The world changed that day.

Fraser knew it all too well. He’d been there for it. Right there, in the middle of it all. Hiding in some dense bushes, a small fox cub held tightly to his chest, as he tried to protect it from the hunters that were seeking it for pure sport. Its mother had already been caught, more blood than flesh left, pain frozen on her face, an image that haunted his nightmares. They hadn’t listened to his protests, about how wrong it all was, how they had a right to live too, that they were as human as they were. Perhaps even more so, as they didn’t pointlessly destroy other species just for pure fun. But a five year old was just an annoyance, there to be ignored. And they had. That he’d managed to rescue the pup, and scamper off without being caught was nothing short of a miracle.

But it had paled in comparison to what had happened next. The sky splitting open, tears that pulsated purple and green, giant creatures appearing through them. A turtle the size of the biggest building that he’d ever seen, scales an emerald green, the earth shaking as it had moved. A flying winged serpent, sky blue and intense white, its breath as cold as the tops of the mountains as it weaved around the turtle. A walking tree that shaded the others with its canopy, leaves the colours of spring and autumn, branches laden with fruit, and the face of an ancient wise man. And the fox, its intense eyes glaring around at everything as flames licked at its jaws, its nine tails floating around it. Mort, Wyrm, Alder, and Nine-tails. Their names, he just knew.

And then the others had appeared, figures in cloaks, swords and staffs in their hands, wielding magic as they fought the creatures, pushing them back, the sky torn anew with their power. Fraser wished that they had just left the creatures alone. Did they really mean anyone any harm? The world was a big place, big enough for them all. Then the tears had suddenly vanished, a pulse of power tearing across the land, through everything. Through him. The hoods pushed back, the figures revealed. A handsome man, long blonde hair, pointed ears. A bear of a man, as much hair as anything else, his body pure muscle. A beautiful lady, with vibrant eyes and flowing brown hair, vines intertwined in it. An elegant lady, black hair laced with red, eyes as dark as the night, skin as pale as the moon. And a man, short blond hair, chiselled features, a crown on his head. No one knew their names, they had remained hidden within the shrouds of time and magic. Fraser had named them anyways, once he’d grown up and read enough. Elf, Were-bear, Dryad, Vampire, and the Prince. Their faces, always sharp in his mind. Some more so than others.

The battle resumed, but something had seemed off, with both sides. Obvious, but not at all clear to his young mind. He should have been hiding better, bunkered down and curled up tightly. But he had felt their call, their pain, and had watched. Entranced, unable to look away, even if he’d wanted to. A witness, pining for the wrong side. Another surge of power, this one different, sadder, desperate, and the creatures were gone, vanishing in an explosion of colour and light, the five people remaining standing. Looking at each other, a conversation outside of his hearing, and then looking around them. Fraser had ducked down then, not wanting to be seen by them. They’d left, eventually, walking a short way before pulling up their hoods, and then just disappearing, blending into the world around them. Hidden, from all that had seen them. Somehow, Fraser doubted that they had truly left. They couldn’t, the way taken from them. As to what had happened to them, well, no one actually knew. They’d never made their presence known again.

He’d fallen asleep, right there, the cub still in his arms. From shock and exhaustion.

Nothing was the same any more. For everyone, and at the same time not. The battle had left its mark, its legacy. Magic had entered the world, and it was here to stay. Even if it was still largely hidden, masked from the bulk of the world. The blessed, the scions, and everyone else.

His parents had found them the next morning, Fraser curled up with Uriah, still in the bushes, still asleep, a light dusting of snow over them. Unseasonal, marking the change, for those in the know, not having ever happened since. He wasn’t sure when his best friend had got there, or how he’d found him before his parents had, but he’d saved his life. They’d both slept for a week, and then life had gone back to normal.

Until two visitors had shown up a year later.

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His life had ended that day. A five year old full of joy and life, running around the courtyard, playing witch and familiar. Until his parents had come, shouting at him, screaming at him, that he was to stop at once. No son of theirs would ever act like that, or dress like that. Be like that. He was a boy, a man, and they never wanted to see him do that again. Ever.

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The training rooms always stank. Of sweat, odour, and egos. Almost overpowering at times, even with the modern wonder of ventilation. An open air arena would have both served and smelt better, but given that they were in a populated area and planes and drones were a thing, it wasn’t really an option, wards or not. There were rules that had to be followed, and the potential of the media getting ahold of something was just not worth it.

Not that that would cause much of an issue anyway. The founding families had far too much money among them, and they had reasons to want things to stay the way there were. Fraser shook his head at the whole imbalance as he leant against the wall and went back to watching the current sparring match that was of interest to him.

Well, part of the sparring match. He couldn’t care less about the other spellsword, but given that it was a match he had no choice but to watch him as well. He was someone who had been here as long as they had, but not one that he’d ever bothered to learn the name of. A brute of a man, tall, short-cropped military style hair, muscular, magic visibly flowing around him. Wastefully, even after all these years and all the training. Military style armour as well, even though he was fighting with a blade, and would be facing off against magical creatures. Was he expecting one of them to come out with a gun or something in their non-existent hands? Just made him look like a typical soldier. Forgettable, really.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Unlike Uriah.

