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“No, Malenthiar, you need to move your hands through the pattern together, like this.” Eeleei moved her hands through the air with dexterous precision, her light brown hands flitting in a complex, asymmetrical pattern.
“I already know that pattern, Mom,” Mal, copied her movements perfectly this time, instead of the halfhearted effort he previously displayed. His pale, red hands moved even faster than his mother’s. “This is baby stuff.”
“Fundamentals are fundamental,” his mother chided, sparks alighting on her fingertips to illustrate her point. “That’s why we practice them every day.”
Mal kicked his legs against the shining kitchen table. No Eten kitchen would ever be anything other than shining. “You don’t make Ophi do these fundamentals.” Mal complained, crossing his arms.
“Mal,” His mother’s tone was warning. She gave him a stern look at his kicking and he brought his legs to rest. “Thank you. Ophinala doesn’t do these fundamentals because she can’t yet. She’s a full year younger than you.”
“I’ve been doing these since I was five!” Mal said.
His mother raised an eyebrow, “Did you just lie to me, Malenthiar Thomas?”
“No,” Mal said, sullen, “I exaggerated.”
Eeleei reached across the kitchen table and took Mal’s hands in her own. “The reason you have been practicing these exercises for so long, is because you have wonderful control. You could start them when you were eight,” she gave her son a pointed look, “because you have a formidable grasp on the complexities of magic.”
“I do?”
“You do,” his mother gave his hands a firm squeeze, her hands glowing in emphasis. “So much so it amazes me,”
Mal looked away, an unfamiliar combination of embarrassed and mollified. “I still want to do something harder,” he said.
Eeleei leaned back and gave him a proud little smile. “Okay.”
“Okay? Okay!” Mal almost hopped on top of his chair, but stopped at the last moment. His mother wouldn’t like that. She might not teach him something harder if she were upset.
Eeleei got out of her chair, crossing the kitchen and reaching down for her purse. It was a huge, black purse, the kind Mal thought of as a ‘mom bag’. She kept everything in it: gum, her wallet, sunglasses, sunscreen, books, spare clothes, something she called ‘feminine products’, bandages, her cell phone, and, Mal frowned, blank pieces of paper, apparently.
She brought the blank paper over to Mal and placed it in front of him. With a wave of her hand, a series of complicated squiggly lines covered the page. It looked like a spider’s web made from a bunch of frayed knots, all splayed out in slightly different patterns.
“Do you know what these are, Mal?”
Mal eyed the intricate web of lines and knots. They looked familiar, but he couldn’t place where he knew them from.
“No,” he said.
“Are you sure? Look closely. You see them every day.”
Mal looked at them again. He definitely didn’t see them every day. His mother wasn’t lying to him though, which meant he did see them every day and he just didn’t know it. But what could they- Mal’s face lit up in recognition.
“These are the hand movements!” He exclaimed, “This shows how magic flows when we cast spells.”
His mother gave him another proud smile, “How we weave spells Malenthiar. Human mages cast spells. But you are exactly correct. And it shows how the movements, and therefore the magic, link together.” She pointed at the very center of the web, “See? This is the first basic form I showed you. Look at how the lines here match with the movement of your hands. It’s a little hard to tell because there are only two dimensions, but if you follow the final movement, then-”
“It leads into another form!” Mal said, eyes wide. “This is how you cast spells. Are you going to teach me how to cast spells now, Mom?” Mal felt his voice tremble.
“Weave spells,” His mother corrected lightly, “First, I am going to show you how to create one.”
Mal didn’t respond. Instead he stared at his mother, wide eyed and holding his breath. He felt like if he got any more excited he might explode. His hands were shaking so badly he had to sit on them just to make them stop.
“These are the basic forms,” Eeleei explained, “Theoretically, you can create any spell using them.”
“How?” Mal whispered, “How!”
His mother smiled a patient smile and pointed again to the center frayed knot, “What form is this, Malenthiar?”
