#spellthorn 3

[chrystalwynd]

Spellthorn Academy 2

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Scene: The Quiet Trap in the Stacks (continued)

Dakota (hand on the rune-stone):

“Beth…wait…something’s-”

Too late. The sigils blaze with light. A faint whoomp sounds, soft but final, like a cork being popped in reverse.

Beth exhales as her swollen belly visibly flattens. The faint violet glow vanishes from her skin.

Dakota (eyes wide):

“What the @#$%?!”

Under her blouse, a curve begins to form. Subtle at first. Then undeniable. Her trim waist pushes forward, slow but unstoppable, rounding beneath her hands.

Dakota:

“What did you do?!”

Her eyes are wide as the bump surges outward to a clear six months’ size, shifting her center of gravity.

Beth (gives a serene sigh of relief):

“Oh, thank heavens. I thought that imp was going to start singing again.”

Dakota (blinks):

“Imp?”

A faint giggle echoes from inside her belly.

Dakota (stumbles back from the rune circle, hands cradling her newly rounded belly):

“You transferred your pregnancy into me? You’re not allowed to do that! It’s…it’s illegal! Or…unethical! Or…well, it’s definitely something! Don’t you have a hippopotamus oath or something?”

Beth, now slim and radiant, adjusts her robes with the grace of someone who just dumped their problems on someone else.

Beth:

“Oh hush. It’s a Diony imp, not an apocalypse fetus. You’ll be fine. Honestly, I envy you. You wear it well. Do you know how hard it is to find someone with the right arcane resonance and sturdy hips?”

Dakota (sputters):

“I am not going to waddle around campus six months pregnant-!”

Zzap!

A flash of magic ripples from Beth’s fingertip to Dakota’s boots. They vanish instantly, leaving her standing in just her socks…which unravel into glittery thread and then vanish too.

Dakota (yelps):

“Hey! My shoes!”

Beth (eyes twinkle):

“Correction: barefoot and pregnant. It’s a classic aesthetic. Matches the energy.”

Dakota (pure barefoot rage):

“You can’t just dump your belly on me! I’m not your magical maternity storage unit! My back already hurts, my center of gravity’s off, and the first person to offer me a chair is going to get-“

Beth (raises a hand, nails glowing with quiet threat):

“Careful now. Keep protesting, sweetie, and you may just find your maternal blessings expanding in ways you really won’t be able to hide. Permanently. Let’s not test the thresholds of arcane lactomancy, hmm? Diony imps love milk. Copiously.”

A beat. Somewhere inside Dakota’s belly, the imp hiccups again. Dakota closes her mouth.

Beth (smiles sweetly):

“See? You’re going to make a lovely vessel. And don’t worry…you’ll learn to center the weight. There’s a calming spell in the Restricted Section. Page 172, ‘Wombborne Weaving’. Don’t worry- it’s not locked out to you anymore. And Chapter Three of ‘Mage-Midwifery in the Modern Age’ covers posture, by the way. You’ll want to get started.”

Dakota storms off, or at least tries to. Her brisk pace transforms into an awkward, sway-backed waddle, with every step reminding her that her center of gravity has been relocated without consent. She scowls as her bare soles slap softly against the stone corridor. Each cool tile is a fresh indignity.

Beth (flips open a narrow, rune-etched ledger, makes a tidy note with a quill that glows smugly): “Successful transfer. Vessel adapting. Emotional resistance: high. Footwear: removed. Threat of lactation effective.”

She taps the page twice, and it shimmers shut with a self-satisfied snap.

NEXT: The Walk of Shame to the Nurse’s Nook

[chrystalwynd]

Spellthorn Academy 4

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Scene Title: Countermeasures & Counter-Curses

Location: Spellthorn Library – Arcane Reference Wing

Dimmer and dustier than the main hall, the reference wing hums with ancient enchantments. The books whisper to one another if left open too long. The floor tiles chill the toes of the unshod.

Mood: Simmering Humiliation / Spark of Revenge

Barefoot, pregnant, and annoyed, Dakota begins to shift from flustered victim to determined counter-caster.

Beth’s footsteps echo away into the deeper stacks, her self-satisfied humming trailing off. The runes on the desk fade. Dakota stands alone, belly visibly rounded, her now-bare feet curling instinctively on the cold tile floor.

Dakota (muttering):  “Stupid smug librarian witch…arcane lactomancy? Is that even a thing? Ugh. This cannot be happening.”

She moves to lean against a nearby cart, accidentally jostling it. A book tumbles off with a dramatic thud, landing open on its spine. Gold script shimmers on the cover: ‘Counter-Transference for the Mildly Cursed’.

Dakota (eyeing it):  “Mildly cursed sounds about right…”

Awkwardly crouching- her belly already making movement clumsy- she flips to the index and scans it. Her eyes stop on a subheading: ‘Pregnancies of Proxy’.

Dakota (reading aloud in a whisper):  “If the bearer is unwilling, the enchantment may be anchored with ego or familiarity. A properly worded phrase or symbolic object from the caster may allow for transference reversal.”

Her gaze flicks toward the front desk. Among the clutter of catalog cards and ink bottles, a familiar gleam catches her eye: Beth’s pendant. The dainty gold one she always wears—now suspiciously absent from her neck.

Dakota (grinning):  “You messed with the wrong overachiever, Beth.”

NEXT: The Backfire Binding

[chrystalwynd]

Welcome to Spellthorn Academy 3

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Scene Title: You’ll Live, Probably

Location: Nurse’s Nook, East Wing

The infirmary is a cozy little corner of Spellthorn—half herbal dispensary, half magical triage bay. Ivy grows out of the stonework. A skeleton wearing a nurse’s hat nods at passersby. Madame Greela, the campus nurse, doesn’t even look up from her tea as Dakota waddles in, belly first.

Madame Greela: “Let me guess. Librarian magic. Transfer spell. Unwanted pregnancy with a minor chaos entity.”

Dakota (blinks): “Umm…yes…how did you…?”

Madame Greela (finally looks up):  “Dear, I’ve worked here forty years. You’re the third this semester.”

A pause. Then: “The first barefoot, though.”

Greela sets her teacup down with a clink and waves a wand that looks suspiciously like a knitting needle over Dakota’s belly. A soft pulse of amber light ripples across her skin. The imp hiccups again—this time with a tiny magical burp that briefly turns the room lavender.

Greela doesn’t flinch.

Greela: “Well, he’s settling in nicely. Strong magical aura. Hints of grape fizz and poor impulse control.”

Dakota (huffs): “I didn’t ask to carry him!”

Greela (arches a bushy gray brow): “No one ever does, dear. That’s how librarian mages keep their robes so trim. They delegate.” She leans in and pokes Dakota’s belly lightly. “You’re young, healthy, and magically compatible. This one’ll be a breeze—relatively speaking. No tentacles or wings so far.”

Dakota (eye twitches): “Grrrrr. I don’t feel ready for this.”

Greela (stands): “You don’t get ready. You study. There’s an entire shelf in the library’s restricted section on imp gestation. And don’t look at me like that. If Beth marked you as a vessel, you have access now.”

She hands Dakota a foot balm enchanted to warm on contact.

Greela: “For the floor. And your pride.”

Dakota takes it reluctantly.

Greela (sips her tea again): “Now off you go. Back to the library. Get familiar with your... occupant.”

NEXT: Countermeasures & Counter-Curses