Warlocks’ Guild? Rebellion? Did I hear that right? The men killed were fighting against the government? How could something like that be happening here in Acigam, right under our noses? The city’s just like it’s always been; there’s no sign of conflict. My grandfather is really going to have to a lot to explain, but not right now. What I just saw has left me shaken. My head can’t deal with anything else today.

    I stay quiet all the way to the train. My grandfather said he’d take me home but wouldn’t go in. He doesn’t want any problems with my mother. They haven’t gotten along very well since my father died nine years ago. In the coach, I keep my head down the whole time, thinking about what happened. I recall the violence, how the warlocks were slain. But what I can’t get out of my head is how those rebels controlled energy with such precision. That flaming ball in the plaza was fantastic. The visual effect of the warlock’s technique was simply breathtaking. Now I can imagine the full potential of the science my grandfather has been teaching me. Warlocks have gone beyond simply transferring energy to little spheres. They use their power to fight.

    We get off at my neighborhood station and negotiate the last few blocks to the street on which I live. I walk in the road; my grandfather follows me. Neither of us says anything. I want to get home, take a bath, lie down and sleep. That way I might be able to process everything that has happened. Sincerely, I’m not quite sure I really want to know about those rebels. It’ll be a whole lot safer if I just mind my own business, like I’ve done until now.

    After a few minutes, I arrive: home, sweet home. I clean my shoes on the doormat, open the door and see my mother sitting in her red armchair in the living room. She looks at me, furious:

    “Where were you?”

    “At school. I stayed late.”

    “I’m not an idiot, Leran. Until now?” she asks, raising her voice while walking toward me.

    “Uh, yeah,” I respond, without having much else to say.

    “And that bow,” she asks, grabbing its shaft, turning me around as she yanks it.

    “My teacher gave it to me, Mom. I told you I had practice today, remember?” I step back, forcing her to release her grip. “He gave it to me because I’m good and he wants me to practice.”

    I turn toward her again and see her look of distrust. This time, she’s wrong, it’s all true. She continues,

    “You can only…” She immediately stops talking and looks at me in despair. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to my head.

    “What’s what?” I fire back, startled.

    “Your ear,” she says. She moves closer and turns my face with her hands. “My God! You’re bleeding.”

    “Bleeding?” I ask.

    “Leran, please, tell me where you were.” Strangely, she begins to cry. I can’t understand her reaction. It’s just a little blood. I’m okay, aren’t I?

    At this point, my grandfather comes in and tries to calm her down.

    “I can explain, Laura.”

    But I don’t think that was a very good idea. Upon seeing him, she loses control:

    “What are you doing here?” she shrieks.

    “Mom, he was with me. Calm down.”

    “For the love of God, where were you?” she pleads, looking at my grandfather.

    I’ve never seen my mother this upset; her voice is shaking. When she finishes speaking, she’s short of breath and looks like she’s about to faint. I run and hold her, making her sit on the couch. I begin to fan her face with my hand.

    “Are you all right?” I ask. “Grandpa, get her some water. Fast.”

    “I don’t want any,” she says. “I need to speak with your grandfather alone. Please excuse us.”

    My mother is in no shape for any kind of conversation. She’s gasping, her hands are cold. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

    “Mom, you need to rest. We can talk tomorrow. How about it?” I suggest.

    “Leran, go to your room. Now!” she yells, rebuffing my suggestion.

    She didn’t give me any leeway at all. I grab my things and walk out of the room. I start up the stairs but stop halfway so I can listen to what they’re saying. Her reaction was startling. I’m sure this conversation will be much more serious than their normal fights.

    “Are you crazy?” she asks. “It was them, wasn’t it?”

    “Calm down, Laura. They didn’t see us. We were coming home when some rebels appeared. They were being chased by the guard. We hid, but the silencing hit us.”

    I have the impression my mother knows about the rebellion too. Worse yet… when she says “they”, she’s referring to the hushers. How does she know about them? And what does my grandfather mean when he says, “the silencing hit us”? It can only be one thing: the hushers caused our deafness. That shrill hissing noise I heard seconds before losing my hearing is probably some weapon they use to momentarily leave their victims handicapped. But why, other than to make our ears bleed? I don’t even have any aftereffects from it; I can hear what they’re saying in the living room perfectly.

    And they keep on talking:

    “Why were you with him downtown so late, Bretor?

    “He came to visit me at the shop and stayed to help in the basement. Time slipped away from us.”

    That was a good excuse but she wasn’t buying it.

    “Leran helping you? Doing what? Nailing a leg onto a table?” Her question was ironic. “He doesn’t lift a finger here at home to help me with anything.”

    Well, that’s not exactly true but… And she continues.

