DISPEL

I’m up and out of my seat so fast my stool hits the floor long after I’ve made it clear across the Alchemy classroom.

Did he faint? Did that bastard Smoot sucker punch him? Did—?

I come to an abrupt halt at the edge of Zalan’s worktable. He’s…just lying there. And he’s…he’s not moving. Someone slams into the back of me, and I stumble forward a few steps.

“What the blasted—?” Professor Finlay hisses in surprised pain, shaking his hand. And then he seems to notice us encroaching ever closer. 

“No! Back up! Don’t come any closer! And no one touch him! Do you understand?” the professor orders frantically as he throws out his hand to keep us at bay. And then he throws his hand up into the air. “Yanev, my stave!”

“Coming right up, professor!” his assistant shouts back as he rushes to retrieve it.  

The whole class parts like blades of tall grass in the wind as the beautifully carved wood stave sails through the air into the professor’s waiting hand. 

Professor Finlay raises the stave high above Astaroth and evokes,
“You that were forged from ores of stone and soil,
By the might of the old groves of Ash and Yew,
I command you,
Shatter and return to what you once were!”

Evocation complete, Finlay brings the stave down hard on the strange metal band encircling Astaroth’s wrist. And with a colossal boom of blindingly brilliant light, the band shatters into metallic fragments. 

I’m fairly certain a strike like that would have broken anyone’s wrist in the process. And any sane person would have cried out. But Zalan didn’t even flinch. In fact, I don’t think he’s…

“Are his lips turning blue?” I question aloud without realizing.

Professor Finlay’s hand suddenly darts to Zalan’s chest. And not even a moment later, he rips Astaroth’s uniform open. And then he seems to freeze on a startled breath.

I think we all do. 

“What in the name of…” Finlay’s words trail off as his fingers skim over the intricate magikal inkwork covering Zalan’s skin in a dark vermilion hue.

His face contorts in disgusted horror. “Who would put such an array on their body?” But even as he says it, something seems to occur to him, and his expression darkens. 

The professor curses under his breath. “Of all the reckless, idiotic things that bastard could have—” Professor Finlay angrily grumbles to himself as he pulls out his wand.

“I need you all to stand clear. What I’m about to do is a highly dangerous application of magik,” the professor announces.

Everyone but me takes a substantial step back as Finlay puts his wand to the center of Zalan’s magikal array. In a blinding flash, a plasmic bolt ignites from Finlay’s wand. My dormmate’s body jerks upward a few inches from the floor before it slaps back down as lifeless as a dead fish. But he doesn’t stir. The professor casts it again, but the result is the same. 

“Come on, lad, don’t do this. Not today,” Professor Finlay pleads under his breath as he ignites the spell a third time.

And this time—finally—Zalan’s lips part in breath as his chest begins to rise and fall once more. But his eyes never open.

Professor Finlay places a gentle hand on Zalan’s chest until his breathing reaches a steady rhythm. Then he nods and rises to his feet. “Now, who is responsible for this?”

The Alchemy classroom is utterly silent. 

I open my mouth just in time to hear Aruna Kattel say, “Um…Professor, I didn’t see what happened exactly. But I did hear Reginald Smoot arguing with Zalan before class started.”

The whole class whirls around to glare accusingly at Smoot.

“H—how do you know it was me? Maybe he did it to himself,” Smoot stammers, insisting on his own innocence. 

Professor Finlay holds up his hand. “Spare me, Mr. Smoot. However, next time you decide to take it upon yourself to pull such an ill-advised prank on a fellow mage, know this. You should first ensure that their very life is not being maintained by a magikal aid.”

Smoot stares at him blankly. “Huh?”

The professor lets out a frustrated sigh. “Maybe I should have been more clear. Mr. Astaroth was very dead for several minutes due to your reckless actions. And you shall be supremely lucky if the headmistress does not expel you for it.”

Professor Finlay turns toward his assistant. “Yanev?”

“Yes, Professor Finlay?”

“Would you please take Mr. Astaroth to the infirmary. I restarted whatever it is he’s got inside there. However, I wasn’t the Artificer who designed it. So I haven’t a clue if it’s been damaged.”

“Right…Professor,” Assistant Professor Yanev nods as he kneels down and does his best to reclose Zalan’s damaged uniform.

What he’s got…inside…?

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Chapter 16 – Dispel: Part Three, ExSpelled © 2025 by Kat Vancill

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