Alicia traversed once more into the pitch-black hallway. Already, the sense of longing ached her for the silhouette of that woman. Her feet relentlessly pursued the shape beyond visible in the void, while her mouth could not stop wailing for her mother.
Something snared her around the waist again, and a blinding light pierced her eyes. Just as the light subsided and the world regained its true colours, Alicia's face reunited with that of a woman sporting comically large goggles. The crease of her forehead conveyed astonishment.
"Wee Mare, whit’s troubling ye sae?" The woman's voice was suffused with tender concern.
That voice... that sing-song voice... A balm to Alicia's wounded soul. Clear tears began to brim her blurry eyes. When she could no longer contain it, she sank herself into the woman's rugged teal coat. Her wail was loud.
"Wee Mare? Whit is it? Ye've been blubberin' non-stop lately. Tell me, hen, whit's ailin' ye?"
Alicia shook her head. She looked up. Her eyes were swollen red, and her nose was oozing mucous that stretched to the synthetic fibre seams of her mother's coat. But her mother's reaction was rather unexpected—a giggle instead of being moved. Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, she delicately severed the network of snot that linked them and wiped the mucous from the nostrils of her six-year-old daughter, pressing the nose while wiggling it. For some reason, Alicia was grateful for the rough friction of the handkerchief that ruffled her face.
"I miss M-Mama..." Alicia sobbed.
Her mother chuckled again. "Whit are ye bletherin' aboot? I'm nae gaun anywhere, not at least fur the next month. Dinnae tell me... dinnae tell me you've been eating the hallucinatory mushrooms in my office!"
"What? No, Mama!" Wee Alicia argued.
"Alicia...? Khaos is on the hunt for the lying wean, ye ken!"
"I didnae eat anything!" As soon as she said that, the lass' face puckered and she wailed again.
"Awright, awright, awright, awright, ma Wee Mare, I believe ye! That's it. Do not weep any longer, hen. I am here for ye…" With these words, she enfolded her daughter in a warm embrace, stroking her hair and rubbing her shoulders in a gesture of comfort and affection. After all, who would not be shattered to be accused of such a heinous transgression in the presence of the one they cherished most dearly, believed to have been lost forever?
However, this strange encounter satisfied the little girl's heart. She seemed to forget the past and felt that this was what she had been yearning for all her life. Clinging to the rough fibres of cloth eroded by chemicals and magic had never been so comfortable. The harsh scent that assaulted her was like the smell of roasted candied almonds.
"Ailsa, we're back," a man with a walrus moustache announced his presence as he entered through the door. In his hand was the other hand of a red-haired boy.
"Donar! Leith!" exclaimed Ailsa. "Yer hame early!"
"We didnae manage to get the mini flying gryphon automaton, unfortunately," Donar explained. "And Leith and I couldnae think of anywhere else to go, so we just went home."
"Toy stores are pure dull!" Little Leith pouted. "Why make only a few toys when everyone in Camelot is after them? What, they dinnae want money noo?"
Ailsa was astonished. "Leith, if the wee flyin' gryphon automaton wisnae made intentionally rare, then there wouldnae be many fowk interested in it and spendin' a lot of King's token on it."
"Aye, but that theory didnae result in the toy being in my hands, did it? Pure dull!" Leith retorted.
Engaging in an economic debate with a four-year-old only resulted in another snicker from Ailsa. "Another yin of ma wee pouting horses. We'll try tae get yon toy again when we’ve got the chance, eh? Noo go now, play with yer kin."
Leith disappeared through a pair of giant doors. Donar looked down and found Alicia tethered tightly to his wife's leg.
"Alicia, hen," he said. "Have you been crying?"
Ailsa ran her fingers through Alicia's red hair. "Jist a wee problem, love. She's all better now."
"Okay then. Next question: Are you sure you'll wear that when you see your father?" Donar asked, pointing hesitantly at Ailsa's long coat.
"Ah, Donar, I love this outfit!"
Donar tilted his head with a snort.
"Fine then. I was gaun tae change it anyway because of her snotters. Whiny Wee Mare," Ailsa murmured to herself as she entered the room, humming a tune.
