8. UNSEEN AND UNEXPECTED
My first conscious breath of air filled me with a sense of determination. I felt ashamed of how I had acted last night — petulantly whining over problems instead of taking steps to address them. Beth hadn’t expressed any genuine discomfort with the news, so I shouldn’t have spent so much time and energy fussing over it. Her ardent support and attention made me regret how I had interacted with her. I needed to remain vigilant to ensure I wasn’t taking advantage of our relationship, but until she displayed displeasure, I would stop persecuting myself. I kissed the back of her head as I held her gently against me. I could hear her heartbeat rhythmically pulse away. My thoughts hadn’t yet stirred her from sleep today.
I had several issues that I needed to address. The largest was not time-sensitive, but I desired to be out from under Aisling’s dominion eventually. Everything I owned could be attributed to the good graces of the banshee regent, which was unbecoming for one who should be a king in his own right, and the dragon inside me was uncomfortable with how quickly I had accepted her handouts and the leash that came with them. He insisted that a house leader shouldn’t be so beholden to anyone that he could not remunerate his debts. I had time to work on this and had asked Cynthia and Evgenia to investigate ways I could pursue this without disturbing the status quo.
The second problem was definitely time sensitive, but I had little agency for the time being. I needed to discuss my situation and relationship with Zoey in order to understand what she had experienced yesterday and what she wanted to do moving forward. I had no way of contacting her before our meeting tomorrow and scant leverage to coerce her into explaining. I would simply have to be prepared to respond to the situation presented to me then and hope that she was amenable.
Similarly, but lesser in magnitude, I needed to define my relationship with Sam and make a personal connection to Evgenia. I thought Beth had intended for Sam to be a second girlfriend, but I had no idea how she would feel about proceeding before my impending werewolf dilemma was resolved. I got hints that Sam was amenable to that role, but I hadn’t exposed her to the new reality. Evgenia had been the most relaxed after I healed her since I had signed her forms, but I still couldn’t get a read on what she expected. She seemed to freeze when I tried to act as an employer but was professionally distant when I attempted friendship.
My other problems were more general and relied on others being comfortable giving me the information. I needed Antonin to teach me more about actually using magic. His lectures were helpful to my human side, but my other half was desperate for more practicality. I needed Zoey to teach me more about shifting between my forms. I was optimistic that she would still be able to do that. If what Cynthia and Evgenia had said were true, I was surprised that she could deny my questions and stonewall any personal interaction. Her wolf must've been in turmoil, and the human mind overcoming it would've been challenging.
Beth turned in my arms, our intertwined minds rousing her, and she snuggled her head into my shoulders. She spoke drowsily and lazily, “How are you today?” She scrunched up her face, rubbed her eyes on my skin to shake the mental cobwebs loose, and blinked as she adjusted to the morning light.
She spoke again, more soberly, “You feel better. You feel determined and focused.”
“Beth, thank you for being so patient with me last night. I’m regretful of the circumstances I think you are being forced into. I feel as though I’m taking advantage of you.”
She started to speak, but I pressed on, “I’m aware that you feel otherwise. I want you to tell me if there's the slightest problem, and I will do my best not to burden you with my self-inflicted emotional drama.”
She shook her head, “I’ll tell you if I have an actual problem. The slightest problems can be overlooked.”
“What happens if I continuously repeat something that’s only a slight problem?”
She stretched out, her taut and lithe body tantalizingly touching me, and she yawned before answering, “If it happens all the time, it isn’t a slight problem anymore. If it happens once and not again, it’s not a problem at all. We’ll figure it out.”
I understood what she was saying, not to sweat the small things. I continued to the next order of business, “What do we do about Zoey and Sam? I don’t think there’s anything conventional about our situation, and Sam had been interested before. Now Zoey either is forced to accept joining or to feel incomplete until she dies alone.”
She laughed and said, “I’m willing to bet Sam’s mind won’t have changed. She didn’t care about sharing with me. You just need to explain to both of them what the upsides of cooperation are.” She ran her relatively tiny hand teasingly over my half-erect dick.
“You don’t actually want me to just go bite them and subject them to my whims like that, do you?”
Beth frowned and fixed her resolute verdant gaze on me, “Of course not. If you continue being the caring, loving, genuine, perfect guy you are, they will come right to you. Did I mention hot and powerful? Add hot and powerful to the list. They don’t hurt.”
I was uncomfortable listening to her praise, and I felt woefully inadequate. I didn’t view myself the way Beth did. I supposed that wasn’t entirely relevant, as Sam seemed to agree with Beth, and Zoey was fatefully obligated to.
I glanced at the clock and realized that I had slept in, nearly matching the schedule I held in my old life. I exasperatedly exhaled as I realized that I had called last week my “old life.” It was both nonsensically absurd and absolutely true, but I hadn’t left any time for grieving, as it was nearing noon. It was long past time for me to get up and join the living… and the undead, since I could smell Evgenia moving about in the living room.
After a momentary pit stop in the bathroom, I wandered into the living room and began preparing a cup of coffee. Evgenia was sitting at the dining table, perusing an unquantifiably large stack of documents.
Sam was sitting on the couch with several crystals haphazardly arranged on the cushion next to her. She cautiously raised her voice to ask across the room, “You, uh, sleep well? You were doing astronaut impressions yesterday.”
I wasn’t awake yet and spent a moment trying to interpret what she said as the coffee trickled into a mug. I hadn’t figured it out when the water had finished running and wasn’t any closer after I took a sip.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re trying to say.”
Sam shrugged apologetically. “You had your head in space. Distant. Didn’t even play with Beth.”
How on earth could she be confident about that? Did I sleep hard enough for Beth to have gotten up earlier, and they had talked? That didn’t seem likely with how we had woken up. Beth had followed me to the bathroom and impatiently lingered to use it herself — if she had been up earlier, she would’ve taken care of that.
Oh. Sam had probably just heard us the other times. Which meant Cynthia and Evgenia had as well. That was embarrassing. Where was the nearest hole to crawl into?
“Sorry, I had a lot on my mind. It’s been a long week, and it’s only Wednesday.”
Sam smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I sat beside her on the couch, careful not to disturb the minute gems she had arranged.
I continued, “Do you want to come to my lesson with Antonin today?”
Surprise flickered on her face for a moment, “Oh! Sure, that’d be cool. I mean, I don’t really like him, but it was awesome to do that with you.”
