Chapter 3: Dawn at Dusk

Getting out of bed was hard on days like today. The winter chill waited for sunrise to chase it off, and icy mist settled along the ground, creating frigid dew bubbles on the long grass. The worn-out bed was one of his sister’s hand-me-downs, but right now, it was a protective cocoon of fleeting comfort.

The smell of eggs and freshly baked bread permeated Ash’s nest, informing him his father had already started. This was nice, but was it worth spending the day hungry with people who saw how weak he was? Ash turned, pulling the blanket tighter, as though it could defend him from the lazy stripe of sunlight on the curtain separating his bed from the room.

He could hear his sisters on the other side, speaking happily in hushed tones about their vernal harvest exploits. Some boys had sisters that’d pick on them, but his were always kind. Luckily, his family understood that he couldn’t mat

ch his sisters, and never held it against him. Of course, that made it sting all the more when bitter jealousy blossomed in the back of his throat.

Ash smothered the thought before it grew roots too deep to dislodge. No good came from jealousy. Each person needed to find fulfillment in their lives with the way Deianira crafted... them. Oh, right. That was something filtered down from the church, wasn’t it? Was the lesson still right, given that they thought his goddess was a nurturing mother, rather than a pervert on an eternal quest of lust? No, that wasn’t quite right. Right now, their god was a sleepy deer-boy jealous of farm girls for lifting heavy things and not getting tired.

“Can someone pass me something to wear?”Ash asked, poking a hand through the curtain. What right did he have to feel sorry for himself? He was the luckiest person in the world, or insane, but probably lucky. Everything was different now, maybe. Instead of finding a wife and running a farm he needed to leave on an epic quest, or save the world or something. The specifics were a little hazy. The only example he had was Sturm, holy knight of Sibir, and that story started with wolf savages burning down his village. Eriskay wasn’t exactly a place that called for heroics.

Mieure dropped a cloth wrap in his hand, raising her voice once she knew he was awake. “Good morning Ash. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.” He pulled the wrap around his waist and struggled to tie it off while lying down. “What’re we doing? More work on the fields to prep for spring?”

“Weeds,” Sorchia said. “Dad wants all the weeds gone and the field ready before the ground temperature at night gets too high. Do the aibax have enough water?”

Ash pushed the curtain aside. Their room was cramped, with each bed taking up one wall, with a makeshift curtain between them for privacy. The remaining room was little more than a hallway to the door, where his sisters leaned on either side wrapped in their blankets. “I’ll refill the tank.” He knelt to pull the trunk from beneath his bed.

“It’ll take four times longer,” Sorchia said.

“Sorchia...” Mieure warned.

It was blunt, but not untrue. Pulling weeds was something he could do as fast as his sisters, even with their strength and boundless energy. You needed to get beneath the surface to pull them out by the roots; simply tearing out the surface plant wasn’t enough. Spending time wearing himself out hauling water ultimately meant more work for his sisters. “It’s not empty,” he clarified. “I’ll fill it when we’re finished weeding. After dinner.” Ash retrieved a long bandage, then returned the chest to its proper spot.

“Ash-”

“Oh my god, look at his back!” Mieure threw her blanket aside and came at him.

Ash instinctively turned towards her and jerked away.

“Gentle!” Sorchia’s blanket hit the ground as she grabbed Mieure’s wrist, stopping her short.

His little sister stumbled, lowering her ears with a small chuckle. “Right, I remember. But did you see it?”

Ash looked over his shoulder, noticing some sort of white paint clinging to his fur, covering the brown. The moment his fingers brushed it he could tell it wasn’t paint, the fur there was just white. The other shoulder had the same result.

“Well?” Sorchia said, “unless you’re planning on hiding it all day, let’s see it.” When he turned, the two let out small gasps. “Did you bleach flowers into your fur?”

“It’s not bleached,” Mieure said, breaking away from her sister to examine it closely. “The fur isn’t translucent, it’s dyed white. And it’s not any flower, those are snapdragons, and it’s good work. How much did this cost?” Snapdragons- those were Deianira’s symbol! Ash hadn’t imagined it after all.

“Forget how much,” Sorchia cut in. “When? You didn’t have that when we went to the harvest; did you get someone there to do it?”