Now in a more suitable noble attire, Ailsa led her daughter and husband to the great hall of the Crimsonmane palace where a figure with a flowing white beard and bound hair was eagerly awaiting their arrival with outstretched arms. Alicia, observing the veins around the elderly man's still-taut eyes, imagined an unpleasant incident and clung to the bottom of Ailsa's dress, hiding behind her.
Surely the old man's fiery eyes would blaze with hatred at the sight of her, Alicia thought. Yet, to her surprise, he bent down and took a small roundabout, pulling her body up. He kissed both of Alicia's cheeks and playfully poked her head. The wrinkles around his mouth instead broke into a wide grin. Alicia was dumbfounded.
"What's with the confused face?" the old man boomed with laughter. "We bide in the same neighbourhood, don't we? Can't you remember who I am?"
"G-Grandfather Alasdair?" Alicia hesitated.
"Grandpa Alasdair!" Alasdair affirmed, beaming with joy. "Oh, Alicia, my dear. How you can't stop being adorable, just like yer mother used to be!"
Alasdair put Alicia back down on the ground and playfully ruffled her hair.
Alicia was perplexed, heart aching with wonder. What has happened to Grandpa? What's gotten into him, really?
Ailsa wrapped her arm around Alicia's small shoulders. "Well, Wee Mare, while me and Papa have a chat with Grandpa, why dinnae ye go with Whucksmire, eh? The rest are playing in the garden."
A dwarf dressed in a smart tuxedo by the name of Whucksmire approached with a bow. "Fair Alicia, pray tell, how doth thou fare?"
Whucksmire...?" Alicia repeated, surprised.
"Exactly, Miss. Cometh hence, let's join the others." Taking Alicia's small hand, Whucksmire led her to another door while her parents ascended the stairs to speak with the patriarch.
In an instant, Alicia felt disoriented as her sight struggled to catch up with her body's movement. It did not take long for her to realise that she was no longer inhabiting the body of Tiny Alicia, as she watched the dwarf carrying the little lass away. She looked down. She discovered her gloved palms, her nylon feet, her original form.
Visions of the past that seemed to be mixed with the present sensory stimulation. No wonder. The beauty of her mother's face and the warmth of her grandfather's embrace were too vivid to be anything but a distant memory.
Following the dwarf and the little girl, Alicia emerged from the flower garden to find a group of children gathered around a patch of green earth. For a moment, she was shaken by the realisation that there was a time when her family members had no intention of beheading her. The bespectacled girl was even taken aback to see her younger self smiling and running towards her ruddy-haired cousins. Little Spencer was the first to greet her. Without shouting the “Bastard” sneer.
"Alicia! Alicia!" Spencer exclaimed, and all the other children turned to see the little girl. "Look what I have!"
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
He raised his hand and revealed an ivory wand, cream in colour with brown carvings. It was one of the few things Alicia remembered vividly from her childhood—how amazed she was by magic trinkets and wonders.
"A magic wand!" Wee Alicia beamed. "Where did ye get it?"
Spencer chuckled. "My maw and da made it for me. I can dae magic already and I'm ready to take the entrance exam for the magic academy!" He was eager to prove his words, and with a flourish, he waved the wand. "Ventus Palma!"
The air rippled at the wand's tip, then expanded and whistled into a ball of wind that split into a mere gust when hitting a white pillar. All the little Crimsonmanes exclaimed in awe.
"How did ye dae that?" asked one of the Crimsonmane boys.
"I just did!" Spencer replied. "It's easy—you just point the wand and cast a spell!"
"But how can it be 'that easy'?" another boy chimed in. "My maw says the magic lessons at the academy are pure hard! It's like... ye need to wrack yer brain, ken!"
"Spencer’ got a point," Alicia countered. "With that wand, everything’s easy. I read that there's a wee gem inside the wand that helps the wizard focus their mana onto the wand, making it easier to channel magic."
Hearing Alicia's explanation, the other children eagerly reached out to grab Spencer's wand. They were the Crimsonmanes, after all—they felt the same hidden talent and a burning sense of pride.
Spencer was kind enough to lend them his wand. One by one, they tried to cast the same spell. The results varied, some had the wind dissipate quickly, some had the wind scattered, some had the wielder blown backwards. Regardless of the results, none of them matched Spencer's skill.