“It would be really reassuring if you joined me. Plus, we could see if my conjecture about testing my reactions was correct. If he’s still unpleasant to you, you don’t have to come again.”
She seemed dejected that I had so quickly offered to let her off the hook. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to get rid of her; I also didn’t want to pressure her into coming if she was going to abhor the lessons. I blundered on.
“I just don’t want you to feel forced into doing it. I like spending time with you, and you seemed to enjoy the actual learning session.”
Evgenia snorted from the table and offered, “He just doesn’t want Antonin to throw him out when Beth interrupts him again.”
I bashfully nodded, “You are a lot better suited as a partner for me there.”
Something that I had said there had her heart fluttering, and I smelled veneration from her. Beth came into the room, and the emotion was replaced by Sam’s regret.
Beth plunked herself into my lap and looked at the gems on the cushion. “Whatcha doin’ with those?”
Sam stammered as she tried to find an appropriate answer, “I was just, uh, trying to, you know, just kinda checking how much juice I had. Yeah. Combining them.”
She wasn’t being entirely honest there, but I had no idea why or what had flustered her. I seemed to be having a worse time understanding everyone as my time in this world progressed. It was actually slightly frustrating to have bits and pieces of information I wasn’t typically privy to when I couldn’t proficiently use them to draw conclusions. Knowing that something was wrong without any of the details was as irritating as the first pollen of spring stuck in your nose.
“What’s your mom up to today?”
Sam sighed with noticeable annoyance and said, “There was some emergency mess back home. A group of goblin hooligans started a fire on a Treant’s property while he was slumbering. The old guy demanded half their clan hoard as damages. She’s going to be stuck in negotiations all day. Treants take minutes to say just hello, and goblins have their attention on something else by the third word, so I’m sure it’s really frustrating to mediate for them.”
I rubbed Beth’s perfectly flat stomach as she sat in my lap and explained what she would do while we were attending the lesson, “I was going to spend some time today looking for a gym. You have to work out to help merge your two souls in different ways, so I figured I would find a gym for humans around here to work out too.” Beth paused for a moment and then tentatively asked, “I was going to pick one and then go tomorrow when James does. Sam, would you like to go with me?”
Sam answered noncommittally, “I haven’t really worked out intentionally since PE in school. What did you have in mind?”
“Just trying things out. Look at some of the machines. Talk to a trainer. Maybe use a treadmill for a bit. I don’t know what I’m doing either — I couldn’t ever afford a gym membership even if I had time to use it. I don’t know what to do there either.”
Sam relented, “I guess I’ll go with you. Worst case scenario, I feel gross and don’t go back again.”
Over our bond, I could feel Beth was determined to use this period to connect with Sam. She wanted Sam to grow comfortable with both of us. Sam had magic lessons with me, so Beth wanted a way to have her own interactions. It made sense if you understood that Beth really did want me to pursue another girl, and she wanted everything to be quiet on the homefront. She had already completed her lifetime of chaos — having her own time with Sam would ensure it would stay that way.
The clock indicated that we needed to head to meet with Antonin. Sam never explained what she had used her gemstone sources for, but she quietly stored them in her bedroom before we departed. Beth gave us both intense hugs as we left the apartment.
On our way to the courthouse, Sam seemed apprehensive and indecisive. My inconsequential questions were met with nervous giggling and similarly trifling responses. I thought about warning her of what I intended to talk to Antonin about but then decided against it. I didn’t even know the truth to tell her. With Antonin, I could simply ask the questions. I had no idea how to approach the topic with Sam.
Arriving at the courthouse and making our way to the archives, we found Antonin waiting for us, drinking his own coffee. He was dressed differently today, wearing ostentatious robes that jarred heavily with his otherwise spartan nature. The staff he carried had intricate gold and silver inlays of words in a language I could not read and, frankly, doubted any human living could read. He appeared before us as a pompous court official of times past, not as an elder too tired and venerable to be bothered with meeting expectations.
“That’s quite the getup, Antonin. Did you have your class photographs today, by chance?”
Antonin responded with a sigh and a frown. “No, drakeling. These are of a different age, woven by the greatest clothiers Atlantis had, imbued with the energy of the titans in the name of my family. They were made for a man who was young, proud, brash, and part of a fraternity that considered themselves indestructible. Now, Atlantis is gone, and I am stuck donning a garish monstrosity made for an ancestor long deceased.”
Surprisingly, the elderly elf stood and began striding towards the doors.
“Come along, drakeling. I did not wear them frivolously. You will learn something today that would not be best learned in a library.”
Sam had been standing so that I would shield her from Antonin, veiling her presence with my body. When I turned to follow Antonin, she grabbed my hand to hold but continued using me as a screen.
“Antonin, I have some questions for you that I do not wish to forget. Could I ask them now while we are walking?”
“Very well, drakeling. Perhaps I will have something to answer with.”
“Why does the magical world feel the need to withdraw from human society and hide?”
Antonin sighed, “Never an easy question with you, drakeling. I suppose it is to be expected.”
The ancient scholar pursed his lips, and the hallway we traversed was filled only with the echoing sounds of our footsteps and the tapping of his staff. After a minute, he began to answer.
“It is a recent development. In times long past, when the gods supposedly still interacted with mortals, those with gifts walked freely and shared their capabilities with their communities. Over time the gods, individually and quietly, departed the lands, leaving an empty space at the top of every civilization. Those with powers sought to fill them because they felt entitled to them.
“As the world grew, and individual civilizations shed their self-sufficiency and isolation, petty squabbles between mages escalated as well. Disputes pertaining to a dozen sheep now involved scores of men at arms dueling at the request of the wizards. The world diminished in size as the powers cultivated and intertwined it. Even when the powers abstained, the men began fighting each other over the powers unprompted.
“In recent times, several virulently ambitious men sought dominion over larger and larger swathes of land and more tremendous hoards of riches. Some simply wished their names written in the stars, some pursued immortality, and some chased hedonistic debauchery. Their influence grew and came close to toppling the societies men tried to build on their own. The wars of the coalitions are the efforts of the magical community preventing one such ambitious man from installing himself as a new god. Not any of the ones you’re thinking of.
