Beech immediately became the favorite tutor of all the students of the class forty-four B. He wasn’t magic-talented, or knowledgeable in spells, but his words always left on them a deep impression.
After he had demonstrated his tutoring skills using Spruce's dagger, the students told him about the floating leaves exercise, which Juniper did on Monday. He quickly went out to gather some leaves, and brought them inside the classroom.
Afterward, the students took as many or as little leaves as they wanted. Beech sat down in the middle, closed his eyes, told the students to do the same, and then he calmly spoke, while the students listened to his words.
“The weather is warm and peaceful. The afternoon wind of the month of Byzh blows between the trees and swirls around the leaves. This wind steals the leaves from the trees, and heated up by the sun, it gains speed, and circles back to pick up more leaves, which have just begun falling down from the trees.”
Like this, Beech started to describe actions of a sun-warmed wind, which he continued to spin like a master storyteller. As he spoke on and on, students began floating their leaves. Those students, who opened their eyes, were amazed at the large number of leaves floating around. It looked almost as if the whole class was made out of geniuses, and all of it was due to a story, which they were listening to with their eyes closed.
Beech’s words had the power to attract, and they caused the students to unwillingly see the images of whatever he described. With such a clear image in their minds, concentration came naturally, and all of the students were able to float their leaves.
What only some accomplished on Monday, all of them have accomplished on Wednesday, including Spruce, who didn’t even understand how he had managed to levitate his leaf. Nonetheless, he was levitating the leaf in front of him. However, it only lasted for as long as he was concentrating, because at the moment, when he got distracted by his own success, his leaf fell to the ground.
Yew, who sat next to him, could clearly feel the warm air, which was blowing around Spruce’s leaf, while that leaf was still in the air. And he had no doubt that Beech intentionally included the temperature in his description of the wind.
Two hours passed, and all the students felt as if the Exercise class ended too soon. Beech left first, saying that he was pretty busy and he didn't have time to stay afterclass.
When the students were leaving the class, they already knew that none of them would be skipping Exercise on Wednesdays.
The Thursday passed without any major events. With Maca as their tutor, most students came, but some didn’t show up. Then came the Friday afternoon, and another Exercise class with yet another new tutor. By this time, all of the first year students had heard of the amazing Wednesday tutor, and not wanting to miss another amazing tutor, all of them, except Linden, arrived for the class.
The students of the class forty-four B were surprised from the beginning, because even though they came ahead of time their tutor was already inside the classroom. She was sitting by the wall, and doing her homework on the floor. She didn’t look up to greet them, but when the first students walked in, she did wave her hand and an arrow, directed at the center of the classroom, appeared above her head.
When the clock pointers met the hour to start the class, the thin girl with braided bright orange hair looked up at the students, and commanded, “wait two more minutes". Then she went back to doing her homework.
Exactly two minutes later, she closed her notebook and textbook, and put both books together in her backpack. Afterward, she put her backpack under the wall, where it was far away from being a bother.
Before she began talking to the students, she walked several steps forward.
“So, as you may have already heard, I’m Sage Solhatt Spurge Moss, and I’ll be your tutor for Fridays. Also, you may have wondered, why only your class has five tutors, whereas other classes have six tutors. Well, the answer to that is simple. The sixth tutor changed his mind right before the school started. The teachers are still looking for someone to replace him, but it’s unlikely to find one now, so I bet they won’t find another one until the end of this year. It’ll be either the five of us as your tutors, or that guy will change his mind once again. And I wouldn’t be surprised, if he did.”
She looked around the class, and scratched her hair. When she saw Spruce, she quickly approached him and asked, “why are YOU in Hecate? Everyone in the Fire household is magicless.” She sounded like she knew him.
“I want to be a wizard,” Spruce responded to the gal, showing no strangeness to the older student.
“Hmmmm…” she said for a long time before she looked at the other students. “There should be one more magicless student in this class.”
Yew raised his hand.
“I see,” she said. “So both of you are magicless. Well, in that case, I allow you two to skip my class forever. Because I don’t know anything about magicless people, and I have nothing to teach you. Your presence in this class will be nothing but a bother to me.”
Spruce got up, and spoke to Yew, “let’s go.”
Yew looked at him, then at the tutor, who nonchalantly turned around and spoke to others, “for your info, among all your tutors I am the most talented in magic.”
Spruce caught Yew by his arm, and dragged his friend toward the door, while Sage continued, “I have the highest scores among all the students of the fifth year, and I don’t have any patience for those, who are slow, so I hope all of you already know how to levitate objects.”
Spruce opened the door, pushed Yew out, then closed it behind them.
“What's going on?” Yew asked, confused by the odd initial interaction with the new tutor.
Spruce rolled his eyes before he gave him the explanation. “The Moss household used to be just a bunch of poor magicless nobles, but about four generations ago, a woman from the Sea household fell in love with a man from the Moss household. Then her descendants were born with quite a lot of magical talent. And ever since then, the Moss household has been full of those arrogant pricks.”
“So what do we do?” Yew further inquired.
“We do as she said. We skip Fridays,” Spruce answered as he began walking away, and Yew went along. “Anyway, let’s go downtown. I want to eat some of that tasty street food for dinner," Spruce proposed.
Yew nodded in agreement, and both boys walked away from the classroom.
Inside, Aspen sat quietly and observed the tutor, who wasn’t tutoring at all. She was bad at explanations. She didn’t understand how magic worked. She was only willing to assist those students, who were exceptionally talented just like her. However, nobody could deny that she had an outstanding magical talent, and she wasn’t hiding her contempt toward those students, who weren’t as talented.
At the end of the class, the opinion about her was divided. The more talented students saw her tutoring skills as average, but her talent as truly exceptional, and enjoyed watching her spell. On the other side, the less talented students saw her as a tutor far worse than Chervil Sun.
The class ended. Half of the students left immediately. The other half of the students were enamored with their new tutor, and stayed behind to ask her questions. She didn’t mind the attention at all. Quite the opposite, she liked to be the center of all that attention.
Aspen took a final look at her, and followed those, who had already left the classroom. Outside he headed toward the Western Park, where he found Chervil Sun sleeping on a bench with a book on her face. The title of the book was: Effects of Herbs on Magic Spells.
He took the book off her face, and looked at the content inside. Chervil grimaced, at the sudden sunlight hitting her face. She turned around, and sat on the bench, slowly opening her eyes and looking at the boy.
“This book looks interesting,” Aspen said. “I’ll be borrowing it.”
“Sure,” she agreed instantly. “Just mind that this is a book from a fourth year, so it may be a bit too hard for you.”
“It’s fine,” Aspen assured. He put his backpack on the ground, opened it, and put the book inside. Afterward he took out two other books from inside his backpack and passed them to Chervil, who took them back.
“Wow, you’re already done reading these?” she said, as she looked at the books. “You’re fast.”
Aspen closed his backpack, and threw it back on his shoulders. “Thanks for the books,” he said. “It’s really bothersome that I cannot borrow any of the library books, which I’m really interested in.”
“Have you even looked at the books in the first year section?” Chervil asked him.
“Yeah. I have already read most of them, before I came to Hecate.”
“Oh, that explains a lot,” she smiled. “So how are the classes? Boring?”
