Seventeen years ago…

“The ceremony is about to begin,” whispers my mother, looking panicked as she has all day (needlessly so). “Get ready.”

“Mami, por favor,” I huff. “It’s fine. I’m ready.”

Looking myself over in the mirror, I tuck a loose curl that has escaped from beneath my headband, and use another pin to force it to stay in place. Mother rushes out, groaning loudly when someone calls her from down the hall. Grandmother enters my room, her eyes bright, the corners wrinkling from all the smiling she’s done over the decades, and her mouth is turned up.

“Abuelita!” I cry out, rushing out of my seat to hug her.

“Clarita,” she coos, running a hand along my back. “You look beautiful, mijita. I see your mother finally let you get a new dress.”

I spin around in my forest green dress, embroidered in a gradient with flowers and leaves. “Do you like it?”

“It suits you,” she says, with a nod.

She places a kiss on my head, then reaches into her skirt pocket, pulling out a small wooden box. I’ve seen this box before. It’s always sat on her vanity back in her home in the mountains. It contained a family heirloom, a jeweled necklace with six gems, each representing the elemental magics of Amith; Ruby, sapphire, emerald, diamond, topaz, and onyx. It was always passed down to the first witch in the family. My grandmother had had all sons, and her sons had all sons. I was the first witch.

“Now,” she says, seriously as I eye the box, my heart racing with excitement. “I know you know what this is, but I’m going to tell you the same thing my mother told me. Do you remember the family motto?”

“‘Poder y sabiduría’,” I recite, proudly.

“Use your powers wisely, Clarita. Others in the world, other místicos out there, use their powers for greed, and control. The Reyes family mystics must be different! We must use our powers for good; for healing, for protecting, for helping those who cannot help themselves. Do you understand, Clara?”

“Si, abuelita.”

“Remember that when you recite your vows tonight.”

I nod.

“Now, go out there and make us proud.”

I stand before my family, all of them dressed in traditional Ibis Island garbs of rich greens, browns, and flowers of all colors. Those who are heads of their households carry wooden staffs of intricate designs, embedded at the top with a gem of the color of their most powerful elemental power. My parents look up at me, father smiling warmly while mother clings to my father’s arm nervously. My stage is the second story balcony of our family home overlooking the courtyard.

“Hola,” I greet everyone with a nervous wave.

My cousins cheer loudly, whistling and whooping, while the rest of my family members clap. My great grandmother, Ada, a woman who I believe is older than even the trees of the forest that surround our home, walks up next to me, placing a pale, gnarled hand on my shoulder.

“We are gathered here today to bestow Clara the honorable title of mystic.” She pauses, as my family cheers again. “Clara, today is a special day. We have watched you grow, not only physically, but mentally, and spiritually, from a child to the young woman you are today, and a powerful mystic. We’re all so very proud of you.”

I can see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and now I think I might also cry.

“Clara, please recite your vows.” She gestures towards me, and steps aside.

I clear my throat. “In the presence of my family, and the ancient spirits of our ancestors, I solemnly accept the sacred title of Mystic. With this vow, I pledge to uphold the honor and integrity of our magical heritage. I swear to use my powers with wisdom, and compassion, using truth and justice to guide my actions. I vow to never misuse my gift for personal gain or harm, but instead for protecting the innocent.”

“By the power vested in me, and the Reyes family,” says my great grandmother. “I now declare you Mystic Clara of the Reyes family line.”

“Poder y sabiduría,” says the crowd.

“Poder y sabiduría,” I repeat after them.

Great grandmother takes my face between both hands, and kisses my forehead. My family cheers, throwing paper confetti high into the air with wind spells. Festive music begins to play, my uncle leading the band on trumpet.

My cousins all gather at the kid’s table with me, and while I can join the adult table, I’d rather be dining with them while the adults all talk about boring things, like the cattle, and the farmland. The eldest, aged fifteen, is Diego (who I thought would sit with the adults, but I suppose he finds them equally boring). He's tan, with long locks of curly black hair that reach the bottoms of his ears, and brown eyes. He has dimples, and a smile all the girls in town seem to go wild for, for some strange reason. His brother, Antonio, is also tan, his hair is dark brown, and his eyes dark blue, like my aunt’s. He hides his eyes behind a thick pair of glasses. Elena, just a few months younger than me, looks nothing like us, pale, with freckled skin, bright red hair, with green eyes. Then, there’s sweet, little Emilia, the youngest of us, with pale skin, short straight hair, and dark brown eyes.