“Today, man is as powerful as the magical beings they once revered. Your match exists out there, Drakeling, in the dozens of jets each military uses. The stockpile of nuclear weapons in the major powers is comparable to the mana reserve in each Seat’s territory. Men have twisted metal and energy to match the capabilities of magic.
“You ask why we hide, drakeling? Because we are no longer the undisputed claimants to the throne. Because our influence over the men has waned, and the few beings ambitious enough to invest in the influence have caused great suffering for everyone. When the men dropped their atomic weapons on each other, all of the Seats decreed our complete separation from mundane society. No more would we tolerate aspiring upstarts twisting governments for their own goals when the results would be disastrously catastrophic. A rageful dragon in years past could destroy a castle and hamstring a city for a generation; A rageful man could now destroy the entire world indefinitely without leaving his bedroom.
“The simple answer is that the Seats collectively decreed it, and disregarding your Seat is to incite death. The complex answer is that it was perilous for all inhabitants if the worlds remained intertwined. Now, the mythical denizens deal with themselves, and the mundanes know naught. We nudge them to and fro when needed, but never is it done by a single individual. Rarely is it done with only the oversight of a single Seat, such as the world is intertwined now.”
Antonin had said much that was over my head. World geopolitics were too intricate for me to begin with; adding magical intervention by a secret society of watchers on top was overwhelming. I simply nodded in response. It wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted to hear, but it was clear from the rancor in Antonin’s delivery that there were substantial memories in his remarkable mind.
“I recognize that it is above my station.”
The elder laughed. “Boy, the world is your station. Your unassuming nature is all that has kept you from being disposed of. If you had a tenth the desires of the troublemakers of the past, you would either be king of the world or already deceased, depending on your guile.”
It was distressing to hear so casually talk of my own demise. Perhaps he was simply reinforcing my distaste for power by suggesting death was the alternative. The dragon soul disagreed with both my thoughts and Antonin’s statements: Monarchy would be a stupid goal, far too restrictive for our talents. A crown was nothing more than a gilded noose with which others would hang you if you disappointed them. Far better to endeavor as an individual, beholden to no one and responsible for only our own brood. He snarkily dismissed a public leadership role, insisting that the president and all of the other suits in Washington only had the powers that the businessmen who financed them allowed. We should aspire to be like those men.
I ignored his cynical offerings and continued talking to Antonin.
“I have something more personal to ask you if that’s alright.”
“I will entertain you, for now, drakeling, but perhaps you will owe me another coffee before the day is out.”
I swallowed hard and then gracelessly and carelessly explained my interactions with Zoey and her strange behaviors at the gym. I told him how heartbroken she had been, how confused I was when she refused to interact with me, and how Evgenia reacted. I continued explaining, ignoring Sam next to me. I hadn’t prepared her at all for this. She grew despondent as I extrapolated what Cynthia and Evgenia had hypothesized.
I asked Antonin how I should proceed. Sam’s emotions fell to the depths when he answered, “Drakeling, I agree with the consensus that you are her mate. If you want her, she will come to you. I would assume she was displeased with discovering your nature or that she perceived some other obstacle with engaging with you.”
“What do you mean, displeased with my nature?”
“Drakeling, today you are benign. Naive, honest, genuine. Dragons are rarely such things for long, especially after centuries of hatred and distrust from everyone you encounter. She may simply have projected the stories of abusive, destructive, ruthless tyrants onto you and detested the concept of being mated with one. You are, after all, a member of a race that can forcefully compel others when you have grown into your powers. And since there have been no known births in a long time, with the only couple under significant scrutiny far from here, what should she assume? You are a devious predator who posed as a friend before she could know your true nature. You can compel her into anything she wishes if she follows the logical train of thought. There is no relationship with her mate, only the pain of rejection or mindless servitude in acceptance.
“Perhaps I am wrong, and there was something else in her mind. The animals are troublesome to predict at the best of times.”
I was so displeased with his response that Zoey likely hated my guts for something that I wasn’t that I completely missed just how dark Sam’s emotions had grown. Lost in my own thoughts, I failed to notice how alone and abandoned she felt. I was considering asking why Zoey hadn’t been compelled to me when we were younger, but I had such angst from his previous answer that I didn’t bother.
Antonin led us down several hallways and through what appeared like a storage room beyond full with perilously stacked surplus desks and chairs. Meandering through the inside of the building, he eventually opened the door to a stone stairwell. Not cement or concrete. Stone.
As we began descending, the air in the stairwell became oppressive. I was struck by the feeling that I was intruding on a place that had long since been left undisturbed and that I would soon find retribution for my unwelcome presence. Sam shivered, though the temperature remained warm, and her clammy fingers dug desperately into my hands.
We plunged into the earth beneath the courthouse, monotonously dredging through the burdensome atmosphere. Antonin spoke up, informing us, “Do your utmost to persevere. The stone is imbued with lattices that absorb magical energy to protect the foundation and mask our actions here.”
It didn’t make me feel any more capable. I felt the strength sapped from my bones, my legs sluggishly dragging on the stairs with each step I made. Sam was no better, and much of her weight was supported by my body as she now leaned against me. I was reminded of walking a drunk friend home after a night out, fighting their uncontrolled gyrations to keep both of us standing.
An eternity passed before the stairs leveled off, and we trailed a rough-hewn pathway in natural stone. It was either well-utilized or ancient, as the floor was weathered and warped by countless footfalls over the ages. The taxing pressure lifted as we moved away from the stairwell. Sam coughed hard and stumbled, gripping my arm with both hands to remain upright. She offered a slight smile of gratitude once she had regained her footing.
Antonin entered a cavernous chamber, paced the length of an Olympic pool to reach the center, and raised his staff. He tapped the ground three times, and a line of illumination spread, encircling the alcove a yard below the wall sloped into the ceiling. With a satisfied look on his face, he beckoned Sam and me further into the room. As I moved to the center, the relentless force diminished entirely from my perceptions.
“Today, drakeling, you will learn to use some of your boundless potential.” As Antonin addressed us, he gestured with his free hand, and a baseball-sized pit of flame erupted into existence. He paused briefly, allowing me to observe the phenomenon before a localized rain cloud appeared above it. The fireball shrunk and disappeared as the rain fell onto his hand. When the fire was completely extinguished, the cloud barraged us with noise, and several streaks of lightning jumped between his hand and the misty conjuration. Antonin waved his hand through the cloud, and it dissipated into the air, concluding his presentation.