“Sometimes,” Aspen acknowledged.
“This is why I say, skip, skip, skip, skip the class,” she half-sung the second part of the sentence.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea," Aspen shook his head. "I’m only a first year student.”
“I assure you, nobody cares,” Chervil waved her hand. “And you get a lot more free time to study the stuff, which they don’t want to teach you.”
Aspen didn't even consider her words. “Thanks for the books, see you later,” he said as usual, then walked off, ending their conversation.
Chervil waved at him as he was walking away, but he didn’t look back.
Monday, September 15, 2025
Friday, September 5, 2025
Sky || Variable thirty-four
Within the first week of school, Yew learned that their class was commonly known as group forty-four B. In the second week, he learned the reason why.
The first two numbers came from the cottage numbers, and forty-four meant all the cottages starting with forty-four hundred. The final letter specified each group of twenty-five cottages. Letter A was for cottages from one to twenty-five. Letter B was for cottages labelled twenty-six thru fifty, and so on.
On the tenth day of Byzh, almost all the students in the group forty-four B came to the Exercise class. Linden was among those who didn’t. It was Wednesday and it was the first time, when they were going to meet the fourth one of their tutors.
The students came out of curiosity, with little expectations, based on their prior encounters.
Maca Waterfall was a nice tutor, who tried her best to be helpful, but she lacked flexibility in her own learning, and she couldn’t help with problems, which she herself never encountered.
Chervil Sun was mean and often made nasty comments, which was why only several students came to the Exercise class yesterday on Tuesday.
Juniper Root, who tutored on Mondays, was quite a friendly guy, but he never explained much, so it was always up to the students to figure things out.
And now, sitting on the floor in the gym and staring at the front door, the students of forty-four B, were wondering what kind of person was their Wednesday’s tutor.
When a guy walked through, they were surprised to see someone, who looked outstandingly average.
He wore grey pants on suspenders, blue shirt, and a greyish green cap. His light yellow hair was a bit longer than short, and he had a face, which made him look much younger than a fifth year student.
He walked in, staring at the floor in front of his feet. He didn’t stop walking until he arrived at the wall across from the door. He looked at the wall for a moment. Then his face brightened up, as if he recalled something nice, and he smiled to himself. Then he shook his head sideways, as if he was denying something in his thoughts before he looked again at the wall in front of him.
The students of the first year began looking at each other, and some were quietly laughing among themselves, while commenting about their tutor’s odd behavior.
The guy heard the laughs and turned his body toward the students. With his face full of confusion and embarrassment, he addressed the boys, “uh, nice to meet you. I’m Beech Sanawbar Umsintsi Meadow. Juniper told me that I’m supposed to tutor you on Wednesdays.”
The students began to laugh out loud. Many of them couldn’t believe that a guy with such an odd behavior could be their tutor. After all, Beech acted like he wasn’t even aware that he had arrived in the classroom, until he had heard the boys.
Ignoring the laughing students, he continued speaking, “Juniper never told me what he’s doing on Mondays, but tutoring is like teaching, so let me know, if there’s anything you want to learn from me.”
One boy raised his hand, and said with a smirk, “can you teach me how to levitate a pen?” His tone of voice was a bit more mocking than it should have been.
Other boys around the classroom began snickering, because the boy who asked the question already knew how to do it. Pretty much everyone was aware that the request was made to test the tutor, and not to learn.
Beech looked at the class with his innocent baby face, and agreed, “okay, so let me explain how to make things levitate.” He walked away from the wall and moved closer to the center of the classroom.
“So, levitating,” he started then looked at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts, “first, you need to feel the air. Oh right, maybe I’ll start from the beginning. Not everyone knows, where magic comes from, but it helps, if you know it, so let’s recall the story of creation. When God created the world, he created six elements: water, fire, earth, sky, day and night. All magic consists of taking control of one or more of these elements, for the purpose of attaining a specific goal.”
The students stopped smirking, and started listening. Even though most of them heard the story of creation, none of them knew it in details.
Beech spoke on. “So later on, when God created men, he gave men the power to control the world, and that power is known as magic. The first man had what we call the absolute magic. It means that his magic had no limit. He could use it all the time, and it wasn’t dependent on his stamina or concentration. He also didn’t have to learn it, as he knew all about it from the moment he was created.”
Some of the students already heard about this, but for others it was a brand new world.
“However,” Beech continued, “just six generations later, all men began to sin. Some sinned more, some less, but God took away magic from all of them. Soon afterward men regretted their actions, and God gave magic back to them, but no longer as the absolute magic. This new form of magic came with limitations to its usage, and it was treated like a talent, so only some received it, while many didn’t have it at all.”
“Why?" One of the students shouted out. "Were they too sinful, so God didn’t give them any?” he asked without raising a hand.
Beech smiled in response. “No,” his answer was short. “There are many magic-talented people, who aren’t using magic in a good way, so it has nothing to do with your sins and virtues. The magic, as it currently exists, is a talent, and like all talents it’s a bonus, and not a regular capability. That’s why you should always be thankful for any of your talents, because you never know – one day you may lose it.”
“That’s not true,” another boy shouted out. “My grandparents were magic-talented all their lives. They never lost their talent for magic!”
“Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Beech waved down his hand. “You’ll learn more about it in higher years. Anyway,” he changed the topic before anyone could say anything. “In order to levitate something, you need to control the air, which belongs to the sky element. Of all the elements, the sky element is the easiest one to control, because we know this element the most. The air,” he pointed his finger up and moved his hand in a circular motion, “is all around us. We breathe it in. We exhale it. We feel the wind. We look at the sky. This element is with us all the time.”
Beech closed his eyes, “if you want to levitate an object, first you should let your body feel the air. Close your eyes, take a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. Concentrate on the sensation of being touched by the air, as it travels through your nose and let all your senses be full of it. And then,” he took a deep breath in, and right then, he began levitating his own body in front of the students.
When he was already half a meter above the ground, he opened his eyes and asked, "do you have any questions?”
Spruce raised his hand, “but I’m magicless,” he said.
“Me, too,” Beech responded and all the students were simultaneously surprised.
Spruce was also amazed at those words, as he continued, “but my magical item is using a fire element, so I cannot levitate things.”
“Wrong,” Beech said and lowered himself down to the floor. Then he walked up to Spruce, stretched out his hand and commanded, “show me your magical item.”
Spruce handed him the dagger. Beech moved a bit away from the boys and once again he closed his eyes. A huge ball of fire, which looked like a bubble appeared around Beech, and lifted him up.
“How?” asked Aspen, who was sitting next to Spruce.
“All elements are interconnected, and they affect each other,” Beech explained from inside the fire bubble. “You’ll learn about that later, but in this case, I warmed up the air. The warmer air always moves upward and the colder air moves downward. The air under this bubble is fairly hot, so it lifted me up. The bubble walls are protecting me from the heat, so I’m fine.”
And it truly was just like he described. The heat was coming off from under the fire bubble, almost as if there was a campfire burning right underneath Beech. Some students tried coming nearer, but as the heat from up close was unbearably hot, they quickly backed out. Beech made the fire bubble disappear together with the hot air, and jumped back onto the floor.
