Mark sat across from his sister in a secluded booth at the back of the vegetarian restaurant she had discovered on the outer ring of the Cirque du Chânce. Her squirrel familiar was nowhere to be found—probably talking to some of the beastkin—and a ball of what looked like half-chewed grass sat on the plate in front of him. He hadn’t touched it. Instead, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to process Angela’s words.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. “There are things called Primals.”
“Yes,” she said.
“But there’s Primal Forces and Primal Creatures.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Because why not make it confusing.”
“I thought so too.”
He took a breath. “And Chaos is a Primal Force…”
“Yes.”
“…not a Primal Creature.”
“Of course not; that would be ridiculous.”
“Okay,” he said. “So Primal Creatures are things like Dragons, Kraken, and…frogs?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “It’s more like dragons and other badass stuff are the descendants of Primals. They’re still badass, but the original Primal versions? Whole different class.”
“But frogs?” He really didn’t understand that bit.
Angela hemmed and hawed. “That’s kind of conjecture on my part.”
“Cool,” Mark said as he rubbed his temples. “Any chance the part about Chaos being a wild, untameable force hellbent on destroying reality was also your conjecture?”
She shook her head. “Sorry bro, that’s straight from the horse’s mouth.” Her eyes widened and she looked around. “Shit, I hope none of the part-horse people heard that.”
“Seriously?” Mark said. “That’s the part of this conversation you’re worried about someone overhearing?”
Angela grinned. “It was a joke.” She tapped the small rune complex carved into the edge of the table. “A druid soundproofed this booth years ago as a favour to Barnaby for something or another. It lets the beastkin come in here and gripe about the Families without worrying that they might be overheard.” She frowned at the runes. “Wish I knew how they did that.”
Mark leaned forward. He gestured for Angela to lean in as well, and she bent her head to his. He continued in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I don’t care how they soundproofed the fucking table, Angela. I care how you just told me that instead of using mana for magic, Primal Creatures use it like a goddamned straw so they can spin raw Chaos into their own universe-spanning magical potpourri. This is apparently something the mages find terrifying and should destroy any mortal stupid enough to try it, only—spoiler alert—it might be exactly what I’m doing. So yeah, that’s the part I care about.”
A piece of paper appeared in front of him. He grabbed it and waved it at his sister. “Oh look, the Tome people agree with me."
Smoothing out the page on the table in front of him, Mark read its contents:
Class Quest: “What the Hell Are You?” Part 1 Completed!
Balls. Uh, okay, so yes, this is something we’ve been talking about, and we have a team working on it. Xlothpytl over in research seems confident that what you’re doing isn’t exactly like the Primal Creatures, but those things destroyed their Tomes a long time ago, so…yeah. They’re pretty off our radar. Which means you’re really not going to like this next quest in the chain.
Reward for Success: 1,000 XP, A break from sarcasm
Class Quest: “What the Hell Are You?” Part 2
There’s no easy way to say this, but we kind of need you to talk to a Primal Creature. Don’t worry, though! We understand that we’re looking at a long-term quest here. Do not—I repeat, DO NOT—try and contact a Primal Creature right now. That would be a genuinely horrible idea. Buuut, they’re probably the only ones who have a clue what’s going on with you.
Quest Completion Criteria: Have a chat with a Primal Creature about your class. Maybe bring some pastries or the heart of a dying star to butter them up? Depends on who you track down.
Reward for success: So, SO much XP. A crazy amount. Also, getting to the bottom of a huge mystery.
Penalty for failure: Honestly? I’m pretty sure it’s above my pay grade. And that’s a little scary.
QUEST AUTOMATICALLY ACCEPTED
Class Quest: “Unlock Your Magic” Part 1
I know the Primal stuff your sister told you is pretty far out there, but that’s just theoretical magic. Let’s talk about the practical side. Carl ran some scenarios and decided it should be perfectly safe for you to cast spells, so we sent him out for coffee and had someone competent run the scenarios again. After that, everyone agreed you should be approaching this stuff with a super delicate touch. I won’t go into details, but think of it like giving a baby a flamethrower. Yeah, the kid probably won’t find the “on” button, but if they do, it’s not gonna end well.
Quest Completion Criteria: Learn how to safely discharge your magic once it’s accumulated in your staff.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Reward for success: XP, Baseline control of your magic.
Penalty for failure: Frankly, there’s about a 70% chance you can put that staff down right now and simply accept that seizures are a part of your life again. How much of a penalty that represents is up to you to decide.
QUEST AUTOMATICALLY ACCEPTED
Mark stared at the page, only realizing Angela was trying to talk to him when she stuck her hand in his face and went, “Blaaah!”
“Can you wait just one frigging minute?” he snapped, slapping her hand away.
“I have been! You’ve re-read that letter, like, ten times.”
“Of course I have! It says I could put my staff away and not have to worry about any of this.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”
He spun the page around and held it out to her. She read through it, then looked at him in confusion. “I think you’re focusing on the wrong thing, dude.”
Mark sighed. “Yes, I know the whole thing is a turd sandwich, but I have to at least consider the idea of walking away.”
“And go back to having seizures?” she asked incredulously.
Mark forced himself to take a breath.
Remember, it’s not their fault. They don’t know what it’s like.
Placing his hands flat on the table, Mark looked his sister in the eyes. “Angie. This is the thing you guys don’t understand. The seizures aren’t gone. I still have them. I still feel them coming, and nothing is different if I don’t get to my staff in time. I’m still epileptic. But you all act like I’ve been cured. It isn’t the same thing.”
“How so?”
“Because the seizures are always there. Lurking in the shadows. Even when they got the meds right back on Earth, I didn’t look at those pills twice a day and start jumping for joy. I took them and thought, ‘Oh yeah. There’s something wrong with me, and today might be the day it all comes crashing down.’”
He leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Maybe that’s not a universal sentiment? I don’t know; I can’t speak for anyone else. But that’s how it always felt for me.”
Angela shifted uncomfortably.
“Okay,” she said cautiously. “How does that factor into this decision? Don’t take this the wrong way, but it sounds like you’re considering refusing treatment because someday it might stop working. I’m having trouble following that logic.”
“No, I’m saying that I’m still epileptic. I still have seizures. That’s part of my daily life, with or without the staff, so let’s not pretend this is a binary choice between ‘cured’ and ‘not cured.’ All it means is that I can choose between going without the staff and dealing with the seizures, or using it to mitigate the effects when they happen, knowing full well that jumping on the magic train might result in my death if things go teats up.”
She frowned. “There is that.”
“No shit.”
He poked his fork at the disgusting mass of green plant matter on his plate, debating what to do. Everything about his class screamed danger, and what’s worse, that danger extended not just to him but to his family as well. Could he put them at risk like that?
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Angela said, banging on the table to get his attention. “Do me a favour and stop pretending you’d actually walk away from magic? I mean…fuck, it’s not like you can’t die from a seizure as well. I know I’ll be pissed if you put down the staff, mom’ll be pissed if you put down the staff, and dad’ll be pissed if you put down the staff. A grand trifecta of pissage.”
Mark gave a soft chuckle. “What about Grandpa Jack?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
He grimaced. The only thing more terrifying than their great-grandfather’s ire was his disappointment.
“But what about the danger to—”
“Oh, fuck off with that bullshit,” she said. “Wah wah, ‘but my family.’ We’re grown-ups; we can handle ourselves. We don’t need you to carry out some martyr story arc in your head when literally the entire family wants the same thing. Besides,” she opened her arms and gestured around the room, “have you seen where we are? Have you thought for ten seconds about what’s really going on here? There is zero, and I mean zero chance that what happened to you isn’t part of some bigger picture. What that is, I don’t know. But if this is all your hero’s journey or some bullshit like that and you walk away from your call to adventure, I’m pretty sure we’re all fucked.”
Mark laughed. A genuine one this time. “We get plucked off Earth and sent to a magical planet, and you think I’m the protagonist?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m way more interesting than you. You’re probably the one who gets fridged so that I’m motivated to see things through to the bitter end.”
“Cool, sis. Thanks for that.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said in a peppy voice.
He sighed—again—and crossed his arms. Sure, his class was supremely messed up, but could he really walk away from it? Especially when he didn’t know how things would play out in the long run? For all he knew, the endgame might be permanent freedom from his seizures and significant magical powers to boot. That wasn’t something you took a pass on. Angie always had a way of cutting to the heart of the matter, at least where he was concerned, and she was doing it again now.
There was, however, one consideration that had to be addressed.
“Okay, you’re right,” he said.
Angela perked up. “Ooh, I liked the sound of that. Could you say it again?”
He rolled his eyes. “I said you’re right. I need to stick with this class and see where it takes me.”
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled.”
“Not quite,” he said, holding up a finger. “Grand mals.”
“What about them?”
“You can’t let me touch the staff when they happen. If it’s in my hands, yank it out, no matter what. Break my fingers if you have to.”
“What?” she said incredulously. “Dude, a grand mal is a thousand times worse than your normal seizures!”
“That’s the problem. When I have my ‘normal’ seizures, it only adds a bit of resonance to my staff. Just enough for me to experiment with. Grand mals are different.”
“How so?”
“Angie, the amount of resonance that goes along with one of those is more than I can handle. More than the staff can handle. The last time I had a grand mal, I was able to take all that power and direct it at the nimh. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it wasn’t there. Died, probably. Maybe even taken Darius’ family with me. Until I know more about how my magic works, I’m not prepared to deal with that level of resonance.”
“So, what are you saying? That the next time you have a massive seizure, we’re supposed to just watch even though there’s a way to stop it lying on the ground next to you?”
“No, I’m saying that the staff isn’t a way to stop it,” he said, adding as much emphasis as possible. “I don’t know a whole lot about how my magic works, but one thing I do know is that until I have things under control, touching me with that staff during a grand mal will definitely, absolutely, 100%, go really badly.”
Angela shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t know if I can do that, bro.”
“If that’s true, then I’m hucking this staff into the river and letting it float out to sea.”
She scowled at him. “Don’t be melodramatic.”
“I’m not. If I can’t trust you, I’m getting rid of the staff. Are you in or are you out?”
Her expression floated between glowering and cringing, but eventually she settled on resignation. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” he said, giving her a smile. “Can you help convince mom and dad, too?”
“Of course,” she said, waving him off. “I figured I’d have to do that anyway. Mom’s not going to like it.”
“She doesn’t have to like it; she just needs to cooperate. Shit, you think I’m happy about it? Grand mals suck.”
“They’re no treat to watch, either,” she said. “We need to get them on board pronto, you know. Who knows when you’ll get your next one. There’s no way I could get them to buy in on my own if you were having a seizure in front of them.”
Angela looked over at the counter, then back at Mark. “You should finish your food—I’ll go settle the tab.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I’m not eating this.”
She looked at him innocently. “Just one bite?”
“Absolutely not.”
“How do you know it doesn’t taste delicious?”
Mark pushed the plate towards his sister. “You first.”
“Oh, hell no. That stuff is a joke they play on unsuspecting tourists.”
“I knew it!” he said, pointing at her. “I knew you were messing with me!”
Angela laughed gleefully as she walked away from the table, her voice disappearing as she passed through the sound-dampening field on her way to the bar.
He scowled at his plate. “I knew she was messing with me.”