“Nero!”

Nero stopped short as his mother rushed to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve been so worried about you, Nero. Where have you been?”

“I’m fine, Mother. I just needed some time alone.”

“Your father has been looking all over for you,” she said with a heavy sigh. She tucked some of her long brown curls behind her ear. “He wants you to see the Court Physician.”

“Why?” Nero scowled, his frustration and the tightness creeping back into his chest. “What is he supposed to do? I’m not sick.”

“I’ve tried reasoning with him,” she told him, “but you know how he is. It wouldn’t hurt you to see the physician just once, would it?”

Nero lay on the examination table, staring up at the ceiling while the Court Physician and his apprentice tried to use healing magic over his body. They were trying to find an abnormality, a Curse Mark, an injury… anything that could explain Nero’s lack of magic. After a few moments, the doctor sighed, then began using his bare hands instead of magic to examine him.

“What’s the matter?” Father asked. He had insisted on being there for Nero’s examination. “Did you find something?”

“No,” the doctor explained, “but I can’t seem to penetrate his skin with my magic. So, I have to do a regular physical exam instead.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be able to use magic on him?”

Nero stayed silent. He closed his eyes and thought about Faeryn’s theory about him being immune to magic. Did this prove him to be correct? Did it mean that Nero would never be able to wield magic?

He sat up slowly and let out a frustrated sigh. Father would never be able to understand, so he didn’t bother trying to explain it to him. He dressed in silence and turned away.

“I’ll be in the library if you need me, but I won’t come back for any more exams. Just let it go.”

“Let it go?” Father questioned, raising an eyebrow at Nero. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. Anyway, steer clear of that Librarian. He’s nothing but trouble.”

“Is he?” Nero shot a glare back at his father. “Don’t forget that he’s the Keeper of Knowledge. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him someday if you’d pull your head out of your arse.”

Nero stormed out before he could respond. He stalked the halls, the anger in his chest rising again. No one in that castle could possibly understand how it felt. How could they? They were all mages, naturally Gifted and immensely powerful. They could never know what it was like to be the only one without magic.

Lost in his own thoughts, he collided with something hard and was knocked back onto the floor. He sat there in a bit of a daze and rubbed his shoulder. Daemon was standing over him, rubbing his own shoulder where Nero had run into him.

“Watch it! What the hell is your problem?”

“Leave me alone, Daemon!”

“Where have you even been? Mum’s been a wreck since you left the ceremony, and Father’s been in a rancid mood all week about the whole thing. I don’t know why you insist on stressing everyone out all the time.”

“It’s none of your business.” Nero got up quickly and pushed past his twin brother. He just wanted to be alone.

“Back so soon?” Faeryn was placing a few books back on a shelf, and he gave Nero a curious look. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t be out there with them,” Nero told him. He sat at one of the tables, and he was trembling. “I can’t deal with my father treating me like I’m sick or broken. There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Faeryn sighed and shook his head. He put his hood up, his shadowy magic swirling around him like it usually did, and he gestured for Nero to follow.

“Come on.”

In the far back of the library, concealed by the large tapestry of the Arnaldo family tree, there was a wooden door. Beyond it, a long dark hallway of stone. There were no lights, and Nero had to feel along the cold stone wall as he trailed after Faeryn.

At the end of the tunnel, there was another wooden door. Inside, it was furnished similarly to most of the bedrooms in the castle, except everything here was covered in stacks of books.

Faeryn snapped his fingers, and the fireplace burst into life, filling the room with light and warmth.

“You can rest here when you’re not in the library studying,” he told him while he collected books that were in a pile on the bed and moved them to a chair. “I don’t really use this room for anything but books, so it’s fine for you to occupy it. Get some rest, and we’ll start tomorrow.”

Days turned to weeks and months while Nero studied with the Keeper of Knowledge. He taught him as much as he could about the history of Anzino. After a while, Nero didn’t even think to ask about obtaining magic anymore.

Faeryn was a quiet man, reserved and distant most of the time. Nero found him difficult to speak to outside of their studying sometimes. He mostly kept to himself, cloaked in his dark mist. It made him feel so impossible to reach.

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When he was in a good mood, though, Faeryn didn’t wear his hood or use his magic. That was when Nero would observe him and his little quirks and habits. Things like the way his eyes brightened when he was teaching, or the way they darkened depending on the subject of conversation. His brow would furrow while he read quietly, or he would mouth words to himself while he was thinking. He did that a lot, especially when he was putting books away or doing mundane tasks like housekeeping of the library.

He used his shadowy cloaking magic to hide when he was tired or in a bad mood. Nero had figured that out relatively quickly, and knew when not to push Faeryn.

“How does someone so young become the Keeper of Knowledge for an entire kingdom?” Nero questioned one night, and Faeryn raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean… You’re barely older than I am, right? I don’t know… I just… When I first came here, I expected the Keeper of Knowledge to be… well…”

“An old wizard?” Faeryn smirked, but then he frowned. “I was a small child when you were born, and my mother and I had just moved here. The Faeries had given her a Gift of sight and knowledge, and because of the nature of the Gift, she was given the position before me. I supposed you’re not old enough to remember, but your grandfather, King Callum, appointed her as the Keeper of Knowledge before he passed away.

“As I had mentioned to you once, there are rules for interacting with the Faeries. Being in their debt and harnessing their Gifts usually comes at a great personal loss. Eventually, her sight and her mind deteriorated.”