He gave the dagger back to Spruce, who took it and stared at it, as if it was the rarest treasure in the world.
The first two numbers came from the cottage numbers, and forty-four meant all the cottages starting with forty-four hundred. The final letter specified each group of twenty-five cottages. Letter A was for cottages from one to twenty-five. Letter B was for cottages labelled twenty-six thru fifty, and so on.
On the tenth day of Byzh, almost all the students in the group forty-four B came to the Exercise class. Linden was among those who didn’t. It was Wednesday and it was the first time, when they were going to meet the fourth one of their tutors.
The students came out of curiosity, with little expectations, based on their prior encounters.
Maca Waterfall was a nice tutor, who tried her best to be helpful, but she lacked flexibility in her own learning, and she couldn’t help with problems, which she herself never encountered.
Chervil Sun was mean and often made nasty comments, which was why only several students came to the Exercise class yesterday on Tuesday.
Juniper Root, who tutored on Mondays, was quite a friendly guy, but he never explained much, so it was always up to the students to figure things out.
And now, sitting on the floor in the gym and staring at the front door, the students of forty-four B, were wondering what kind of person was their Wednesday’s tutor.
When a guy walked through, they were surprised to see someone, who looked outstandingly average.
He wore grey pants on suspenders, blue shirt, and a greyish green cap. His light yellow hair was a bit longer than short, and he had a face, which made him look much younger than a fifth year student.
He walked in, staring at the floor in front of his feet. He didn’t stop walking until he arrived at the wall across from the door. He looked at the wall for a moment. Then his face brightened up, as if he recalled something nice, and he smiled to himself. Then he shook his head sideways, as if he was denying something in his thoughts before he looked again at the wall in front of him.
The students of the first year began looking at each other, and some were quietly laughing among themselves, while commenting about their tutor’s odd behavior.
The guy heard the laughs and turned his body toward the students. With his face full of confusion and embarrassment, he addressed the boys, “uh, nice to meet you. I’m Beech Sanawbar Umsintsi Meadow. Juniper told me that I’m supposed to tutor you on Wednesdays.”
The students began to laugh out loud. Many of them couldn’t believe that a guy with such an odd behavior could be their tutor. After all, Beech acted like he wasn’t even aware that he had arrived in the classroom, until he had heard the boys.
Ignoring the laughing students, he continued speaking, “Juniper never told me what he’s doing on Mondays, but tutoring is like teaching, so let me know, if there’s anything you want to learn from me.”
One boy raised his hand, and said with a smirk, “can you teach me how to levitate a pen?” His tone of voice was a bit more mocking than it should have been.
Other boys around the classroom began snickering, because the boy who asked the question already knew how to do it. Pretty much everyone was aware that the request was made to test the tutor, and not to learn.
Beech looked at the class with his innocent baby face, and agreed, “okay, so let me explain how to make things levitate.” He walked away from the wall and moved closer to the center of the classroom.
“So, levitating,” he started then looked at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts, “first, you need to feel the air. Oh right, maybe I’ll start from the beginning. Not everyone knows, where magic comes from, but it helps, if you know it, so let’s recall the story of creation. When God created the world, he created six elements: water, fire, earth, sky, day and night. All magic consists of taking control of one or more of these elements, for the purpose of attaining a specific goal.”
The students stopped smirking, and started listening. Even though most of them heard the story of creation, none of them knew it in details.
Beech spoke on. “So later on, when God created men, he gave men the power to control the world, and that power is known as magic. The first man had what we call the absolute magic. It means that his magic had no limit. He could use it all the time, and it wasn’t dependent on his stamina or concentration. He also didn’t have to learn it, as he knew all about it from the moment he was created.”
Some of the students already heard about this, but for others it was a brand new world.
“However,” Beech continued, “just six generations later, all men began to sin. Some sinned more, some less, but God took away magic from all of them. Soon afterward men regretted their actions, and God gave magic back to them, but no longer as the absolute magic. This new form of magic came with limitations to its usage, and it was treated like a talent, so only some received it, while many didn’t have it at all.”
“Why?" One of the students shouted out. "Were they too sinful, so God didn’t give them any?” he asked without raising a hand.
Beech smiled in response. “No,” his answer was short. “There are many magic-talented people, who aren’t using magic in a good way, so it has nothing to do with your sins and virtues. The magic, as it currently exists, is a talent, and like all talents it’s a bonus, and not a regular capability. That’s why you should always be thankful for any of your talents, because you never know – one day you may lose it.”
“That’s not true,” another boy shouted out. “My grandparents were magic-talented all their lives. They never lost their talent for magic!”
“Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Beech waved down his hand. “You’ll learn more about it in higher years. Anyway,” he changed the topic before anyone could say anything. “In order to levitate something, you need to control the air, which belongs to the sky element. Of all the elements, the sky element is the easiest one to control, because we know this element the most. The air,” he pointed his finger up and moved his hand in a circular motion, “is all around us. We breathe it in. We exhale it. We feel the wind. We look at the sky. This element is with us all the time.”
Beech closed his eyes, “if you want to levitate an object, first you should let your body feel the air. Close your eyes, take a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. Concentrate on the sensation of being touched by the air, as it travels through your nose and let all your senses be full of it. And then,” he took a deep breath in, and right then, he began levitating his own body in front of the students.
When he was already half a meter above the ground, he opened his eyes and asked, "do you have any questions?”
Spruce raised his hand, “but I’m magicless,” he said.
“Me, too,” Beech responded and all the students were simultaneously surprised.
Spruce was also amazed at those words, as he continued, “but my magical item is using a fire element, so I cannot levitate things.”
“Wrong,” Beech said and lowered himself down to the floor. Then he walked up to Spruce, stretched out his hand and commanded, “show me your magical item.”
Spruce handed him the dagger. Beech moved a bit away from the boys and once again he closed his eyes. A huge ball of fire, which looked like a bubble appeared around Beech, and lifted him up.
“How?” asked Aspen, who was sitting next to Spruce.
“All elements are interconnected, and they affect each other,” Beech explained from inside the fire bubble. “You’ll learn about that later, but in this case, I warmed up the air. The warmer air always moves upward and the colder air moves downward. The air under this bubble is fairly hot, so it lifted me up. The bubble walls are protecting me from the heat, so I’m fine.”
And it truly was just like he described. The heat was coming off from under the fire bubble, almost as if there was a campfire burning right underneath Beech. Some students tried coming nearer, but as the heat from up close was unbearably hot, they quickly backed out. Beech made the fire bubble disappear together with the hot air, and jumped back onto the floor.
He gave the dagger back to Spruce, who took it and stared at it, as if it was the rarest treasure in the world.
Tuesday, August 26, 2025
Demon || Variable thirty-three
Amidst the old gigantic trees of the largest forest in the world, on a meadow by a lake with waters deep and pure, slept an old dragon.
He had a long body of an eel, and scales like a fish. His head resembled the head of a turtle, and he had a long fin along his head and a long white beard under his chin.
He was the size of a mountain, and his head alone was as big as a house.
His scales, with their colors faded by time, looked even more greyish under the cloudy sky, which forecasted the oncoming rain.
A beautiful, tall and slender man with long silver hair approached him with the poise and dignity of a prince. His hair was twice as long as his height, tied in two braids, which were further wrapped around his waist. He wore a long golden robe, which was embedded with rarest gemstones of the earth.
