“Aaron!” Nimbus’s high-pitched voice sounded distant yet close at the same time. “Aaron, can you hear me? If you can hear me, don’t listen to Jonah if he tells you I took some of your shekels to go into town to buy a banana. He’s a liar.”

“Would you just shut up, you dumb rabbit?” said Jonah’s annoyed voice. “You’re really not helping. Aaron is injured.”

My eyes flickered open, and I found myself lying on the ground beneath a fallen tree. It wasn’t the biggest tree in the forest—not by a long shot—but it was still a full-sized trunk, and it had fallen across my legs and lower body. Nothing felt broken, at least not that I could tell, but the tree felt like it weighed a ton, and it was a miracle I could feel my toes at all.

That was when I saw a pair of boots to my right and looked over to see Jonah trying to lift the tree off me. He had stuck his trident around the trunk and was straining to lift it when he noticed me looking up at him.

“You okay, Aaron? Wait—don’t answer that. We’ll talk after I get you out from under this thing.”

With a grunt, Jonah wedge his trident under the tree and levered it up just enough for me to attempt to crawl out. Unfortunately, when I tried to move my left leg, it burned with sharp, searing pain and refused to respond, like it was broken.

Unable to crawl out myself, I allowed Ruth to grab me by the shoulders and haul me out from under the tree. Once she’d pulled me clear, Jonah dropped the tree back to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound echoed through the woods, though apparently it didn’t bother Nimbus, who was perched calmly atop the fallen trunk, both ears standing straight up.

“How do you feel, Aaron?” asked Ruth as she ran her glowing white healing staff over my body, light rippling outward from the tip in soft waves. “You look awful.”

I wished she didn’t have to be so blunt, but when I looked down at myself, I couldn’t argue with that assessment. My blue mage robes were covered in dirt, leaves, and twigs, while my left leg was twisted to the side in a very unnatural way. Granted, most of the mess was on my pants rather than my shirt, but it still looked pretty bad.

I groaned again and rested my head on the ground. “What are you doing with your staff?”

“Diagnostic Spell,” said Ruth without missing a beat as she moved her staff toward my feet. She grimaced. “Oof. Yeah, a clean break. Though that seems to be the worst of it. A Health Potion will handle the bruising and shock, but I’ll need to cast a full healing spell on your leg. Then you will need to spend the rest of the day resting instead of casting experimental new speed spells on yourself.”

Ruth handed me a small red Health Potion as I said, “It was supposed to be a healing spell.”

Ruth grimaced. “Oh. That definitely didn’t look like healing—at least not any kind I learned back in Admah.”

Nimbus hopped down from the tree trunk and landed beside me as Ruth cast her Healing Spell on my leg. “I’m no healer, but I don’t think anyone’s ever been healed by running headfirst into a tree before. Trust me, the last time I did that, I just had a concussion for a few days.”

“I’m just surprised Aaron doesn’t have one,” said Jonah, dusting off his hands as he turned to us. “You must have an even thicker skull than me—just smashed your head straight into that tree, no helmet or anything.”

I downed the potion as quickly as I could before pulling the bottle away and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah, I think it’s because my stats are all maxed out at my current Chapter. Otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d be dead or in a coma or something.”

Ruth shook her head. “I honestly can’t believe you’re talking about almost dying so casually. You should just be grateful you didn’t suffer worse injuries than a broken leg. Though I’m impressed you managed to knock a tree onto yourself. How fast were you going?”

I let out a deep breath as the pain in my body faded—partly from the potion, partly from Ruth’s Healing Spell, which was setting my leg back into its proper alignment as it repaired the damage. It was unnerving to watch my leg heal, but definitely less unnerving than it had looked before, and the pain was already fading.

A notification flashed before my eyes:

Status Update: Leg injury healed. Movement debuff removed.

“I don’t know!” I said. “I wasn’t even trying to go fast. I don’t know what I did wrong. Like I said, it was supposed to be a healing spell.”

Nimbus gave me a deadpan look. “So you created a spell without even knowing what it would do until you cast it? You didn’t read its description or anything first?”

I sat up, rubbing the back of my head. Jonah handed me my Codex Stylus I dropped after I ran into the tree, which I gratefully returned to its holster after confirming it wasn’t damaged. “It didn’t even show me the description when I created it. I just assumed it would work the way I wanted it to since the Inscriptionist Console told me I’d successfully created a new spell. But maybe it will show me its description now. Let me open my Codex sheet and—fires of Sheol! That’s why it didn’t work.”

I’d opened my Codex sheet and navigated to the Spells Tab, where I found Custom Healing listed with my other spells. When I selected it, a detailed Codex Entry appeared, the source of my curse:

Codex Entry: Custom Healing

Chapter Tier: 1

Discipline Tags: Utility, Support, Inscriptionist

Associated Skills: Spellcasting

> Description:

> The user of this spell cannot control the direction or acceleration of their speed boost, nor can they stop themselves until they collide with an object. The spell ends after 5 seconds, but that is more than enough time for the user to end up in a situation they probably don’t want to be in. It is also only usable by a Codexer with the Inscriptionist Discipline.