“Today, you will learn the basics of evocation. I have brought you to the bowels of the earth to prevent calamities of your learning struggles from spreading beyond our control. The stonework here is inlaid with stabilizing absorption enchantments, and excess energy impacting them will be consumed and repurposed, allowing you to practice elemental fervors. The usage of such destructive magics is held in contempt by many and pursued by few in modern times but will be an area where you excel. First, you must learn the basic symbols for certain elements, and then you will imbue them internally with intent and force them to your will by your mind alone.”
Antonin continued lecturing, and he traced several pictographs with his staff into the stone that remained glowing in the gloomy stone chasm. He instructed Sam and me on the phrases for fire, lightning, water, ice, force, and earth. With each word, he provided a prompt and then several iterations of guiding refinement until I could produce the effect he wanted.
An hour passed under his tutelage, and I had a loaf-of-bread-sized cloud producing a wet, snowy mixture falling to the ground through a hula hoop of fire. I felt accomplished in my understanding of the basics, but I felt guilty at how easy it came for me. Sam only managed to produce several candlewick-sized flames and sparks of electricity that bounced between her fingers over the hour. After each attempt, she needed several minutes of rest, open-mouthed panting from the exertion, before being able to try again.
Satisfied with my progression, Antonin moved away from the grotto's center and summoned a glowing floating orb. He instructed me to launch a burst of fire to tag the globe. I must have internally misconstrued the request because instead of a minor fireball leaping from my hand to strike the target, I released a flaming lasso that connected my fingertip to the sphere. Changing my internal instructions, I sent a flaming arrow from my fingertips that struck true and engulfed the objective, signaling my success. Several attempts later with each of the words he had taught us, and I was hitting multiple targets from across the entire length of the amphitheater with different elements based on what instructions Antonin shouted.
I was saddened by Sam's lack of inclusion, and when Antonin graciously allowed me a break, I asked her why she hadn’t been participating.
“J, I can barely get my fingernail to light up with the fire I can produce. How could I possibly get it to one of those targets?” She spoke assertively, but I could smell her confidence was only skin deep. Again, she was embarrassed by her lack of magical aptitude, presumably thinking she was letting me down since she couldn’t assist.
I found Sam's essence near my mind, and I nudged her with the gentlest care and the intention to brush her with the force of an eyelash. She gasped and jumped in front of me.
“I’ve been open to you the entire time. Help me, please?”
She admonished me, trying to remain in control of the situation, but I could tell that the experience of being tapped magically had her terrified yet enamored. “James! That was dangerous. You could’ve killed me.”
“I promised I’d never hurt you.”
Even in the dimly lit room, I could see color forming in her face. “Just let me take it from you for the foreseeable future. No more pushing.”
I nodded, accepting her wishes. I felt her reach out to me through the ether, a peasant beseeching their lord for aid. When I opened the gate to my castle to allow her entry, she whimpered and bit her lip. A deep breath later, she had taken a grain of sand from my beach.
I watched intently as I felt Sam begin trying to mimic the instructions Antonin had given me. She started with fire, and a pencil-thick stream of fire flowed from her finger for several yards. Sam was initially elated and overjoyed, but then rapidly panicked. She waved her hand back and forth before shaking it violently, dragging the torrent of heat along the stone floor in her alarm.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I withdrew my connection to her, closing my mental gate and severing the energy flow, and the fire sputtered and died. Fear was plainly written on Sam’s face before she hid it from my view by burying it against my chest in a desperate hug.
“It didn’t turn off. I just wanted it for a second, but it just kept going.”
Oh. I thought I understood what had happened. Sam had never before had enough energy reserves to sustain something as wasteful as practice evocation. When she used her crystals, it was in some kind of predetermined ritual, efficient and routine. When Sam had tried evocation in the past, she had gotten a flame to flicker for a few seconds and no more. She had never mentally learned to stem the discharge of energy into the continuous spell because she had inevitably emptied herself in a mere moment. She never needed to send a stop command as she was discharging herself entirely with every attempt. Given a functionally unlimited well to draw from, she had grown hysterical when it didn’t simply end like she had trained herself to expect. What a mess.
I held her for a few moments, allowing the fear to recede, before asking, “Can you try again? The same thing is going to happen, but we know it now. I’ll talk you through ending it.”
She didn’t answer for several moments before slowly pulling her head away from me. She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and ignored my question. “You must think I’m such a worthless little girl.”
I kept her firmly in my arms while I answered, “I think you freaked out when something you didn’t expect happened, and it seemed like it was out of your control. I think you’re my friend, and I wouldn’t encourage you to try again if I thought you were a worthless little girl. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Can you try again, and I’ll guide you through shutting off the fire after you’ve started it?”
Some part of my spontaneous encouragement had backfired. She hadn’t received my comments as motivation and had somehow convinced herself that there was a rejection in my words. Still, she was no longer quivering with tempestuous adrenaline and was now determined and ready to give fire another attempt. She settled herself mentally, stepped away from me, and I felt the cautious request for energy. Lifting the gate once more, Sam reached in and retrieved a jar full of air from the sky of my courtyard.
She continued as she had before, mentally constructing a gout of flame that sprung forth from her finger. It sputtered and erratically jumped, scorching the stones again before she dominated and forced it to settle into a thin line in the air. Now in control, she turned her head to me and awaited instructions.
I repeated the instructions Antonin had given me earlier, thinking of my magical energy like a tap over a sink: turning the handle to close the valve would cut the flow off, and the spell would wither and end.
Sam focused for several moments before gasping and shouting that the flow was too strong in her mind, and it was overpowering her attempts to turn the handle with only her mind.
I could’ve simply cut the power on my end, but I wanted her to have some agency in our training relationship. I wanted her to feel in control and able to end the magic flow on her own. I thought for a moment as a few specks of agitation began seeping out of her emotions.
I devised another analogy that I hoped would make it easier for her. I think I grasped what the problem might have been. She was used to her own diminutive power bandwidth and was turning her mental tap for something that size. The flow through our cooperation was overpowering the faucet, and the pressure was forcing it open. I needed a way to convince her that she was capable of closing it. Given that Antonin was simply observing us and hadn’t yet stepped in to assist, I assumed that she would be able to if given the correct guidance.