“Congratulations, cousin,” says Diego.

“It’s about time,” says Antonio.

“Seriously,” huffs Elena. “I thought you’d never become fifteen.”

“Did you pick out your familiar?” asks Emilia, excitedly climbing up a chair to sit with us at the big kid’s table.

“Not yet,” I reply. “I’m doing that tomorrow.”

“I heard,” whispers Antonio, leaning down low so that none of the adults may hear. “That they have a black owl that is one of the candidates to be your familiar.”

“A black owl?” asks Diego, with a look of disgust. “That sounds boring!”

“You idiot,” grumbles Elena, smacking the back of Diego’s head. “Those are rare!”

Diego looks up at me, expecting me to take his side, as I often do. I look over at Antonio, giving him a half smile. He nods, reassuring me of Elena’s claims.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I say, taking a roll of cheese-stuffed bread off the wicker basket at the center of the table. “The familiar will choose me.”

“What if they can’t find one for you?” asks Emilia. “Then what happens?”

“They keep trying, until they do,” I say, poking her side to make her giggle. “Besides, witches always find their familiars.”

Dinner is pork served with white rice, drizzled with a sauce flavored with onions, garlic, and other spices, with a small side of fried plantains decorated with bright pink shrimps. I devour my food, having been unable to eat until just now from nerves. My cousins and all fall silent at the table, fully focusing on the delicious food that we rarely enjoy, on holidays. The music continues to play, the band lively. Some of my family members get up to dance, laughing wildly when the tempo of the music speeds up. Towards the end of my meal, I slow down, stuffed, and watch the couples dance to a slow song, as I graze on guava stuffed pastries.

“Come, Clarita,” whispers Elena, taking my hand. “I heard the marineros are loading the ships to take supplies to the mainland. Maybe we’ll see Michael.”

I giggle, as I sneak away from the party with her, down the familiar paths of the jungles, as we make our way to the beaches near my home. From the distance, I can hear the crashing waves of the ocean, and the familiar shouting of the sailors as they load the ships. I scan the darkness for the familiar silhouette of Michael, a young man whose father captains one of the ships that sends supplies in from the mainland, returning to them iron ore, sugar cane, fruits, and rare herbs for potion making.

“There!” Elena points at a shadowy figure, walking across the white sands of the beach. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

I squint my eyes, impressed by Elena’s eyesight. “Yes, that’s him.”

She rushes off across the sands, leaving me falling behind several paces. I chase after her, her long legs better able to stride across the sands than my short ones.

“Elena!” I whisper, harsly. “Elena, we need to get back.”

“Let’s just say ‘hi’,” she says, with a giggle.

“Elena, I’m going to go back.”

“Just give me a minute.”

I mutter curses beneath my breath, then stand awkwardly at her side, as she taps his shoulder, and curtsies to him.

“Sir Michael.”

“Miss Elena. What are you doing here? Isn’t it a bit late for the two of you to be out here alone?”

“We’re not alone. We have each other.”

I smile nervously when he gives me an uneasy look. “Hello, Sir Michael.”

“Hello, Miss Clara.”

“Have you heard?” says Elena, excitedly. “Clara is officially a mystic. She’ll begin her studies soon.”

“Are you?” asks Michael, with a warm smile. “Congratulations.”

I bow my head, hiding my reddened cheeks, which I’m sure are not visible in this darkness. “Thank you.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I thought you’d be interested, since you’re always going on about magic.”

Michael gives her a weary look. “I’m sorry, Elena, I really must be getting back to my work. My father is expecting me to have the ships loaded in time to set sail at dawn.”

“O-Of course,” says Elena, clearly disappointed. “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Elena.”

“Have a wonderful evening, Sir Michael,” I say, quietly, bowing my head slightly.

“You as well, Miss Clara. I’ll be sure to have a gift for you upon my return.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, but if you insist,” adds Elena, quickly. “I’ll also be a mystic in a few months' time.”