“Gather.” Mal said instantly, using the Eten language. His mother was already speaking in it, but Mal preferred English whenever possible.
“That’s right, and since it’s at the center, you can link it with any other form, see?” She ran her finger across the page, showing Mal how the magic would flow through the forms, ending at the Expel form. “If you follow that path, you can create a little fire. Do you remember all the forms?”
Mal nodded. There were only one hundred and thirty-six of them. Mal had memorized them before he even turned eleven.
“Can you tell me the forms along the path I showed you to create fire?”
“Gather, fresh, heat, light, empty, expel.” Mal said again in the Eten language.
“That’s right. Now-”
“Do you need to go through fresh and empty?” Mal interrupted, staring at the paper.
Eeleei pursed her lips at being interrupted. “No, but skipping them isn’t for beginners.”
“How would you skip them?” Mal cocked his head at the paper as if it had said something strange. He would have to link the forms somehow and weave them toget-
Weave.
“Oh!” Mal shouted. “I think I get it.” He put his hands in the first position of the first form. “Is it like this?”
Mal moved his hands through the first form, but instead of moving through all the positions he linked the third position with the first from heat, moved completely through that form and then moved halfway through light, before linking it to expel’s first position and completing that.
“Was that right? Mom?” Mal looked up at his unresponsive mother. She was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“Who taught you that, Malenthiar?” His mother’s voice was faint. “Who showed you how to do that?”
“Mom, Are you alright?” Mal tilted his head, confused this time, “You did. Just now. Remember?”
“No one showed you; you did this all by yourself? Do not lie to me, Malenthiar.”
“I just did what you said,” Mal hesitated, “I just did what made sense.”
Eeleei let out a little cry and cupped a hand over her mouth. Golden sparks showered down from her hands, dissolving like little fireworks as they hit the floor. She fell against the table, catching her weight on her other hand.
“Mom?” Mal had never seen his mother like this, “Mom are you okay? Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?” Mal hopped off the chair and wrapped his arms around his mom.
His mother steadied herself and gave him a quick hug back. “No Malenthiar Thomas, you have done nothing wrong,” she sniffed, wiping the tears out of her eyes, “I am very proud of you.”
“Okay.” Mal said, his voice uncertain. He didn’t hear his mother lying, but she was crying. That didn’t make sense.
Eeleei sat him back down in his chair and produced another piece of paper, pressing it flat to the table with a little flick of her hands. “I want you to use these forms to create a weave of your own. Use this paper to help figure out how the magic moves and draw the final weave when you’re done. Sounds good?”
“Okay,” Mal said again. “What kind of spell do I make?”
“Whatever you want,” his mother said, “How about you make something sticky?”
“Sticky?”
“Make a spell so that when you weave it, it will make two things stick together.” Eeleei clarified.
“There is no form for sticky,” Mal said, frowning at the web of forms in front of him.
“You asked for something hard,” his mother smiled, “And here’s a hint, you do not have to start with-”
“Done.” Mal held up his paper with his weave proudly displayed on it. “I used together, gather, bind, hard, and the last movement of forever.”
Eeleei snatched the paper from his hand, “You connect the bottom line of the form if you are only using the last movement,” she said in an absent, breathless voice, “That’s what each line represents, a different movement.” She placed the paper on the kitchen table again, showing Mal where his lines should connect. “This weave might work for a spell, but you might have trouble with the forever form, maybe the hard as well.”
“But it would work? I made a spell?” Mal said.
“Oh it should work, just fine. It might make things too sticky, but-”
“I want to cast it,” Mal said, “Weave it, I mean. I want to do it.”
His mother opened her mouth to respond and closed it. She sat down across from Mal and reached out, again taking his hands in hers.
“You’re not going to let me.”
“I- no, Malenthiar, I am not.” His mother had a look of woeful resolution on her face. The air around her head dyed dark blue with her words. Mal only saw that when something bad happened.
