When Theo lay down in his bed, he had a hard time falling asleep. It was just his luck. The mattress was lumpy, and he found himself unable to get his mind off Tristan. He stared at the dark ceiling and remembered their last encounter. He couldn’t even count how many times he had recalled the same memory. It came to him less often than it used to, but it was still just as clear as if it had happened yesterday. Every time, he felt like he was watching a one-act play performed only for him.
In this imagined play, Theo was an onlooker watching himself from afar. He was packing his things for school. His mother had left an apple and a sealed container of stew on the kitchen counter for him. He noticed his mother also left a note in her scratchy handwriting that said she had to leave early to go visit her cousin in the next town over, but she loved him and hoped he had a good day at school. His father buttoned up the front coat of his constable’s uniform and was about to walk out the door when he noticed his son, patted him on the shoulder, and said a gruff goodbye before heading to work.
Tristan came in the back door a moment later, his white shirt stained with grease and unbuttoned at the top. He smelled of alcohol and slurred his words. “Off to schul, baby bruver?”
Theo squared his shoulders and stood taller. “Go take a bath, Tris. Get yourself cleaned up before Papa comes home for lunch.”
“Don’t wanna,” Tristan said, shaking his head vigorously. “Y’know I went to a meetin’ last night. Very intrstin’ it was. I got up and made a lil’ speech.”
Theo narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Why are you telling me all this? I need to leave, or I’ll be late for school again.”
“Because my speech was all ’bout you, baby bruver. I’m a Defender of the True Four now.”
“What does that even mean?”
Tristan grabbed a bottle off a nearby shelf and smashed it on the kitchen counter, causing glass shards to scatter all over the wooden floor. He held the bottle out in front of him, swinging the jagged edge toward Theo’s face.
Theo took a step backwards, reaching for the door handle. He fumbled with it for a few moments until he managed to push the door open and ran outside. Tristan pursued him, still waving the broken bottle around like a sword.
“As a Defender, it’s my duty to get rid of the likes of you, baby bruver. You and your dark magic are a poison. Tha’s what they said at the meetin’.” Tristan slashed at Theo, finally leaving a cut on the left side of his jaw.
Theo reached out to push Tristan away, grabbing Tristan’s unbuttoned collar in the process. A strange energy filled the air, and Tristan’s collar tightened like a noose around his neck. Theo let go of the collar with a look of horror, but it kept tightening. Tristan dropped the bottle he had been using as a weapon and choked for air as his face turned red.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!” Theo cried, his hands trembling.
Innovative Magic Excerpts
Growing up, when Elara read stories about princesses and royal courts, she never imagined everything to be so impersonal. The employees of the palace acted like automatons in her presence. She couldn’t help but wonder if they saw her as an outsider and resented her for adding more work to their daily schedule. Elara was no noble. She was no one at all in this society.
Every day Elara was surrounded by countless servants and guards who were there to help her at a moment’s notice, yet they hardly said a word to her. First thing in the morning, a young woman in a pristine white uniform came to her room to open her windows and help her get dressed. Then an older woman wearing an apron came up from the kitchens with Elara’s breakfast.
On days when Elara was busy training inside of the palace, she would see different sets of servants at lunch, tea time, dinner, and bed time. She sometimes didn’t recognize them from one day to the next. Most nights, only a single servant would help her undress and fluff her pillows before bed. However, two or three times a week, four additional servants would attend to her by drawing a hot bath. Then while everyone in the guest wing slept, there would be guards posted outside their doors all night.
If Elara wanted to spend her day outside of the palace, two guards escorted her wherever she went. Elara felt like she had a constant shadow when she tried to explore the city. Finely-dressed nobles never seemed to notice the guards, but children playing in the street would clear out the moment they saw Elara and her entourage. Merchants assumed she must be wealthy and would politely call out to her offering their wares. If they knew who she really was, where she was from, they might have sneered at her.
The guards were Bennet’s idea, an extra precaution for all of his students in case any Defenders had made their way into the city of Tranton. Elara knew Bennet just wanted to keep them all safe, but having her own personal guards felt excessive. There weren’t any Defender pamphlets circulating around the city, and the few times she had heard the Defenders mentioned by locals in conversation, it was to condemn them.
When Elara first arrived at the palace in the winter, she was still struggling to learn the Trantonian language and frequently had to ask Lilith to translate for her when people spoke too quickly. One day they were walking behind two noblewomen in the park next to the palace. Elara’s ears perked up when she recognized the Trantonian word for defender.
“What are they saying?” she had whispered to Lilith.
The younger girl hesitated before mumbling in Scransean, “That woman called the Defenders ‘mad zealots.’” Lilith nodded in the direction of the second woman. “And that woman said, ‘What else do you expect from a country with such primitive views about magic?’”
Elara’s cheeks had burned in anger and shame. She pulled up her scarf to hide her face and didn’t speak for the rest of the walk. Lilith didn’t seem to know what to say either. Thankfully, by the start of spring Elara had learned enough Trantonian to speak fluently, so she no longer needed Lilith to translate for her.
Elara rarely heard derogatory comments about her home country after that day at the park. Lilith had assured her that such views were in the minority. While cultural beliefs regarding magic in Trantonia and Scransee had long been different, unification efforts were working. Both languages were taught in schools throughout the Deravine Commonwealth, and people regularly crossed the border for trade and commerce. Yet one thing that they mercifully did not share was the recruitment efforts of the Defenders. If the Defenders weren’t a legitimate threat in Trantonia, then Elara and her friends could be safe here. She chewed her lip, wondering how long that safety would last.
Cristy L. Bowlin is a college English professor and author of The Temple Dancer’s Diary and The Hybrid Magic Chronicles, set in the fantasy realm of the Deravine Commonwealth. She currently lives in Southern California with her husband, daughter, and pet cat. When she isn’t reading or writing, she is most likely tap dancing, hiking, or getting invested in (another) TV series.
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