Just as I became the empress of the Human Galactic Empire, the incessant blaring of my digital alarm clock stirred me from my slumber. Even as I woke, I kept my eyes closed. Shutting them tight, I longed to keep the dissipating remnants of my dream to stay intact, but the memories all fell apart.

“You dare disturb me from my slumber,” I groaned, turning my groggy attention to my beeping alarm clock, “Now you must pay the consequences!”

I slapped my hand against the alarm clock, sending it flying off my nightstand. It clattered against the floor and slid over to my dresser. Still though, it continued its rhythmic buzzing, emitting its soundwaves to grate against my eardrums.

“I hate you,” I grumbled, glaring at the clock.

As if it were speaking back to me, I almost heard a, “I, hate, you, too,” in the clock’s ceaseless buzzing. While it didn’t glare at me, the numbers on its display blinked in harmony with the noise it emitted in a way that I translated as aggression.

Now that it continued its taunting clamor on the floor, with its impeccable battery power, it forced me to get out of bed to turn it off. Just thinking about getting out of bed tired me, as I just wanted to roll over and go back to my realm of dreams.

Why did I even need to go through this? School finally entered its summer break, which promised me a lifetime of sleep, before I would have to actually wake up on time. Still, in my weary state last night, I forgot to disable the alarm function on my clock.

So that left me there, staring down at the clock that relentlessly bleeped at me from the cold floor of my bedroom. Of course, the entire predicament I faced had been caused by me, but I still put my anger on the clock. It’s definitely the clock’s fault that I forgot to reset it and slapped it away to try and focus more on my dream that has now been lost for eternity.

Sliding off my fluffy, blue bed, my feet made contact with the wooden floor which cooled off the body heat that had been accumulating over time as I slept. While I would usually curse this kind of temperature drop in my feet, the warm summer air made the cool feeling more welcome to me.

Now out of bed, I walked over to the alarm clock on the floor. It still screamed its digital lungs out at me, as I picked it up from the floor. While I finally finished what I’d been wanting to do since I woke up, I could only feel fatigue, and the cold plastic covering of the alarm in my hands.

Clicking the off button on the top of the clock, a satisfying silence followed the small spring noise from the button I pressed. So with that beautiful silence, I strode to my bed again, and tucked myself in and waited for sleep to wash over me.

I waited and waited. Just a few seconds passed, but that quickly became a minute, then two, and finally three. Irritation built up in my gut, before I exploded, kicking off my covers, and standing on my floor again.

“Gah! You evil, horrible, and, uh,” my vocabulary faltered, as I tried to come up with more insults for my clock, “disgusting clock! I can’t fall asleep anymore!”

Before I could stamp my foot on the ground, I heard the voice of my father ask, “Quinta? Is something wrong here?”

Without me noticing, my father had apparently creaked my door open and stuck his bearded face inside. As I made eye contact with my father, I recalled how people liked to comment on how similar ours looked. But, my father’s had a grey color, while mine had a hint of purple in its tone.

“It’s nothing,” I responded, a little bit too fast, “just uh, forgot to turn off my alarm clock last night.”

“Ah, well, now you’re up,” my father replied nonchalantly, “you have extra time on your hands now, right? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I guess,” I mumbled, “but I had a really good dream…”

“Bahahaha! Now that’s a bummer,” my father chuckled, “I hate when that happens too.”

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked, not exactly knowing what else to talk about, “My annoying alarm clock made me hungry.”

“We’re having your mother’s favorite,” my father answered, “fruity waffles.”

“Yuck,” I reacted, recoiling at the mention of waffles.

“What’s wrong with fruity waffles?” questioned my father, “It’s sweet, and it’s got a great texture.”

“Waffles bore me,” I replied, “get me something else.”

“Ohoh,” my father laughed, “look who’s getting ahead of herself, come on, just eat it.”

“I’d rather beat it,” I sounded the last two words as a certain singer does in a certain song pertaining the same words in its title, “can’t I just eat cereal?”

“You’d rather have cereal instead of fruit-filled waffles? The cereal we have is so bland though,” criticized my father, “just eat the waffles, we have enough for three plates.”

“No,” I refused, “just give me my Wheaties.”

