Kayetan

Yoszovar, 5 years before the Rise

I cannot suppress the shiver running down my spine upon approaching the enormous doors of Vorvalus Manor. They’re gleaming in the sunlight which also gives the walls an almost golden gleam, and my heart starts pounding as I reach for the knocker.

This is it. I made it.

I have to keep from pinching myself, for I barely believe it. The weight of the bag hanging off my shoulder makes it more real though, and there’s a twinge in my heart at the thought of leaving Sylva at Moppa Verin’s, so I know I can’t be dreaming.

The door opens, revealing a tall man wearing an impeccable blue uniform. His black hair is starting to turn grey at his temples, giving him a sophisticated look. I feel like I’m shrinking under the curious gaze in his green eyes. I’m dressed as posh as I can, but even in his working attire, this man outdresses me completely. “Masterling Kayetan Dynisa, I presume?”

“Yes,” I try to say, but my voice cracks. I quickly clear my throat and my second attempt is a lot better. “Yes, I am. How do you do.”

He looks at my outstretched hand like it’s an anomaly before his lips curl into the hint of a smile and he takes it. His handshake is firm. “Haenar,” he says. “Head valet of the Vorvalus Magic wing.”

A whole wing just for Magic? I knew I made the right choice in pursuing an internship with Grand Master Vorvalus, but an entire wing of this mansion dedicated to Magic? My heart skips a beat and my breath hitches for just a moment. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise.” His smile is widening a bit. “Please come in.” He steps aside, revealing an enormous hall the likes of which I have never seen before. Even the town hall in my hometown was smaller than this, and looked like a dark cave compared to this room. The hall is bigger than the largest auditorium at school. The floor is shining, the walls are so white they seem to glow in the sunlight falling from several glass domes in the ceiling, and two galleries stretch out along the walls; the higher floors. The banisters around the galleries are made of curling branches of the winding willows I’ve only heard of, but never seen. They must have cost a fortune.

“Master Vorvalus will be right with you,” Haenar says and I nod, taking in his words but unable to tear my eyes from the beauty around me. At the back, above an enormous stairway, there’s a huge stained glass window with the Vorvalus symbol forged into it. The square in the diamond. When I step closer, I can see the three-dimensional effect that can only have been brought about by Magic. Knowing how intricate this Magic is, makes the triumph of being here taste even sweeter.

In front of the stairs leading to the higher floors, there’s another Vorvalus symbol. It looks like a statue made of glass and light, so beautiful that I don’t understand how it’s standing here, perched on its pedestal like it’s something normal, when I can’t even begin to fathom how this shape must have been made. The Vorvalus symbol has always elicited awe in me — the platonic solids for earth and air combined radiate a power that I can almost feel now that I’m in this hall, seeing the solids larger and more innundated with Magic than I’ve ever seen them — and I’m beside the statue before I even know I decided to go here.

The artistry is marvelous. I can’t believe how nothing but simple lines coming together to form an octahedron and a cube become so much more than the sum of a few lines. I find I’m hardly breathing as I try to keep myself from running my fingers along the frame. I take hold of the strap of my bad to ensure my hands won’t stray that way.

What kind of material is this? Mountain crystal?

I close my eyes for a second, allowing the frequency these powerful symbols are resonating at to permeate me. Soon, I will master these symbols and the three other platonic solids so well that my Magic will push the boundaries of possibility too. I can feel it, the power just beyond my reach, the power I’ve been closing in on every single day since I enrolled in school.

I know I’ve already mastered a basic level of the Magic — I’ve been paying my bills by fixing people’s broken stuff for two years now. From pots and pans to jewelry and ripped-up paintings, they all found their way to me. One time I was even asked to restore a half-burned dress. I used both mechanical tools as well as Magic, and got quite a reputation for being the fixer of things in the neighborhood.

Sadly, it was a poor neighborhood and I couldn’t ask much for my services, knowing I’d probably rob people of their evening meal if I asked too much — I know all too well what it’s like to go to bed hungry. And sure, I was happy to help, knowing that I was mastering skills and… that it was leading up to this moment. Just being here is worth all those repairs, all those hours spent at the back of the classroom, working so hard while trying not to be noticed until I got the Magic just right, until I knew exactly how it worked. Hoping I wouldn’t get the looks of pity that seemed to be reserved especially for the poor foreign boy trying to be a Mage.