    “I can’t believe your straight face, Bretor. You have the gall to lie to me in my own home. I know you’re teaching him. I’ve noticed his behavior, more and more enclosed in a parallel world, trying to find those energies you talk about so much. I’m begging you,” her voice changes, imploring, the request of a desperate mother, “stop that right now.”

    I’m really surprised. She also knows what my grandfather does, knows about the enchantments. I thought Grandpa had asked me not to tell my mother about his classes just because they didn’t get along well, but there’s more to it than that. My grandfather knew what her reaction would be. He wanted to avoid a problem like this.

    “I have no choice, Laura. He needs to know…”

    “No!” she shrieked, interrupting him before starting to cry again. “No, no… he doesn’t. He needs to stay safe, far from all of that, far from those goddamn warlocks, far from you. Bretor, I forbid you from seeing Leran again. Forbid you! Get out of here!”

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    “That’s not how things work. Leran’s almost an adult, a grown man. He has his own interests. He already knows what he needs. And there’s more. You can’t protect him from this. He’s running out of time, Laura. You know that. If he doesn’t learn now, he’ll have no chance of being safe out there.”

    I hear the door slam and know my grandfather’s left. I bend my body forward a little and see my mother sitting on the living room floor, hugging one of the sofa’s striped pillows. She’s crying compulsively. I sit down and think about what I ought to do. I can’t go to her now, console her. She’d know I heard everything. My hands are tied. I decide to go to my room and sleep. Tomorrow I’ll think about how to deal with this situation.

    I stand up, go down the hall and meet my sister Luana, who has just come out of her room.

    “What’s going on, Le?” She’s sleepy, her face is puffy. The argument must have woken her up. Could she have heard something?

    “Nothing. Just Mom and Grandpa arguing again,” I reply.

    Fortunately, they fight so often that Lua has no reason to doubt me.

    “Nobody needs that, do they? What was it this time?”

    “You know. They can’t stand the sight of each other. Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to end the conversation.

    “Uh, okay. Tell me all about it tomorrow. Right now, I just want to get back to sleep.” She steps toward me to give me a peck on the cheek but complains,

    “Eww, Le! You’re disgusting. Go take a bath!”

    “Good night to you, too, Lua,” I say and smile.

    After giving me that earful, Luana enters her room and shuts the door. She must really be sleepy. She didn’t even notice the blood in my ear. It’s better that way. Otherwise, I’d have to make up a whole lot of excuses. She’s just like my mother in the worrying department. Even though she’s two years younger, she’s often the voice of reason here. And right now, she’s right; I do need a bath.

    I go to my room and start putting my things away: I stow my bag in the closet, lean the bow and quiver in a corner, and take off my dirty clothes, putting them in the hamper to be washed. Then I get ready for a bath. I find my pajamas still lying on the floor and grab a towel from the dresser before heading to the bathroom. I hang everything on hooks and turn on the shower… Ah… hot. That’s great. I spend a couple of minutes under the water thinking about everything that’s happened. The clash downtown, the rebellion, my mother’s despair knowing that I’m learning about energy and my grandfather’s final words, which, summing things up, sent the following message: my time is running out and I need to learn now in order to be safe. Well, it makes no sense whatsoever. Maybe he wants me to become a rebel. We’re probably on the verge of a civil war in Acigam, which is why learning how to do enchantments can keep me safe, even help me protect my family. But, even so, it’s hard to believe there will be such a huge conflict… and everything was going so well this morning.

    If this were true, someone would have already said something. Somebody at high school, a teacher, a neighbor, somebody, anybody. How long have those battles been going on? And why does Acigam’s government hate the warlocks so much? There’s no telling. I could spend hours wasting water in this shower without clearing up my doubts.

    I get out of the shower, dry off, put my pajamas on and lie down, hoping this day will end soon. But it’s not that easy. The hours drag by and my eyes just won’t shut. I twist and turn, unable to find a comfortable position. I’m exhausted, but there’s no going to sleep. After trying and trying, I finally give up.

    I go to the window, one of my favorite spots, and look out into the night. I see the moon. It’s huge. From here in my room, it’s as beautiful as the one I saw in the plaza. The trees sway gently in the breeze. I observe the flowers in the garden and the white fence in tones of dark blue, illuminated only by the moon. In the middle of the olive trees that make up a small wooded area near our house there’s another source of light. It’s green, very bright. I try to see what it is, but it disappears.

    I keep watching the woods and, in the crest of the trees, I see an enormous owl. His eyes stand out in the darkness. Just below him, in the same tree, there’s a small nest. While watching it, I see the green light appear again in another part of the woods. It’s closer now. Little by little, the glowing spot takes the form of a sphere and, within it, a radiant force moves slowly. Could this be the woods’ energy? I can finally see the energy’s source. Maybe I could transfer it to a small copper ball if I were closer.

