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Magic Revolution - Chapter 39

Published at 31st of May 2023 09:03:23 AM


Chapter 39

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‘Pleasant leaves, Ms Orchard,’ I said, enjoying another sip of the warm tea. It rejuvenated every bit of me, coaxing me into a relaxed state. It felt awfully homely, sitting on a soft sofa, chattering as if nothing mattered. The scent of rain and the darkness outside, the woes of the flames as they kept the room alight — it was all rather dreamy. If only I could wrap up in thick blankets, coats, and mufflers, with a book in hand about mystery, it would be a memory to cherish. The subtle background noise would be my instruments, and the thought of being the only one awake — well, would it make me seem noble? In a brown and black suit, as if worn by the actors of high society, would I feel the lord of the world? I wondered.

‘Another body was found,’ mused Ms Olsberg, reading the front page of the day-old newspaper. Her hands were steady and her voice had a relaxed rhythm. She was laid back, falling into the comfort of the inviting seating, her eyes half-closed. The time for us three had slowed. Only the raindrops seemed rapid.

‘Body?’ I inquired. It always amused me how cheaply one could obtain information in this day and age. In the olden days, sly merchants would have asked a coin for an ear even for an erroneous rumour. And now we buy them on stalls, printed and labelled, cheap and affordable — curated and professional.

‘Under the Hosten Bridge, on the Norhlowh river,’ Ms Olsberg said in a reserved voice that lightly betrayed her amusement. ‘The first one was found a week ago, and now, one more. Police believe the murders are connected.’

‘Murders?’ I asked over the wafting steam.

‘Exciting, eh?’

‘Surely not…’ Morbid curiosity, I thought, displeased. ‘Murders aren’t my thing.’

‘Neither are they mine, but it is curious, isn’t it?’ She smiled knowingly. ‘Both throats were cut and hearts removed,’ said the woman as I shuddered. Grisly, I thought. ‘We have a serial killer in Celbrun. A hurt student, then that business in the woods, and now murders. Celbrun is vengeful, Professor,’ she said to me teasingly.

‘Same killer, huh?’ I sipped my tea, playing with the locks of my hair. I did not feel like tying them anymore. They were softer and smelled faintly of jasmine. ‘But not a serial killer yet, correct?’

‘In my books, it is,’ she said smilingly. ‘If there are two bodies, then there is a third.’ Her lips curled in the same bloody fashion as when we fought the giant beast. It sent a chill down my spine. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘There will be another body.’ Her instincts must have been screeching. I could feel how assured she was. It has surpassed instincts. Intuition perhaps?

‘Perhaps it is a beast? Like the kind Lile encountered?’ inquired Ms Orchard, poised. She too sat comfortably, in front of us, legs crossed. Her lips were elegantly puckered, blowing the steam, cooling the tea.

‘Authorities yet in the dark, it reads. Cuts deemed concise, almost surgical,’ Ms Olsberg relayed. She hummed a little tune as I took another warm sip. ‘A beast with surgical skills? If I see one, I will deduce I have lived far enough.’ She turned to me. ‘What do you say, Professor? Anything to opine?’

‘I stay away from the gruesome, Ms Olsberg,’ I said flatly. My eyes were focusing on the lamp opposite mine. Its flames were pulling me in, demanding my absent attention.

‘After enjoying tonight’s walk?’ She laughed openly, and awfully enough, my nerves didn’t break. I was too tired and confounded to think of what had happened tonight. I simply stared into that flame. It was so dull, so plain and ordinary, that it demanded not a thought of me — only my attention.

‘It does not feel very real,’ I muttered. Ms Orchard had decorated a tray of biscuits which I unhesitatingly accepted, slightly afraid of breaking my comforting trance. After the retching I had displayed, one should think I had learnt. None can keep an Olish man from his biscuits and tea; none! ‘Her too, actually.’ I gestured towards the girl in bed, opposite us, a distance away. Her calm breathing could be felt from where we sat. The rising of her repaired stomach and healed chest — sent a valuable message. Alive. ‘For a while, I believed the world had lost her.’ The bare woman I had killed came to mind. Life for life — the unjust justice of this world.

‘You haven’t slept yet, have you?’ asked Ms Olsberg, perhaps worried.

‘Afraid not.’

‘You should.’

