Cedric ran his heart out. “Please — please don’t let them die.”

Seth following in close pursuit calls ahead, “What’s saying it’s them? It could be any house.”

For a painfully long minute they’re silent before Cedric adds — half crying, half anger, “I did it to them! It’s all my fault!”

Seth finally catches up with a stitch in his side, “Wait!” He holds his arm out. “What do you mean?” Sadie is crouching low on the grass, her ears flopping down on either side.

Cedric doesn’t answer but sprints up to the porch. Seth grabs onto his arm. “Stop, you can’t go in there!”

The whole of the house is filled with flames, threatening to collapse but Cedric pushes Seth off him and runs through the flames. “Mom!” He winces in pain, “Dad! Where are you!”

On the kitchen counter is what used to be a cake. Several beams across the ceiling fall, splintering across the counter. “Cedric, get out of there!” Seth calls. Sirens can be heard, steadily getting louder.

Covering Cedric’s skin are large boils and burn marks. He fights his way up the stairs, coughing up smoke and debri and carefully choosing the sturdy steps. “Mom —”

In front of him is exactly what he thought caused it. The woebegone. “What do you want with me?” Cedric shouts through the rumble.

The woebegone gives a loud screech and slashes Cedric across the cheek with it’s long claws. Even with the fire all around him, the woebegone makes him feel cold. From the tips of his fingers to toes. A coldness that wraps around his heart, making the stitch in his side twice as bad.

Cedric feels death as inevitable. Either he dies from the fire or the woebegone. Knowing this somehow builds up his confidence. “I said, what do you want with me?”

The woebegone answers with a gravelly voice, nothing like last night, “You know what you are kid.”

“Actually I don’t. But I know one thing for certain. You’re not getting away with this.” But know that the woebegone mentioned it, Cedric feels there's something missing. A part of himself he never knew before. Then he notices the fire. Here he is, in a burning building — and he’s somehow okay. Hurt but alive. “Give me my parents.”

The woebegone gives a deep, slow laugh before sweeping his hands through the walls. Causing them to crash on Cedric, trapping him pinned underneath. Footsteps can be heard coming from downstairs. “It must be the firemen.” Cedric thought, coughing up more soot. “Get away. It’s not safe. He caused it.”

But when he looks back the woebegone is gone. Through heavy breathes and closing eyes Cedric notices what he thought to be a fireman to be something much different, walking with a spring in his step and carrying a suitcase.

Unfazed by the flames, the man is wearing a grey tweed coat and fedora. He flips open the suitcase as Cedric’s eyes finally shut.

“Eli L. L. L. Zonks at your service.” The man in the tweed coat stares down at Cedric. A wide grin forms across his face and a joyful glint crosses his eyes. “You can call me Zonks.”

Zonks can’t be a day over twenty. He’s a bit slim but well built. The first thing that Cedric notices about him though, is not his tall height, his wavy ginger hair or odd name but his ever odder fashion sense. On top he looks ready for an interview, but on bottom he looks ready for a marathon. Cedric doesn’t notice his electric blue sweatpants until he gets up from the couch he was in. “Ah, my head.” He holds it in agony before falling back.

“Wait. Where am I?” Cedric says. Jolting back up.

“Now now. You gotta rest.”

“No. Where Am I? My parents. They’re in the building.”

“Let’s not worry about that now.” The man assures him, but Cedric still tries to get up. “You’re gonna do it the hard way aren’t ya.” The man opens his briefcase again, pulling out a little red flower, and taps it across Cedric’s shoulder. Making him fall back to sleep for the second time.

This round, half an hour later, when Cedric woke up he stayed laying down. “Where am I?”

“Sanctuary.” The man says, piling a lot of odd equipment out of his suitcase and onto the table: A little silver dial, a pocket watch and a deck of cards. “Here take this.” He says, handing Cedric what looks like a giant mothball.

“Uh.” He sits up and places it on the table. “No thanks.”

“Eat it.” Zonks says, handing it back to Cedric. “It will help.”

Cedric, disgusted by eating such a weird item, nibbles a bit off. Instantly his burns fade away. “What was that.” He says disgusted but intrigued.