Mal pulled his hands away. “You don’t think I can.”
“No. I do not think you can.” The words were soft, but to Mal, she screamed them. They stabbed into him, striking his gut and taking away his breath. He felt a hot liquid gathering in his eyes. He wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He would do magic.
“You said you were proud of me. I heard it.” Mal’s voice was a whimper. He hated it.
“I am proud of you, Malenthiar. What you did, this,” she waved his drawing of the weave through the air, “are both amazing things for someone your age.”
“But you won’t let me do magic like Ophi.”
“I would let you, Malenthiar. I would in an instant. But you cannot. It is not about permission, but ability.”
Somehow these words were even worse than the previous. The tears flowed freely now, covering his face. “Because I’m half-human.”
“You are just as human as your sister, Malenthiar.”
“She’s half-Eten, I’m half human. You like her better”
“I love you both equally.” Eeleei shook her head, “No, Malenthiar, it’s nothing like that. It’s-” She frowned and muttered something under her breath. Mal thought he caught something along the lines of “I can’t believe this”. Her frown deepened. “Do you know of the Spell?”
Mal nodded. Of course he did. There wasn’t a person alive who didn’t.
“Do you know what it does?”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Mal nodded again. “It helps humans with magic.”
“That’s right. Humans and half-humans.” Eeleei smiled, “But it also lets most humans use magic in many different ways. Before the spell, only a few, very rare humans could interact with magic at all.”
Mal saw her point. “But I’m half-Eten. And Ophi can already use magic, and she has the Spell as well.”
“It’s not the Spell that decides who gets magic, Malenthiar. Do you know how the spell categorizes magical abilities?”
“Facets.” Mal said, “It gives the different facets a number and that’s how good you are at that thing.”
His mother nodded. “Six facets of magic for every person. Three of body, three of mind. However, these facets, and their scores, are not real things. They are abstractions.”
“Oh.”
“Do you need me to explain that to you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Mal hung his head, “No.”
“It’s okay to say you don’t know something, Malenthiar. If you didn’t, how would you learn anything?” His mother’s voice was kind and gentle. “When I say the facets are abstractions, what I mean is that they are all an accumulation of many different things, brought together to represent a single idea. Do you know what Ichor is?”
“It’s a facet.”
“It represents how magical a person is. Humans might say the more Ichor you have supernatural you are. Some might even say more Ichor means you are less mortal.”
“So?”
“So almost all humans only have an Ichor score of three.” Eeleei told him, “But for a person to interact with magic without the help of the Spell, you need an Ichor score of four.”
“So I’m not Eten enough to have a score of four.” Mal said. He stared down at the web of spell forms, now stained with tears. “I’m not good enough for magic.”
“You are good enough, Malenthiar Thomas, you just need a little help to get there.” His mother’s voice was stern, “When you are sixteen, and the Spell fully integrates, you will be able to touch magic like anyone else.”
“But you think mages who use shortcuts are bad,” Mal said, “You said it’s a mockery!”
His mother’s face went blank. “You heard that?” she gave her head a quick shake, “It’s more complicated than that, Malen-”
“You think Ophi can do magic, even though she doesn’t like it!”
“Your sister showed certain signs that she could weave powerfully from very early on, that you did not Malenthiar. She uses magic intrinsically, she’s outgoing and loud - so damn loud - she love athletics, she-”
“You didn’t want to teach me at all!” Mal yelled, “You only wanted to teach Ophinala! You don’t think I can be a good mage!”
Mal jumped up from the table, his chair crashing to the floor with a clatter of wood on linoleum, sprinting from the kitchen and out of sight. A moment later, Eeleei heard the front door slam shut as Mal left the house.
“Malenthiar!” She ran after him, throwing the door open, but he was already gone. Swearing in the Eten language under her breath, she raced back to the kitchen to grab her bag and chase after him. Until she noticed the time. She had to leave to pick up Ophinala from her dance class. Eeleei took a deep breath, centering herself. Malenthiar would be fine. Pasadena was a nice area. The sun was still bright in the sky, the dark was not coming yet.
