He opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the skylight and the night beyond, at the twinkling stars above. There was the certain truth of the world. Even the gods couldn’t keep chaos from coming. The Dragon that Fell just went mad one day and ate his queen after all.

Even so, as he looked at the solid steady stars, he couldn’t help but be fascinated. They twinkled and shone in the dark, bright and beautiful. For all the horror they’d known, the stars were still there.

He couldn’t help but think of Raziel, of Roland and Hoeru. He knew each of them had suffered events like he had. He didn’t know the exact details of what had happened to Roland or Hoeru, but Roland didn't have a home anymore and Hoeru’s family was gone. Raziel had lost his parents and his home in a single night. And yet, Roland was solid and steady as ever. Hoeru held tightly to his friends, always going out of his way to make sure they were well and cared for, and if he felt any dread going into the forest that had taken away his family, he never showed it. Raziel was the strongest of any of them. Rain or shine, he greeted every day and every challenge with a smile. He pushed forward with everything within him, joyfully reckless and heedless.

If you don’t like that you ran away, then don’t run away next time.

Raziel’s words hurt to remember. He just didn’t understand. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t think about how much it might hurt if he didn’t run away. He just did things, consequences be damned. Miles couldn’t do that even if he wanted to.

He reached into his pocket and found the crystal there. He put the crystal on a desk and pulled up a chair. There was a pen and plenty of paper to work with. He sat there for a few minutes writing. The calculations were easy. After all, the rules to figuring out the energy he’d need were orderly and neat. He had understood them almost instinctively when he’d read about them in Aberforth’s Enchantments and Symbology.

Any spell required a certain amount of energy to be successful, but to create an enchantment, a lasting magical effect, was different from starting a fire or moving air to cause a breeze. Either of those effects could be created as long as there was enough energy. Sure, too much energy could create too big of a fire or too much wind, but that was rarely a problem for anyone with more than a modicum of control. With an enchantment, the energies involved had to be exact down to the finest detail. They had to be perfect, not only in amount but in form. Anything less and the spell would either fail or have the wrong effect. Both could be disastrous in their own way. But the latter possibility worried Miles most.

The basic theory behind most enchantments was to use symbols or runes to give magic shape. Where a spell like a fireball required conscious thought on the part of the caster to give the energies form, with an enchantment that conscious thought was replaced by one or more runes. It was something like using words to construct a sentence, the big difference being that a poorly constructed sentence couldn’t destroy your mind. One misplaced or misdrawn rune could drastically alter the effect of the spell, and the results could do almost anything. A poorly constructed object designed to light a fire could freeze the blood in a man’s veins or turn flesh to ash if it didn’t just explode.

What Miles was attempting was relatively simple, only requiring three runes and a miniscule amount of magic. He needed a rune for “memory”, “reception”, and “projection.” Once he’d worked out the math for how much energy he’d need, the next step was to draw a circle on a fresh piece of paper. It didn’t have to be perfect for the spell to work, but the closer it was to being perfect, the easier it would be.

Miles had a sure hand and had been practicing drawing circles for a couple years. He wasn’t satisfied with his first one and had to throw that page away, but the second was good. Then he slowly and carefully copied the three runes within the circle, so they formed a triangle inside the circle.

He inspected the crystal for the thousandth time. Miles had bought it a few months ago when he’d first begun really considering trying to do the enchantment. At the time, it had just been an academic exercise, something that came from an essay that he’d written for Dominic on enchantments. But when Dominic read the essay and gave it a perfect grade, that had gotten Miles thinking that perhaps it could actually work. Dominic encouraged him in the pursuit, though he’d been quick to add that he wanted to be present when Miles attempted the enchantment. But Dominic was always busy, and Miles was finally beginning to run out of patience. The crystal was still just as fine as ever.

He checked over the page three times before going down the stairs to the fireplace. There he found what he needed: a large splinter. Once he had it, he went back up to the table and went over his math again. Then he checked the page again while he took a knife from his pocket and whittled away the splinter until it was exactly the right length and shape.

He inspected the crystal again, knowing he was just putting off the final decision. He placed it in the very center of the circle between the three runes. Then he sat holding the splinter of wood and staring at the paper and biting his lip. It was time to choose. Take a risk or throw it all away?

If you don’t like that you ran away, then don’t run away next time.