Zonks doesn’t answer but begins placing everything back into his suitcase. He grabs the mothball out of Cedric’s hand, takes a bite of it himself, then places it back in the suitcase. Only one item remained on the table. A black wand about the length of Cedric’s forearm. From the white tip, as Zonks picks it up, splashes out sparks.

“It doesn’t like me.” Zonks said, giving it to Cedric. “I mean, you are it’s owner.”

Cedric picks up the wand. Once touching his skin it stops sparking. “huh — what is this?” He stands up, walking towards the door. “I don’t want it.” He throws the wand back to the ground but it bounces back up, right into his hand.

“I think you’ll find you do.”

Cedric stands there staring at the wand, They were telling the truth. There’s no way. I don’t want this. Another thought popped into his head, “Where are they? Where are my parents?” A fit of anger rages on in his head, but he tries to act calm.

Zonks’ face redens to the color of his hair, “You don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“Yes — I do!” The anger finally breaks free. “His wand shoots sparks out of it, once more. “Where are they?”

“They’re okay.”

“You’re lying.” His wand falls to the floor with a clatter, before bouncing back up again into his hand.

“Do you really wanna find out?” Zonks asks. “They’re dead and I’m here to make sure you don’t blow yourself up!”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Cedric storms out of the door, not caring where he’s going as long as it’s away from there. “I don’t belong here.” He mutters to himself, jogging down a cobbled street. The setting sun casts deep shadows from the buildings. “I’m not a magician — I’m not a freak.”

“Cedric!” Zonks calls after him, sloshing through a puddle.

The area he’s running through is covered in a thick layer of fog. He runs through a crowd of people — wearing quite odd clothing and hats — before turning into a dark alleyway.

Zonks runs past Cedric’s hiding place and up the street.

Cedric’s panting, heavy breathing is nothing compared to Zonks, letting out wheezing, spluttering coughs. Cedric takes off his jacket. Wherever he is now is way too hot for a jacket. Now that he thinks of it, the air around him is stifling hot. He looks back out of the alleyway into the crowd of odd looking people, careful that none of them see him.

A man in the crowd, puffing on a wooden pipe, is wearing a bulky tweed coat, slim fitting pants and a scarf around his neck. Looking much like a detective. In this weather? Cedric thinks, before narrowing his eyes on another man in the crowd.

This man is much shorter than anyone Cedric has seen before; shorter than he is at age 11. He’s got a long greyish, yellowing beard and a pair of thick glasses, hanging on the end of his long crooked nose. “Ah, interesting, very interesting I must say.” Cedric hears him say in a low, grumbly voice.

The tiny man is talking to a tall woman. Slender, with smooth pale skin. She’s wearing a pastel white dress, flowing to the ground, embroidered with deep gold symbols depicting many different animals: An elk, a bear and a wolf, all very small and placed a dozen times each on the dress, each woven between what looks like bright, golden embroidered roots. These three people are some of the many different odd looking people outside of what Cedric now notices to be a cafe.

As Cedric finds his sight wavering back up the street to where Zonks had gone he begins forming a curious thought. The fog’s bringing the warmth. He would have not believed it, if having thought it only a few days ago, but now that all these events have occurred to him it seems quite plausible. He almost wants to stay. Only moments before he himself wanted to get far, far away from this place, from Zonks, from the wand, but now that he’s felt this curious fog and the even more curious atmosphere he almost feels that he is supposed to be here. That this is where he’s meant to be. He caught himself amid the sentence, “I’m supposed to be a magician.” when he notices the woman staring out at him.

“Are you lost?” She asks.

“Um, uh.” He finds himself lost in his words. He manages to bumble out, “The fog.”

“Yes, yes. We have a most peculiar fog here in Snapdragon.” The tiny man calls out. “I presume you don’t come from around here.”

“Yea, yeah.”

The woman and tiny man talk in a whisper among each other for a moment, Cedric can make out the tiny man, him not being able to whisper that quietly saying, “But how . . . know . . . can’t be . . . er, I thought they died . . . what ‘bout him.”

Instantly Cedric knew what they were talking about, not knowing how but nonetheless knowing that these strangers were talking about his parents. Upon the memory of them and the fire, he sunk back into the shadows, unable to speak. The rest of the crowd left. It’s just him and the two people that Cedric now knows unmistakably to be magicians.

“We, er got to take you with us.” The tiny man says, directing his gaze back to Cedric.

