(664 A.C.)

Maria and Wanily fell into something of a routine over the days. In the morning–weather permitting–Wanily would accompany Maria to the fields to gather ingredients for the day. She showed Wanily how to identify any herbs and plants– the ones she didn’t already know–that were necessary for most potions. Soon enough, Maria would leave Wanily to that since bending over or kneeling down and digging through the dirt was just hard on Maria’s back anymore. While Wanily gathered the supplements, Maria would either collect some ingredients from monsters or go back to her house and begin prepping for the actual potion-making process. Gathering the ingredients from monsters came in a couple of different forms. Sometimes, she would track down wherever the local slimes had wandered to during the night and scoop a bit of their bodies into a jar. The slimes, noiseless and docile, would just shudder, soft bodies jiggling with the barest of squelching, and reform into a neat, somewhat smaller dome around their hard, brown cores. Slimes were about the only monsters Maria felt comfortable “hunting”, so in any other case, she would buy the ingredients from local or traveling hunters. She refrained from actually making any potions until Wanily returned, so the two of them could make the potions together and Maria could share what recipes she knew.

Once the morning’s work was done, the pair attended to their separate chores. Wanily spent long hours over the small chalkboard, staring at the characters Maria had written there. She would trace their shapes with a hovering finger. The drone of her repeating the alphabet to herself over and over, then singing it, became white noise to Maria’s ears as she worked. When it came time for putting the letters together, Wanily struggled to sort through words, the sounds garbling in her mouth, and her spelling was just atrocious. Maria tried to remain patient, and Wanily certainly never lost her fiery determination. Soon enough she was journeying to the library most mornings to pick up a simple story book to practice. She remained a long way off from being able to read any sort of complicated text–magical or otherwise–for several months, but eventually, she went to the library one morning and returned with a thick, leather-bound tome.

A book on old magic, Maria surmised. Maria tried not to reveal to her how much it bothered her, the idea of Wanily learning old magic. Maria knew nothing about the art except that it was from the days before the Cataclysm, the power of the old gods themselves. Dangerous and left behind for a reason.

Once Wanily started to read the tomes, Maria rarely saw her doing anything else. She still helped out in the mornings, still watched over Maria’s shoulder and even tried her own hand at making some potions, but as long as there was enough light to read by, Wanily did just that. Maria watched sometimes as the girl traced a finger along the lines of text, often sounding out any unfamiliar words and rereading sentences or entire paragraphs out loud. Maria wondered how much of the information Wanily actually understood–all Maria knew was that whatever tidbits she read out loud went right over Maria’s head.

Wanily had no interest in befriending the other children in town, much to Maria’s endless consternation. A few of them had tried on multiple occasions to stop by Maria’s house and invite Wanily out to play. The only time Wanily had been the one to answer the door at their knocking instead of Maria, she had simply closed the door in their faces.

Maria chastised her for it, but despite Wanily’s efforts in being mindful about her manners, she refused to even apologize to the other children. Maria had to go to them and their mothers on Wanily’s behalf. She didn’t know what Wanily had against the other children, but, well, Wanily was nothing if not focused on magic. Maybe that was all it was–Wanily being concentrated on her studies.

It felt like the whole of the spring went by in a week. Maria celebrated the turn of the season to summer with a traditional Oavalen slime soup which Wanily ate despite the obvious disgust on her face after each and every spoonful. It had been enough to make Maria laugh–she knew Wanily was very good at not wasting food and it seemed even the cuisine that required a more acquired taste did not escape that.

During the summer, Wanily began to grow restless. She never said anything to Maria to that effect, but Maria could recognize these things. She’d stay out longer in the mornings when gathering ingredients and always rush to help Maria with any chores she needed done around the house or even out about town. She stuck close to Maria’s side, never venturing to talk to any of the other townspeople, but she did come with her. Often, they would sit by the river in companionable silence. Most times, Wanily would bring her book and read, but sometimes, she would simply watch the water flow by.

It worried Maria a bit. It wasn’t good for a child to keep to themselves like that, but try as she may, Wanily showed no interest in becoming friendly with anyone else in town.

Still, Wanily soon traded out the first tome she’d gotten from the library for another. By the time fall came and went, Maria was almost certain she’d read all the books in the library and was now rereading them.

