I grinned. Of course I wanted to do that. I was glad it was so simple because I’d been worried it would be harder than editing an existing spell. I also briefly found myself wondering how Spell Hybridization might work. Perhaps all I’d need to do was select two spells on my Spells Page, and it would give me that option—similar to how I’d unlocked the creation feature by trying to cast an empty Custom Entry Slot.

But that was for another time and training session.

For now, I mentally agreed to create a new spell in the menu and was immediately brought back to my Inscriptionist Console. Only now, a blinking insertion point appeared in the center of the console, with a list of glyphs displayed to my right. I scrolled through them with interest. There were no instructions on how to make a new spell—which was frustrating—but just looking at the layout hinted at how the process was supposed to work.

Creating a new spell appeared to require linking together glyphs from my list of available glyphs within the Inscriptionist Console creation page. I was mostly reverse-engineering the process from my current knowledge of Spellcraft and glyph structures, but that’s how it looked to me. I wished the Codex had given me more information, but it seemed simple enough.

I had quite a few glyphs already—such as the glyph for Light and even the glyph for Decay, which I had earned as a reward for completing the first floor of the Verdant Seal—so choosing a starting point was harder than I expected. The problem was that I didn’t even have a particular spell in mind. I realized that I probably should’ve spent at least a few minutes thinking about what I wanted to make before sitting down to work on it. I could’ve simply put off the experiment until another time, but I suspected I wouldn’t have any free time tomorrow once we set out on our journey—and especially once we arrived in Hebron.

Most of these glyphs were pulled from spells I already knew, such as the glyph for Light, which likely came from my Arcane Light spell. And the glyph for Force probably came from Splinter Glyph, being an offensive spell.

So I thought about all the spells I currently had and what I was missing. What gap existed in my spell repertoire? I had a few combat spells and some defensive ones, along with control spells like Shadow Web, but I didn’t have any healing or buffing spells. I’d never needed support magic before because of Ruth, but if she was going to return to the Seventh Kingdom after we reached Hebron, then I wouldn’t be able to rely on her Healing or Support Spells anymore. And there was no guarantee I’d find another healer willing to travel with me like Ruth.

I could always stock up on Healing Potions, but those were expensive—and my finances were limited right now, since I didn’t really have a steady source of income. Another problem to fix later.

So, a healing spell seemed like the best place to start. Ideally, it would be a spell I could cast on myself—and maybe on Nimbus or my allies if needed. I supposed I could eventually earn a spell like that from a Codex Quest, but a self-heal spell might take ages to roll as a reward. Besides, this method would let me design a spell tailored to my exact needs and preferences, whereas the Codex might had me something that didn’t fit. I considered asking Ruth, but seeing as she had never crafted a spell before, I didn’t know how useful her help would be.

I scrolled through the available glyphs again. I didn’t see any glyphs specifically for healing, but I knew from experience that you could sometimes achieve similar results by combining two or more glyphs with related meanings. I just needed to figure out which glyphs went together. Like creating a sentence.

So I took the glyph for Life and linked it with the glyphs for Light and Speed.

The underlying logic was simple: Life was a common glyph used in healing spells, while Light and Speed would focus the effect on quickly restoring my Health Barrier. It was a bit clunky, admittedly, but this was my first time crafting an original spell, and I figured it should still work. If it didn’t, well, I’d just try again. This was just practice.

I finished linking all three glyphs together with my Codex Stylus and immediately received the following notification:

Congratulations! You have successfully linked three glyphs together to form a Custom Spell. This is the maximum number of glyphs you can link together at your current Chapter.

Would you like to name this spell?

Strange. Why wasn’t it showing me the spell’s effects? Maybe effects only appeared after the first cast.

Whatever. I was eager to find out what my new spell did. It was also good to know that three glyphs was my maximum at my current Chapter. Perhaps I would be able to combine more glyphs when I reached Chapter Two. I was only three Pages away from the next Chapter in my Codex, so that was something to look forward to.

Since my new spell was meant to be a healing spell, I chose to name it this:

Custom Healing.

Not a great name, I know—but it was the best I could come up with on short notice. Maybe I could rename the spell later after I came up with something cooler.

As soon as I entered the name, the following notification popped up in my vision:

You have named your new spell Custom Healing!