“Fine, eat your cereal,” my father relented, “we’ll just be enjoying our tasty fruity waffles.”

“Go ahead,” I waved my father away, “also, I’m going to visit the antique store again today.”

“What, are you going to get more of those old books?” my father asked, “Don’t spend too much money on those old tomes, the price of paper is jacking up again. Can’t you just get digital copies of whatever you’re reading?”

“No, that would…ruin the magic,” I explained, “don’t worry though, I’ll be careful to not spend too much.”

“Okay,” my father backed off, “I’ll trust you, okay?”

“And I will make sure you don’t regret that,” I replied, “now shoo, I need to change out of my pajamas.”

“Yes ma’am,” my father jokingly replied, and walked down the hall.

He left the door open, so I had to close the door before I could change. That counted two times I had to do something I didn’t have to do originally. This time though, all the fault had been my father’s. I didn’t hate him for it though, since I already knew about his laziness.

“Now then…” I murmured to myself, as I made my way over to my nightstand, “Let’s take a look at your beauty again.”

Opening the drawer in the stand, the old leather cover to a book I’d bought last week showed itself to me. Its pages were yellow and fragile, and its cover had begun to peel apart, but its contents were still readable.

The cover had no title, only a worn out cover, but the inside of it had the symbol VII to symbolize the number seven. According to the man who worked at Arundal’s Antique Shop, he had found it near the giant crater of Carnage.

Since whoever wrote the book had labelled the front page as seven, I assumed that meant that there were at least six other books like this. Along with that, I realized that this book wasn’t like any other I knew. It detailed on the lost art of magic in a way that no other did.

Over a hundred years ago, a pair of investigators refound the existence of magic and proved that the fairy tales of mages and spell swords existed, which threw the whole world for a loop. Though, no one could really get a handle on how it worked.

Because science progressed much faster than magic ever could, the craze about magic subsided, but there are a few minor groups who still try to master it. Obviously, the antique store owner didn’t want any part in it, since I got him to part with the book for half the listed price.

Disappointingly, while I did have a book that could unlock the mysteries of magic, its author wrote it in some unidentifiable language. I even tried using a translator on it, but it didn’t recognize the language. Since I couldn’t afford a language decipherer, I would have to figure out the translation of the book on my own, with my own brain.

I’d spent a lot of my weekend taking notes on its words, but the entirety of the book didn’t give enough information to relate its language to any of the ones that I knew. Though, the use of pictures and symbols did help a bit, it also further complicated the translation process.

If I were to get a second volume of whatever this book talked about, then perhaps I could get a better idea of what it detailed on. So, I decided that I would go on a little adventure through the forest, once I finished my cereal.

Once I’d finished looking over my notes and the book, I put it back in its drawer and shut it. The old tome piqued my interest, so much more than any other book I’d flipped through. It had such an ominous look too.

“Heheheh,” I chuckled to myself, as I thought about what I could do with magic.

Despite getting the chance to go to a prestigious school in the technologically advanced country of Garland, I envied the mysteries explored up north in Arundal. Though I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be interested in learning the mystic powers, my friends from school talk about it a lot. Some wish they could refund their parent’s investments to put them in the school so that they can go and attend Reuben’s Magic Academy.

As I swapped my outfits from pajamas to casualwear, I continued to ponder over the schools. Arundal’s school was magical, but Garland’s had advances geared towards futuristic lifestyles. I never heard anything about the people who graduated from Arundal, but Garland students rarely become nobodies in their adult life.

When I finally slipped on my grey pullover, I took a look at myself in my mirror. I had a thin and tall mirror in the corner of my room, where I’d usually check if I’m presentable or not. And, looking at my disheveled hair, I doubted the word “presentable” would fit it. There were even dark circles around my eyes. My pullover just barely saved my image, by covering up my wrinkled shirt beneath it.

To save my image, I ran a comb through my hair. Now, at least my hair didn’t puff outwards. I couldn’t do anything against the bags under my eyes though. My pullover hugged my right side more than my left too, but any time I tried to fix it, it just leaned to the other side.

“This should do,” I muttered to myself, and I left my room.