Miles closed his eyes and reached out with his mind to sense the magic before he could talk himself out of it. It was there, the sleeping energy of the dead plant, easy to find and easy to take. Before he could do that, he had to make one last preparation within the circle. He reached into the crystal and found its magic and grabbed hold of it. If he wasn’t steady enough, the crystal would fracture and be useless, but he managed to take all of the crystal’s meager store of magic without breaking it. If it had been outside the circle, it would have cracked and become useless no matter how careful he was, but while it was inside the circle it was protected from the magical equivalent of air pressure.

Miles released the magic of the crystal, letting it flow out into the room as a softly glowing and steadily fading mote of light and reached for the energy in the splinter. On some level he felt the splinter blacken and turn to ash in his hand as he drew its magic into himself, but those physical senses were distant. The only things that mattered were the circle, the runes, the crystal, and the power he now held.

He held the power delicately. Because it was so small, it was fragile. It would be easy to accidentally scatter it or gather random bits of excess magic in the room. He found the circle with his mind and gently fed the energy into the circle, like blowing on an ember. Once the energy was safely within the circle, he didn’t have to worry about accumulating extra outside energy, but the tricky part was still to come.

In his mind’s eye, he saw a small, clear, glass-like dome that met the paper where the circle was drawn with a glowing red gold ball of energy at the top. He reached out and mentally divided the ball into three parts, making three smaller embers. Then he fed one of the three balls of energy into each of the runes, not forcing the energy in but just guiding it to the spot and letting it catch on to the shape the rune gave it.

When the energy was gone, the runes glowed in his mind, no longer grey empty spaces but golden letters of liquid fire. The crystal in the center of the page was now the only hollow place left in the circle. The only thing preventing the enchantment from taking effect was Miles’ mentally holding everything within the circle still with his mind as he checked one last time to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake somewhere. Finally he let go, closing his mind’s eye and opening his physical eyes.

He could feel the energy within the circle and knew what was happening, but it was strange to watch as the runes he’d drawn were pulled across the page toward the crystal. When they reached the crystal, there was a popping sound and a brief flash of light. Miles jerked back. He hadn’t been expecting that. The paper he’d drawn the circle on was turning black, curling like it was being burned though there was no smell of smoke.

He held his breath, thinking he must have made a mistake, but the crystal was still there and wasn’t cracked that he could see. He quested out with his mind and found that the energy he’d put into the runes was definitely in the crystal now. As far as he could tell, it had worked. Of course, if he was wrong and he had made a mistake, it was possible he was about to die or worse.

“In for a penny,” he whispered to himself. He summoned up the image of his mother’s last smile, as vivid as he could make it in his mind and reached out and placed his forefinger on the crystal. The moment he touched the crystal, the memory was gone. He couldn’t summon it, no matter how hard he tried. That was as it should be, but he still sent up a prayer to the gods, Knowledge and Wisdom, that he hadn’t made a mistake. He picked up the crystal and held it in the palm of his hand. Then he gave it a bit of his own internal magic, just enough to power it.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The image hung in the air above the crystal, his mother smiling at him, like a moving painting. And best of all, because its direct connection to the rest of his mind had been severed, he was able to look at it without being forced to remember everything that came after.

“That’s amazing.”

Miles almost jumped out of his skin for the second time that evening. The image disappeared as his concentration broke. He whirled to find Roland standing behind him. How someone that big could be so quiet was beyond him.

“How long have you been standing there?” Miles asked, trying to get his voice under control. Roland shrugged.

“Not long. Your mom?”

“Huh?”

“The picture. Is it your mom?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.”

“I can see the resemblance,” Roland said with a nod. Then he was quiet. The silence stretched while Miles’ waited for Roland to say more, but he didn’t.

“What?” Miles asked finally.

Roland still didn’t say anything. He looked down at the floor, his arms crossed. It took Miles a moment to recognize the expression on Roland’s face as uncertainty. He’d never seen it there before and hadn’t ever expected to.

“I need advice.”

Miles blinked. For a moment he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Advice?”

“Keira wants to break Raz and Hoeru out of the hospital. Do you think I should go?”

“Why are you asking me?” Miles blurted out. He wondered briefly if he was just dreaming and all this weirdness would be gone as soon as he woke up.

“You’re the smartest person I know.” Roland looked surprised by the question, as if the answer was incredibly obvious. Roland nodded at the hand that still held the memory crystal. “I can’t do that. I can’t do anything like that.”

“It’s… not that hard,” Miles said.

Roland gave that answer a mild look of scorn. “How many people do you think can create an enchantment at fourteen?”

“I… don’t know,” Miles said, realizing it was true. He knew that there were companies in the kingdom that used basic enchantments as a requirement for certain positions, but he’d never actually considered the question. He knew there were two or three others in the school that were interested in the subject, but they were older than him, nearly ready to leave the school completely.