Michael and I exchange a quick glance, and I hide my look of embarrassment beneath my head of hair.

“Of course, Elena. Good evening.”

After Elena and I sneak back to the party, my mother spots me immediately, her face red with anger, dragging me across the courtyard to express my thanks and say goodbye to each guest.

After a long hot shower, I sit in bed, brushing my hair, after putting oil on the ends. Elena sits at the vanity in her bright pink nightgown, speaking excitedly. I’ve shushed her several times, afraid my parents will hear her, but she cannot contain herself.

“Do you think he likes me?” asks Elena. “I think he likes me.”

“Maybe. He did agree to get you a gift after all,” I say, quietly.

“What do you think he’ll get me? A potion? A hat? Oh!” she cries out excitedl, startling me. “What if he gets me jewelry? Or a dress?”

“Elena, you’re going to wake my mom up!” I whisper harshly.

She rolls her eyes, ignoring me.

“I don’t think you’d want to get any of that from him, anyway. Would he really know what would look good on you?”

“He doesn’t need to know. He just needs to get something expensive.”

“He’s a sailor. Do you think he has money?”

“His father runs the ship.”

“Girls!” calls my mother, from outside the door.

I start, then groan. “Sí, mama?”

She opens the door, scanning the room. “Go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“It’s my fault, tía. I’m just so excited for Clara.”

“Mhm,” hums my mother, doubtfully. “And sailors. Go to bed. If I see these lights are still on in ten minutes, you’re going to sleep in the room with grandma, do you understand, Clara?”

Elena’s cheeks become red, but she holds her head up unashamedly.

“Yes, mami,” I groan.

“Good.”

The next day, Elena remains sleeping in my bed, after pushing me off it in the night. I’d resorted to spreading a blanket on the floor over the rug, and barely slept a wink over the sound of her snoring. In the morning, my dad knocks on the door, notifying me to get ready to come downstairs. I do so in a fog, wishing I could smack Elena with one of my pillows after the night I’ve had. She doesn’t even stir as I get ready, purposely being loud. Instead, she snored more loudly.

With my new mystic uniform on, a white collared shirt with puffy sleeves beneath a black vest, a black pleated skirt, and knee high socks, and boots, I make my way downstairs. Mom places a bowl of oatmeal down in front of me, along with eggs, and a side of bacon.

“Eat,” she commands. “You’re going to have a long day.”

I stare at my dad across the table, who’s reading the paper as he sips on a steaming cup of coffee.

“When can I have coffee?”

Mom scoffs. “When you eat all your vegetables during dinner.”

Dad chuckles, then slips his cup of coffee to me when mom exits the room. I sneak a sip, then cough. It’s bitter.

“Blegh.”

“If you eat the vegetables, it’ll taste better.”

I look up at him as I slide the cup of coffee across the table to him. “You don’t eat your vegetables.”

“I ate plenty of them when I was your age. Now coffee is delicious.”

Mom returns, and dad and I eat the rest of breakfast in silence while mom complains about the neighbor’s dog barking at her each time she went outside to tend to the garden.

“So,” says dad. “Are you ready?”

I nod, reaching out to take his hands as we walk through the front door of the small school building, not normally opened on the weekends. Our footsteps echo through the silent halls, reverberating through the vaulted ceilings. He guides me to the front office, and we sit on a wooden bench and wait. I’m not sure why we’re waiting, but I assume he knows.

An old man with a black cane, a long sharp nose, sunken eyes, and rough calloused hands approaches us. He nods, then dad nods back, and we get up and follow him down several stories, into the basement of the school.

“Now, mija,” says the man. “While your familiar is unique to you, we did capture several of them in the wild that we thought might interest you.”

I look up at my dad with wide eyes. He shakes his head, placing a hand to his lips to quiet me before I speak.

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing, señor.”

“Do you think it is unethical?”

I look up at my dad, then hesitate a moment before shaking my head quickly.

“Good. You know the importance of familiars.”

“You don’t,” I mutter.

The man laughs. “You taught her well.”

“She’s a smart girl.”

“That was your first test. You passed. Congratulations.”

I look up at my father, who gives me a warm smile.

“Test?” I ask.

“Yes.”