Alicia was one of the curious minds that were eager to try her hand at magic. "Me too! I want to try!" she cried out. Receiving the wand from Spencer, the little girl stroked the stick's soft carvings. The ruby eyes that were almost as big as her giant round spectacles seemed to release a glorious glow as her face gaped.
Her small hand was cold and trembling as she held the wand. So, she held it with both of them and made a slow spinning motion.
"Ventus Palma!"
A few seconds passed, and nothing emerged from the wand. The other children looked at her with a mixture of disappointment and bewilderment.
Little did they know that Alicia's true form was watching from behind, her heart racing with fury. This was the source of her past wounds, memories that never healed. She felt her body running towards her younger self, restraining herself from causing further embarrassment—or creating a reenactment of a memory she was reluctant to watch.
Alicia's hands wrinkled the fabric of her younger self's white shirt. Her wee self was resentful, not because she was being held back by her adult form, but because she thought the wand was not working. Her hand swayed again, ignoring the grip of the older self.
"No! No! Stop that!" Real Alicia protested.
"Ventus Palma!"
Not even a spark or rippling air on the wand. The Wee Crimsonmane lass seemed to be lost in her fantasy world, chanting empty words. Laughter from the other children filled the air. Real Alicia sighed and backed away slowly. Her escaped attempt had proved in vain, for wherever she reached the exit, she always reappeared on the other side.
"Alicia cannae do magic!" Spencer mocked. The other children jeered as well, repeating his words with laughter and grins.
Wee Alicia shook her head. "No! I... I've never practised magic for real, ye ken!"
"But I can dae it in one try!" teased one of the cropped-haired Crimsonmane children.
"Dinnae ye say wands make it easier for people to cast magic? Did you read the wrong book, or are you nae a wizard?" Another Crimsonmane boy pointed a finger at Alicia.
"Be careful, Alicia," Spencer warned her. "Maw once said that House Crimsonmane is a family of pure practitioners. All members of the family must be born mages. If there's one who cannae dae magic..." Spencer walked closer until he was practically sniffing her forehead. "I heard, that person will be 'removed'!"
Wee Alicia gasped and fell down. "No! I can definitely do magic with you! I just need to start practising!"
However, they were happier laughing and chanting, rather than listening to her fear-based determination. The wee lass' eyes glazed over in frustration. Soon, she dissolved into tears.
Real Alicia stopped looking for a way out and quickly hugged her wee one, chastising the others to stay away. But to her dismay, the world suddenly turned its shape, warping and twisting incoherently. The fresh grass turned brown. The light became a striking red, and the Crimsonmane children's eyes turned black as blood dripped from their swollen, twisted faces. Their laughter turned otherworldy cruel and cynical. Alicia could feel her heart pounding and she slowly moved away. However, Wee Alicia's cries bothered her ears too, growing hoarse and shrill. The snapping of bones echoed. The tiny girl's neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and she shrieked in front of Alicia's face, causing her to flinch and recoil in fear.
Only upon blinking her eyes did the garden return to its natural state. The faces of the children were no longer twisted with malice, and the blood had vanished. And there, standing before Alicia, was the old dwarf Whucksmire, embracing Wee Alicia and protecting her from harm.
"Unruly bairns, unkind to your kin," scolded Whucksmire, wagging his finger. "To make your cousin weep is surely a sin!"
"She can't do magic!" retorted one of the youngsters.
"She shall learn the ways of magic and excel, A true Crimsonmane, in spell-casting spell. Enough of these child's play, frivolous and vain!”
"Oh, ye blabber a lot, servant!" Spencer taunted, waving his wand in the air. "Away ye go—"
But before he could finish his sentence, a sudden force struck his abdomen, sending him tumbling over thrice. Whucksmire's black wand was already emitting a trail of smoke. The little lad wailed and fled back into the villa with his arms shielding his humiliated face. The rest of the children gaped though no words were present.
"What was that? He might tell his folks! Yer finished!" threatened one of the children.
"I am Alasdair's loyal retainer, sworn to serve his every whim. Why should I—let alone he—give care to those who threaten and dim? The child learned the value of respect, the hard and bitter way. Would you too like a taste? I'll gladly make you pay."
They would not. Their empathy was profound enough to feel the punch in the stomach through the shadow of reason. They hurried back to the house, and at the same time, Ailsa walked up to her daughter.