I almost chuckle at the contrast between the looks of immense gratitude from my clients and the disdain of my classmates. I can still remember Masgan’s sneer when I got my water boiling faster than him, and Elrick’s disgusted look when I failed to hit the moving circle once, turning the whole board yellow because of the miss. I still can’t believe how he’d dared to roll his eyes when he’d only mastered hitting a target with color after hiring a private tutor and working on it for four weeks straight.

But I beat them all. I’m here.

I take a deep breath, my eyes still closed, and imagine myself one day owning a mansion just like this — a fierce testament to who I am, to my accomplishments, to the journey that has taken me from nothing to everything and more. A faint smile takes over the corners of my mouth. Now that Grand Master Vorvalus has taken me under his wing, my days as a poor, struggling Mage wannabe are finally over. At last, I can give Sylva everything she wants — from the new doll she hasn’t stopped talking about ever since we saw it in a shop window to the simple dresses and even undergarments I’ve never been able to buy her new before. I can afford Moppa Verin to look after her full-time now, to ensure she’s properly cared for — Sylva needs special care. After contracting the same fever that killed both our parents and our grandfather back home, Sylva remained pale and small. On a good day, you can see the lines of her blood vessels lavender and cornflower blue, like pathways under her skin. On a bad day, those veins look like they’re inked into her, and that a mere gust of wind will be enough to make her collapse. Breathing is always a struggle for her, and I cannot count the times I feared her lungs would just give up the fight and I’d lose her.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

And yet, her deep blueish-green eyes always sparkle, and they lit up like the northern lights when I told her about the apprenticeship. She is the only one who has always believed in me. Even when I thought myself a fool, a fraud, an incapable booger head with no talent whatsoever, she refused to even listen to my complaints and kept pointing out all the ways in which I already was accomplished. Without her, I would have quit long ago. She’s been my lifesaver.

I’ll bring her here as soon as I can. Warmth wells up in my heart at the thought, my lungs filling with air. I open my eyes to look around this wonderful hall again, turning to take in all its splendor.

My bag hits something.

Oh no.

I turn around as fast as I can, but it’s already too late. The statue of the diamond and square is toppling over. I dive forward to rescue it, but my bag slips off my shoulder forcing my elbow down, throwing me off balance, and my fingertips only graze the stone on its way down. In a last attempt to save the statue I fling Dawnt at it, hoping the spell will stop the fall, but I’m also too late with that. The crystal smashes into the shiny, hardwood floor. My spell has tempered the sound, but I can feel the crash reverberating through the floor. I feel like my heart has been shattered too, along with my dreams. My knees hit the floor hard, but I don’t care about that.

The Vorvalus symbol is in pieces before me. But to my surprise, it hasn’t smashed into a thousand pieces. The cube is split in two, and though the octahedron is no longer recognizable as such, most of its ribs are still in one piece. Not that it makes this any less of a disaster, but maybe my spell did soften the blow just a little bit.

The silence around me is deafening. I’m waiting for someone to barge into the hall, see this incredible mess and tell me to take my destructive bag and leave without ever looking back. How could I let this happen? What was I thinking? Almost everything I own in in this bag, and I let it… I growl escapes my throat and I’d give anything to go back in time and prevent this from happening.

The pieces on the floor are mocking me as I’m still waiting for Haenar to start yelling at me, or even Grand Master Vorvalus to barge in and realize what an utter mistake he made in bringing me on. I’m done for.

Unless…

I swallow and put my bag on the floor. Ironically, it’s not even full enough to make much of a thud. I’m such a fool, finding the one way in which my meager excuse for possessions could have thrown down an entire statue.

Right. Let’s start with the cube.

The crystal is cold to the touch and a shiver rolls down my spine as I touch it. It feels like blasphemy, but I cannot go down without a fight. I cannot allow one stupid moment to ruin my entire future. I’m the fixer, I can make almost anything.

The almost makes my stomach churn and I swallow the bile that wants to come up, and the fear for that matter, down hard. I got this — I have to. I know the spell for uniting and seamlessly repairing things. I’ve used it a thousand times. I just hope this crystal isn’t Magically laden enough to reject my intentions.

It seems to work. The cube is mended quite quickly, and the puzzle of the octahedron ribs turns out to be relatively simple. I’m almost done with the last rib, already thinking about how to mount the statue back onto the pedestal, when a slamming door makes me jerk. I almost drop the statue again, and my heart is pounding in my throat.