‘Once she wakes, I will withdraw. I have a few words for her.’ I held the cup in front of the lamp. Watching the lamp through the dancing steam, distorted the vision. Heat Distortion. I wondered in my trance if it could be used in magic somehow. My head was working ceaselessly, my jaw ajar, and yet there was not a single sign of effort. When I thought the sound of rain had nearly disappeared, strong gusts blew. They flickered the lamps, entering through the little creak in the window. Once again, the drops fell; now, loudly. But the pleasant scent remained the same — jasmine and the wet earth. ‘Did her parents arrive?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Ms Olsberg spoke. ‘We did telephone them right away, but when we reached the station yesterday, the stationmaster informed us the trains have delayed.’ She hummed a little tune, and I hummed back. I liked humming and music. ‘They should arrive tomorrow or even today.’ Telephones, how convenient. Costly though…

‘She is a long way home?’ I recalled my home. I too was far away. From one corner to another, I had travelled. And now I teach, a trade rare.

‘Makes them self-reliant.’

‘Lonely too.’ Lightning shone on the window pane, and Ms Orchard took note of it. ‘Whom does she room with?’

‘By her lonesome, Professor,’ Ms Olsberg said before waiting for the thunder to subside. ‘Her family is well-off. They own farms; lease them.’

‘Where does she board? Where are the student dormitories?’

‘What dormitories?’ she asked laughingly. ‘Most of the houses and buildings you see around the academy that aren’t stores are the housing arrangements made for students.’ I learnt something new — rudimentary unexpectedly. I suppose it should have been obvious. Too many students to count. ‘More than that, Professor,’ — Ms Olsberg turned to me smilingly — ‘are all mages so strong?’ Her voice bore a sign of anticipation, a brusque curiosity. ‘Or is it just you?’

I gave a dry laugh — one unkind to myself. ‘I am afraid that is incorrect. I am not strong as you describe it. That performance cannot be replicated twice in a day.’ My voice softened as my eyes once again focused on that lamp. Not Lile, but Professor Dew spoke now, ‘Casting such a strong spell above the city requires as much resource — water, in this case — as it requires mental strength. Mana is unforgiving, I am afraid, and calculations take time.’ My eyes turned cloudy. ‘It will affect both body and mind in some cases. I preside over the dominion of water, the gentlest of elements. In pure strength, it cannot compare to the other three primary elements.’ One more sip and I felt myself lost in the steam. ‘It is not as easily obtainable as Wind and Earth, and it cannot be birthed, unlike fire.’ My eyes gleamed. ‘But it is the most beautiful of them all.’

‘So, you can’t cast such magic often? Shame. I thought we were invincible now that you were alongside us.’ She said half-jokingly, but I felt a sense of relief from her. Humour and relief go hand in hand. Of course, someone who is capable of what I did will not seem human. ‘What about your face then?’ she asked with a perfect timbre. There was not a shred of remorse or hidden thought. Though not alert, I was chary of revealing the truth. This was a touchy subject for me — rather sensitive.

‘You simply can’t shrug it off, Professor,’ she said in a rhythm, humming between pauses. ‘Mr Neumic is a stalwart man.’ Bigot, too, she muttered. ‘He will not let you be until you speak. That man hasn’t promoted me for years because of my blood relations in the north.’ She grunted and muttered some angry words — nothing profane.

I was astounded. She was capable, he was her employer. One should be careful of her words, and other of his actions. Even I was not daring enough to curse my employer. I felt rather jealous — enough to induce fantasies of demanding answers from the Dean. Why did you not send a train ticket? I imagined myself slamming on his table, pleased with the loud thud. You could’ve cut the cost out of my monthly salary! I demand justice! That was a wonderful fantasy — one that, I knew, should not be brought to fruition.

‘You will have to reveal the truth,’ the green-eyed woman said. ‘Might as well do it of your own accord.’ She hummed and went back to her papers.

She was not wrong. Now that the storm was upon us, now that I seemed suspect, keeping secrets felt burdensome. It was always burdensome, but I believed I could keep them. To maintain a façade of normalcy. For ‘Unique’ is only a fancy word for ‘Different.’ And the different, throughout history, have always been persecuted. Lour, Solicus, Saelius — all a witness to such tragedies.

‘I am not a very good liar,’ I spoke, watching the rising steam. I did try to be one — a good liar. ‘I never had that talent.’ The rain pulled the truth out of me. Fears I once felt were subsiding. ‘Too honest.’ And yet, not all of the truth could be revealed. There were parts that I was prepared to carry to my grave — secrets that weren’t only mine. I looked at Ms Orchard, and sincerely asked, ‘What do you think, Ms Orchard?’ I was polite as always, but a sense of solemnity accompanied my demeanour. I was not in the habit of asking for advice, but I was out of wit. ‘I will have to speak in front of them, but…’ I hesitated. I despised that. I had hesitated before; I had hesitated to speak my mind to someone who perished, and now I felt conflicted. ‘…But I am afraid.’ My eyes carried the sheen of the unsure flames.