"Mama..." Real Alicia was about to reach out to her mother. Unfortunately, Ailsa only cared about her wee daughter.
"Mama!" Wee Alicia exclaimed, throwing herself into her mother's embrace. "I tried to use a magic wand, but I couldnae do magic!"
"Oh, my Wee Mare," Ailsa comforted. "You've never learnt to work your mana before. A wand doesnae automatically make ye a wizard!"
"But what if I cannae cast magic, ever?" Wee Alicia asked, her voice trembling.
Ailsa hissed. "Hen, yer a Crimsonmane. Magic runs in yer veins. Dinnae be feart! Ye'll be a witch as guid as me! Do ye want tae be a witch as guid as me?"
Wee Alicia sniffled, then nodded slowly. Meanwhile, her older daughter watched from the background, sadness etched on her face.
However, a piercing voice denied her mother's encouraging words. "No, you won't. You won't. You will never be a witch..."
Both Alicias turned to the terrace room, where the voice had come from. There stood a deer of normal stature, with human-like stubble on its chin. The veins around its muzzle bulged from holding back the cramp, and drool dripped from its square teeth.
"You are nothing but an outcast," the deer continued. "Everyone will leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere... Your grandfather…, your family…, your mother…. Failed product! Kill yourself before they do!"
"Mama!"
Alicia retreated to the safety of observing the patterns on her mother's dress. She was too afraid to look around.
"What is it?" Her mother's voice was high-pitched, suddenly panicked.
Alicia gestured towards the foyer without looking. When Ailsa followed her direction, she could not believe her eyes.
"Is that... Grandfather?"
Wee Alicia glanced over as well. Real Alicia opened her eyes a fraction after covering them with her palms. They could have sworn it was real! There was a deer with a strange face standing over there! But in reality, there was only the figure of Alasdair. No, It was not "real". Real Alicia knew she was in a dream. Even in the dreaming, her heart unsettled.
"Let’s return, eh?" Ailsa, the mother, proposed, her hand clutching her little girl's. As they passed by Alasdair, he too had caught sight of the commotion. He knelt down to meet his granddaughter's gaze.
"What troubles you, my dear? I witnessed your failed attempt at casting magic."
Wee Alicia's head hung low in shame.
"Practice will help her improve, Father," Ailsa uttered with a weary sigh.
A heavy sigh escaped from Alasdair's mouth as well. Rising to his feet, he turned to his daughter. His calloused hands no longer remembered to lift and stroke his granddaughter. "I understand, but the academy enrollment is swiftly approaching. Shouldn't she possess even a spark of mana at her age?"
Real Alicia cast her eyes downward as well, acknowledging Alasdair's point. She had been trapped in that perception. Everyone had a point. Why could she not perform magic at a young age when she belonged to the most renowned family of magic practitioners?
"I dinnae wish to burden her childhood with magical training just yet," Ailsa retorted. "She'll learn from me when the time comes."
"Daughter, that's not how one should cultivate a child's abilities," Alasdair pressed on.
"I am her mother."
A heavy silence fell between the two adults. Alasdair's expression soured as he walked away without a backward glance. At his side, his trusted servant, Whucksmire, cast a concerned look at Wee Alicia.
"All I want to say is, just because you're a great wizard, doesn't mean your next offspring will be as great." Alasdair raised a hand.
"The point of having children is to make them better than their parents," Ailsa countered again.
The patriarch merely nodded. His shadow stretched out, engulfing everything around him. No one flinched as Alasdair, the patriarch, grew in size, and his teeth transformed into serrated fangs that sliced through the air. His breath altered clouds into steam. Everyone was a mannequin, except for the bookworm herself. To make matters worse, the grandfather's eyes bore down on the only conscious person present.
"I love my granddaughter, but I pray she can meet our expectations as a Crimsonmane," Alasdair's voice boomed, tearing the sky apart. "Something tells me she might be trouble."
Despite his words, Alasdair's hand had already reached for his staff, and mauve energy engulfed the garden, replacing the glare of the sun. For some reason, Alicia's heart urged her to protect the younger version of herself.
"Watch out!"
The world seemed to be unaffected by time, and Alicia instinctively shielded the child with her body. The energy sphere erupted, turning the once beautiful garden into a sea of white ruptures. []