Well, last night definitely happened. Apparently, when his goddess said she’d become an exact copy of him she forgot what the word ‘exact’ meant. Even the best alchemist’s dye would fade after a few months, so he couldn’t use that excuse forever. Ash needed to meet with Lenn and order some shirts from the mainland. “I am a boy,” he said, turning around, but unable to meet his sister’s smirking stares. “It’s okay for me to stand out a little.”

Mieure’s pitch rose an octave as she grabbed Sorchia’s arm. “He likes a girl! Who is it!”

“There’s no girl!” Ash insisted. “I can look good for me.”

“She’s probably religious,” Sorchia said. “Otherwise why choose a holy symbol... oh! She must have been waiting for him at the harvest! That’s why he came!”

“There’s no girl!” His protests fell on deaf ears as his sisters rushed out of the room and down to the kitchen, giggling and speculating the whole way.

Ash touched the fur on his back again, then moved on to wrapping the bandage around his head. Since when was this part of the deal Sturm got? You’d think having flowers dyed into his back would have come up once or twice. Wait, Sturm was native to Sibir. If the symbol always appeared by changing the fur white, perhaps it wouldn’t be noticeable on a polar bear.

As far as inconveniences went, a holy symbol on his back wasn’t much, even if it felt a touch narcissistic. Now that he knew for sure last night wasn’t some insane fever dream, he had to figure out his next step. The books were clear that Sturm had supernatural powers, but he was a knight, not a wizard. Victory or defeat usually came down to clever tactics. Sturm was tough though. Physically he stood toe to toe against the female warriors of his kingdom. So, how much was real, and what was the author’s creative reinterpretation?

Until he knew exactly what these powers were he couldn’t proceed. That had to wait until he got his quiet time tonight. The last thing he needed was his heroic tale to read ‘Ashling, holy knight for one day, slain summoning a fireball to burn down his family’s home and killing them all before breakfast.’

Pulling weeds and working the fields took all day, though he didn’t mind the mundane labour. It grounded him, letting him feel normal after yesterday’s wild ride. He worked alongside his sisters until his mother came for them, pulling Ash away first so he could shower before dinner.

Ash’s father smiled, standing over the stove where a simmering pot of meat and vegetables let off steam. The years since Dad stopped working the fields had helped him shave off the bulky worker look Ash held and gave him a more regal appearance. The looseness around his eyes betrayed his age, but the sharpness and kindness had never left.

The lower level of the house was all one room, separated in the middle by the stairs to their bedrooms with a closet underneath. The ‘kitchen’ was a space by the oven with enough room for a single person to stand. A spice rack adorned the wall, with bundles of herbs and garlic hanging beneath it by woven straw.

“I think it looks nice,” Dad said, stirring the stew with a slotted spoon. A cloth apron covered his chest, along with a wrap around his waist and a bandage around his head. With winter ending, and since he cooked all the food, Dad spent his free time today grooming himself. That meant carefully brushing excess fur from his winter coat and securing his head with an extra thick bandage to ensure blood from his removed antlers didn’t contaminate the food. “Don’t give me that look. I’m glad you’re taking an interest in your appearance, even if I don’t understand the trend. Plus, a religious symbol lets people know you value tradition and community.”

Ash’s new marking had become the biggest topic of conversation throughout the day. The questions ranged from his reason for getting it, to the specifics of the procedure, even after he’d made it expressly clear how embarrassed he was about the whole thing.

“Rian,” Mom said, throwing her husband a look.

“I’m not saying it’s okay,” Dad added. “I know you’re a bit sensitive about how you present yourself, but if you run off without one of your sisters and something happens we won’t know where to look.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash said, again.

The dining table was crammed tight with bowls, utensils, and a basket of bread serving as a centrepiece. At the head of it, Mom sat with her arms crossed, still slightly damp after washing away the dirt from hours of weeding. She sighed, fixing him with a soft look. “We support our family, all of us. We’re not here to give you a hard time. If you want to get something like this done, tell us. We’ll find time for you to go during the day.”

“I will.” This conversation had been brewing all day. When Ash’s mother sent him to wash up first he’d known it was an excuse to isolate him from his sisters. Hopefully, when they got here the topic could finally die. Then he could get through this dinner and finally have the privacy to practice his magic.

A smile crossed Ash’s face as Sorchia burst through the door, but died when he saw her wild breathless stare. “There’s dogs coming! Soldiers!”

Mom’s jaw set as she rose “Othelan soldiers? On the island? Where’s Mieure!”