With my door opened up, the cool air of my bedroom escaped into the hallway. My parents set the air conditioner in the rest of the house to a higher temperature, again. I didn’t get why they liked it warmer, it was summer, people are going to want as much cool air as they can get.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“Quinta? What took you so long?” my father asked, “It’s been over thirty minutes, and your mother and I are already getting ready for work.”

“Oh,” I looked at my watch, confirming that forty minutes had gone by, “whoops.”

“Look, just enjoy your cereal, okay?” my father told me, “We’re going to work now.”

“Kay,” I responded, before my father left the house.

Now all alone, I began preparing my breakfast. Perhaps I spent a little too long admiring my new book. To fill up the new silence in the house, I announced, “TV, on!” and at my word, the television in the living room turned on.

Immediately, the drama channel my father watches late at night started playing, letting out a, “Oh please! Please, Maria, I’ll do anything, just come back to me!”

“Next channel!” I commanded the TV, and the voice recognition allowed for the channel to be switched, saving me from the cheesy show my father liked.

In its place, a news channel started playing, going, “experts’ concerns over the weakening light of the sun continue to worsen as,”

“Next channel,” I repeated, too bored to listen to the news.

Then, a second news channel began playing, “Advances to the exploration of galaxies far off in space continue at an alarming rate. Space hotels have started to become apartments, and the colonies set in Mars are nearing autonomy. Some people wonder whether the Mars colonies will break apart and form their own country at this point, but they rely far too much on goods from Earth…”

“TV, off,” I spoke, causing the television to power down.

Nothing on the TV interested me, although the idea of space apartments did get me excited. Then, of course, the news had to start bringing politics into the idea, souring my mood. Though, if Mars did want to separate from the government of Garland, I wouldn’t see a problem with that. It would be hard to control colonies on a whole other planet from where the countries leaders resided.

Instant communication did make managing another planet a little easier though. Faster travel would be far more helpful, though. Even with the fastest spaceship in the world couldn’t get to Mars in less than a week. Well, technically the fastest spaceship in the world wasn’t exactly on this world, so maybe I’d need to call it something different.

I slurped up the rest of my cereal’s milk, and I set the bowl onto the table once more. Now that I’d finished my morning meal, I could finally visit Arundal again. Specifically, I would go to the crater of carnage, right in the middle of Garusa, Hajima, and the capital city of Arundal.

---

“The train is reaching its last stop,” the train announced, “all remaining passengers are required to leave.”

At the reminder provided by the train’s system, I gripped my travel pack. Inside, I brought a retractable shovel, a steel thread rope, and a flashlight. The flashlight had an unused battery inside, so it could probably last a year, even if I just kept it on. Battery life only continued to lengthen, as its research continued.

Still, even with those three items, I didn’t know whether I would need anything more. Maybe bringing gloves would have been a good idea, but I didn’t think about it when I started packing things up for myself. All of these were taken from my father’s workshop, so I would need to take good care of the tools I borrowed.

Once the train slowed to a stop, the doors opened. Only a few people were left in the transport, so there wasn’t much of a rush out of the train. Just a few seconds were needed for me to be on the train station’s platform.

Stone walls surrounded us, creating an arch over the passengers’ heads. Unlike most stations now, this one still resided underground. Most of the stations were set to be aboveground, but the important old ones remained down. Being above the ground made the places easier to maintain. Though some people argue that building them underground didn’t change much.

I kind of enjoyed the rails that went underground. They sectioned us off from the rest of the world, putting us in this tiny place of quiet. The air underground also kept cool during the summertime, so I enjoyed not sweating under the sun. Most of them were protective from outside elements too, so they could serve as emergency shelters.

Before I got too distracted from admiring the underground station, I turned my attention to the map provided on the wall. It sat across from the point where I exited the train, in between a few benches and a trash can. A lot of trash cans were removed from public places though, to encourage the populace to reuse and recycle their waste.

When I thought about it, a lot of the ride here was underground. Along with that, late passengers were all using easily disposable items. Even looking at this trash can, I’d never seen one so full before. Most public places did their best to clean up and maintain a certain image for their visitors.

Maybe all of this difference is due to Arundal’s difference from Garland?