Eeleei took her bag and keys and checked to make sure she had her phone on her. She picked up Malenthiar’s chair from the floor, tucking it under the table. Better Oscar did not come home to a wrecked kitchen. As she was leaving she spotted Malenthiar’s weave, still sitting at his place on the kitchen table. She frowned. What could it hurt? She wove the spell, not bothering with the hand signs she showed Malenthiar. It only used the basic forms, after all.
The spell took shape and she wove it into the paper on which Malenthiar had drawn the weave. The paper stiffened in place, stuck by the magic to the table. How stuck though? Eeleei ran a finger over the paper to check. It did not budge. She tried to peel it off the table, but she couldn’t find an edge. Bending over, she examined the page more closely. It was fused with the table beneath it. Not stuck. Fused. It was only a millimeter, perhaps even half that, but the paper and table were one. Eeleei frowned at her once shining, now ruined, kitchen table.
“Son of a bitch.”
----------------------------------------
Mal sat on a small hill overlooking the children’s play area of the local park. The bright sun of the late afternoon glared down on the park, bringing long shadows, warm light, and the pleasant laughter of the children playing beneath it. Mal glared back. The stupid bright sun was not appropriate for his mood at all. It should be raining, and not just because it would help him hide his tears. At least if it were raining no one would be at the park.
The playground was one he hadn’t been to for years. It was for little kids, like his sister. The slide was too small to be interesting, the monkey bars were low enough that he could reach them while still touching the ground and the jungle gym was covered in thick, pink safety foam. The foam was even clean, which made it more offensive. Somehow.
The little kids in question were running around with wild abandon, as if they could not sense his mood. They should be more considerate of him. One even tried to run over to him, a little girl with a concerned face and bright eyes, but her mother stopped her. Parents did that sometimes. They were concerned about their kids being near him for some reason. His mom and dad said it was complicated, but they were lying. Whatever it was, it wasn’t complicated. Mal usually didn’t like that, but today it was fine. The sun was already annoying him and the children playing were just as bad. How did someone laugh that much from playing tag? The game hadn’t been changed in thousands of years. Not even the Merge had managed to change it. And the Merge changed everything.
“Hey, Mal, are you alright?”
Mal broke away from his angry glare. The jungle gym didn't deserve it anyway. Or the children. He turned to the source of the voice. It was Helena. One of the children’s parents. She had a daughter that was friends with his sister.
“Hello, Helena Stoikos.” Helena was a name he had heard before, which didn’t matter to Dad, but Mom found it gross. Helena was also overweight, which didn’t help. His mom said it was because she ate the food that could have been saved for the hungry. His dad said not to judge and it was much more complicated than that.
“Hello, Malenthiar Thomas,” Helena said with a smile. She had a nice smile, even though she was frumpy today. She reached into her mom bag and pulled out her phone. “Are you locked out of your house? You can call your mother and let her know you’re here if you need to.”
“No. I’m not locked out.”
“Oh, is your mother not picking up the girls today? I thought it was her turn.”
Mal blinked. That’s right. Maybe he was locked out. “No, she still is.” Mal said. He reached into his pocket, producing his father's old phone. “I have a phone if I need it.”
“Oh. Good.” Helena gave him an awkward smile and ran a hand through her frizzy brown hair. “Okay. Well, I’m right over there if you need anything.” Helena made her leave, rejoining with the other local moms on a park bench.
“You have a cell phone? That’s cool.”
Mal jumped. Why were so many people sneaking up on him today? The culprit was a small boy about his age. He had lightly tanned skin with dark eyes and dark hair. Mal did not recognize him.
“It’s for emergencies only,” Mal said, “It can’t even send text messages.”
“Oh.”
“I’m supposed to have it so I can show I’m responsible enough to have a real one.” Mal said, “But I don’t get how that’s supposed to work if I can’t be irresponsible with it at all.”