“Sam, instead of trying to turn the tap off, let’s forget the flowing water in a pipe concept. The energy I have stored, it’s too much to move through a simple pipe. It’s an entire lake, not a household water heater’s amount. It’s enough for an entire city. Try imagining a dam.”
Sam shivered at the thought, and I hastily continued, “Don’t try to hold it all back like the dam's walls. You’re not the dam here; I am the dam. I’m holding the enormous accumulation of water back. You’re one of the dam operators. A small amount of water is flowing through the spillway right now, enough to generate the electricity you’re using to control the spell. It’s a very safe and predictable amount. But you don’t need it anymore. I need you to think about closing the gate for the spillway. It isn’t hard for you; All you need to do is press the button on the control panel. The gate will close slowly and cut off the water, leaving me to hold it all back.”
Sam bit her lip, and then I felt her try to follow the analogy. I felt the connection slowly begin to close from her side, and the line of fire from her fingertip gradually faded in intensity and shrunk in length. The process took nearly a minute, but she procedurally closed the current. The flames faltered and then died completely.
Sam paused and stared at her hand, and when she was convinced the spell was indeed concluded, she cackled in glee and leaped up to hug me. She wrapped her legs around my waist and gibbered in incoherent joy as I held her body against mine. I was reminded of my experience with Zoey, which flavored my reaction. Instead of giving in wholly to the moment, I held myself firm where I was. I allowed Sam to express herself but didn’t encourage or reciprocate.
“James, that was great! Can we try it again, with other stuff?”
I accepted her request, happy to finally involve Sam in our lesson. Antonin backtracked several steps and had me repeating things I had already done, but I didn’t care. I was including Sam now, and she was blissfully happy to be conjuring elemental arrows and lances to strike targets. She was summoning little rain clouds that she instructed to smile or frown based on whether or not she impacted the targets. It was a glorious cooperative experience, and I could feel just how enjoyable Sam found it. She was deliriously overjoyed at such frivolous energy usage, exceeding all of her wildest dreams with the power she mastered today.
At a natural breakpoint near the end of the second hour, Antonin tapped his staff again. Hundreds of little targets appeared; they were now moving, some lazily and gracefully with others erratically and volatilely. I noticed that, for the first time, he had colored them.
“I would like to see you, drakeling, hit all of the targets in the next ten minutes. They will only count if you connect with the associated element: red for fire, white for ice, blue for water, brown for earth, yellow for electricity, black for force.” He pointed at the ground, and I saw a circle drawn at the center of the room. “You will remain inside that area. Since she will be utilizing your reserves, Samantha may assist you. This will be our final practical exercise for the day, so do not feel the need to contain yourself.”
I looked at Sam and felt her bravely nod. I was surprised when she collected two petals from the flowers of my castle garden, an amount much more voluminous than she had retrieved before. It would still have been imperceptible if I hadn’t been watching for it. With her hand in mine, we walked to the center of the designated area. I asked her to target the red ones first, while I would start with the blue.
When we reached the area, a shimmering eight-segment display lit up on the far wall, clearly labeled ‘10:00’.
Antonin spoke, “Are you ready to begin, drakeling?” I nodded in response, and he bellowed out, “Commence!” The timer on the wall ticked to 09:59, and Sam launched a flaming arrow. It missed its target, impacting the ceiling in a flash of light. She offered no hesitation and immediately shot three more. I stopped gawking at my flame-haired sorceress companion and began spraying the blue orbs with precise water jets. A minute and thirty seconds passed, and I had concluded with the water targets. It turned out that they were the slowest and gentlest overall. Sam was halfway through the red spheres, determination clear on her face. She wasn’t going to let me down.
I informed her that I was taking the force ones next. She had struggled with that type of energy output, but imagining my massive claws impacting a soft target was effortless to my dragon-infused mind. I mentally battered the soaring globes with a continuous rain of strikes, and they lost their luster and joined the many faded blues and dull reds in a neat pile on the ground. They moved more rapidly and unpredictably than any of the others, but I reasoned that they were actually the second easiest. My force implementation created pockets of pressure that originated precisely where I wanted it to. In contrast, the fire, water, ice, and electricity were akin to throwing stones or shooting a gun. It was easier to aim with force, and it had some inherent area coverage the other types lacked. Slapping something with a metaphorical hand was much easier than spraying it with a hose from ten yards away.
Sam had just about concluded with the fire when I finished with force. I told her to try ice, and I would take earth. I initially conjured up dirt arrows and tried to target individual orbs as they gracefully arced around the room. An unproductive minute passed where I only struck a handful of the balls, and I decided that I needed to switch tactics. Rather than conjuring up arrows to precisely strike at the targets, which I was proving I wasn’t competent at, I created an earthen shotgun. Launching hundreds of miniature earthen marbles in my best buckshot imitation, I rapidly improved my rate of target elimination.
Sam took another two petals from my garden and imitated my change in approach with ice. Rather than spears of projected ice shards, she began using a continuous stream of hail pellets and dragged it over her target and onto the next without relenting. We concluded with earth and ice, and the timer showed four minutes remaining. The little yellow orbs were the second most whimsical of the original bunch, their rapid changes in direction bordering on violent.
I turned to Sam as she began charging her first electrical current and said, “Let me try something.” She contained the little differential she had gathered and watched me.
I reached into the ether and identified every one of the orbs flying around the hall for the next 30 seconds. My mind found the task complex as I sectioned away a small portion for each orb, a compartment for every target I had identified. I took a deep breath and pulled energy from my reserves while raising my hands. I let the electricity build, and I saw Sam’s hair start to rise as the current manipulated it. I checked and then double-checked that although our connection used a similar style of mental compartment as the targets, she wasn’t being identified as an objective.
When I was confident she would remain safe, I released the cataclysm of destruction I had built. White hot arcs of electricity leaped from my fingertips, striking out dozens of targets simultaneously. From those orbs, the electricity continued, creating a web of connections that filled the entire room with painfully bright lines darting and enveloping every sphere. The sounds of the arcs bouncing from my hands to all the targets were deafening.
The minute of preparation created action that lasted only a few moments, but all of the lightning orbs had been tagged by their respective element. I pruned the energy growth into the spell, and the flickering bolts fell out of reality. All the targets had been touched now, and the timer still read 02:21. We succeeded. I turned to Sam and gathered her up in another embrace. Whereas before, I had withdrawn out of cautious discomfort, now I was blithely seizing her in celebration. She only offered an airy, “Wow.”