Vivid red hair, just at shoulder length, but tied back neatly into a short ponytail, inquisitive brown eyes, sharp features with a dozen freckles on each cheek, and a thin dusting of stubble across his face. Uriah had been in a rush to leave that morning, so he had skipped shaving. It looked good on him. Full beard, not so much. Uriah had only done that once, and it had only lasted two weeks. They’d both agreed that he wouldn’t do that again. Uriah had a lithe figure, toned, sleek muscles rather than bulk, which meant that he was quick on his feet. Something that he took full advantage of as he outmanoeuvred his opponent, even if Uriah was a little bit shorter, short sword in hand, fluid and graceful. His magic wasn’t leaking either. Present, as Fraser could definitely sense it, but kept within him, even as he used it. He was one of the more skilled blessed here, though.

Uriah didn’t wear much armour, just some light spider-silk chain that they’d found in one of the anomalies a while ago. It sat under his clothes, occasionally glinting if he stretched too much in one direction and his t-shirt was pulled across it. Fraser had tried to get him to wear something a little bit looser and longer, but yeah, no success there. But, even he had to admit that Uriah did look good the way he dressed, the top paired with a pair of jeans and wicked-looking boots. It had been his style for years now.

Fraser watched with an amused grin as Uriah slipped around the other guy, feinting, and then took full advantage of the opening, sending him sprawling on the ground. It had been rather one-sided the entire time.

“Match over,” barked Toby, the instructor who had been leaning against the wall a little further down from him. He crossed his arms and shook his head as he straightened. “Why don’t you fight like that all the time, Uriah?” he asked.

“Good night’s sleep?” Uriah answered with a grin and a dismissive wave as he walked over to Fraser. “And why are you here?” he asked, tilting his head, the grin still there.

“Seeing if you were doing okay, you know, that ‘good night’s’ sleep and all.” Fraser gave him a grin back. Uriah had gone to bed after he had, and he’d gone to bed late as it was. Staying up reading did that. But it had been rather good, and he’d just wanted to read another chapter. And then another. Then one more. And so on, till he’d forced himself to put it down.

“Sure...” Uriah accused him playfully. “Not trying to avoid your mother?”

“Of course not.” Fraser rolled his eyes. Of course he was. Uriah wasn’t stupid. They knew each other too well, and that his mother had returned from her most recent trip and would be haunting the offices and the archives, which is where he would have been otherwise. But that wasn’t the only reason. He fished around in his bag and pulled out a box, handing it to Uriah. “Thought you’d appreciate this.” Shaving wasn’t the only thing that his flatmate had skipped. Yes, it was a lunch box. Cliche, he knew. But he cared, and it had kinda become a tradition now.

“Oh look, your ‘wife’s’ to the rescue again,” another young man teased. One who should have been watching the sparring matches that were still going on and improving his technique, instead of watching other people’s somewhat personal interactions. And who was vaguely familiar, but that was about it. It wasn’t the first time they’d said that either. Fraser just ignored them.

Uriah, on the other hand was staring daggers at them. He always seemed to take it worse than Fraser did. “Fraser here,” Uriah said with a sharp undertone, “could easily wipe the floor with you. Even in his current state.”

“Uriah,” he said softly. He wasn’t so sure about that himself. He’d given up training and sparring a few months after the incident, no longer seeing the point and no longer having the drive for it. No, no longer being driven to do so. There were better places for him at the moment, and a lot of the muscle and tone that he’d had back then had softened. Not that he was actually worried about that, happy even, and it wasn’t that he was unfit or anything either.

“Oy! Keep your eyes on what the others are doing. You’re up next,” Toby barked at the young man, before turning back to them. “You should join in, Fraser. Get back into practice, before you lose your edge. You and Uriah were quite the team.”

Still were, just not in that way any more. He wasn’t going to go back to doing that, though, to being a spellsword. And not just because he’d lost the use of his magic.

Fraser shook his head. “Sorry. Without my magic, I’m just a liability.”

“It’ll come back.”

He shook his head again. It had been a year now, with no end of trying from him and some of the more advanced members of the Guardians of Humanity. To no avail. No one could work out why his magic, that was so obviously still within him, and rather potent too, would not respond to his desire to be used, and they’d all given up. Even given that it had been in the world for twenty years now, the actual understanding of magic was rather weak. Too few blessed, too many people keeping their secrets held close. Sure, tomes had been found in some of the anomalies, that gave hints and insights into the nature of magic, and the place that it, and them, had come from. But those were a pain to decipher, and many of them were stored under lock and key in the archives. Because the founders still wanted to exert their control. Something that irked him to no end, even if he himself was in a position to access them.

“It hasn’t come back, and they have other things that they want me doing now.” That was the truth, just not all of it. He wasn’t going to say any more, though. They’d been through this before.

“They waste talent, that’s what that lot do,” Toby grumbled, giving Fraser a manly pat on the shoulder, to which he flinched. “If you change your mind and want back in, I’ll make sure that it happens.”

Fraser gave him a weak smile. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Something to placate Toby.

“You should head off, or you’ll be late,” Uriah reminded him as Toby wandered off towards another pair of spellswords who were, frankly, terrible. His expression turned serious for a moment. “She’ll start prowling soon.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you after work.” Giving Uriah a smile and a wave, Fraser made his way out of the training rooms and out towards the entrance of the main building of the Guardians. He still found it to be a weird place, even after all of these years. It was a strange mix of modern and archaic. All glass, concrete and steel on the outside, tall, sleek, with too many windows. But on the inside he always felt like he’d stepped back a few centuries.

“Oh, Fraser, Lady Calworth was looking for you,” the receptionist at the entrance called out to him as he tried to rush past.

Fraser cringed, not slowing as he waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll catch up with her later,” he said back as he barrelled through the front door and out into the morning sun. He stopped and sighed, soaking it in. That was nice at least. The present him could enjoy the day, the future him could worry about his mother.