Four of the hexmates elect to minor in Pyromancy. They head for their first class: Pyromatic Design taught by Dr. Magmus Rockbottom.
The classroom reeks of sulfur and heated metal. Students enter to find workstations equipped with fire-resistant aprons, safety goggles, and what appears to be an alarming number of burn salves. Beneath each desk sit three different fire control devices: a fire blanket, a chemical extinguisher, and an arcane fire extinguisher. Dr. Rockbottom, a stocky dwarf with singed ginger eyebrows and coal-stained fingers, stands beside a bubbling cauldron of molten rock. The air shimmers with heat waves, and occasional sparks drift lazily from the ceiling-mounted braziers.
“Welcome to Pyromantic Design,” he announces, his voice carrying over the crackling flames. “Today we establish the fundamental principle of this course: there is no such thing as ‘too much fire’—only insufficient safety precautions.”
He gestures to a series of increasingly elaborate flame sculptures arranged around the room, each one casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. “Your first assignment begins now. Before you lies a scroll with a complex pyromantic spell upon it. This is the cornerstone of all magic that involves the control of flames. Open it and familiarize yourselves with the incantation.”
The sound of wax seals snapping as the scrolls open is followed by the groans of students moaning over the complexity of the magic they will be expected to perform. The parchment crackles ominously in the heated air. Ignoring the grumbles of his charges, Dr. Rockbottom strides down the center aisle of the classroom, his heavy boots echoing against stone.
“You will create a simple pyromantic design—a flame that burns in a shape other than its natural form. Triangle, spiral, your own initials—I don’t care. What matters is control and intention.” He demonstrates by casually shaping his flame into a perfect miniature dragon that roars before dissipating into wisps of smoke.
Students nervously light their first magical flames. Several immediately flicker out with disappointed hisses. One student accidentally creates a flame shaped like a screaming face, causing mild panic and nervous laughter.
Debbie only produces sparks and a thin trail of smoke from her small pile of wood shavings. The acrid smell mingles with the classroom’s sulfurous atmosphere. On her second try, a surge of energy pulses from her finger and explodes upon the wood shavings. Debbie dives backward to avoid the flaming particles, but Aurora is not so lucky. After the fire blanket puts out the flames entirely, the room fills with the nauseating stench of burning hair. Six inches of black tresses have burned to cinder on Aurora’s left side. Her dark eyes smolder with anger at Debbie.
Quentillius explodes his work table in a shower of sparks and splinters. Shaken and covered in soot, he exclaims he will find another minor. The classroom door slams behind him as he flees.
But Reyna conjures a tiny perfect snakelike dragon similar to the professor’s. It gouts out a small flame, catching her pencil on fire with a satisfying whoosh. Alister conjures a flaming dagger that sweeps in a figure eight, as if searching for combat, leaving glowing trails in the smoky air.
On her second try, Hester conjures a fiery bird that sends out flames shaped as musical notes. It circles the classroom twice, its wings beating against the heated air before fizzling out in a cascade of embers.
“Excellent!” Dr. Rockbottom booms at the chaos, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “You’re already learning that fire has opinions. Your job is to convince it to share yours. Your homework is to bring in three items that you will transform during our next meeting. Anything burns, given a high enough temperature, so don’t limit yourselves! Those students whose flames refuse to cooperate will please stay after class for remedial work with the practice torches.”
Debbie waves sadly at her friends as they depart for the Hex, the smell of singed fabric clinging to her clothes.
⚔
The group collects their three items and brings them to class to practice their pyromancy. The classroom feels even hotter today, with additional braziers lit along the walls.
From a beefsteak, Reyna conjures a tiny, fiery bull that charges directly at Alister, burning his cloak and causing him to look reproachfully at the chef. Smoke curls from the charred fabric. Next, from her wooden practice sword, Reyna creates a massive fiery blade that illuminates half the classroom with its blazing intensity.
Hester summons a garden of flaming sunflowers from a pile of canvas shreds, their petals crackling and dancing. She also creates a fiery spoon that hovers in the air, ready for other magical conjurations. Debbie, while unable to even ignite the leaves she has collected, manages to use a short length of violin string as fuel. The string flows with fire and plays a touching, albeit abbreviated, version of Pachelbel’s Canon. The melody drifts through the smoky air as Dr. Rockbottom listens, enchanted. He proclaims that though Debbie has started slowly, she clearly has some facility with pyromancy.
Alister’s conjurations prove more deadly. Their ball of cobwebs transfigures into a giant, flaming spider that immediately attacks them. The arachnid’s legs scatter burning silk across the floor, scorching Greta, as the group desperately tries to dispatch it, but not before several other students suffer burns from its fiery mandibles.
Desperate to prove themselves to Dr. Rockbottom, Alister outdoes their previous effort, using a falconry glove as fuel for the spell. The fingers of the flaming glove curl inward as they burn, closing like a fist. A massive bird, much larger than any hawk or eagle, rises from the flames across the palm. It stretches fiery wings that span nearly the width of the classroom and screams out a cry that rattles the windows. As it lifts off, everything nearby is in danger of igniting.
Dr. Rockbottom topples onto his back, his wooden leg becoming a pillar of fire as he frantically tries to unstrap it from himself. The buckles burn his fingers as he struggles.
Alister’s cloak finishes burning up completely, leaving them singing his long hair. Hester’s ear tufts vanish in a puff of smoke and the stench of burning feathers. The firecrackers in Debbie’s leather jacket detonate explosively, sending her hand flying from the pocket with what might still be fingers trailing behind it.
The great bird screams again, its voice shaking dust from the rafters, and wheels around to face those remaining in the pyromancy classroom. Its eyes burn like twin suns, and heat radiates from its massive form in visible waves.
