But truly none of them were safe to be around. So for their protection and my own, I had to isolate them, which I did with a heavy heart. They now live in the deepest part of the jungle—so deep that only their caretaker and one other know the way out.

That jungle is one of the places where the tube in the kitchenette will take you. Because of the danger, I didn’t wish for anyone to accidentally find himself in the jungle, so to visit there, you must push all the buttons at once.

Be warned—the creatures are dangerous. If they know you are visiting with my blessing, there is a chance they will not attack, for I have been kind and they’ve grown to love me . . . at least a little bit, I think. And if you use your magic to hold them back, you will fare well.

As dangerous as it is, I’d like you to visit now and then to see if anyone needs anything. There’s a good chance Panther will have lost her tail—a vine will do the trick. MAGIC: The live and restore spells have one thing in common: both can be found in the dot art that hangs in my office. The art is intuitive. What I mean is that if the world needs to be restored, the dots in the pictures in the mansion model (found in a kitchen cupboard in the gray shack) contain the magical words “breathe,” “commence,” etc. (see Restore section). But if Artimé exists, the art on my office walls hides the magical words for the live spell. So all you need to do is study the art from right to left (or as the setting sun, opposite from the restore spell), and you’ll see the words you need to bring a creature to life: initiate, invigorate, instill, improve.

Here, there was some writing in the margins. Alex turned the book sideways to read the words.

Part Two: For best success regarding the “improve” portion, add: comfort, happiness, peace, success.

And a final line in a shakier hand, which looked like it had been written late in Mr. Today’s life.

Part Three: loyalty, devotion, zeal, intensity. fury.

And in the tiniest print next to the crossed-out word:

No! Passion. Use “passion” instead.

The Live Spell

It was amazing how much more complicated the live spell was compared to the restore spell. But when Alex thought about it, it all made sense. He finished reading the section, noting that Mr. Today recommended bringing a creature to life in a safe, enclosed space and to alert anyone nearby to his actions so they could take cover if necessary.

Mr. Today went on to explain that just like the other Triad spells, the words should be concentrated on and thought deeply about, while wearing the robe, of course. Oh—and the mage should lay his hand on the side of the creature when performing the spell, or it wouldn’t work at all.

Alex took the book into the Museum of Large. He looked at the whale and then back at the book. He reread the passage extra carefully this time. And then he looked at the whale once more.

“I can do this, I think,” he said. His knees quivered and he felt a little light-headed. “I mean, of course I can. I already did one of the Triad spells, and I didn’t even have the book for it. So . . .” He let his hand slide across the belly of the whale. A bit of still-damp paint came away on his fingers and shone in the light of the museum. Alex’s heart pounded. Could he do what Mr. Today said to do? Could he put that much of himself, his dreams, into this creature? He wasn’t sure.

But Alex was no longer a frightened boy. Alex was a mage now, who had taken on the end of his world and almost single-handedly brought it back to life. Surely he could handle bringing one creature to life for the first time. And now Sky was counting on him to do this. A silly grin crossed his face as he thought about kissing her. But he knew he had to focus on this spell if he was going to do it right.

He studied the instructions again, took a deep breath, and placed his hand on the whale’s side. And then, trying hard to push thoughts of Sky far from his mind, he began.

“Initiate,” he said, thinking about the word and what it meant. Starting something for the first time—that was definitely something he was doing here with Spike. When Alex felt he had focused on “initiate” long enough, he moved on to “invigorate.” He closed his eyes, thinking invigorating thoughts that might transfer through his hand to give life and vigor to the whale. He could almost feel the power pulse through his fingertips. And then he moved on to “instill,” softening the pressure against the whale’s side a bit, trying to think of every good thing he had inside himself that he could transfer into the creature. Things like the wisdom he had gained since coming to Artimé, and the experience of deepest sorrow, which can only come from deepest love. Alex wanted the whale to have the ability to reach both . . . even though he knew that both at times could be quite painful.

Alex wanted to instill a sense of right and wrong in the creature, and so he focused his thoughts for a moment on kindness, tolerance, and selflessness, which Alex associated with making good and right choices. And he wanted the whale to be brave and strong and intelligent, so he thought about those things too.

It took quite a long time to get through the first three words of the live spell, and Alex was already tired by the time he got to the word “improve.” Still, he pressed on, now focusing his attention on improving the things he’d already cast upon the sculpture. He wasn’t exactly sure how to do that, but in his mind he imagined the most perfect creature companion, and ideas came pouring out. Let Spike speak and understand any human or creature. And be able to send messages through sonar! he thought, and then added, feeling a bit panicky about all the gifts and abilities he was bestowing on this creature, But only for good. And . . . to benefit others. Alex could only guess that unbridled magical abilities could cause extremely bad problems. And even though there were times when he wished he could do everything magically, he knew that ultimately he wouldn’t want the burden of it. It was hard enough just being mage now and having people clamoring for him to fix every little thing they couldn’t fix on their own.