“You can’t say it like that Pat.” The woman intervenes. “He’s a little boy.”

Cedric, getting his voice back grumbles, “I’m not a little boy.”

“Speak up boy.” The little man says, leaning closer.

“I, I said I’m not a little boy.”

“Hah, after a hun’red years or so you’ll —”

He was cut off by the woman. “Listen, Cedric.”

Cedric perks up, out of the shadows. “You — know my name.”

“Yes, we worked with your parents a while back, so sorry to hear the news.”

Cedric fell into tears. The thought of his parents seemed to be too much for him. He leaned into the woman and gave a great sob. “There, there.” She says.

“Weird, ain’ it. Your ‘bility with chil’ren.” The man says.

Then from up the street Cedric hears the familiar wheezing sound, running up to him. “Cedric — There you are. Ah, Balanos, Patrick. How do you do?”

“Don’t come near —”

“Let’s go Cedric. Plenty we’ve got to do.” Zonks interrupts.

Patrick throws himself in front of Cedric. (Not helping much, him being two thirds the height of Cedric.) “Ey, so you brought em’ Eli, didn’ cha. Well he’s staying with us.”

Zonks makes a grab for Cedric but Patrick gives him a sucker punch right through the gut. Zonks stumbles off, back towards the direction of his home. Patrick takes out a wand from his coat and points it in the direction of Zonks. Cedric’s wand comes floating out of Zonks pocket. “Em, bove grounders, wut does he think, trying to send em’ off to the forces like that.”

“That’s enough Pat.” Balanos says. “No ranting around Cedric.”

Cedric, not quite sure what’s happening, but happy to be with someone his parents knew, followed them along the winding streets, through the shops, gathering groceries and into a forest dense of tall pine trees. Everything is dark except the dirt trail with lanterns attached to fence posts every twenty feet or so. The air here is much colder than within the city.

Finally gathering his thoughts Cedric mentioned, “You worked for the government?”

“You could say that.” Patrick says, almost thoughtlessly, looking intently between the right and left path, before finally choosing the left.

“Why’re you lying?” Cedric stops in his tracks.

“Hmm, oh what was that?” Patrick ads.

“Why are you lying?”

“Your parents were great people Cedric.” Balanos chimes in. “We’ve got to keep walking. Don’t wanna spend too much time here.”

They continue with a brisk walk, Patrick jogging to keep up. After a moment of silence Cedric ends up switching the subject, “What’s so bad about a forest.” The path splits in two again and they choose the right.

“Will eat you right up, it will.” Patrick says, clearly focused on something else.

“He’s joking.” Balanos looks back at Cedric’s horrified expression.

“So what’s so bad about it.” Cedric repeats.

“Changes paths.”

“And you know where to go how?” Cedric asks.

“Gotta pay attention dear. Look at the path.”

But after intense concentration Cedric sees nothing. “No no — not the ground.” Balanos chuckles. “I mean the path, the lights.”

Now Cedric notices that on the left the lanterns are slightly dimmer than the right. Patrick stops at another fork in the path. “Which one Cedric?” He asks. “Do you know?”

“Um.” Cedric says. “I mean, the lights on the right are brighter, so that way.” He points to the right.

“Onward! To the right we go . . .” Patrick booms. “. . . But I must tell you that’s the wrong way. Try again.”

Another split path arrives and Cedric this time looks for smaller, more discriminant details. The only other thing he can notice is that bugs are attracted to some lights and not others. “Um, left?”

“And how do you know that?” Balanos asks.

“There’s more bugs.” Cedric feels that this is a silly answer but says it anyways.

“There you go.” Patrick says, leading the three of them to the left.

They walk on for another half an hour or so when it becomes so dark that between the lanterns Cedric has to feel his way forward. Patrick and Balanos seem used to this though and walk straight to the next lanterns without hesitation. A bit later Cedric’s stomach growls with hunger. (He realises he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, except that weird mothball.) Patricks stomach growls even louder though, much like an angry bear.

The forest ends in a big clearing, not that the trees even out until there are none but it is rather abrupt, one moment there are trees and the next there aren’t. The grass here turns from long black to a small green, much like a lawn. A light can be seen in the clearing that Cedric notices to come from a wooden cabin. Next to it is a large stable and an even larger oak tree, taller than all the trees around.