Winter found them indoors more often than not. The cold was hard on Maria’s joints, and though Wanily’s furs had been thoroughly cleaned and were ready for use, Maria still didn’t want her to stay out too long and risk growing ill. So, they stayed inside together, the fire crackling in the hearth, and the two of them attending their own tasks in peace. Wanily read, of course, and Maria would embroider both her and Wanily’s clothing, as Maria’s mother had done for her.

The thought made Maria both pleasantly warm and achingly sad. It was all twisted up together. Wanily was a kind, intelligent, hard-working girl, the kind Maria would have wished for if she were to have birthed a daughter. But if Maria had given birth to Wanily, she would probably be gone now, just like her sons. It was Maria’s fault, she realized that now, and it made her happy that she was doing better by Wanily.

But sometimes, she missed her sons. She wondered, too, if Wanily missed her parents. Maria asked about them a couple times, but Wanily never gave any details. They weren’t in the picture, Wanily had said when they first met. The only thing she revealed after that was that she didn’t remember them–only remembered walking into a city in Dryan, alone.

They could be dead, or they could be off somewhere, never thinking of their child they’d left behind. But it didn’t matter what had happened to Wanily’s parents, Maria decided. She would take of Wanily as long as she needed it–and more importantly, as long as she wanted it.

Maria wasn’t certain about the details, but John must have lent out multiple books to Wanily because she sat with three of the tomes open in front of her on the ground as she moved from page to page, scanning each one slowly. Maria sat at the table, hands quietly aching as she pushed her needle through fabric over and over, creating a yellow flower at the end of the leg of one of Wanily’s brown trousers. Maria would rather adorn one of Wanily’s dresses, but Wanily preferred trousers. It mattered more what Wanily wanted for her clothes than what Maria wanted–Wanily would be the one wearing them, after all.

It was a special kind of peace. The two of them working on separate things, but the two of them together.

That's why Maria rightly started when Wanily announced, “Alright, I’ve decided. I'm going to learn old god magic!”

Maria started to nod before she registered fully what Wanily said. She hissed as she accidentally poked herself with her needle in her shock. She snapped her gaze to Wanily, sprawled across the hard dirt floor. She was tracing the lines of text in the tome idly, a huge gap-toothed smile on her face. She had lost her last baby tooth the week before.

Maria grimaced. Instead of being quick to chastise–as she would have months before–she took a deep breath to collect herself. “Why?”

Wanily flipped to the page before, pointing somewhere in the middle of a block of cramped text. “It says here that old magic is much more powerful than new magic. If I'm going to be the strongest mage, I'm going to need the strongest magic, right?”

Maria was sure her expression was pained. “Dear, old magic may be powerful, but it must be dangerous. Isn't it dangerous?” It was the only thing Maria had ever heard about old magic.

Wanily shrugged. "Well sure, but so is potion-making. That's kind of old magic, too, actually.” She pointed to the book on her right. “According to this book, potion-making, or brewing, is actually derived from alchemy, which people don't know how to do anymore but was waaay stronger." She perked up. "Hey, if I learn old magic, maybe I can learn alchemy, too!”

This was the most excited Maria had ever seen Wanily. She had seen glimpses of it when they worked on potions together–the pure excitement and joy Wanily had revolving all things magic. Maria didn’t know what made Wanily jaded and somewhat sullen the rest of the time, but when it came to magic, she was as excitable as a cat locked in a room full of mice.

That was why what Maria was about to say broke her heart. She sighed. “Honey, I don't think you should be dabbling in old magic.”

Wanily's face fell. “Why?”

“I already told you: it's dangerous.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Wanily twisted about herself until she was sitting up, arms crossed. “That's a double standard. You make potions. You showed me how to make potions, and that’s plenty dangerous. All it takes is one too many stirs or a couple extra seconds and the whole thing could explode.”

“That’s–” Different, Maria wanted to say, but couldn’t even explain to herself why. It was times like these that she realized how much easier it was with her boys. She would just tell them no, and that would be the end of it. She didn’t need to explain why. But Wanily hated that. And Maria had to respect that–had to respect her. If she wanted to learn old magic, Maria had no right to stop her. She could just try to make sure that Wanily didn’t get herself killed.

Maria got up to grab something to staunch the bleeding of her finger, shuffling toward the chest by the hearth. “You’re right,” she grumbled, a smile tugging at her lips. “So, you want to learn old magic. How do you do it?”