He approached the sleeping dragon and touched his head.
The dragon slowly opened his eyes, and said, "I don’t need any healing."
The beautiful man had a long face, a thin nasal bridge, and a slightly pointed nose. His lips were thin, his forehead was smooth and his cheeks were glossy like caramel. His ears had a pointy top, and his long narrow eyes looked like two wells filled with springwater under the bright sun.
“So why did you call me?” the man asked.
With a peaceful voice the dragon responded, “I didn’t call you.”
“I did,” a hoarse high-pitched voice responded from the direction of the woods.
The elf took his hand off the dragon’s cheek and looked in the direction of the voice.
“Baba Yaga,” the dragon said with a small growl - a warning directed at the unwelcome guest.
“Show yourself, witch,” the elf ordered with disgust.
“Such a warm welcome,” she laughed as she turned herself visible. She stood alone with both of her hands holding her broom.
The elf furrowed his eyebrows.
The dragon sighed, “what do you want from us?”
“Have any of you ever travelled to another world?” she asked what seemed like a very random question.
“Get to the point,” the elf said, “or I’m leaving.”
“Fine, fine," she repeated herself twice, before she proceeded with an explanation. "A demon from another world is planning to come here. She already conquered that world, and now she wants to conquer ours.”
“Why would I believe a witch? Why would I believe the queen of the witches?” the elf immediately remarked.
“You don’t need to believe me. All you need to do is go there and see for yourself,” the witch smirked. “She has already created a portal from that world to our world, and us witches have already been there.”
The elf didn’t respond. Instead he was glaring at the witch, carefully observing, and expecting an attack at any time. Unlike him, the dragon was calm, and kept lying down on the meadow, as if he didn’t care at all.
“You aren’t lying,” the dragon spoke and the elf looked at him in surprise. “Did you come here to ally with us?” he leisurely questioned her.
Baba Yaga nodded, and the elf looked outraged.
“Is the enemy that strong?” the dragon calmly continued.
“This demon is far stronger than any of the demons, who fought in the war,” Baba Yaga said and there was a clear tone of fear hiding in her voice, which was sensed by both the dragon and the elf.
“God would never allow…” the elf began to speak, but the dragon interrupted him.
“Nobody knows the ways of God,” he said, then directed his speech to the witch. “You said, that that demon has already conquered the other world, correct?"
“Yes, it’s true. There are still some, who are fighting, but they are small in numbers.”
The dragon closed his eyes, thinking. In the meantime the elf spoke, “why would it concern us? The demons hate humans, not us, elves.”
Baba Yaga laughed with her high-pitched voice, which sent chills down the elf’s spine. “Oh, my dear King of Elves, let me tell you what she did with the elves of that world. First, she turned them into creatures far more ugly than goblins. Then she made them enjoy the life of slavery, which she put them into. The elves of that world, the small ugly creatures, clean dirty toilets with joy.”
Upon hearing the words spoken by the witch, the face of the King of Elves at the same time turned white pale with horror and red angry with fury.
The goblins were the ugliest creatures in the world, while the elves were the most beautiful. Calling an elf a creature uglier than a goblin, was the greatest offense, which could be directed at an elf. Furthermore, elves were creatures of artistic skills, whose work consisted of writing and drawing, and they were known to live in harmony with nature. They didn’t produce any dirt, so they never had to clean anything. Being told of a world, where elves were slaves doing manual labor was a disgrace demanding a death sentence for whoever dared to even think of it.
However, Baba Yaga wasn’t feeling afraid in the least, and she continued, “as for the dragons, she took away their ancient powers and their divine wisdom, leaving them as nothing more than overgrown lizards with almost no intelligence, more stupid than frogs.”
The dragon immediately opened wide his eyes, which were filled with thunders of rage.
Dragons were the oldest among the creatures created by God, and because of that they possessed two things, which no other creatures had. The first one was ancient powers, which allowed them to control the world of nature around them. The second one was divine wisdom, which was merely a tiny piece of God’s wisdom, but even with such a tiny piece, they were known as the wisest, most intelligent of God’s creations.
Dragons cherished their ancient powers and divine wisdom the most of all their qualities, and any offense directed at them regarding these two things would never be easily forgiven. The old dragon slowly raised his body from the meadow, and spread his wings, which until now had been so perfectly wrapped around his body as to be unseen. His featherless wings were transparent and looked like fishing nets wrapped around his bones.
“Where is the demon?” he asked.
Baba Yaga looked up at him and answered, “on the way.”
“When is she coming?” the dragon let some smoke out of his mouth.
The witch shook her head, “that I don’t know.”
The dragon moved his head closer to the witch. “How do I go to that world?”
“Through a portal,” she answered, and pointed in a general direction. “But you won’t have any allies in that world.”
“I am the Ancient Elder of Dragons. I can call all the dragons right now, and all of them will follow me,” he declared, ready to fly away.
“And you’ll still lose, if you go to that world,” the witch stated assuredly.
The dragon looked at the witch, bewildered and doubting. “How can it be?!”
“That demon has used possession on that whole world. Anything, which enters that world, has to follow her laws. If you go there now, with all the dragons from this world, then the moment you enter that world, all of you will turn into overgrown stupid toads,” Baba Yaga accented the last three words, and the dragon calmed down.
“So we cannot win, unless we fight from our home,” the dragon said as he put down his wings, but continued to sit on the meadow, looking like a snake ready to attack. “Out of interest, what did that demon do to the witches?”
“Nothing much,” Baba Yaga responded. “She made us more like humans.” After a moment, she added, “which has made us weaker.”
“Wait a moment.” The elf put his hand under his chin. “You have said that the demon used possession on that world. How can that be, if the world already belongs to God? Is that demon more powerful than God.”
“Oh no. Of course no,” the witch shook a hand in front of her. “Nothing and no one can be more powerful than the creator himself. But you have forgotten that long, long ago, after God created the world, He gave it to humans. Later on, the humans asked God to be the Lord of everything and God agreed, becoming the Lord of all Lords, and the King of all Kings.”
“Are you implying that this event didn’t happen in that world?” the dragon asked.
“Precisely,” she smirked. “In that world, God gave the world, which He created, for humans to rule, but those fools gave it to the demons.”
“How dare they?” the elf was at the same time shocked and angry.
“That explains a lot,” the dragon looked at the horizon from above the trees, where late afternoon sun slowly drifted out of the cloudy sky on its way down. “So those foolish humans destroyed the whole world, and all of us with them,” he summarized before he looked at the elf.
The elf looked back at him in silence. It was hard for either one of them to imagine a world, so different from the one they lived in. The world, which God created, was a world full of magic and miracles. It was a world filled with adventures, dreams and secrets. It was a world of mysteries and riddles, where nothing was impossible. And most important of all, it was a world ruled by its Creator.
“How is she planning to attack this world?” the dragon asked. “She cannot possess it.”
“Thank God for that,” the elf said.
“Thank humans for that,” the witch pointed out. “I don’t know what she’s planning, but I know she’s planning something. And for us, the earlier we start, the better prepared we’ll be.”
“Understood,” the dragon declared. “We shall cooperate in this matter. I’ll let all the dragons know.”