My jubilation was cut short when a man whose voice I didn’t recognize came running into the room, screaming, “Stop! Stop! Stop! Whatever you’re doing, stop! The energy network is overloaded!”
I continued holding Sam against my body, her pillowy thighs wrapping around my waist, and looked to where Antonin was. I saw he was moving to intervene with the newcomer but had observed our trial with another man. The second observer was a massive behemoth of a man, and I instinctively recognized that he wasn’t a human. He smelled off, even from across the entire chamber, and his dark skin appeared rugged while his black hair was thick, dense, and coarse. He waited silently for Antonin to deal with the interruption, evaluating Sam and me with his experienced gaze.
The loud newcomer was a thin, wiry man who wore glasses that somewhat masked his beady eyes. He vigorously berated Antonin, exasperatedly complaining about how dangerous the experiment we had been conducting was. He complained that he hadn’t been informed of any theoretical tests in his lab and that he would be filing an official protest against the misuse of research facilities. Antonin waited enduringly while the man ranted before calmly responding that we were finished for the day.
The man haughtily concluded his interruption by saying that Antonin had better be settled, or he would see him banned from the facilities. In the dim light, I still caught the faintest hint of a smirk on the ancient elf before he hid his emotional reaction. Antonin hospitably handled the interaction, and the wiry man left the room. When he departed, the mammoth man who had been observing joined Antonin in reconvening with us at the center of the room. I set Sam down so we could have some pretense of decorum during the conversation.
Antonin spoke first, “That was an incredible display, drakeling. Unfortunately, the protections here are unsuited for your excesses, but you more than adequately accomplished what I wished. This is Emmanuel Mengue. He is the Chief Security Officer for the Eastern American Seat and oversees the prevention and responses to threats here in Philadelphia. I wanted him to meet with you and see you in action so that he could understand that you weren’t a danger requiring his assessment.”
The massive ebony-skinned man stuck a hand out, and I politely shook it. It was substantial but somehow not the overwhelmingly aggressive interaction I had predicted. He spoke with a joyous youthfulness that I also hadn’t expected. “It was impressive to observe your control of the elements. Your first time evoking today, Antonin says. Unbelievable times, truly.” I struggled to place his accent. It sounded like a conglomerate of continental European-tinged English – perhaps the bastard child of a French and German speaker learning English as an adult.
“Yeah, I had never done anything like that before. It was wild. I have a great teacher.”
Emmanuel laughed, a deep, bassy laugh that filled the entire room. “You are the unbelievable one, James. A normal first-day evoking is lighting candles and then puffing them out. Your first day, my friend, is the equal of many of the masters here. Antonin was unsure if I would see your training session and understand it as an invasion. He needed me to use my own eyes. It is good that you are here, James.”
He slapped Antonin on the shoulder, “Ahh, but now that the fireworks show is over, I must get back to my duties, my friends. You know how it is.” I didn’t, actually. My only job right now was to listen to Antonin.
Antonin responded, “We’ll follow you back up to the courthouse. Our lesson for today is concluded. My expectations were exceeded.” The senior elf seemed proud.
The overwhelmingly oppressive atmosphere returned as we entered the passage to the stairwell. Sam stumbled on the very first stair, and I felt obligated to assist her. I took her arm, and she gave me an apologetic smile as she held onto my shirt to stay on her feet. I was affected by the environment, but I felt stronger than I had several hours ago. Rather than allow Sam to toil, I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. She wasn’t the microscopic waif Beth had been, but she was still a woman of smaller stature. It was little challenge for my newly unveiled body to ferry her. She gasped in surprise when I gathered her, realizing my intentions.
“James. James. James. Put me down. I’m far too heavy to carry.”
“Sam, I got much stronger when I shifted the first time. You weigh almost nothing, and I don’t want you tripping and falling on the stairs. I said I wouldn’t see you hurt.”
“James, please. I can walk. I’m too heavy to carry. Put me down.”
I didn’t. We continued up another dozen stairs before she pestered me again.
“James, I’m too fat to be carried; Just let me down.”
I stopped on the step I was on and shook my head in disbelief, trying to comprehend what she had said. I heard the words, but there was no way she meant them. Had she ever looked at herself?
“I guess we have to buy a mirror on our way home. Sam, you’re beautiful. You capture the eyes of people everywhere we've been because of how attractive you are. No, I can't count your ribs when you hug me, but that's a good thing.”
She responded diplomatically, “I appreciate the kind words, but I know I’m heavy, James. You don’t need to lie to me. I know that I put on a bunch of weight after high school ended.”
This was not really the place to have this discussion, but evidently, Sam needed to hear it. The two older men had continued up the stairs, and there was enough distance between us now that I felt comfortable continuing. I wanted to simply shout at her that, yes, she had a few extra pounds on her, but they were all in her desirable derriere and her bountiful bust. That insensitive handling of this matter wouldn’t help her insecurities, even if it was painfully evident to me.
“Samantha O’Brien, you are a beautiful pinnacle of femininity. I will not hear you disparage yourself in this manner. I will not tolerate a gorgeous girl tearing herself down. Other women are envious of you, and men are jealous that I get to spend time with you.”
She tucked her face into my chest and groaned, “Stoooooooooooooooop. I’m not. I’m so not.”
I whispered into her ear, my mouth perilously close to her skin, “Sam, do you know why Beth leaped into my bed on the first night here? She was terrified I would abandon her here in the new city, which is horrifically awful and lets you infer some terrible things about her past if it made her feel that was necessary. Do you know what she said, though? She thought I would choose the voluptuous woman she saw in the other room. The beautifully feminine friend from the past, returned now to lead me into another world where we could be together. She was intimidated by how attractive you are and felt that if she didn’t try to move on me then she would miss her chance when you took your rightful place. You’re so beautiful that Beth thought she needed to throw herself at me as soon as she met you, or else I would just be another guy who abandoned her when I inevitably picked you.”
Sam listened quietly as goosebumps formed along her neck and then grumbled, the words obscured by her face pressed against my chest.
“I can’t hear you when you do that, Sam.”
She didn’t lift her face to repeat what she had said, but she also didn’t continue to fight me. I carried her up the entire stairwell, and despite my boastful assertion that she weighed nothing, my arms and back were fatigued when I reached the precipice of the stairs, primarily due to the lack of practice I had for carrying people. I gently set her down, and she demurely blushed when I looked at her afterward.