Ash’s younger sister burst through the door a moment later, soaking wet and holding untied wraps against her front. “I’m here! I’m fine!”

Mom nodded, shutting the door and taking a sharp tone. “Mieure, tie those off. Sorchia, weapons. Rian, Ash, in the closet.”

“I can help—” Ash got three words out before a sharp look from his mother, and his father’s grip, shut him up.

“This is serious Ash,” Dad said, pulling him from the table. “Listen to your mother.”

Was this it? Had Deianira given him the power to protect his family from whatever this was? He hadn’t learned anything about magic yet, and without it, he was still a liability for Mom and his sisters. With a resigned nod, Ash hurried to the closet, passing Sorchia the heavy wooden shields and spears before tucking into the empty spot with his father and shutting the door.

The door wasn’t solid. It left slits where the fire from the stove flickered through. Ash knelt between leather boots and gloves, still smelling of the fields, and kept quiet. Mom took the front, pressing her shield against the door with her spear at the ready. The militia training kicked in, bringing Mieure and Sorchia to either side, supporting the shield with their own.

Claws clicked against wood as someone on the other side climbed the stairs to the front door. Then, three loud knocks.

With a grim nod, mom pushed the door open with her foot. “Who’s there?”

A figure stood in the darkened doorway. Two long ears shot straight up as glowing yellow eyes surveyed the house over the shield rim. From here, Ash could make out the leather armour, and a wicked spear in the woman’s hand that rose two feet over her head. “Oh? Hello, I’m Via. And you?”

“Liada. What’re you doing here?”

The head beyond the shield tilted, seemingly confused, but unafraid of facing down the three-woman shield wall. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Mom snorted defiantly. “A score of dog soldiers comes creeping from the darkness and you’re wondering why I might be a wee bit on edge?”

“Soldiers?” the figure turned the way she came, then back with widened eyes. “Aaah. Please forgive my rudeness. Your people have very different customs, and I forget that deer eyes are as unaccustomed to darkness as male eyes.” The dog tossed her spear away. “Our party is not Othelan, but of the Dusk Empire. We’re returning home from our hunting season at great speed to reach the funeral and require help.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Mom stayed tense, even with the dog unarmed. “Funeral?”

“Oh, I suppose you haven’t heard.” The dog’s ears fell as she solemnly lowered her head. “Over the winter, our great emperor perished. We left the day we heard the news, but The Direwood is far. We must return to pay our respects and pledge ourselves to the new emperor.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Mom’s voice wavered between sympathetic and suspicious. “What is it you need from us?”

“We’ve heard your farm is the source of some sausages shipped to The Direwood. Our urgent departure has left us hungry and low on supplies.” The woman reached for something, causing Mom to tense, only to relax as the dog revealed a fistful of square iron coins. “We wish to purchase meat from you, immediately if possible.”

“I see...” Mom’s jaw twitched, as though chewing the thought before finally lowering the shield. “I’m not opposed to selling off a beast. Perhaps you’d like to discuss the details, alone?”

“My thanks,” Via said, then looked back. “If I could trouble you to allow Sari to join us? She’s my quartermaster. I have the money, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t know a good product or price without her.”

After a stiff nod, Mom stepped back, letting two armoured dogs enter. It wasn’t safe, of course, but this was better than fighting off a whole pack. Between their claws, speed, and stamina, dog women were dangerous, especially when well-trained, even without the sheer brute strength his sisters enjoyed. In a fight against just two, Ash bet on his family coming out on top. Luckily, every minute, it felt less likely they’d be coming to blows.

The light washed over the women as they entered. Of the two, Via was bigger. Her eyes and muzzle sat in a large stripe of brown fur, with black running up her sides and behind her ears. Her nose twitched, shaking her muzzle as she entered. Sari’s fur was uniform, but held a dark brown to match her eyes. Unlike Via, her ears were shorter, and only perked up halfway before folding back down.

Via’s expression shifted, then she turned to Mom. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal. Will the other two be returning?”

Mom’s eyes darted over the table, where five bowls sat, awaiting the bubbling pot of stew forgotten on the stove. “Our men were too exhausted from the day, I’m afraid. But I can handle anything you might need.”

“Aah.” Via lowered her head slightly. “Of course. Let them rest.”