The elf answered unwillingly, but even he could understand the gravity of the situation. “The elves shall also cooperate.”
“One final question,” the dragon spoke, “do humans of our world already know about this?”
The witch stroked the side of her face with her long bony fingers capped with claws. “That is a difficult question. It appears that among the clergy, the Elder Father knows and has notified some of the elder clergy, but not all of them know. Among the royals, there’s the Emperor, who doesn’t know about the demons, but it seems like he can sense something, or maybe he knows something, but it’s hard to tell how much. Other royals know nothing.”
“What about the nobles and commoners?”
“O-ho-ho, that is truly interesting. Among nobles, there is one man, who was born to the Snow household about thirty years ago. His parents tried for many years, and couldn’t have any children, so they came to pray in a temple. Then after many years of prayers, an angel appeared to them and said to the woman: you will give birth to a baby boy in one year, but you will raise two sons.”
“And what about it? It isn’t unusual for angels to be messengers of God’s word?” the elf commented.
“Oh no, it isn’t,” the witch agreed, “but when the woman gave birth to her son, the angel returned again with a second baby boy in his hands, and he gave the baby to the woman, giving her another message from God: raise this child like your own, and when he grows to be of age, send him to the temple. The woman did just that. When the child was ten yrold, his family sent him to the temple. There, the clergy found out that the boy had memories of another world.”
The dragon and the elf looked at each other. They never heard of anything like that happening before.
“That noble,” the witch continued, “was originally from that world, which the demon took possession of. He was one of the several, who fought against the demon. Of course, he lost. After he was killed by her, God turned him back into a baby, and brought him to this world. He knows everything about that world and the demon, who killed him, but he’s the only noble with such knowledge.”
“And what about commoners?” the dragon calmly asked her, expecting nothing stranger than a story of a nobleman coming from another world.
“Oh, I’m leaving the best for last,” the witch giggled, and it was a sound so terrifying that not even the worst nightmares could match it. “A child was born in a temple,” she started. Then the Queen of Witches told them a story so bizarre that neither the Elder of Dragons nor the King of Elves could believe what they had heard on that day.
He had a long body of an eel, and scales like a fish. His head resembled the head of a turtle, and he had a long fin along his head and a long white beard under his chin.
He was the size of a mountain, and his head alone was as big as a house.
His scales, with their colors faded by time, looked even more greyish under the cloudy sky, which forecasted the oncoming rain.
A beautiful, tall and slender man with long silver hair approached him with the poise and dignity of a prince. His hair was twice as long as his height, tied in two braids, which were further wrapped around his waist. He wore a long golden robe, which was embedded with rarest gemstones of the earth.
He approached the sleeping dragon and touched his head.
The dragon slowly opened his eyes, and said, "I don’t need any healing."
The beautiful man had a long face, a thin nasal bridge, and a slightly pointed nose. His lips were thin, his forehead was smooth and his cheeks were glossy like caramel. His ears had a pointy top, and his long narrow eyes looked like two wells filled with springwater under the bright sun.
“So why did you call me?” the man asked.
With a peaceful voice the dragon responded, “I didn’t call you.”
“I did,” a hoarse high-pitched voice responded from the direction of the woods.
The elf took his hand off the dragon’s cheek and looked in the direction of the voice.
“Baba Yaga,” the dragon said with a small growl - a warning directed at the unwelcome guest.
“Show yourself, witch,” the elf ordered with disgust.
“Such a warm welcome,” she laughed as she turned herself visible. She stood alone with both of her hands holding her broom.
The elf furrowed his eyebrows.
The dragon sighed, “what do you want from us?”
“Have any of you ever travelled to another world?” she asked what seemed like a very random question.
“Get to the point,” the elf said, “or I’m leaving.”
“Fine, fine," she repeated herself twice, before she proceeded with an explanation. "A demon from another world is planning to come here. She already conquered that world, and now she wants to conquer ours.”
“Why would I believe a witch? Why would I believe the queen of the witches?” the elf immediately remarked.
“You don’t need to believe me. All you need to do is go there and see for yourself,” the witch smirked. “She has already created a portal from that world to our world, and us witches have already been there.”
The elf didn’t respond. Instead he was glaring at the witch, carefully observing, and expecting an attack at any time. Unlike him, the dragon was calm, and kept lying down on the meadow, as if he didn’t care at all.
“You aren’t lying,” the dragon spoke and the elf looked at him in surprise. “Did you come here to ally with us?” he leisurely questioned her.
Baba Yaga nodded, and the elf looked outraged.
“Is the enemy that strong?” the dragon calmly continued.
“This demon is far stronger than any of the demons, who fought in the war,” Baba Yaga said and there was a clear tone of fear hiding in her voice, which was sensed by both the dragon and the elf.
“God would never allow…” the elf began to speak, but the dragon interrupted him.
“Nobody knows the ways of God,” he said, then directed his speech to the witch. “You said, that that demon has already conquered the other world, correct?"
“Yes, it’s true. There are still some, who are fighting, but they are small in numbers.”
The dragon closed his eyes, thinking. In the meantime the elf spoke, “why would it concern us? The demons hate humans, not us, elves.”
Baba Yaga laughed with her high-pitched voice, which sent chills down the elf’s spine. “Oh, my dear King of Elves, let me tell you what she did with the elves of that world. First, she turned them into creatures far more ugly than goblins. Then she made them enjoy the life of slavery, which she put them into. The elves of that world, the small ugly creatures, clean dirty toilets with joy.”
Upon hearing the words spoken by the witch, the face of the King of Elves at the same time turned white pale with horror and red angry with fury.
The goblins were the ugliest creatures in the world, while the elves were the most beautiful. Calling an elf a creature uglier than a goblin, was the greatest offense, which could be directed at an elf. Furthermore, elves were creatures of artistic skills, whose work consisted of writing and drawing, and they were known to live in harmony with nature. They didn’t produce any dirt, so they never had to clean anything. Being told of a world, where elves were slaves doing manual labor was a disgrace demanding a death sentence for whoever dared to even think of it.
However, Baba Yaga wasn’t feeling afraid in the least, and she continued, “as for the dragons, she took away their ancient powers and their divine wisdom, leaving them as nothing more than overgrown lizards with almost no intelligence, more stupid than frogs.”
The dragon immediately opened wide his eyes, which were filled with thunders of rage.
Dragons were the oldest among the creatures created by God, and because of that they possessed two things, which no other creatures had. The first one was ancient powers, which allowed them to control the world of nature around them. The second one was divine wisdom, which was merely a tiny piece of God’s wisdom, but even with such a tiny piece, they were known as the wisest, most intelligent of God’s creations.
Dragons cherished their ancient powers and divine wisdom the most of all their qualities, and any offense directed at them regarding these two things would never be easily forgiven. The old dragon slowly raised his body from the meadow, and spread his wings, which until now had been so perfectly wrapped around his body as to be unseen. His featherless wings were transparent and looked like fishing nets wrapped around his bones.
“Where is the demon?” he asked.
Baba Yaga looked up at him and answered, “on the way.”
“When is she coming?” the dragon let some smoke out of his mouth.
The witch shook her head, “that I don’t know.”
