"Evocation School," Mirabelle's voice echoed clearly through the quiet practice room, "is the most direct and most aggressive branch of all schools.
"It does not seek transformation, excels neither at summoning nor twisting reality. Our purpose is only one—
"To refine raw magic into its purest, most direct form of will—destruction."
The hem of her crimson robe swayed softly as she paced at an unhurried pace, her gaze sweeping over the young faces.
"Flame, frost, lightning, force fields, sound waves... These forms of energy are the language Evocation School knows best.
"And what we must learn is how to use that language to express your will accurately, efficiently, and controllably."
Not a sound came from below. The new students held their breath and focused.
"Many people," Mirabelle said, stopping to look around the room, "are drawn to the dazzling light and shadow of evocation spells, their ear-splitting thunder, and the spectacle of targets collapsing in an instant. They believe that is all strength is."
She raised her right index finger. Her lips moved, and a string of obscure syllables flashed past.
Crackle!
A dazzling white lightning serpent as thick as a child's arm abruptly took shape at her fingertip, writhing wildly. Its blinding radiance lit every stunned face, while the scorched scent of ozone spread through the air. The violent fluctuations of magic even made the skin of the front-row students prickle faintly.
"On this path, violent magic is never anything unusual. But—"
With a gentle twist of her fingers, the lightning serpent that had still been struggling madly instantly contracted and folded inward, finally turning into a faint electric spark. With a snap, it vanished into nothingness.
"'Control' is its soul."
"Control over the form of energy, the timing of release, the scale of effect, and the efficiency of