I looked at the top of the map, which read, “Welcome to Garusa!” A label pointed at a dot, saying, “You are here!” Then, I shifted my attention to the mass of empty space on the map. Arundal exploited the area as a tourist attraction, but none of the trains would lead there. This meant that I would have to walk there myself…or ride a bus.

“So many exclamation marks,” I commented, as I scanned the aboveground map instead of the train map, “I don’t see a single bus station connected to the crater here.”

“Hey there,” greeted a voice behind me, “you don’t look like you’re from here, are you looking for something?”

“Oh, hello,” I mumbled back, as I turned to face this stranger, “I’m just looking for a way to get to the crater of carnage.”

“Ah, so you’re a tourist then?” the tall man replied, “That’s perfect, I can get you on a tour there.”

As he talked, I looked the man over. He dressed in an expensive suit, but I assumed he worked as a simple business man, when I saw him on the train. Though, if he worked as a tour guide, it would explain how he could afford the expensive clothes he wore.

“I’m not exactly looking for a tour,” I responded, “I just want to take a look at it, since I’ve taken a tiny interest in it.”

“Well, I’m sure a tour would satisfy all interest you have in it, and maybe even feed that interest,” the man advertised, “for just a measly six-hundred credits.”

This person probably just saw me as a potential customer, so I answered, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m still a student, so I have no way to earn credits like a successful man, such as yourself,” I pulled off my bag and took out my purchase card, “so would you settle for three hundred?”

For a brief moment, the man only stared at me, but I kept staring on back. We weren’t exactly playing a staring contest game, but I could understand the test he gave me. When negotiating, it’s important to not break eye contact, since that would tell him that I’m weak.

Finally, the man ended our little game with, “Deal.”

Then, I followed him out of the station, marching up a long flight upstairs. I had already paid him with my card, so I tucked the card into a small pocket in my bag. When we made it to the top, the man opened up his car door.

“Go on in, I can give you a ride to the touring destination,” he said, “and don’t worry, if it looks like I’m kidnapping you, I’ll leave the doors unlocked, so you can just hop off.”

“That last part of what you said isn’t exactly reassuring,” I commented, “but alright.”

“I meant that as a joke,” the man added, “I’m not a kidnapper.”

“Uh-huh,” I responded nonchalantly, “let’s just get going.”

“Aw man, no laughs, huh,” the man sighed, as he took the wheel, “alright, buckle up.”

I stepped into the car and clipped the seatbelt on myself. The man I paid stayed quiet on the ride, so that left me staring out the tinted windows of his car. He took a while starting up the car, for some reason, but I didn’t mind. Leaving me in silence, I could use the time thinking about the tome I bought.

Perhaps I should have brought that book with me. It could have had a clue to what to search for, while out exploring the crater. Though, while I didn’t bring the book, I did bring a slip of paper with me. On it, I drew the symbols from in the book. I hoped that I could use them to identify anything of interest while out on a search.

Instead of gazing outside the car to admire the beautiful scenery of the old city of Garusa, I spent it analyzing the sheet with all the symbols on it. I prided myself on its accuracy, I had really good copying skills. No signature couldn’t be forged by me…not that I ever did that. Even then, most field trip forms required a parent’s fingerprint nowadays. So, I had to copy those as well, which took an annoying amount of effort. Which, I’m guessing. Definitely guessing.

“Alright, here we are,” the man announced, “once you get out, we’ll be walking a very long way to get to the crater.”

“Great,” I replied, and started to reach to grab my bag, when I felt cold metal touch my temple.

“You’ll leave that bag there, for me, right?” the man asked, holding me at gunpoint, “I mean, you do value your life, right?”

I froze up. Unable to think, I let go of my bag. What followed was the man motioning me to exit the car with his gun. So, I slowly crawled out, while at gunpoint. My brain ran far too fast for my body to cooperate, so I could only comply with the man’s orders.

Before he drove off, I heard the man say, “Are all the people from Garland this gullible?”

True to his word, the man didn’t kidnap me. Instead, he left me stranded in the middle of a forested area, with no idea where I came from. If I needed to, I could probably follow the road that he took, but I recalled the complicated map of Garusa’s roads. Even outside of the city, one could easily get lost.