The dragon moved his head closer to the witch. “How do I go to that world?”
“Through a portal,” she answered, and pointed in a general direction. “But you won’t have any allies in that world.”
“I am the Ancient Elder of Dragons. I can call all the dragons right now, and all of them will follow me,” he declared, ready to fly away.
“And you’ll still lose, if you go to that world,” the witch stated assuredly.
The dragon looked at the witch, bewildered and doubting. “How can it be?!”
“That demon has used possession on that whole world. Anything, which enters that world, has to follow her laws. If you go there now, with all the dragons from this world, then the moment you enter that world, all of you will turn into overgrown stupid toads,” Baba Yaga accented the last three words, and the dragon calmed down.
“So we cannot win, unless we fight from our home,” the dragon said as he put down his wings, but continued to sit on the meadow, looking like a snake ready to attack. “Out of interest, what did that demon do to the witches?”
“Nothing much,” Baba Yaga responded. “She made us more like humans.” After a moment, she added, “which has made us weaker.”
“Wait a moment.” The elf put his hand under his chin. “You have said that the demon used possession on that world. How can that be, if the world already belongs to God? Is that demon more powerful than God.”
“Oh no. Of course no,” the witch shook a hand in front of her. “Nothing and no one can be more powerful than the creator himself. But you have forgotten that long, long ago, after God created the world, He gave it to humans. Later on, the humans asked God to be the Lord of everything and God agreed, becoming the Lord of all Lords, and the King of all Kings.”
“Are you implying that this event didn’t happen in that world?” the dragon asked.
“Precisely,” she smirked. “In that world, God gave the world, which He created, for humans to rule, but those fools gave it to the demons.”
“How dare they?” the elf was at the same time shocked and angry.
“That explains a lot,” the dragon looked at the horizon from above the trees, where late afternoon sun slowly drifted out of the cloudy sky on its way down. “So those foolish humans destroyed the whole world, and all of us with them,” he summarized before he looked at the elf.
The elf looked back at him in silence. It was hard for either one of them to imagine a world, so different from the one they lived in. The world, which God created, was a world full of magic and miracles. It was a world filled with adventures, dreams and secrets. It was a world of mysteries and riddles, where nothing was impossible. And most important of all, it was a world ruled by its Creator.
“How is she planning to attack this world?” the dragon asked. “She cannot possess it.”
“Thank God for that,” the elf said.
“Thank humans for that,” the witch pointed out. “I don’t know what she’s planning, but I know she’s planning something. And for us, the earlier we start, the better prepared we’ll be.”
“Understood,” the dragon declared. “We shall cooperate in this matter. I’ll let all the dragons know.”
The elf answered unwillingly, but even he could understand the gravity of the situation. “The elves shall also cooperate.”
“One final question,” the dragon spoke, “do humans of our world already know about this?”
The witch stroked the side of her face with her long bony fingers capped with claws. “That is a difficult question. It appears that among the clergy, the Elder Father knows and has notified some of the elder clergy, but not all of them know. Among the royals, there’s the Emperor, who doesn’t know about the demons, but it seems like he can sense something, or maybe he knows something, but it’s hard to tell how much. Other royals know nothing.”
“What about the nobles and commoners?”
“O-ho-ho, that is truly interesting. Among nobles, there is one man, who was born to the Snow household about thirty years ago. His parents tried for many years, and couldn’t have any children, so they came to pray in a temple. Then after many years of prayers, an angel appeared to them and said to the woman: you will give birth to a baby boy in one year, but you will raise two sons.”
“And what about it? It isn’t unusual for angels to be messengers of God’s word?” the elf commented.
“Oh no, it isn’t,” the witch agreed, “but when the woman gave birth to her son, the angel returned again with a second baby boy in his hands, and he gave the baby to the woman, giving her another message from God: raise this child like your own, and when he grows to be of age, send him to the temple. The woman did just that. When the child was ten yrold, his family sent him to the temple. There, the clergy found out that the boy had memories of another world.”
The dragon and the elf looked at each other. They never heard of anything like that happening before.
“That noble,” the witch continued, “was originally from that world, which the demon took possession of. He was one of the several, who fought against the demon. Of course, he lost. After he was killed by her, God turned him back into a baby, and brought him to this world. He knows everything about that world and the demon, who killed him, but he’s the only noble with such knowledge.”
“And what about commoners?” the dragon calmly asked her, expecting nothing stranger than a story of a nobleman coming from another world.
“Oh, I’m leaving the best for last,” the witch giggled, and it was a sound so terrifying that not even the worst nightmares could match it. “A child was born in a temple,” she started. Then the Queen of Witches told them a story so bizarre that neither the Elder of Dragons nor the King of Elves could believe what they had heard on that day.
Antidotum - List of Contents
Friday, August 22, 2025
Mesologue || Variable 000001
Nettle Lauae Adacayi Rainbow of Sky sat down by the table in the kitchen, reading a book about the history of salt.
It was a warm sunny day of Dees. The pleasant breeze was gently blowing in through the open window. The birds were chirping among the trees, and some of them came to sit on the windowsill. They were curiously looking into the kitchen, until they got scared away, when Nettle sighed as she turned the page.
An image of a child buying a small box of salt caught her eye, and she was reminded of a memory from a year ago.
On a warm day of Faev, she was out shopping in Owlway with her husband and her son. She needed to replenish her kitchen supplies, including several rare herbs, while Yew needed new clothes. Kapok was driving the three of them around the city from one store to another in search of those necessities.
Whenever Nettle was talking and bargaining with the sellers, Kapok was watching over their son, who roamed outside and looked at other neighboring stores.
At one time, Yew stopped moving and with the utmost interest observed an item on display. It was a book about magic - recently acquired by the local bookstore, and advertised as the latest bestseller.
The book was opened halfway to flaunt its elaborate illustrations. On the left page it showed an eagle flying in the sky. On the right page, it showed a sleeping tiger, who occasionally got up in order to change his position.
Yew was staring at the images, until the bookseller approached him with a question. "Would you like to see more?"
Yew looked at the man’s hand. The seller was holding another copy of the advertised book.
Yew nodded, while he gazed at the book in anticipation. The seller put the item on the counter, and began to carefully flip through the pages, while Yew, who was at that time only a head higher than the counter, was enthralled by every image.
Meanwhile, Nettle finished her shopping, and reunited with Kapok, who was standing outside the store.
"Where’s Yew?" she asked.
Kapok gestured with his chin toward the bookstore, where their son was captured by the bookseller's smart tactics.
Nettle left the shopping bags with Kapok, and went over to the bookstore.
"Yew?" she called out.
Her son looked at her with the cutest begging eyes, which she had ever seen him do.
"Mama, can I have it?" even his voice was begging her.
"He really likes this book," the bookseller smiled at her.
Nettle looked at the book, then back at her son. "This isn't a book for you."
"Mama, please, please, please."
"Yew, you're magicless. You won't be able to do anything with this book."
"But," he looked down at his feet, while holding the counter with his hands, "the pictures are so pretty."
Nettle looked again at the book, and at the price, which was advertised as discounted by fifty percent. Yet at that supposed discount, the book still costed eighty hundred syfras - double the cost of an average book.