“It sounds like you just want to be irresponsible with a phone.”
“Yeah.” Mal admitted.
“My parents did that except with a dog.”
“You have a dog?”
“No. I had a stuffed dog. But I lost it and my parents decided I wasn’t responsible enough for a real dog.”
“That stinks,” Mal said. “I’m Malenthiar Thomas.” He held out his hand for the boy to shake, like he had seen his father do.
“I’m Adrien.” Adrien took his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Mal gave Adrien a funny look. “You have to say your full name.”
“I do?”
“Yes, otherwise it’s rude.”
Adrien’s eyes went wide, “No one told me that! I always say my name is Adrien.” Adrien extended his hand again. “I am Adrien Wang.”
“Nice to meet you, Adrien Wang. I am Malenthiar Thomas.” Mal said, showing the boy how to properly introduce himself since apparently no one had.
Adrien shook his hand vigorously, as if trying to make up for his previous greeting. He glanced down at Mal’s hand. “Why is your skin red?” he asked.
“Why is your skin tan?” Mal countered.
“It’s the same color as my parent’s. Do your parents have red skin?”
“No. They have whitish skin and cloudy brown skin.” Mal said. “Only my sister had red skin like mine, but she doesn’t have as high clarity.” Mal said proudly.
“So white and brown make red.” Adrien muttered, “What does high clarity mean?”
“High clarity means better. It’s better than low clarity and much better than cloudy.” How did he not know this? Even Ophi knew this. “But cloudy and low clarity skin is not bad at all. High clarity is just better.”
“But what does that mean? How do you know if skin is high clarity? What clarity is my skin?” Adrien asked.
Mal looked at Adrien’s tan skin. “I don’t know. It might not work on humans.”
“It sounds like racism to me.” Adrien said.
“What? It’s not racist.”
“My dad says racism is when people judge other people by their skin. That’s what you’re doing.”
Mal frowned. Was he racist? Surely not. As he contemplated every time he had definitely not been racist, a shout came from atop of the jungle gym. Another boy around Mal’s age had climbed to the very top of the structure and was standing above the bright yellow slide, balancing precariously on the edge of the ten foot drop. He was a tall boy, with light brown hair and bright blue eyes that Mal could see even from all the way across the playground. He was the kind of boy adults called a handsome young man.
“ATTENTION EVERYBODY! I AM RUDY WAGNER AND I AM GOING TO BE THE NEXT GREAT AUGMENTED ATHLETE!”
The boy jumped from the top of the slide, propelling himself forwards in a front somersault. To Mal's great surprise, he landed neatly on the soft mulch below.
“Wow,” Adrien said. He looked at Mal. “I can’t do that. Can you do that?”
“Wanting to be an athlete is dumb.” Mal said, “Mom calls arenas temples of violence.”
“Temples of violence sounds really cool though.”
“Yeah.” Mal scowled at the handsome young man. He was loud and athletic. Probably outgoing too, since they were outside. Mal scowled further. He had thought of him as a handsome young man. Why did Rudy get to have all the signs of a great mage? He wanted to be an athlete. Rudy and Ophi.
Adrien looked over at Mal, noticing his upset face. “Why are you mad?” He said, “Is it because your ears are pointy?”
Mal reflexively covered his ears with his hands, “No. There’s nothing wrong with my ears.”
“Then why are you mad?”
“Being an athlete is dumb,” Mal said again. “I want to be a mage.”
“Mages are cool too,” Adrien said, “But I thought only extranormals can be mages.”
Mal gave the small boy a look. “I have red skin, purple eyes, and pointed ears.”
“So? You have normal black hair. I don’t judge people based on what they look like. I’m not racist.”
“Well I’m half-Eten and my hair is actually very dark purple too. You can see it when the light catches it in the right way. I’m extranormal. Besides, humans can be mages, they're just bad at it.”