Sari cocked her head, looking from her leader to Ash’s hiding spot. “But they’re in that closet.”

Everyone tensed, save Via, who grabbed Sari’s hood and gave it a sharp tug, pulling her away from the other girls. “I apologize,” Via said, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “Sari’s mouth moves faster than her brain sometimes.”

The closet door squeaked as Ash pushed away from his father, turning all eyes his way. Clearly, whatever they’d hoped to achieve by stuffing him in a closet, they weren’t going to get. Best to preserve what little dignity he had left and act like they weren’t pissing themselves at the sight of a dog. He crossed the room, offering Via his hand. “Nice to meet you Via, I’m Ash.”

Via gave a small smile, careful not to show her teeth. “A pleasure.”

When she shook his hand, Ash paused. A leather wrap surrounded the woman’s wrist, securing sheathes on her index and middle finger, leaving them a full inch longer. “I deal with the aibax here. If you work out a price per pound I can show you the stable, and you can decide if the quality is high enough.”

“Ashling,” Mom said pointedly.

He turned, offering a shrug. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t a bit scared. “They can’t agree the price is fair if they’ve never seen it.”

Reluctantly, Dad exited the closet. “He’s not wrong, hun.”

Sorchia cracked the front door, peeking out at the assembled dogs. “I’ll go with him.”

“Stop it,” Ash said. “I don’t know how many are out there, but it’s enough having you with me isn’t gonna make a difference if they’re dangerous. Having three of you with Via is the best deterrent we’ll get.”

His father and mother looked nervously at each other, but eventually relented, sorting out a price with Sari before letting him lead her from the house. The light from inside cast into the fields, illuminating multiple sets of yellow eyes staring back from the shadows. A smile forced its way onto his lips as a spike of terror ran through him. Fear was reasonable, healthy even, but showing it would only display his weakness. His eyes adjusted to the moonlight as he looked away, keeping a casual pace. He’d be fine, right? With that many armed dogs at their door, they didn’t need deception. If they intended violence, it’d already be over.

Though irrational, he relaxed when the gas lamp lit the barn, letting him put a door between himself and the hunters. “These are what we have.” Ash gestured to the stalls as he moved to light the second gas lamp. “I’d prefer you choose an older one. We need to cull them before they get too old anyway.”

“An older one is fine,” Sari said, peeking over the stall doors.

“So, you hunt in The Direwood?” Even though most of the farm’s meat was shipped to The Direwood, this was Ash’s first time meeting someone from there. The Direwood was a land only accessible by boat, north of the Othelan Republic, the northernmost country. All countries officially agreed to not lay claim, but most trade was handled by the Direwood Syndicate. Though technically autonomous, most trade and profit benefited the Othelan Republic, and in turn, the republic championed the organization’s virtues.

“It’s my fourth season,” Sari said, moving from stall to stall to examine the beasts. “The beasts up there are vicious, but it’s been very lucrative so far. Now that Via owns her own ship we can bring our spoils directly to the empire for an even larger profit. This one will do.”

Ash opened the stall, then moved to the feeding room, gesturing for Sari to follow. “Sounds exciting. Don’t tell my parents, but I’m thinking of taking a trip myself, just to see what’s out there.”

Sari nodded, moving to the side of the door at Ash’s prompt. When he pulled the cord, pellets hit the trough, and the aibax charged through, greedily slurping down his dinner. “There’s advantages to stability, but I’m plenty familiar with wanderlust. As I understand it, you don’t plant in the winter. Perhaps a season in The Direwood?”

With a bitter laugh, Ash closed the feeding room door and sealed it. “I don’t think a man would fare well against The Direwood’s beasts. It’s amazing anyone can.”

“I didn’t mean as a hunter. There are many jobs at the Direwood Outpost, and being able to harvest beasts is an in-demand skill. You won’t find your fortune, but you’ll return with heavy pockets.”

“Good to know,” Ash said, lifting the mattock off the rack. It was the most versatile tool he owned. The front had a curved flat horizontal bit of metal, perfect for pulling up dirt and planting seeds. The back end held a vertical axe, suitable for chopping through roots that invaded the soil. With practiced motions, Ash flipped the mattock to the axe side, moved quietly across the room, and rammed it into the aibax’s skull with a sickening squelch. The beast went limp instantly, blood flowing around its head and dripping into the food trough as its neck balanced on the rim. That was the best you could hope for. Hesitation risked missing the brain, prolonging their suffering with a terrified struggle.