Wanily let her arms fall as the tension in the room dissipated. She pursed her lips. “Well, one of the other books said that new magic is so easy to cast because you use a bunch of tools. Mages can use wands or staves and magic words to help with a spell. Even other weird stuff like holly or gold flakes or whatever. Old magic... doesn’t do any of that.” The last part sounded somewhere between a statement and a question. Maria frowned, and when she turned to face Wanily, a small rag pressed against her finger, she found Wanily wearing a matching expression.

“The guy tried to explain it in the beginning,” Wanily muttered, flipping towards one of the first pages of the book to her left. Her eyes roamed the page. When she found the right passage, she began to read, “Magic is unfathomable, and yet to use it in its purest form–the way of the old gods–you must comprehend it in all its intricacies. It is a part of you, yet exists separate from you; it is both a way of life and what keeps one alive. Magic is not something to be explained, only understood.” Wanily scrunched her nose and looked up.

Maria blinked down at her. “That... sounds complicated.”

Wanily pursed her lips. “Yeah, I–I’m not really sure how it works. But that’s alright. I’m sure I can figure it out. Might need to get my hands on some more books though.”

Maria carefully sat back at the table. She had a feeling she knew what was going to be Wanily’s response, but she still had to ask, “And you’re sure you won’t need a teacher?”

Wanily snorted. Maria tsked at her for the unladylike action, and she sighed. She mumbled out a quick apology before replying, “I don’t want a teacher. The last one I had–” She cut herself off and glowered down at the book in front of her. Her golden eyes burned so fiercely, Maria was alarmed she might light the tome on fire. “I don’t need a teacher. I don’t need anyone to help me learn magic,” she spat. Maria found herself reeling from the sheer venom in Wanily’s voice. She had heard the girl speak with conviction plenty–but never laced with such rage.

Maria frowned. She got back up and maneuvered around the kitchen table to stand above Wanily, hands on her hips. She made sure to keep herself calm and controlled, like she was dealing with a volatile potion. “Wanily, dear, it’s alright to ask for help in these matters. You can’t be expected to learn magic all by your lonesome. You’ve only got as far as you have now because I taught you how to read. Especially with how complicated this all sounds, I really think you should consider looking for another teacher.” She had no idea what happened with her first teacher. She barely even knew Wanily ever had one. Wanily only mentioned it once or twice in passing, and none of them were very flattering circumstances.

Wanily didn’t reply, but her expression gradually softened. She blew out a long, world-weary sigh. She turned to the last page of the same book. Maria watched curiously, trying to read the words upside-down as Wanily just stared at them.

The only way to learn magic is to submerge oneself in it. A teacher is imperative, experience is wholly necessary, and an old mage’s life must forever be in pursuit of understanding the world around them. In this, you will both learn and become one with magic.

They both stared at the short paragraph for several moments, the silence in the home pressing down on them like a weight. Wanily was the first to break the quiet. “I know I need a teacher,” she whispered, light as a breeze. “This book says it tons–the other ones, too. But no mage in their right mind is going to take me on,” she huffed. “The only one that did… well, he didn’t really want me. And that other one... he was a new magic mage, right? That’s why he came and bought all the books on new magic, and who knows if that would have even worked out. I don’t know where I could go to start learning old magic. I've traveled for so long and met so many people... but...”

Wanily trailed off. Maria found herself holding her breath. This was it, then. The moment Maria knew was inevitable, but it still felt like thorns were digging into her heart. She felt like she was watching Wanily break. She had watched all her children go through it–giving up on their dreams when they realized that they were just that. Fantasies. The wishes of a child.

There was nothing to tell the girl, no words to comfort her. Maria knew this from her dealings with her boys. There was nothing that could fill the void of those crumpled hopes, but that was just part of growing up. Learning to settle, accepting the compromise. It was hard, but at least she had learned this lesson before she had attempted old magic and gotten herself killed. But–that wasn’t right. Wanily wasn’t a child anymore. This was evidence she had grown out of that.

Still, to see the fire of youth, the compassion of naivety, die right in front of her again–well, Maria would rather stare down a frost lion. It didn’t seem right. Wanily had always been full of such determination, unbothered by the rest of the world and its thoughts. She was the girl that was going to be the Archmage. She told that to Maria constantly–never with the slightest hint of uncertainty. It didn’t feel right to see her doubting herself.