Faeryn leaned forward and pointed to his own bright blue eyes.

“She willingly passed her magic onto me, and asked me to replace her as the Keeper of Knowledge. My brown eyes turned blue, and then she died.”

“I’m sorry.” Nero lowered his gaze. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Since she gave it to me, I’m not in the Faeries debt. They’ve never shown themselves to me. Even if they did, I can’t say it would end well for anyone. They’re the reason my mother’s life was cut so short. It’s not that I hate the Faeries. I don’t want revenge. But someone should be held accountable, shouldn’t they?”

Nero was quiet. Faeryn had a pained expression on his face, twisted like he was trying to hold back his anger. It must have been difficult for him, Nero thought, trying to stay so impartial all the time. He was so young, after all, barely older than Nero.

“Faeryn…” Nero reached out for Faeryn’s hand, but he took it off the table.

“Anyway…” Faeryn cleared his throat and sat up straighter than before. He went back to his old distant self, cloaked in his shadowy magic. He waved his arm, and a large tome floated down from one of the shelves. “I know it’s been quiet a while, but I haven’t forgotten my promise to you. Let me tell you about the different ways humans are able to obtain magic.”

Nero frowned. He didn’t care about the magic at that moment. He knew what Faeryn was doing… taking the focus off himself to avoid the conversation, but he didn’t try to argue the point. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Faeryn. If he wanted to talk about it, he would do it when he was ready.

“Aside from being a Sorcerer, which is what we call a blood-born mage, there are five other ways to be granted magic power,” Faeryn explained.

“The most common way,” he said, lifting his index finger, “is to study as a Wizard, and obtain your power through studying, usually in the form of tomes.”

He laid a book out in front of Nero, which pictures that depicted a man with a large book in his hand, casting a spell with a staff.

“If a Wizard becomes skilled enough to memorize all of his teachings, he can eventually perform techniques without the aid of a book or a tool, allowing him to use both hands for more powerful casting. Casting without a staff or a wand is incredibly dangerous, though. Very few Wizards throughout history have ever been known to be that powerful.”

“What’s dangerous about it?” Nero questioned, and Faeryn gave him a hard look.

“If you try to cast a spell without a wand and you’re not ready for that level of magic, you could blow your own arm off.”

Nero’s eyes went wide. Was magic really that dangerous? None of the mages he knew used wands.

“Don’t worry,” Faeryn said, noticing the horrified look on Nero’s face. “Blood-born mages are different. Their bodies are born able to cast without tools.

“Bards,” he continued, “which are relatively uncommon, usually start their training as Wizards. Through rigorous studying and the complex breakdown of spells and incantations, they are able to twist keywords and intentions into their songs and poetry. They rarely need aid from any books, and you will never meet two bards with the same spells or techniques.”

“I don’t write poetry or music,” Nero said. He enjoyed music, and knew how to play a few instruments, but he didn’t care to play it.

“That’s all right. We don’t have to explore any options that you’re not interested in. Besides, if you try to become a Wizard and it doesn’t work, you wouldn’t be able to become a Bard anyway.

“The other most common way to become a mage is by being a Cleric. These people are taken from home at a very young age to be raised and trained by the Church, and their magic is granted by the Creator himself, after proving their worth in some kind of special gauntlet. The gauntlet varies from Church to Church, but not everyone makes it out alive, and you have to dedicate your life to the Creator. If you don’t, the Church may excommunicate you, or if the deem your crimes too great, they will seal your magic away.

“In contrast to the Cleric, there are Druids. The Druids worship Mother Gaia, the wife of the Creator, and dedicate themselves to the earth. Their power comes directly from Gaia instead of the Creator, and manifests itself in the form of an element: fire, earth, water, or air. No Druid has ever been known to wield more than one element. Those who receive Gifts from the Faeries are also considered Druids, even if they don’t worship Gaia, because the Faeries belong to the earth, as well.”

Nero let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Most of those don’t sound like good options for me.”

“The last way to do it would be to succeed a Warlock, like me,” Faeryn explained. “The origin of Warlocks is largely unknown, but they are able to pass their power onto a successor. I don’t know if can be forcibly given or taken. My mother gained her power in combination from the Faeries and inheriting Warlock magic from her father. Then, she passed it to me. When she did, it also passed her Faerie Gift to me, so I can only assume it’s linked to the Warlock’s unique ability to transfer power.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Nero asked.

“First, let’s see if you really can’t do any magic.” Faery slid a book across the table. “Pick a spell and read it out loud. That’s usually enough for a practicing Wizard to at least get a reaction.”

Nero flipped through the pages reluctantly. He found a very simple levitation spell, and sighed again. Would it do anything? He envisioned himself floating above the table, lifted by magic.

“I call upon Mother Gaia and the Spirits of the Earth. Release your hold on this earthly body so that it may rise with air.

“I call upon the Creator and the Spirits of the Heavens. Take hold of this earthly body so that I may rise with you.”

Faeryn and Nero were both quiet. Nothing happened, not that they’d really expected anything to.

“May I try something?” Faeryn asked, standing up from the table. “You don’t have to agree to it, but I would like to try striking you with magic. Nothing powerful or dangerous, of course. I’d just like to test my theory about your immunity to magic.”

“I don’t see why not,” Nero replied with a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll try anything at this point. Let’s do it outside, though, just in case.”