concession to school dress policy was the badge pinned to his shirt that indicated he was a professor. The little gold triangle with the school’s initials on it seemed to glow with its own light.
“Thanks for coming, Lio.” Galo wiped his hands off on a rag. “I’ve been having a lot of trouble with this project.”
“Project?” Lio inquired, feeling as if he were poking a hornets’ nest.
The teachers were free to pursue their own hobbies, magical or otherwise, in their free time, but Galo’s extracurricular projects were certainly unconventional. Lio was using his free time to create a compendium of spells used by other cultures in order to preserve them, a project that might one day get him published. That was a hobby that his parents, both prominent members of the magical community, would approve of.
Galo’s projects, on the other hand, bordered on sacrilegious. Mixing organic material with magic was a common practice but mixing machinery with magic? The idea was definitely controversial.
Still, Galo had the approval of the school board to pursue the area of study, in both his classes and his free time, so Lio couldn’t really object.
But he was certainly not sure he wanted to help Galo with these projects either.
Galo must have noticed the reluctance in Lio’s bearing because his grin dimmed. “It’s totally safe,” he said reassuringly. “You won’t be handling anything dangerous. I just need you to cast a spell for me, that’s all. I can’t get my own magic to stick. Water and metal don’t seem to fuse very well.”
“You think fire would?” Lio asked.
Galo set down a box on the table. He lifted the lid, then took out the contents. Lio had to admire the intricacy of the work. Galo was holding a small metal dragon in his palm. It was no bigger than a kitten.
Lio studied the thing, frowning. He was intrigued, despite his reservations.
“I’ve been trying to infuse it with magic,” Galo explained, “but it never takes. After a few hours, the magic fizzles away. All the circuitry is there to guide the magic into the right shape—it should be a self-sustaining system, but it isn’t.”
“There are plenty of fire mages in the school,” Lio pointed out. “Why are you asking me for help?”
Galo shrugged. “Why not you?” he asked. “If you don’t want to help, that’s okay. I just thought that since you’re the best fire mage here, if you can’t make it work, then nobody can.”
The disappointment in Galo’s face tugged on Lio’s heartstrings. He took the silver dragon from Galo to inspect it. It had two tiny glass eyes and was polished to a gleam. Every detail was perfect, right down to the tiny talons on the dragon’s feet. Lio couldn’t imagine how long it had taken Galo to make the dragon. Even without magic, it was a fine piece.
“Can I see the schematics?” Lio inquired. “I want to see the pathways.”
Lio had never tried to use his magic to animate an inanimate object before, and he didn’t want to accidentally destroy the dragon.
Galo dug around underneath the table while Lio continued to stare at the dragon. The more he examined it, the more alive the dragon seemed. Lio could almost imagine that it had a personality. By the time Galo surfaced with a sheath of papers, mohawk rising up like a submarine from the sea’s depths, Lio was beginning to feel a bit possessive of the dragon. He was fully aware that he had no right to feel that way, however. Yet he couldn’t help but to clutch the dragon to his chest as Galo spread the papers out on the upturned box the dragon had been housed in.
The schematic was detailed, and exactly what Lio needed. He could estimate the amount of fire magic necessary to spark the sigils that were inscribed inside the dragon’s body without overwhelming them. He thought he could understand why Galo’s water magic had failed. Water circulated well, but the sigils would diminish it over time. Fire, on the other hand, would fuel itself and would be a much more robust and long-lasting source of energy for the spells.
And dragons were synonymous with fire. Lio had never studied the Magical Integration field, but he suspected that symmetry increased the likelihood that the magic would take.
“Can you do it?” Galo asked. His expression reminded Lio of a student asking to borrow one of Lio’s rare books.
“I think so.”
Lio touched his finger to the dragon’s jaw. It was parted slightly, and Lio was able to slip the tip in. The fire inside Lio responded to his silent summons. It raced up his veins and into the tip of his finger. Lio’s eyes glowed with pink light. A few seconds later, the dragon’s glass eyes began to glow with the same light.
Lio withdrew his finger. The dragon flicked its tail. A smile began to spread over Galo’s face as the dragon stretched its neck out, then shook itself. It stared up at Lio with those glowing eyes as Galo let out an excited whoop.
“It’s alive!”
“Okay, Dr. Frankenstein,” Lio drawled.
He set the dragon down on the box, atop the schematic papers. The dragon peered curiously around the room.
Galo beamed with pride, as if the dragon were a baby taking their first steps. In a way, Lio supposed it was, and he couldn’t help the same feeling of pride swelling up inside him. He realised with a shock that his own projects rarely brought him such pride or satisfaction. Usually, he just felt relieved to have completed them. This felt…different—and nice.
“Thanks, Lio. I really appreciate it. Can I ask you again for help if I need it?” Galo queried.
“I don’t know much about this field, but I suppose,” Lio agreed.
The dragon jumped off the box and sent some screws skittering off the table. It froze, comically startled. A smile tugged on Lio’s lips. When he looked up, he realised that Galo wore a very similar smile, but it wasn’t directed at the dragon. It was, instead, directed at Lio.
“Thanks, Lio. I really appreciate it,” Galo said. He picked the dragon up and set it back atop the box. “I’m working on a phoenix next.”
“I’m sure this one will appreciate the company,” Lio said—and maybe Lio would too.