There’s movement on the first floor. Somebody is walking. At first glance, I think it is Grand Master Vorvalus coming to greet me, but I quickly realize the error in my thinking; this long black hair belongs to a female — a girl who has to be one of Iacopor’s daughters. She doesn’t notice me as she hurries along the gallery — if she had, I’m sure she would have stopped to accuse me of breaking the statue. As it is, she’s preoccupied with something else. The anger in her pace is unmistakable. The skirt of her long, cobalt-blue dress flares behind her as she heads straight away from the door I think she just slammed shut.

She is around my age, a bit younger maybe, and even this angry, she is the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to, even with my hands stil wrapped around an almost repaired crystal octahedron.

Without thinking twice — like perhaps I should have done — I whisper the words for vision enhancement. The Magic sends goosebumps down my spine, and when it kicks in I want to thank every Mage that ever lived for their wisdom, for I can see her properly now.

She’s stunning. Her emerald eyes sparkle fiercely and her chin is perked in the air as if she has every right to be angry and display that for all the world to see. Her slightly flushed cheeks and tight-pressed lips tell a story of determination, promising anyone who gets in her way to have proverbial fire and brimstone rain down on them.

I almost want to get in her way, just so she will notice me, just so I can have her wrath wash over me, to have her energy scorch me and leave a permanent reminder of encountering such beauty on my soul. The breaking of the statue will surely do the trick. But still, she doesn’t so much as glance my way.

My heart makes a little jolt. If I can mend the Vorvalus symbol, we will surely meet. Without any need for anger and scorching. I hadn’t thought it possible, but apprenticing with Grand Master Vorvalus just got even more magnificent, better than just a dream come true.

The girl opens a door halfway along the gallery and slams it shut behind her. The sound reverberating through the hall is proof of her leaving, but in my mind’s eye, I still see her walking along the balustrade, her black curls bouncing softly with every angered step she takes. I imagine her in her room, pacing up and down to try and release her fury, sending sparks of rage flying and all but lighting the drapes and trinkets that must adorn her quarters — even if her room is decorated half as luxuriously as she is beautiful, it would be a sight to behold.

I blink.

I am here for Magic, to be taught everything there is to know about how to wield it and use it to benefit anyone seeking help. I’m here to serve the world. I cannot let a girl distract me — not even this gorgeous creation of green eyes, black curls and pure fire dressed in blue. I blink again, realizing I am still staring at the door she disappeared through.

I’ll have to be patient. I’ll meet her soon enough. My heart, that was still pounding in anxiety over the statue I broke, now pounds at the thought of meeting her, talking to her, and my stomach is suddenly an unknown, tingling entity in my midst. I will meet her. She won’t see a poor, foreign kid trying to be a Mage. She will look at me with those green eyes, and know that I am good enough to apprentice with her father, the best Mage of this time. She might even smile.

I almost melt on the spot. Miss Vorvalus, smiling at me. I might commit bloody murder to have that happen.

But I’ll have to make sure I don’t get fired for destroying art before I can do so. With a brusque motion, I tear my eyes away from the door and look at the crystal in my hands. Just one seam to go… I quickly join both ends and put the statue on its socket again.

Why didn’t they provide a more solid base for this anyway? The octahedron is balancing on its tip, no wonder one could easily knock it over. But it’s in place now. I should be fine.

Quickly, I scan all the seams I’ve made. They look perfect, except for… Oh no. This was not a flawless fix. One of the fractures is still clearly visible, and I think a chip must have shot away, for there is a deep crevice in the smooth crystal.

Barely containing a curse — in my own language so no one would know the profanity I’d be spewing, but still — I scan the floor. No sign of it.

I grab my bag and lift it, hoping the shard will reveal itself, but nothing. Chewing my bottom lip, I again let my gaze wander over the floor. It just gleams like nothing ever happened.

Somebody coughs politely, sending me spinning around to greet Grand Master Vorvalus and pray that he hasn’t seen me mending his statue. I am already scrambling at words to say to him — maybe a compliment that will show nothing but respect and admiration for her — but it isn’t the Grand Master who stands only a few steps away.

“Surprised to see you here,” Elrick says. “Come to ask why you didn’t make it?”