Sari came close, inspecting the beast while Ash pulled the mattock free and dropped it into the trough with a metallic clang. “Although, there’s plenty of men up there hunting as well.”

Ash offered a doubtful look as he left the beast. “Really? They’re that good?” When he reached the far wall he grabbed the hidden handle and gave a sharp tug. Once the lock was disengaged the shutters, designed to blend with the wall, folded upwards to reveal the hidden alcove. It was much the same as the rest of the room, save the large steel grinder they used for sausages. Behind that, the wall glittered with sharpened blades of various lengths and functions. For now, he ignored the machine and grabbed the rope running from the ceiling to coil on the floor.

A curious look crossed Sari’s face as she observed. “They’re rich. It takes a team to bring down a beast, and a good pack of hunting slaves’ll do that. The only advantage a trained female hunter has is paying for one less body.”

Slavery was almost nonexistent in Eriskay, not that Ash had any strong opinions on the practice. The Queen allowed a flourishing market on the mainland, but an isolated population with family-owned farms made importing people unpopular. Ash tightened the rope around the beast’s hind legs, giving a sharp tug to ensure it wouldn’t slip. “I wouldn’t exactly call buying others to hunt for you, hunting.”

“Maybe not,” Sari conceded. “But it’s how things are done. When hunting season ends, and it’s time to split the spoils, one less person to pay can make a big difference.”

After screwing the switch on the side of the water pipe shut, Ash pulled the cord. With the pipe shut the water quickly flooded, running across the ceiling in an overflow pipe to spill into the massive bucket over the grinder. “So, instead of having a team like you, men keep entire packs of hunters that they just pull out every season like a hunting bow?”

Sari let out a low laugh, absorbed in his contraption. “Those girls aren’t our team. They’re passengers. When the news came, everyone from the Dusk Empire was looking for passage. When we’re hunting we supplement our numbers with slaves. Via and I have an understanding, but it’s not in her nature to share a bounty.”

Ash’s fur bristled. Though her curiosity was no doubt benign, he didn’t enjoy having scrutiny on the system he’d developed. As the bucket filled it lowered, dragging the aibax into the alcove. When the weights reached equilibrium Ash shut the water off, then lifted the beast to a height he liked. “Just the meat?”

Sari nodded.

The guthook came first, a knife with an angled sharpened notch in the blade to catch the hide. He pulled on thick work gloves, then pushed the blade into the aibax’s belly, splitting it open as he drew it down. The organs sloughed out, littering the ground with wet splats. Since he didn’t need the intestines for casings this time, he’d let one or two aibax clear the unusable material at their next meal. The change in weight pulled the beast upward, but before it got too high the bucket caught the side of the grinder, landing in an angled trough. The tilt shifted the water to a hole in the bucket’s side, letting it drain until the weights equalized again. For now, Ash set the guthook down and moved to a skinning knife. “How many hunters does Via own?”

“Most hunters don’t have the resources to maintain their own pack year-round. We buy fresh ones at the beginning of the season, then sell them back to the Direwood Syndicate at the end.” Sari’s nose wrinkled, and she pulled back from the mess.

“Oh, so it’s like a rental?”

“So long as you keep them in good condition. There’s a risk of losing them, and the payment you get at the end lowers if they’re in worse shape, so it’s more cost-effective to keep them comfortable and well-fed. Speaking of...”

As Ash hacked off the aibax’s limbs and separated the meat Sari turned the conversation to food. Which way she wanted the steaks cut, what bones were acceptable, what parts to remove from the fattier sections. Each time, Ash selected the correct knife and worked the meat to her specifications. It was actually refreshing, having his skill challenged for a change. Most meat needed to be shipped, which meant sausages, which meant the grinder, which meant the same cuts over and over.

* * *

Ash slipped off into the dark with his bowl of stew. On one hand, he was grateful the dogs were simply unusual customers. On the other, they’d eaten all the time he’d planned to use for magic. He still had to clean the feeding room, and since he’d insisted on filling the water tank himself, he had plenty of hauling water to look forward to. There was no rush, not really. He could always start practicing tomorrow, but he needed a taste. Something, anything, to prove he hadn’t lost his mind.