We follow the man into another room, where several children my age stand, all of them silent, a look of excitement on their faces.

“These are all familiars,” says the man, gesturing towards the room. “In search of a Mystic. Feel free to introduce yourself.”

My father, and the man take a seat on a wooden bench by the door, and chat idly as I walk towards the crowd of children.

“Hello!” one of them says, excitedly. “I’m Aiden!”

“I’m Mirabelle!”

“I’m Diana.”

“Daemon.”

Each of them introduces themselves, until there’s only one left. A boy that hides in the corner, with his face buried into his knees. I walk to him, thinking he may be hurt.

“Don’t mind him. He didn’t really want to be here,” says a small girl with large blue eyes like that of a cat’s.

“Why not?” I ask.

“He thinks it’s a bad thing to be matched up with mystics.”

“But… it’s beneficial to you, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Hello,” I say, kneeling before him. “I’m Clara.”

He looks up, his bright golden eyes glinting in the light. “Sebastian.”

The moment our eyes meet, a strange sort of energy, like a pressure pushing against every surface of my body, surges, and washes over me. I gasp, overwhelmed from the feeling. He winces, as if he’s in pain.

“What was that?” I ask, turning towards my father.

Both my father and the man are looking at me with mouths hanging open in shock.

“Incredible,” says the man. “Did you feel that?”

“What was it?” I ask.

“That was the bond,” says the girl with the cat eyes. “It was very strong.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, looking at the girl.

She smirks. “It means he’s your familiar.”

“The gods hate me,” mutters Sebastian, getting to his feet.

“Shut up, Seb. You got lucky,” says the girl.

He scoffs, then walks towards the door. I watch him walk away, as my father nervously pushes up his glasses, and continues to look at the old man with a look of shock.

“What does this mean?” Dad asks the man.

“It means she’ll be very powerful. Come, let us go to the training room. Sebastian, lead the way.”

Sebastian opens the door, and kicks it up, keeping his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry about him. He didn’t want to be here,” says the old man, shaking his head.

“Then why is he here?” I ask.

The old man looks towards the girl with the cat eyes, and waves her over. She walks at my side as I follow my father and the old man, as Sebastian leads the way.

“Familiars feel a sort of… you call it ‘destino’ in your language. It’s difficult to fight against, because our lives will inevitably lead us to our person if they exist.”

“And if they don’t?”

“We continue our lives guarding the forests, the mountains, the rivers or the fields. There’s plenty for us to do when you humans are always causing so much destruction.”

“What did you do before your… person existed? Came into existence?”

“From what I remember, I stole the souls of children who suffered, and brought them to the afterlife. I’ve helped humans have children, granting them fertility. I’ve also dabbled in luck.” She winks.

“What did Sebastian do?”

“Ah, his is an interesting story. He’s one of many siblings who guarded the underworld from those who would wish to come in, and take souls back. Everyone knew who he was. He was famous amongst us, and had quite a reputation. One of the best of the underworld’s guardians, in fact. Entrusted with knowledge from Death themself. Then one day, his heart grew soft. A mother came looking for her daughter’s soul, and he didn’t stop her. You see, his kind can see things beyond what even some of the gods can see.” She pauses to stare pityingly at the back of Sebastian's head. “Well, he can’t. Not anymore. We were all there when the gods punished him, because he’d allowed Selene to retrieve Gaia’s soul.”

I stare at her wide-eyed. “Gaia?”

“There’s so much you don’t know. Nor do you need to know. This is knowledge we are born knowing, that should not trouble little humans like you. It simply serves to guide us. I imagine becoming some little witch’s familiar after having all that glory seems like the worst punishment to Sebastian, but I get the feeling he’ll come around.”

“If he doesn’t?”

She laughs, and it echoes down the halls, startling all of us. “You’ll be fine.”

Sebastian mutters under his breath, just before opening the door, holding it open for all of us.

“Bas,” he says curtly, when the girl walks past him, into the room. “You speak too much.”

She runs her finger along his jaw, and beneath his chin. “You speak too little. Try to make friends, Seb. You’re going to be with her for a long time.”

He huffs, stepping into the room before me, allowing the door to swing towards me. I catch it just before it slams shut, and walk in after him.