You may now view it under your Spells Tab in your Codex sheet, along with the other spells you know.

I grinned, but before I could say anything to the others, my portable Node pinged, and another notification unfurled before my eyes:

Codex Achievement: First Custom Spell

Category: Research, Runecraft, Spellcasting

> Description:

> For designing and completing your very first custom spell as an Inscriptionist, the Arcane Codex wishes to celebrate your accomplishment with an Achievement. Every spell you create, every glyph you link, brings you that much closer to ending the Codex Wars.

Rewards:

• +10 Words

• +1 Line to Research

• +5 Lines to Runic Knowledge

Codex Note:

> “Crafting your first spell is a true accomplishment, but do not get complacent. Crafting new spells requires much creativity, practice, study, discipline, and failure. And spells may not always work the way you intend for them to.”

My grin grew even bigger when I saw the Achievement Notification, prompting Jonah to ask, “What are you smiling about?”

I jerked my head up to see Jonah, Ruth, and Nimbus all staring at me anxiously. Jonah seemed more impatient than anxious, however, having even taken a few steps toward me with a curious look on his face.

I couldn’t stop grinning as I rose to my feet, Codex Stylus in hand. “Not only did I successfully create my first Custom Spell, but I also gained a Codex Achievement for it. I was mostly rewarded with Words and Lines, but hey—I’m not going to complain about some free extra progress.”

Nimbus shook his head. “No fair. Even though I’m your synced partner, I didn’t get any of those rewards. What gives?”

Ruth tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Because you’re only temporarily synced with Aaron, right? I learned back in school during my Codex Beast Studies class that temporary syncs with Codex Beasts have far more limitations than permanent ones. For example—as you just discovered—if Aaron gets an Achievement, you don’t necessarily get that same Achievement or its rewards, even though you’re synced with him.”

Nimbus groaned. “Great. Not only does the Codex hate Aaron, but apparently it hates me, too. What did I do to deserve such a terrible fate?”

I shrugged. “We could always go to the Greenwood Codexium and permanently sync anytime you—”

“I need to think about it,” said Nimbus quickly. “Anyway, Aaron, what kind of Custom Spell did you create? Did you make a spell that lets you conjure bananas from thin air? That would be useful.”

I shook my head. “Nothing of the sort. I’m not even sure it’s possible to create matter from nothing. I mean, what even is the glyph for banana, anyway?”

Nimbus raised an ear. “Banana, obviously.”

I shook my head again, though even Nimbus’s obsession with bananas couldn’t dampen my excitement. “I created a Custom Healing spell that I can use on myself. It’s pretty simple—just three glyphs long—but I think it should work. I need to test it first, though I don’t really know how to do that since I’m not injured—”

Nimbus suddenly launched an Arcane Pulse at me that slammed into my chest. The impact sent me sprawling across the ground until I crashed into a bush, groaning in pain as I clutched my ribs. I glanced at my Health Barrier, noting that that it had dropped by ten percent.

Still groaning, I looked up at Nimbus and gasped, “What was that for?”

Nimbus—still perched on top of the tree—tilted his little head to the side. “You wanted to test your new Healing Spell on yourself, yeah? As your ever-loyal Codex Beast, I decided to inflict a minor injury on you that you should be able to heal with your Custom Spell. So go ahead and try it.”

I groaned again. “You didn’t have to hit me that hard…”

Nimbus huffed. “Aaron, you know I don’t have fine control over how strong my Arcane Pulse is. It’s not my fault that your supposedly ‘maxed-out stats’ can’t protect you from a simple Arcane Pulse. Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

Arguing with Nimbus was like wrestling a pig in the mud—something I actually had experience with from a few years ago, when one of our pigs on the family farm refused to go back into its pen.

So I forced myself to my feet, dusted off my pants, and raised my Codex Stylus. As with every spell I cast, I quickly wrote the runes in midair, the tip of my Stylus trailing glowing blue energy as I said, “Custom Healing!”

Nimbus cocked one ear high. “Custom Healing? What kind of basic spell name is that?”

I didn’t get a chance to defend my temporary name for the spell because, a moment later, I felt power flood my legs from my spell—and then I suddenly rushed forward uncontrollably and crashed straight into a tree.