We quietly returned home as the sky turned orange with the sun setting in the distance, blocked out by the buildings. Sam gently held my hand, her emotions as erratic as the targets we had hit earlier, as we walked in contemplative silence.
After entering the apartment, Sam thanked me for the day out, then walked directly to her room, softly closing the door behind her. I had bothered her somehow, as I was wont to do recently. Beth was cooking in the kitchen, and Evgenia was in the same position she had been when we left, only with a slightly smaller stack of remaining papers flanking her.
I walked up to Beth and hugged her from behind, kissing her temple. She sighed in appreciation.
“What’re you making?”
“Pan-fried cheeseburgers. Something simplish since Cynthia was busy all day and only had a few minutes to offer advice.”
“They smell great. Are you sure you’re alright with cooking like this? I really appreciate it; I just don’t want you to feel like you’re forced into a domesticated position.”
Beth pressed herself back into me, “James, I love the idea of being a homemaker. I hated working, always on the edge of failing, and living in someone else's shitty apartment without being comfortable enough to touch anything. Here, I can breathe, and think, and do what I want with people I like. You didn’t force me into anything; You showed me an opportunity, and I jumped into it. Thank you for letting me be this with you.”
I cringed, “Beth, I haven’t done anything. I don’t even know what they want me to do. There’s nothing to thank me for.”
She shrugged and said, “Without you bringing me along, I’d be stuck working two awful part-time jobs and sleeping on Paul’s couch, hoping every day he didn't do something foolish to end up in jail. You’d be here, the leader of dragons in America, with Sam and Zoey sleeping next to you every night, unaware of my existence.”
I thought for a response, holding her hips against me while she flipped one of the burger patties. “Beth, before I met you, I was just a guy. Some part of interacting with you allowed me to access the dragon. Without you, I’d be a senior engineering student. With you, I can become the dragon.”
She turned in my arms to face me, kissed me, and said, “Sometimes you say the sweetest things. Now, lizard boy, take the plates and the napkins over to the table and go wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready.”
I did as she asked, setting the table and then cleaning myself up, and knocked on Sam’s door on the way back to the kitchen. She followed me to the table, and we found Cynthia there waiting for us. She was visibly drained as she gave a tenuous smile.
Dinner was enjoyable. Sam spent the majority of it gushing over how our training session had gone and just how insane it was to be able to use magic so flippantly. She had always treasured her tiny amount, the minuscule magnitude making her hoard it and carefully manage any expenditure. She left out the section where I carried her back to the surface, too caught in her joyous moments of success.
If dinner had concluded there, it would’ve been a jovial evening. Unfortunately, I had grown uneasy as I ate. I felt guilty and selfish about what I was eating. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but some of Antonin’s words sunk in while I was chewing the ground beef. I was immortal. I could not get sick, and contained an unquantifiable multitude of restorative energy. The logical conclusion sickened me.
Beth could feel my unease, and she asked the obvious question, nervous about her first time cooking for others single-handedly, “James, are you alright? Is something wrong with the food?”
I thoughtlessly responded, “I don’t think I can eat this.”
I then realized what I had said and how it would be received. Beth looked heartbroken, irreparably devastated by my rejection of her cooking. Cynthia firmly gazed at me with disdain, informing me that there would be additional consequences for my boorish statement.
“Jesus, Beth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. The food’s amazing. Just, hear me out, alright?”
Now everyone was looking at me in confusion. I couldn’t eat the food, but it was amazing. Had casting all those spells earlier messed with my mind? I was sure those thoughts were surrounding me at the table.
“Look, I’m immortal now, right? And, my dragon soul consumes magical energy, wisps of the ether, and heals my human body automatically. Automagically? Do I even need to eat? Like, physiologically, do I require nutrition like that anymore? Can I be hurt by malnutrition? I’m sorry for how dense that answer was to you, but I just had this thought while I was chewing. I’m immortal. How much meat would I consume throughout my immortal life if I continued? How many things would be born simply so that they could be killed for me personally to eat? And I don’t even get a benefit from their sacrifice. It just made me feel unclean. I need to talk to Antonin again, but a couple days won’t hurt. I don’t… I don’t want to eat meat for a while.”
The looks I received ranged from Beth’s disappointment at how many dishes I had just restricted her from making to Cynthia’s surprise at the depth of my explanation and Sam’s thoughtful consideration.
Evgenia nodded and said, “It’s not an abnormal position for immortals to take. The ones I’ve met tend to continue their own habits normally for a time before cutting out meat entirely or gruesomely enjoying the suffering and death as they take the life out of the things they eat personally. I’m glad you feel this way.”
Her description of others like me taking such a hands-on approach to calorie collection had my stomach flip-flopping inside me. I stood up and muttered, “Sorry, I… Sorry.”
I hurriedly made my way to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I didn’t feel much better, so I took a shower.
When I returned to the kitchen half an hour later, the ambiance was thoroughly changed.
“I’m sorry. I don’t really care if you guys continue, with whatever you’re going to do. I don’t want to enforce my beliefs on you.”
Beth quietly said, “We decided to join you for now. Evgenia said she didn’t actually require food at all and was pleasantly surprised that you kept inviting her to eat. Sam heard your description and found it resonated with her. Cynthia pointed out that she didn’t want to cook two meals if she was the only one who would want it.”
“And how does Beth feel?” I asked when she didn’t continue.
“It made sense to me. And I’m probably like you, right?”
“Like me?”
“I won’t get sick from not eating, no matter how bad my diet is, as long as I suck face with you occasionally, as unpleasant as that will be,” She said, smirking at her faux laments.
I exhaled at her expression, “I suppose that’s correct, but let’s not eliminate eating entirely until we’ve confirmed it with Antonin. And, we might as well eat whatever we’ve already purchased. It’s not like we could return it. Donate to a food bank? I dunno. I’m just saying not to buy any more for me, starting now. You and Cynthia have done the cooking; I’ll leave it to you two to decide.”
She nodded and pleasantly tugged me to the couch. I found it curious when, after adjusting a cushion and having me sit in the corner, she then found Sam and put her in my lap before snuggling up to my side. Cynthia raised an eyebrow in my direction, to which I shrugged in surrender.
