“Remember, shadow is only one of the powers a mage may use. You have mastered the staff, and that aligns you with shadow-sorcery, but to limit yourself to that is to be a poor wizard and a poor apprentice.” Angor smiled down at Claire.

  Claire didn’t gulp, not after a year. Angor was merely reminding her that a poor apprentice would have people wondering if she had a poor master.

  And Angor would never tolerate being considered poor at anything. Fortunately, Claire agreed. She’d almost died because using her powers had exhausted her. So she would take everything Angor gave her and get better.

  She stared at the books. Angor said nothing, merely looking down at his phone.

  It’s weird… Angor was one of the older trolls, yet he’d taken to technology like well, a duck to water. There were other trolls like that—Claire had been surprised to find out that distance learning courses weren’t simply attended by humans, but she’d always figured that Angor would be, well, a traditionalist.

  When she’d asked him, he’d looked at her like she was an idiot. “When I last slumbered, humans feared the night—you hid under your beds when the thunder roared. Today, you banish the night with a gesture and know the truth behind the thunder, even as you have grown to numberless legions. We are at peace, but a wise hunter does not ignore the changes in his surroundings.”

  He was probably telling the truth, but Claire bet that Angor was also something of a tech nerd. When he really annoyed her, she cheered herself up by imagining Angor at one of Tony Stark’s parties with a fizzy drink with an umbrella in it.

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  “Okay,” Claire finally said. “I have it…” She put out her hand, closed her eyes and recited the spell in her mind. Nothing happened. She bit her lip and recited the spell aloud. There was a pulling sensation and suddenly the mass of dirt that she’d collected was gathering into a humanoid form. “I did it!” Claire said, the golem walking around. “I—” The room seemed to sway and she fell back as the golem fell to pieces.

  “What happened?” Angor asked. He knew but Claire was used to this.

  “I didn’t have enough power,” she said.

  “Yes. You could put more power into it, by sacrificing your blood or flesh, or by using something that remembers.” Angor paused. “Earth doesn’t. A skeleton would, which is why so many human mages use them.”

  Claire shivered. That wouldn’t be her.

  “I…” She paused. “What about bags of blood from a blood bank?”

  “And what good would that be? This is about symbology and essence, and blood from one of your ‘blood banks’ would be deficient in both. You give of your body because it is a way to pay the spiritual price.”

  Claire sighed. It couldn’t be easy.

  “But that was a well-put question, Apprentice. Only a fool does not try to make their life easier.”

  “I—” Claire’s phone alarm went off. “It’s morning already!?” She looked around. “We have the field trip today!”

  Angor chuckled. “You become absorbed in your lore. I have seen it before, but the time was well spent. Enjoy your… Trip of fields.”

  Claire nodded. “Thanks.” And Angor Rot telling me to have fun isn’t unusual, not at all.

  But then, this was Angor with his soul and everything Claire had read about that forbidden art made her want, very dearly, to one day find Morgana and drag her right to Odin. Thor had promised that his father would open up his calender for such a meeting.

  But with that, Claire grabbed her bag and held her staff forth, opening a gateway. Today was just a fun trip, no stress at all!