‘Of?’

‘Many things.’ My chest felt heavy and breaths were stuck in my throat. ‘Very many things.’ I kept my calm.

Ms Orchard did not say anything for a while. She sipped her tea with absent eyes, while Ms Olsberg read the paper half-heartedly. The flames in the room had alighted their faces, and though they had delicate details, I only seemed to grasp the similarities. There was contrast — very much contrast. But somehow, both seemed the same — graceful though in their own way. I was confounded. Why they appeared similar seemed beyond my tranced mind. I thought so. I did think…

When Ms Orchard placed the cup with care and caution, I understood from her expression. Somehow, I knew it was that demeanour. I lacked something they didn’t. Life experience, maturity. They were my seniors by a few years, and somehow, they were wiser. My winsome self did not feel defeated. Rather, I felt assured. ‘Do speak,’ Ms Orchard said, her soft eyes piercing mine. ‘Every man, woman, or child needs to confide, Lile.’ Her gaze was distant. ‘Thoughts, if kept to oneself, start to fester.’ Those words fell heavily on my heart. ‘They distort reality. They bring about the sorry state you imagine to reality.’

She did not say any more. She didn’t need to. Her words were clearer than the water I wielded. They weren’t shocking though. I had received wise words before, and I felt it in the most sincere part of my heart. I see. A thin smile bloomed on my face — one I rarely had, a nostalgic and remorseful appearance. They reminded me of my mothers. Ms Olsberg was like the second one, and Ms Orchard appeared like the first. Ms Olsberg was much more open. She was kind, proud, and strong. Ms Orchard on the other hand was mysterious, gentle, and thoughtful. She kept to herself. Oh yes, they took care of me. Like my mothers, they appeared to me. They were wise.

I sat there for a second, and for the sake of sanity and composure, closed my eyes. I remembered the first time I used magic; the first time I wore the ring and the shock I felt; the burning fever that ensued; the misery. ‘I—’ I remembered the wonderful discoveries, the revelations and the joy. ‘I am—’ I remembered the headaches and burning sensations. ‘I…’ I recalled the eye-watering tinnitus. I recalled the worsening of eyesight, the stunting of height. ‘…’ I took a breath.

I was having trouble keeping calm, and their fixated gazes somehow made me nervous. It is said that people are afraid of showing their true colours — their truest and purest thoughts. ‘…’ But some things must be said. I kept reminding myself that. Some things must be said. ‘A mage requires Ormosphite on their body to be able to use magic — that is one of the truths of magic as Boris, one of the three founders of magic, described them,’ I said mechanically as if reading the paper etched in my memory. Its dirty state was very much alive in my head. The size of the shoe that had so carelessly stamped on it was yet infuriating to the reminiscent me. I recalled the sensation of boiling blood, the spasmodic muscles, and the pain that worsened if the ring was removed.

‘The month after I discovered magic, I discovered that no more did I need the ring of ormosphite.’ My eyes looked into the past. The month after I discovered magic, I wished for death. ‘I could use magic without it.’ I saw Ms Orchard’s unchanging eyes and Ms Olsberg’s interest. ‘I looked for answers, but it seems none so far have managed the same.’

‘Why do you wear the ring then?’

‘Because I am afraid.’ The flames in the lamp shook with the heavy winds. Afraid of what I may become. I caressed my hair and cheeks. ‘Afraid of this.’ Afraid of change. I looked into those beautiful blue eyes, the ones that I so admired. ‘I am mutating.’ Their composure broke. Those eyes widened. ‘Rapidly.’ I sensed the passing emotions on their faces. Incredulity to doubt, to confusion. I watched it as it played with every little corner of their mind and finally turned to an astounded acceptance.

‘The ring acts as an intermediary, allowing the thoughts to be passed. But in my case, it works to lessen the contact between the mana and me.’ This is what being me means. ‘If I let it, Mana does what it shouldn’t. It enters me. The ring holds it back, funnels it.’ That is when change occurs. Little by little. ‘This is the curse of talent — the sorrows of an unnaturally high aptitude.’ The grey, absent eyes of mine did not look at the colleagues that watched me. The flame and the steam interested me more. Hence, I — the human no more. ‘I am being altered by a part of this world that no one yet truly understands.’ Hence, I — an Arcane Kind.





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