“Okay.” Ash paced along the cliff’s edge, steadying his breath. “Okay, two types of magic. You can do this. Have faith, Ash.” He turned to the cliff and raised his hand, willing fire into existence. “Fireball!”

Below, the waves crashed into the cliff face, giving a round of applause for his enthusiasm.

“Fire. Fire, go. Ice. Anything.” His hand fell as he returned to pacing. Deianira had said he’d have powerful magic, and there wasn’t any reason to doubt that. She had nothing to gain by tricking him, even giving him the option to turn her offer down was a formality. As a god, she could erase anyone from existence, apparently, without even the person she erased knowing it happened. It was more likely that mortals couldn’t use flashy offensive spells. If the Dusk Empire had magic like that it wouldn’t be a secret. Their armies would rain down death on everyone they faced and the entire world would know it.

Subtler magic then. Ash crouched, wrapping his arms around one of the big rocks his mother placed to keep anyone from getting too close to the cliff. “And... up!” His muscles tensed, straining to lift the heavy stone, but after a few seconds, he went slack. That one was always a long shot. The odds of one of the powers he got being the exact thing he wanted were always slim.

Returning to his pacing, Ash wracked his brain to think of things to try. She’d said the magic would be powerful, but also easy. Maybe a bit more faith in her would help? Instead of pushing for a specific result, he could try something closer to prayer. A request, not a demand. Ash straightened himself, looking up to the mostly full moon with a deep breath and prayed for guidance. Whatever power the goddess offered, he wanted it. The power to become a hero, to be a holy knight and save people like Sturm.

The boulder glowed green.

Magic! He’d done that! He’d done that, whatever it was! Even as his breath caught the dim light faded and flickered out. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know he was onto something!

Ash crouched in front of the boulder again and set a hand on it. He didn’t need a specific result, just a result. Whatever power he had he’d find a way to use it. “Magic,” he muttered, the words lost in the winds whipping up from the crashing waves. The light came again, but this time not from the boulder, but the grass ahead of it.

Without ruining his concentration Ash studied the dim green glow. Other than a soft light there wasn’t much to say about it. It was grass. When he moved to touch it, the back of his hand glowed, leaving the grass under it in shadow. When he rose and moved, the light moved. Finally understanding, Ash examined himself, finding the origin of the soft glow. The white fur of his stomach, just below his belly button, had been tinted green and threw dull light on everything ahead of him.

This was Dawn. Ash didn’t know how he knew, but he did. His fingers pressed against the glowing spot as he tried to get it to do something else. The power to glow slightly might technically be magic, but it wasn’t exactly the stuff of legends. With a start, he jerked his hand away and faded into darkness. There was something there, something unknowable that pushed back, something powerful.

The light appeared again. One thing the goddess hadn’t lied about was the ease. Each time he made the light appear, it was easier to do, and by the third time, it felt like a natural extension of himself. He braced himself as he touched it again, feeling the power and refusing to back away. He swallowed, kneeling as the wind buffeted over the boulder and toyed with his ears. It wasn’t a sentient force pushing back on him, something angry or malicious. The energy, whatever it was, was a part of him. When he tried to perform magic and touched his stomach he somehow grabbed it, and the push he felt was merely it trying to remain where it belonged.

Ash concentrated on the energy, testing how far he could pull it from the source. A green ring appeared around Ash’s hand, with Deianira’s holy symbol beneath his fingers, the stem and leaves of the snapdragon absorbing green light as it flowed into his hand. The chill of the night faded as warmth flooded his stomach, rising through his chest and flowing into his blood.

When he’d pulled it all he stood, staring wide-eyed at the glowing symbol in his hand. The petals of the plant were faint outlines, but the rest floated in a circle above his fingertips. He’d done... whatever this was. Now that he’d drawn the power, why? He could feel the divine energy sitting on his hand, ready to perform whatever miracle Dawn was. He raised it to the moon again, willing the energy to act. Nothing. He tried the boulder. Nothing again. When he aimed it at the grass something clicked, like a water pipe that suddenly had somewhere to flow. Energy burst from his fingers into the ground, causing the area beneath his feet to pulse green before the symbol and light faded once more.

That was all he managed. Now, he couldn’t even get the green light to appear. Whatever that energy was, he’d pulled it all out and thrown it into a useless spell. All that, and his magic amounted to a single parlour trick. That was enough for now; he’d proven to himself the magic was real, and he had plenty to do before bed.