“Neither do I. Because I’ve never even heard of someone as young as you doing it.”

“Okay. Fine. So I’m smart. What good is that?”

“What good is that? How can you be so smart and say something so stupid?”

Miles was quiet then and Roland didn’t say any more. Miles looked down at the crystal in his hand and realized that he felt oddly better. Was it even possible for Roland to have that much respect for him?

“I don’t know if I’m going to go with her,” he said at last.

“That’s not what I asked,” Roland said. There was no heat in the words. It was just a reminder.

“Do you think it could be true? That Raz could be corrupted, I mean?”

Roland shook his head, decisively.

Miles was surprised by the firmness. “Really? Not even a chance?”

“What did he do to get taken by Alban?” Roland asked.

“He hurt Lucas defending me.”

“That sound like something someone corrupted would do?” he prodded.

“It could be a trick. Something subtle he was trying to get away with.”

“Have you ever known Raz to be subtle?”

“Well… no. Okay fine, let’s assume he’s not corrupted. What are we going to do that Dominic or Duriel couldn’t?” Miles asked.

Roland let out a long breath and stood. He went to the stairs and a moment later came back holding an iron poker from the fireplace below. He held it out to Miles, handle first. Confused, Miles took it. It felt heavy in his hands.

“Hit me.”

“What?”

“Hit me with that. Hard as you can.”

“What?”

Roland closed his eyes a trace of annoyance tightening his lips. “Hit. Me.”

“Like, on the arm?”

“Arm, chest, face. Doesn’t matter. Just do it.”

Miles raised the poker like it was a bat. He looked at Roland one more time, but he just looked back, calm as ever. Miles swung, not nearly as hard as he could, but as hard as he thought he could get away with. The poker stopped dead and bounced off when it hit Roland’s arm, not like hitting a person but like hitting a boulder. Roland was unmoved. He didn’t flinch away or even seem to notice.

“Harder,” was all he said.

Miles swung again, harder this time, with the same result. Roland nodded for him to do it again, and Miles swung with everything he had. He missed Roland’s arm and struck Roland’s head, hitting his cheek and just above the ear. Miles gave a yelp and dropped the poker, but Roland was as unmoved as ever. There wasn't a cut or even a red mark where he'd been struck.

He leaned down and picked up the poker and held it in front of him. Miles was still looking at the place where he’d hit. There should have been a bruise, swelling, blood. Something. But there wasn’t.

Roland waggled the poker, drawing Miles’ attention to it. With no more effort than Miles would have had with a piece of fresh dough, Roland bent the poker into a pretzel shape.

“We can go get him.”

Miles stared at the poker for a few moments while trying to get his mind back in gear. He hadn’t felt a whisper of magic from Roland the entire time. That meant it had to be a talent. Some people were born with talents, magical abilities that seemed to break the laws of magic as most people understood them. It wasn’t particularly rare, but such talents were almost always minor things like lighting small fires or changing their eye color at will. Miles had met one person during his time at the capital who could make polka dots appear on any surface. Roland’s talent was the kind of thing most boys dreamed of having. Miles realized that Roland was looking at him and shook his head to clear it.

“Okay. That’s amazing. But don’t you think that Dominic or Duriel could force their way in and take him if that was the best course of action?”

“I don’t doubt they have the ability. But if they do it, there will be consequences.”

“And you don’t think there will be if we do it?”

“Of course there will be. But if we do it and we’re wrong, the punishment won’t be anything like what would happen if Dominic or Duriel did. If we’re wrong.”

“And you don’t think Keira is wrong?”

“Raz isn’t corrupted. Of that, I’m certain.”

Miles ran it through his mind. He tried to think of it from every angle he could. But try as he might, he couldn’t escape his conclusion.

“We should help,” he said in a small voice.

Roland looked at him and gave a nod, not of agreement, but of acceptance of Miles’ judgement. He stood. Miles stayed seated, looking at his hands. He could feel Roland’s questioning look.

“I don’t know if I can though,” Miles whispered, hating himself for voicing his weakness.

Roland moved over to the desk where Miles had put the crystal. He set the pretzeled poker on the desk and reached out with a finger. He touched the crystal and the picture of Miles’ mother appeared again, smiling confidently. Roland looked at him until Miles was forced to meet his eyes.

“You can,” he said. And then he walked away.

Miles reached out and took the crystal in his hand. A thought he’d never had came to him then. He hadn’t done anything to stop what had happened that day. Maybe he couldn’t have. But he hadn’t tried.

Trembling and nauseous, he followed Roland.