> This spell was first designed by Inscriptionist Aaron Thorn as his first practice spell for learning how to craft new spells from scratch. That explains some of its … strange quirks and unique glyph structure.

Word cost: 50

Casting Time: Instant

Duration: 5 seconds

Codex Note: “Congratulations on creating your first Custom Spell! There are many lessons to be learned from this first attempt, so please make sure to remember them to avoid repeating these mistakes in the future.”

I didn’t know what was worse: learning that my first-ever Custom Spell cost 50 Words, or getting a note directly from the Codex itself essentially telling me I had failed so catastrophically that I needed to “learn from my mistakes” to avoid making even worse ones in the future.

How many Codexers ever had the Arcane Codex directly criticize their spellcrafting attempts?

“What’s the problem, Aaron?” said Nimbus, hopping over to me. His eyes suddenly glazed over in thought. “Wait a second—I just remembered that I can look at your Codex sheet and your Spells Tab, too. Let me see—oh. That’s funny.”

“What’s funny?” asked Jonah, leaning on his trident casually. “Does Aaron’s spell not do what it’s supposed to do?”

“It’s not funny,” I said, feeling my face burn with embarrassment as I avoided looking directly at Jonah or Ruth. “Somehow, instead of creating a healing spell, I created a speed spell.”

“You’re right,” said Nimbus with a solemn nod. “That’s not the funny part. The funny part is that Aaron apparently can’t control how fast he goes—or what direction he even moves in. Also, even though it’s a Chapter One spell, it costs fifty Words. Fifty! Can you believe that?”

Nimbus sounded this close to bursting out laughing, which was not helping my mood one bit. But I was too humiliated by my failure to tell him to stop, so I just buried my face in my hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know what I did wrong. It should have worked.”

Nimbus patted my leg with one paw. “Cheer up, Aaron! At least you can still create three more spells, right? And it doesn’t look like it costs you anything to make new spells, so—”

I stopped listening to Nimbus when a very unhelpful notification appeared in my vision:

System Notification:

By crafting a new spell, you have spent 35 Words from your Casting Pool.

Each new spell crafted at Chapter One costs 35 Words.

This cost will decrease at higher Chapters.

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when I saw that. “What? Each spell costs 35 Words?”

“Really?” said Nimbus, scratching his ear thoughtfully. “Let me do the math real quick. Fifty plus thirty-five equals … oof. I guess the Codex really does hate you. My condolences, Aaron.”

Jonah put a hand over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. “Hold on. Are you telling me you spent eighty-five Words to craft a spell that doesn’t do what it’s supposed to and you can’t even control it? Man, that’s rough, Aaron.”

“Yes, I know, Jonah,” I said testily. “I can do math. I just didn’t realize I apparently had to spend a bunch of Words just to make a spell. The only upside is that the cost will go down as I get stronger, but that still means I’m really limited in how many Custom Spells I can make right now.”

I felt a lot less happy about my earlier Codex Achievement that had granted me ten extra Words. Once I distributed those Words to my Casting Pool, the loss would “only” be seventy-five, but that was still far too many. My Casting Pool had dropped to 124 Words—down from 209 before my little experiment exploded in my face.

That meant I could only cast Custom Healing four more times before running out completely. Not that I planned to use that particular spell again anytime soon—if ever.

I wondered if there was a way to delete or overwrite Custom Spells and start over, but when I navigated through my Codex sheet and opened the Spells Tab, I didn’t see an option to remove them. Just great.

Before I could spiral further, Ruth thrust a bottle of thick brown goop in my face. “Aaron, try this. This is the potion I was working on a few minutes ago—the one I made specifically for you.”

I took the lukewarm bottle from her and eyed it with hesitation. “This is the potion you made for me? The one I inspired you to make?”

Ruth nodded. “Yes, but I still don’t want to tell you what it does. Just drink it. If it works the way I think it will, it should help with some of your problems.”

I bit my lower lip uncertainly. “And what if it doesn’t work?”

“Aaron,” said Nimbus in a judgmental tone, “just because you have a tendency to rush into dangerous experiments without pausing to consider the consequences doesn’t mean careful and wise Ruth is the same way.”

“Nimbus,” I said warningly.

Nimbus shrugged. “All I’m saying is that it’s unhealthy to project your own weaknesses and insecurities onto other people. No need to get defensive about such a simple truth.”

Ruth pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Just try it, okay? I’ve been experimenting with this brew ever since you defeated Wolfbrand. If it doesn’t work, it won’t hurt you—at least, not physically. Do you trust me?”

It was impossible to say no when she looked at me like that. Why did she have to be so cute and brilliant at the same time?

So I nodded once, popped the stopper, and downed the entire potion in one smooth motion. Even though it looked thick and goopy, it poured down my throat as smoothly as melted chocolate. And it tasted like chocolate too, which was a surprise—I’d fully expected mud or something worse.

But the real surprise came a moment later, when the following notification unfurled across my vision. My jaw dropped. “By the Logos …”

“What happened?” asked Nimbus, raising an ear. “Did Ruth’s potion cure your tendency to project your failures onto others?”

I shook my head, still speechless.

Which was rather ironic, considering what the actual notification said:

System Notification:

You have added +5 Words to your Casting Pool and restored your Health Barrier!