At that moment, Maria realized Wanily’s dream had become something of her dream, too. She had so little else in a life paved with mistakes. She had failed her children. She was going to die in this little town so far away from the rest of the wonders of the world.

But Wanily didn’t have to.

Maria clicked her tongue at her. "What are you going on about?" Wanily frowned at her, opening her mouth, but Maria didn't give her the chance to speak. "Why, you're Wanily, the girl that's going to be the Archmage."

"But I need a teacher for that."

Maria stamped her foot. Wanily started and stared up at her with wide eyes. Good. "Now that is absolutely no way to talk. You've gotten this far, haven't you? What, exactly, is there to stop you from finding a teacher?" Maria leaned down closer even as her back complained. "Because it sounds to me like you're giving up. The going got hard, and you're ready to turn your back on everything you want." Maria stared down at her hard. "So, Wanily? Are you giving up?"

Wanily held her gaze for a moment before it slipped back down to the book still displaying that last paragraph. Maria huffed, ready to begin another tirade, but Wanily hissed, "I'm not giving up. I'll never give up.” She shot to her feet and puffed out her chest, mirroring Maria's pose of arms akimbo. “I'm going to be the Archmage! I'll find a teacher no matter how long it takes. Then I'll learn magic and become the Archmage and help all the people in the world." She grinned. "How could I do anything else?"

----------------------------------------

(665 A.C.)

They waited until spring. Or, Wanily decided to stay until spring. She said it was so that food wouldn’t be as scarce while she traveled, but Maria was sure it wasn’t just wistful thinking that Wanily wanted to stay with her a little longer, too.

On the first official day of spring, Maria tucked one last loaf of flatbread into the side of a spare bag. It was an old thing that had once belonged to her youngest son and had long been sitting in the chest at the foot of her bed, taken out only when Maria felt like tormenting herself. It would be good for the bag to go out and see the world. Maria ran her fingers over the old leather and smiled to herself before gathering it up and heading outside.

Wanily sat on the bank, next to the river. She wore a shirt and trousers, both of them embroidered with little flowers and birds. Her leg bounced anxiously. When she heard the door shut behind Maria, she scrambled up and whirled around. Her ensuing smile was excited–if a bit nervous. She already had the pack she had arrived in town with slung over her shoulders, and she took the small bag of food from Maria. She opened it and peered inside, though Maria had wrapped all the food carefully to help extend its already long life.

Wanily closed the bag and twisted around to tie it to the side of her pack. She rolled her shoulders, testing the weight, before twirling around. "What do you think? Looking like the Archmage yet?"

Maria chuckled. "I think you've got a little ways before that." She snatched Wanily's hand, enveloping it in her crinkled ones. They were smooth but not dainty, with long slender fingers that had made picking ingredients a breeze. Maria smiled as she thought of it. Once again, her mornings would be spent alone, but maybe now they wouldn't be so lonely. After all, how could she ever forget this spirited, young girl with fire in her eyes and hair of spun gold? "Don't ever doubt yourself, Wanily. If you ever want to reach your dream, you have to believe in yourself."

Wanily nodded, grave. "Yeah." She took a deep breath and seemed to scrutinize Maria for a moment. She must have found what she was looking for because she grinned. "Of course I will. Thank you. For everything."

Maria threw out any remaining reservations and hugged her. Wanily returned the gesture after a moment, gripping the back of Maria's dress like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. Maria wondered if she had ever been embraced like this before. Maria still didn't know how Wanily felt about her parents–or lack thereof–but Maria could give her this where they couldn't.

Maria drew back, hands lingering on Wanily's shoulders. "And if you ever find yourself unsure or hurting, know that I'll always believe in you. And there's always a warm meal waiting for you here."

Wanily smiled, soft and reluctant. "Thank you," she said wetly. She took a deep breath and stepped back, hooking her thumbs under the straps of her pack. Her voice was much too cheery for her expression. "Well, I should get going. That teacher's not going to just fall out of the sky!"

Maria nodded, forcing a smile. "Goodbye, dear."

"Bye, Ms. Maria."

Wanily stayed there for another heartbeat before she spun on her heel and marched down the main road. Maria stood by the river and watched her grow smaller in the distance. Wanily looked back, just like her sons never did, giving another little wave before hurrying away.

Maria stood there long after Wanily had disappeared from view, once again old and alone, until a gust of wind pushed against her, breaking her out of her reverie. When she finally found it in herself to move, she shuffled back into her empty house and cried.