I spent the remainder of the evening tenderly rubbing Sam’s back while the two girls discussed how they intended to exercise in the morning. Beth had located a gym and gotten two temporary passes. The girls considered buying new shoes before they went, before relenting and resolving to evaluate the gym first.
I was content to be a spectator in their deliberation. Sam repeated her fanciful tale of our exploits when they ran out of plans for tomorrow. Beth listened intently to the fable of her betrothed dragon performing wonders. I allowed the conversation to flow over me, simply nodding when prompted, caressing Sam’s back and holding Beth’s hand.
Nightfall came, and Beth and I quietly retired. The bed felt revitalizing, and I hoped I would wake refreshed and invigorated. Beth curled up into my arms, and I held her close as we drifted off to sleep.
----------------------------------------
I found myself drifting through the darkness. The nothingness was so complete that I could not tell if I was moving. There was simply nothing to which I could get a frame of reference. The lack of light was absolute.
I could perceive that something else was out there and that it was powerful. That’s the understatement of the decade – my dragon thought that fleeing was not just something to consider but something we needed to have already done. The disparity in energy levels between us was hilariously imbalanced. I thought for a moment that it was what Sam would’ve felt interacting with me. The dragon shot back that an ant was a better comparison.
I recognized, perhaps after a few seconds, perhaps after a few hours, that I was viewing my body in the third person. I intuitively understood that I wasn’t in the reality I knew. Perhaps this was a dream, or perhaps this was a magical thing I hadn’t been informed about. At the moment, it was impossible to tell.
The presence that was with me moved, or maybe I did. With only the two of us, it was difficult to ascertain who acted and who reacted. The void consumed all of the information.
I felt it reach out and connect with me. My body shuddered and vibrated in my vision, and it screamed out. I could feel the intent of the presence was not to harm me, but it had anyway.
It withdrew, and my body changed. I grew a tail and wings, blood-colored in the lightless abyss we drowned in. The presence reached out and touched me again.
This time the pain was evident but not incapacitating. My body winced but remained functional. The presence said something, but I couldn’t hear it. It was like we were underwater. My senses weren’t working as I expected them to.
It pushed slightly, and I felt its emotions. It was sad. It was obligated to attempt something that it didn’t believe would succeed, but not doing something would guarantee failure. It reminded me of my grandfather, in the last days before he passed, aware that it was dying and accepting of the reality before it. It would cease to exist, but it was duty-bound to attempt its final assignment.
It brought a second person into my field of view. The presence touched my body. I felt the other person, obscured in the depths of the void. The other person became clear, but they weren’t a person. They were a pair of intertwined bronzed rings. They were tarnished and bent and cracked. When the reflection of me touched them, they straightened out, and appeared polished and pleasant, yet remained unpretentious. The presence withdrew from the scene, and my mirage held the rings close.
The scene shifted. I saw the stars. The presence motioned to the stars for me to count them. There were too many to count. The presence changed states of being, shifting to something foreign, different both from myself and its original shape. It took some of the stars and consumed them. They dimmed and faded from my perception.
The presence selected one star in particular. It showed a man there with his golden brown rings, a fiery scarlet compass, and an ashen white sword hovering near him. Several other things remained just beyond the man's reach, hazy and hidden from my view. The presence picked the star, and it faded quickly. The dragon and the objects were destroyed.
The presence reversed time, and now the man and the objects were back. The man now had red wings and a tail. The presence again gestured at the star, and it withered, flickering and struggling, before fading. Similarly, the character was lost from view.
For a second time, the presence reversed time. The man and colored objects returned to their original positions. The objects that had been hazy before appeared slightly more precisely, but they flickered through many possibilities like a wheel on a digital slot machine. With the original three, there were four flickering, everchanging objects, a multitude of colors and shapes changing a thousand times a second. Or once an hour. I couldn’t tell.
The presence gestured, but not at the star. It gestured at itself and returned to the previous form that had shown my body. It reached out and touched the man in the picture, and the man turned into a full dragon. But he was no longer just the man, as he had a third part. The familiar presence faded and became the violent, hungering presence. It gestured at the star.
Reality fragmented, and a billion versions of the star, man, and objects appeared. Their states changed, all uniquely updating as time imperceptibly marched on. The presence sorted the fragmented view and collected all of the similar outcomes together.
In nearly half, the light flickered and faded like before, quickly fading from sight. The light flickered and dimmed in another third, struggling for an eon before eventually disappearing. The presence dismissed those that had vanished and let me observe the remaining stars.
In many, the dragon was gone. The objects were weathered and damaged, and the complete set of seven was only present in a handful of the remaining presented stars. Precious few showed the dragon with all the objects; in those, the dragon was missing limbs, and the objects were visually damaged. It was a harrowing sight.
In several views, the star had curdled and turned black without fading. It was glowing with darkness, destroying light that approached. In these, the dragon remained, but the objects were all universally gone. The dragon had a crown upon its head, but the crown was barbed at both the top and bottom. It dug into the dragon's skull, leaving horrid, oozing open wounds in its wake.
The presence restored my original vision, the fragments conjoining into a blurry view of the stars. The half-dragon man sat on his star, the only one pristine and in focus. The presence touched him, and he again shifted to the full dragon, his body now encircling the star as he lay around it. The presence gestured at the other stars, and many came into focus. Some had other, blurry, imperceptible beings adorning them. The ones that lacked a being began to dim, one by one fading from view entirely. Eventually, they were all gone, and the stars with beings near them began fading, some quickly, some eternally battling to remain lit.
The presence shifted the scene before me. Gone were the stars. Alone now, the presence and the half-dragon man sat together, hand in hand. They waited an eternity.
The lines between them blurred. The incorporeal ether of the presence joined with the man, and he became a dragon. The presence was destroyed as an entity, but a fragment remained inside the man.
My vision shifted again and returned to nothingness. The nothingness of the void had reclaimed me. The presence was the only piece of information I retained, omnipresent in the cacophony of silence. It remained connected to me, and its emotions returned. It begged for permission, for acceptance, for action. It apologized, regretted that its hand was forced, but was determined to do what it needed. It waited, decades passing while I contemplated what it was conveying.
I accepted.
The presence reached me again and engulfed me in its essence. There was nothing beyond the presence. The moment was permanent.
And then it was over, and the red dragon man was alone in the void, a trinket in the dragon's heart all that remained of the presence.