I leave the window and look for the pants I wore during the day. The spheres I used to practice at my grandfather’s shop are in my pocket. I start toward the door of my room and, on the way, I spy my bow leaning against the wall. I grab it and the arrows, just as a precaution. I don’t even change clothes. I depart in my pajamas, barefooted, with the quiver on my back. I open the door and look down the hall, making sure everybody’s asleep. I go down the stairs slowly to avoid even the slightest creak. I proceed through the living room where the pillow is lying on the floor.

    The night is still warm and pleasant. That’s good; I won’t get cold. I enter the garden, pass through the fence and advance toward that woods. I feel the cold grass between my toes while looking for the light. The owl is still in the tree top. I have the clear impression it’s watching me and following my movements with its head. Its location indicates that I’m in the right place, but the light’s no longer there. I enter the woods and walk among the trees trying to find the energy source again. After a few minutes, I begin to think I’m wasting my time.

    I turn around and start back to the house. However, when I’m almost exiting the woods, I hear a slight noise, like the rustling of the wind. I turn my head and there’s the green sphere; it’s even brighter than before. It’s beautiful. I walk a few meters, trying to get nearer to the light and close my eyes to breath in deeply, feeling all the power that it’s radiating.

    I move even closer and, without looking away, squat down to place a small copper ball on the ground. I sit in from of it and concentrate, focusing my eyes on the copper, pulling the green energy to it; I let my breathing dictate the rhythm. Slowly, the force moves toward the ball. Every beam of light coming from the large sphere goes straight into the metal in front of me. More incandescent beams are gradually being released and the green sphere becomes a small dot of light before completely disappearing.

    The copper is now glowing with a bright, almost fluorescent green. I did it. I’ve pulled off a perfect enchantment. I stand up and wait for what will happen anxiously. After a few seconds, the ball explodes and releases all its energy in the form of luminous green rings. The impact of the air knocks me backward and shakes the trees, making the owl dart from the treetop, frightened. I stand up and start out again, pleased.

    As I’m leaving the woods, I hear a noise and immediately stop. It’s as if something were moving through the trees. It comes first from the right. I pull out the bow, arming it with an arrow and point in the direction of the sound. Now I hear it on the left, too. I look there and fire. The arrow disappears in the foliage. I’ve hit nothing but, perhaps, some branches. I look around and see no one, but the noise persists. The bushes in front of me stir and I prepare another arrow. It could be an animal. Perhaps I can scare it with another shot. I walk backwards and keep my eye on the thicket. I keep moving until the noise stops. It’s now behind me, as if something were coming rapidly in my direction. With a fright, I run to escape the woods immediately, but a shrill noise disorients me:

    “Sssssshhhhhhhhh.”

    My ears hurt. I drop my bow to cover them. I can’t hear anything. I feel my hands getting wet and, when I look, I see they’re covered in blood. I begin to feel faint; my head is heavy. I glance around and see the trees still swaying. The lack of sound keeps me from identifying where they will come from. It’s the hushers; they’re here for me. That energy was a trap and, now that they’ve seen me practice magic, I’ll be killed just like the warlocks downtown.

    I try to keep running, but my balance has been affected. I take a few steps and then fall. I turn face up and take a deep breath, trying to regain control. As soon as I twist my head to the side, I see someone coming from the bushes: black clothes, head and cape. On his face, I only see shining eyes, like those of the owl in the pitch black. I try to stand up and run, but I’m caught by a cord that twists around my ankles, causing me to fall face forward.

    My eyes fill with tears; I know what will happen. I’ll be slain by a pitiless monster. I still try to crawl using my hands. As soon as I move a few centimeters, I’m pulled back several meters. My fingers claw the dirt leaving a trail of desperation. I try to cry out for help, but my voice doesn’t come out; no one will hear me. It’s the effect of the hushing.

    I know the husher is behind me. He grabs me by my arm and turns me over to face him. I see his countenance. He’s not a man, as I had imagined downtown. He’s some kind of monster with enormous teeth. His face is that of an animal, a mixture of several of them. And his yellow eyes are cruel. He is in total control of the situation.

    When he looks at me, he tilts his head to the side and shows his teeth, as if smiling at me. He can see my expression of terror and seems to delight in it. The creature stoops down and moves his face closer to mine, letting me smell the horrid odor exuding from his mouth. I could try to get him off me, punch him, try to knock him down, but I don’t have the strength for anything, not even to lift my arm.

    My eyes bulge when I see him pull out a dagger. My breathing involuntarily speeds up, my heart rate explodes and I feel a chill run down my spine. Could this be what you feel just before dying? He licks the blade with his long tongue, demonstrating how thoroughly he’s enjoying this moment, smiles again and, in a brusque movement, jams the weapon into my chest.