“You’re half-Eten?” Adrien’s eyes were wide, “No way!”
“I have red skin, purple eyes, and pointed ears.” Mal said, “What did you think I was?”
“I already told you I don’t judge people like that!” Adrien said, “I thought you had a skin condition. You talked a lot about skin.”
Mal laughed at the absurdity of the statement. “A skin condition made me Eten?”
“Is that why you think mages are cool?” Adrien gasped, “Can you do MAGIC?”
Mal immediately darkened. “No. Not until I integrate with the spell.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Adrien said. He gave Mal a quick, nervous glance. “Why not?”
Mal glared at Adrien. Adrien flinched back. Mal scowled at him for another second before answering. “Mom says it’s because I’m not loud or athletic or outgoing and I don’t do magic intrinsically like my sister. Or him.” Mal pointed at Rudy, who was currently in the process of falling off the jungle gym.
“He can be a mage?” Adrien asked, incredulous. He pointed his finger at Rudy, who was now pulling bits of mulch out of his ear and putting them in his mouth. “That guy?”
“Mages are supposed to be smart,” Mal mused. His eyes went wide.
To his horror, Rudy had seen them pointing and was marching his way over to them. He stopped a few feet in front of them, at the bottom of the small hill. His clothes were filthy from rolling around in the playground mulch and he still had bits in his hair and around his mouth.
“I’m Rudy Wagner!” He proclaimed to them. Mal gave Adrien a significant look. Even Rudy knew how to properly introduce himself. Adrien flushed in embarrassment, catching his meaning.
“I am Malenthiar Thomas,” Mal said.
“I’m Adrien Wang.”
“You two were talking about me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mal shot Adrien another glance. Rudy ignored it.
“You saw my front flip,” Rudy said, “You were talking about how awesome I was.”
“No.”
“Definitely not.”
“What?” Rudy yelled, “Why not? Do you know how long it took me to be able to do that? One day!”
“That’s not very long.” Mal said.
“I know! That’s because I’m awesome.” Rudy said, placing his hands on his hips and thrusting out his chest. “You were definitely talking about it.”
“We weren’t talking about you,” Mal said.
“We were making fun of you,” Adrien said.
“Adrien, don’t tell him that!”
“Lying is rude,” Adrien sniffed. “I don’t want to be rude.”
“AAHHH!” Rudy screamed, throwing his head back and curling his arms at his side, his hands into fists. “I’ll get you for that!”
Rudy pounced on Adrien, toppling him to the ground and wrestling him into a pin. Adrien cried out in alarm and tried to get loose, but Rudy was too strong.
“Get off of me!” Adrien cried out, “Malenthiar, help!”
“Need backup?” Rudy laughed, “I can take you both on!”
Mal looked at the wrestling boys only hesitating for a second before diving into the fray. Good to his word, Rudy took them both on. It wasn’t really a contest. Adrien was much smaller than Rudy and Mal had never wrestled before. Still, wrestling two on one exhausted Rudy and after a few minutes of grappling, all three of them lay on the slope of the hill, breathless.
“Rudy Wagner,” Mal gasped, “Is Rudy short for Rudolf?”
“No,” Rudy lied, “That name is stupid. I’m awesome.”
“Okay.” Mal said. “Because a woman is calling for Rudolf Wagner.”
Beside him, Rudy stiffened. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Me neither.” Adrien said.
“I can hear it.” Mal said. “She said, ‘Rudolf Wagner if you do not get back here by the count of ten, you are in big trouble, mister.’”
“W-was it an old woman or young woman?” Rudy stuttered.
“I wouldn’t say old,” Mal said, "But not young.”
“Crap.” Rudy bounced to his feet, his exhaustion forgotten. “Thanks Mal!” he shouted as he sprinted away.
“You really hear someone calling for him?” Adrien said, squinting his eyes at Mal’s ears.
“Yeah.”
“You have good ears. Even if they are pointed.”