The room is plainly decorated. The ground is made of stone, surrounded by soil. There’s water flowing through it, candles surrounding us, and a device that generates air flow through the use of an opened window. There are a few chairs in one corner, which I assume are for spectators, and there’s a raised stone platform in the center, sectioned off by wooden posts connected via ropes thicker than my wrists. Sebastian easily hops over them, and stands in the ring, still looking upset with Bas. Dad and the old man take a seat, the old man taking his cane, setting it between his legs, and leaning against it. Dad waves me towards the ring, giving me a nervous smile. I enter, tripping as I climb between the two ropes, my foot getting caught. As I stumble, I manage to grab Sebastian’s arm. He sighs, then helps me balance on my feet.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“Bas, whenever you’re ready,” says the old man.

Bas nods, her eyes gleaming. “Ready, Seb?”

“Listen, girl,” says Sebastian. “We-”

“It’s Clara,” I state. “My name is Clara.”

“Right. This is just a test, Clara, of our compatibility.”

“Why-”

Sebastian shoves me aside, as a stream of fire comes flying towards me. I glance over as Bas, who smirks, then throws a ball of fire. Again, Sebastian shoves me, nearly knocking me over, and I have to roll, hitting the ground hard with my shoulder in order to dodge a rock that comes flying at me.

“Are you going to just stand there and be useless?” cries Sebastian.

I glance towards Bas, who’s already planning her next spell, and reach for the ground beneath me, forming a large wall of plants when she sends a shower of stones towards Sebastian. I push it towards her, sending them back, but she’s quicker, clearly more experienced than me. Sebastian claps his hands, sending a soundwave through the air that’s loud enough to send Bas and I falling. A small gust of wind cushions my fall.

“Sebastian!” I shout.

He looks at me, then rolls his eyes. “You’re fine, aren’t you?”

My eyes open wide as Bas approaches, holding an ice sword in her hands.

“That’s good enough,” says the old man, using the pointy end of his cane to separate us. “Good job, Clara. I think you’ll do just fine with this one.”

“I’d like another one,” I grumble.

“As would I,” says Sebastian.

Dad laughs, then climbs into the ring next to me in order to put a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll do just fine, Eduardo.”

I make it a point to stare up at my father, and glare. He looks down at me, and smiles.

“Dad, really? He didn’t listen to me at all.”

“I don’t have to listen to you,” cries Sebastian. “I’m a familiar, not a damned pet!”

I gasp, cover my mouth, and stare up at my father with wide eyes.

“He’s right, Clarita,” says the old man. “He’s here to help you, not serve you.”

I look over at Bas, who’s now wearing a cat-like grin on her face, staring directly at Sebastian. I follow her gaze, and realize Sebastian’s fists are balled so tightly, they’re shaking.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I hate losing.”

“It wasn’t a real fight,” says Dad, reassuringly. “It was just for Eduardo here to read your energy signals to make sure they were compatible.”

“How?” I ask.

Dad explains to me how Eduardo’s perfected his ability to enchant items so precisely, he can read the energy signature off humans just as well. Eduardo describes enchanting items similar to how one would embroider fabric with designs, except the designs are rules for which the item must follow. He then goes on to explain how Sebastian’s and my energy signals are almost perfectly matched, and with a bit of work, I could become an extremely powerful Mystic. I nod my head, understanding less than half of what he’s saying, then join Sebastian on the bench, where he sits, waiting for the conversation to be over, kicking his boots into the floor as he listens.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not used to wielding so much power.”

I look up at him, not speaking a word.

“I said I was sorry.”

“Following it up with an excuse.”

“I’m sorry I almost hurt you.”

“Apology accepted.” I stick my nose up in the air.

He tuts, crossing his arms over his chest. “With my help, you’ll become a very powerful Mystic.”

“Is that true, or do you say that to all the witches you match with?”

“You’re not so bad, Miss Clara.”

“You aren’t either, Sir Sebastian.”

“Clara,” my father calls. “Would you like to find another familiar?”

I look at Sebastian, then back at him. “Uh… you’re asking me?”

He nods.

I turn to Sebastian, giving him an intense stare. “Are you okay with this match?”

He nods slightly.

“I’m okay with Sir Sebastian.”