"Wait here. I'll ask your papa," she commanded him, then went back to talk to Kapok.
"If he wants it that badly, let's just buy it," her husband said.
"But it's a very expensive book with no good purpose."
"At the moment, we're not short on cash, so we can afford to throw some away," Kapok responded. "Besides, it's the first time, that I'm seeing him so fascinated by anything. Don't you want to see what happens, if we get him the book."
Nettle pinched the nosebridge between her eyes. This habit of hers always showed up, whenever she had to do something, which she didn't like, and Kapok always found it incredibly charming, so he couldn't stop himself from giving her a kiss on her cheek.
"Fine," she said in defeat. She had hoped that her husband would help her dissuade Yew from the purchase, but that didn't happen.
In the end, she went back to the bookseller, and paid for the book.
Once the book was in her hand, she walked back with Kapok to their carriage, while Yew was jumping and running around them, unable to contain his excitement.
Once inside Kapok's carriage, Nettle gave the book to Yew, but before she let go of it, she said with a stern but compassionate voice, "in order to use magic, you need to have a talent, so don’t cry if the spells don’t work for you."
"Mama?" she heard a familiar voice behind her back, but it wasn't Yew's.
Suddenly, she was brought back from her memory trip and realized, that her daughter was back from school and standing in the kitchen entrance.
They greeted each other with a loving hug. Then Hyssop inquired about her younger brother. Nettle checked his bedroom, and just as she expected, Yew wasn't home.
"Do you need help making lunch?" asked Hyssop, who was always ready to help her mother.
"Of course I do," she welcomed the offer.
But before they went to the kitchen, Hyssop recalled that her travelling suitcases were still on the front porch, so Nettle immediately headed there.
She didn't like it, when objects weren't in their rightful place, so she couldn't just leave them there. She took the heavier suitcase, while Hyssop took the other one, and they carried the luggage into her daughter's bedroom.
"Aufh," she sighed after she laid it down. "Did you pack an elephant in there?" she jokingly asked her daughter.
"I tried to evenly spread the weight, but I think the books in that one are made of heavier materials," Hyssop explained. "In order to make the suitcases liweiter, I'd have to divide all my books into four smaller suitcases, but that's just more luggage to watch over."
"I'm on the same page," Nettle nodded in agreement. "In addition, a gal should build up some muscles, if she wants to find a good husband."
"Mama! I told you before that I won't marry anyone," Hyssop rebuked her comment. "And shouldn't it be the men, who need muscles?"
"They do, but for a different reason," Nettle stood up, ready to head to the kitchen. "The men need strength to protect women, but women need strength to avoid bad men."
"What do you mean?" Hyssop followed her out of the bedroom.
"Weak prey attracts predators, and weak women attract men with bad intentions."
They entered the kitchen, where Nettle put on her apron, which was all blue, but made of a material sturdy enough to stop a blade.
Hyssop thought about her mother's explanation, as she was putting on her own apron made from a thinner white material and with a pattern of yellow flowers.
"I won't marry, so it doesn't matter," she murmured to herself.
"Oh the opposite," her mother responded. "It matters the most, when you're single. And since we're in this conversation, I believe it's the right time for you to prophesy your future husband."
"I said that I won't marry. I'll be single forever," Hyssop declared aggressively.
"Sure," her mother nodded cheerfully. "You can be single, if you want to but just in case, you must know how to recognize the man, who'll cherish you the most. And that's why you should prophesy your future husband before you go back to school."
Hyssop sighed. She knew that once her mother made her decision, it was impossible to change her mind.
"What do you mean by prophesying? Do I need to go to the temple?"
"No, no. It's nothing that complex," Nettle grabbed a recipe book, but she didn't open it, while she was still talking to her daughter. "What you need to do is decide upon three omens, then send your decision to God through a prayer. That's all. When you meet a man, who matches all three omens, that's how you'll know that he's the perfect partner for you."
"Three omens… hmm… So what were the three omens you set for papa?"
Nettle covered her mouth, as she giggled. "Back then I was just like you. I didn't want to marry, so I picked three very ridiculous omens."
Hyssop stood silent, ready to hear the whole story.
Nettle sat down at the table, put the recipe book by her side, then continued talking.
"The three omens, which I chose, were: one - on the first meeting he needs to ask to marry me; two - when asking to marry me, he needs to be wearing only boxers; and three - he needs to propose on both knees."
Hyssop sat down across from her mother. "No way," she said in disbelief. "That's so lame. Did papa really do all that?"
Nettle nodded. "He did. And he did it on a busy street, with many onlookers, and passerbys seeing the whole scene."
Hyssop sucked in the air, "that's so embarrassing. How did you respond? Did you send him a letter later on?"
"No such thing. I accepted it immediately."
Hyssop opened her mouth in shock. She couldn't imagine her mother acting crazy in public. "Really?" she asked weakly.
"At the time, I was already twenty-six yrold, and I've been dreaming of getting married for the prior five years," her mother explained. "The moment Kapok appeared before me was the peak of my joy. I've never felt more elated in my life."
Nettle put her hands on top of Hyssop's hands. "That's why it's important to wisely prophesy your husband. You only need three omens, but don't make them too simple. Make them something unique, so you won't marry the wrong person. And tell nobody what those three omens are until after you're married."
"Nobody?" Hyssop asked.
"Nobody," Nettle confirmed.
Afterward both women prepared lunch, but neither Kapok nor Yew came back to eat. By adding some more ingredients they turned lunch into dinner, which the four of them ate together.
Later in the evening, Hyssop began to think of the three omens for her future husband. She wasn't going to marry anyone, but just in case, she would prophesy her future husband.
She didn't want anything lame. She wanted to avoid any embarrassment altogether. However, the omens couldn't be anything normal, or too many men would match the prophecy.
Therefore, she decided that her future husband would have to accomplish great feats to get her heart.
Firstly, he'll need to arrive from the sky. Secondly, he'll need to have a one-of-a-kind sword with him - one of those rare swords, which don't have copies or anything else made in a similar style. And thirdly, he'll need to slay one of the three most powerful monsters in history with one slash. But since demons and witches didn't exist anymore, then that only left dragons as one of the three most powerful monsters.
Hyssop chuckled to herself.
«If such a cool man exists, I might change my mind and marry him,» she thought as she was preparing to meditate in order to send her three omens to Heavens.
It was a warm sunny day of Dees. The pleasant breeze was gently blowing in through the open window. The birds were chirping among the trees, and some of them came to sit on the windowsill. They were curiously looking into the kitchen, until they got scared away, when Nettle sighed as she turned the page.
An image of a child buying a small box of salt caught her eye, and she was reminded of a memory from a year ago.
On a warm day of Faev, she was out shopping in Owlway with her husband and her son. She needed to replenish her kitchen supplies, including several rare herbs, while Yew needed new clothes. Kapok was driving the three of them around the city from one store to another in search of those necessities.
Whenever Nettle was talking and bargaining with the sellers, Kapok was watching over their son, who roamed outside and looked at other neighboring stores.
At one time, Yew stopped moving and with the utmost interest observed an item on display. It was a book about magic - recently acquired by the local bookstore, and advertised as the latest bestseller.