While I didn’t know exactly how long the man took to drive here, I did know that we spent a lengthened time on the road. For all I knew, it would take an entire day of walking, before I could find someone again. Still, I needed to get back at some point, so I began walking.

My body still trembled at the memory of having his gun pressed against my head. I felt horrible that I lost my travel pack and card, but also glad that I didn’t do anything to provoke the man. If I did, my brains could have been splattered against his back car seat.

Before I could leave the general area though, I noticed the paper in my hand glowing. Specifically, one of the symbols glowed. It had a spiral with a star embedded within it. It confused me. I didn’t put anything on it to make it glow a brilliant blue, so why would it?

“If only I stayed home,” I murmured to myself, wishing I didn’t even leave the house. Now, my father’s tools were missing, even though it was just a rope and flashlight. The shovel did bring a punch to his wallet though…

Right after I finished my sentence, a long strip of light blinked into existence. I nearly jumped at its sudden appearance, but I held myself back. It shone the same color that the symbol on my paper did, but it illuminated a space midair.

The light floated, and illuminated tiny dust particles caught inside, or, that’s what I first assumed them to be. Instead of falling, the tiny particles floated around in the light, as if it were bubbles twirling in a current of water. I watched it in awe, as the long strip of light rolled over the hill on the opposite side where the car drove.

“I wonder what this is,” I mumbled, as I reached to touch the light, but then it disappeared.

Once the light blinked away, I pulled my hand back. The light on my paper remained alive, but the one in front of me dissipated.

“Gah, that fake,” I spat, “if only I knew where he was, then I could punch him for dropping me in the middle of nowhere.” If I had gotten to the crater, I might have actually been able to get one of the other volumes, and I could understand what that light might have been.

Again, a new light appeared. This time, it shone in a new direction with a stronger intensity. Before, the light faintly illuminated the road, but now, I could see the blue on the trees in the forest. Strangely though, the light slowly dimmed, at a slow rate. The one from before didn’t.

“Wait, could it be that…” I stared at the paper, and then at the light, “is this pointing to something?”

I recalled what happened before the two times the light activated. In both of them, I remembered wishing I were somewhere else. One, I wanted to have never left home, and the other, I wanted to pummel the con man who brought me here.

To test out again, I looked around my general location and spotted a dead tree in the forested area.

“I want to be…near that tree,” I spoke, and I tried to imagine myself standing next to it.

The light down the road immediately dissipated, and a new, even stronger, light appeared between me and the dead tree. It even stopped right where I’d imagined myself. All the particles in the light danced, and even left the stream of light, and lit up like fireflies. Even though the sun shone over me, the light almost overpowered the sun, making anything that wasn’t in the blue light appear as if it were night time.

“Wow,” I muttered, “this is…”

I followed the light, like a moth drawn to a flame. The stream drew me in, and I just walked, mesmerized by the sight.

“Beautiful,” I finished my sentence from earlier, “so this is magic...”

Once I reached the end of the light, which only got brighter as I followed it, the light blew up. It condensed into a small little orb, and then burst outwards. The small eruption brought an extra beat to my heart. I held my breath, as I watched the flowing particles rain down in the light blue fog created by the explosion.

“I wish I had another one of those tomes,” I whispered, “if this is just one spell, I wonder what other kinds of beauty I can find…”

To my surprise, a new light formed. It shined relatively bright, almost as much as the tree. I gazed at it, still in a hypnotized state from the first burst of light. Again, I started to stumble along with it.

So, the spell doesn’t require me to know where the place is. Then, what does the spell need? How does it work? If I follow this trail, will I finally understand?

The light burst once more, and I stared down at a small mount on the ground. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought this to be a random pile of dirt, but I knew now, thanks to the spell that guided me here. Maybe I could call it that. Not, “the spell that guided,” exactly, but “the spell of guidance,” had a nice ring to it.

I stuck my nails into the ground. Perhaps this wasn’t the most sanitary way to dig, but I lost my shovel. If my key to magic was under this ground, I would dig and dig, and I would only stop once I got what I came for.

---

As I dug, the forest became darker and darker. Before I knew it, night fell, but I still felt proud of myself. Since, in my hand, I held a book. Within its fragile pages, I could barely make out the symbol for the number ten. Volume X.