The book was opened halfway to flaunt its elaborate illustrations. On the left page it showed an eagle flying in the sky. On the right page, it showed a sleeping tiger, who occasionally got up in order to change his position.
Yew was staring at the images, until the bookseller approached him with a question. "Would you like to see more?"
Yew looked at the man’s hand. The seller was holding another copy of the advertised book.
Yew nodded, while he gazed at the book in anticipation. The seller put the item on the counter, and began to carefully flip through the pages, while Yew, who was at that time only a head higher than the counter, was enthralled by every image.
Meanwhile, Nettle finished her shopping, and reunited with Kapok, who was standing outside the store.
"Where’s Yew?" she asked.
Kapok gestured with his chin toward the bookstore, where their son was captured by the bookseller's smart tactics.
Nettle left the shopping bags with Kapok, and went over to the bookstore.
"Yew?" she called out.
Her son looked at her with the cutest begging eyes, which she had ever seen him do.
"Mama, can I have it?" even his voice was begging her.
"He really likes this book," the bookseller smiled at her.
Nettle looked at the book, then back at her son. "This isn't a book for you."
"Mama, please, please, please."
"Yew, you're magicless. You won't be able to do anything with this book."
"But," he looked down at his feet, while holding the counter with his hands, "the pictures are so pretty."
Nettle looked again at the book, and at the price, which was advertised as discounted by fifty percent. Yet at that supposed discount, the book still costed eighty hundred syfras - double the cost of an average book.
"Wait here. I'll ask your papa," she commanded him, then went back to talk to Kapok.
"If he wants it that badly, let's just buy it," her husband said.
"But it's a very expensive book with no good purpose."
"At the moment, we're not short on cash, so we can afford to throw some away," Kapok responded. "Besides, it's the first time, that I'm seeing him so fascinated by anything. Don't you want to see what happens, if we get him the book."
Nettle pinched the nosebridge between her eyes. This habit of hers always showed up, whenever she had to do something, which she didn't like, and Kapok always found it incredibly charming, so he couldn't stop himself from giving her a kiss on her cheek.
"Fine," she said in defeat. She had hoped that her husband would help her dissuade Yew from the purchase, but that didn't happen.
In the end, she went back to the bookseller, and paid for the book.
Once the book was in her hand, she walked back with Kapok to their carriage, while Yew was jumping and running around them, unable to contain his excitement.
Once inside Kapok's carriage, Nettle gave the book to Yew, but before she let go of it, she said with a stern but compassionate voice, "in order to use magic, you need to have a talent, so don’t cry if the spells don’t work for you."
"Mama?" she heard a familiar voice behind her back, but it wasn't Yew's.
Suddenly, she was brought back from her memory trip and realized, that her daughter was back from school and standing in the kitchen entrance.
They greeted each other with a loving hug. Then Hyssop inquired about her younger brother. Nettle checked his bedroom, and just as she expected, Yew wasn't home.
"Do you need help making lunch?" asked Hyssop, who was always ready to help her mother.
"Of course I do," she welcomed the offer.
But before they went to the kitchen, Hyssop recalled that her travelling suitcases were still on the front porch, so Nettle immediately headed there.
She didn't like it, when objects weren't in their rightful place, so she couldn't just leave them there. She took the heavier suitcase, while Hyssop took the other one, and they carried the luggage into her daughter's bedroom.
"Aufh," she sighed after she laid it down. "Did you pack an elephant in there?" she jokingly asked her daughter.
"I tried to evenly spread the weight, but I think the books in that one are made of heavier materials," Hyssop explained. "In order to make the suitcases liweiter, I'd have to divide all my books into four smaller suitcases, but that's just more luggage to watch over."
"I'm on the same page," Nettle nodded in agreement. "In addition, a gal should build up some muscles, if she wants to find a good husband."
"Mama! I told you before that I won't marry anyone," Hyssop rebuked her comment. "And shouldn't it be the men, who need muscles?"
"They do, but for a different reason," Nettle stood up, ready to head to the kitchen. "The men need strength to protect women, but women need strength to avoid bad men."
"What do you mean?" Hyssop followed her out of the bedroom.
"Weak prey attracts predators, and weak women attract men with bad intentions."
They entered the kitchen, where Nettle put on her apron, which was all blue, but made of a material sturdy enough to stop a blade.
Hyssop thought about her mother's explanation, as she was putting on her own apron made from a thinner white material and with a pattern of yellow flowers.
"I won't marry, so it doesn't matter," she murmured to herself.
"Oh the opposite," her mother responded. "It matters the most, when you're single. And since we're in this conversation, I believe it's the right time for you to prophesy your future husband."
"I said that I won't marry. I'll be single forever," Hyssop declared aggressively.
"Sure," her mother nodded cheerfully. "You can be single, if you want to but just in case, you must know how to recognize the man, who'll cherish you the most. And that's why you should prophesy your future husband before you go back to school."
Hyssop sighed. She knew that once her mother made her decision, it was impossible to change her mind.
"What do you mean by prophesying? Do I need to go to the temple?"
"No, no. It's nothing that complex," Nettle grabbed a recipe book, but she didn't open it, while she was still talking to her daughter. "What you need to do is decide upon three omens, then send your decision to God through a prayer. That's all. When you meet a man, who matches all three omens, that's how you'll know that he's the perfect partner for you."
"Three omens… hmm… So what were the three omens you set for papa?"
Nettle covered her mouth, as she giggled. "Back then I was just like you. I didn't want to marry, so I picked three very ridiculous omens."
Hyssop stood silent, ready to hear the whole story.
Nettle sat down at the table, put the recipe book by her side, then continued talking.
"The three omens, which I chose, were: one - on the first meeting he needs to ask to marry me; two - when asking to marry me, he needs to be wearing only boxers; and three - he needs to propose on both knees."
Hyssop sat down across from her mother. "No way," she said in disbelief. "That's so lame. Did papa really do all that?"
Nettle nodded. "He did. And he did it on a busy street, with many onlookers, and passerbys seeing the whole scene."
Hyssop sucked in the air, "that's so embarrassing. How did you respond? Did you send him a letter later on?"
"No such thing. I accepted it immediately."
Hyssop opened her mouth in shock. She couldn't imagine her mother acting crazy in public. "Really?" she asked weakly.
"At the time, I was already twenty-six yrold, and I've been dreaming of getting married for the prior five years," her mother explained. "The moment Kapok appeared before me was the peak of my joy. I've never felt more elated in my life."
Nettle put her hands on top of Hyssop's hands. "That's why it's important to wisely prophesy your husband. You only need three omens, but don't make them too simple. Make them something unique, so you won't marry the wrong person. And tell nobody what those three omens are until after you're married."
"Nobody?" Hyssop asked.
"Nobody," Nettle confirmed.
Afterward both women prepared lunch, but neither Kapok nor Yew came back to eat. By adding some more ingredients they turned lunch into dinner, which the four of them ate together.
Later in the evening, Hyssop began to think of the three omens for her future husband. She wasn't going to marry anyone, but just in case, she would prophesy her future husband.
She didn't want anything lame. She wanted to avoid any embarrassment altogether. However, the omens couldn't be anything normal, or too many men would match the prophecy.
Therefore, she decided that her future husband would have to accomplish great feats to get her heart.
Firstly, he'll need to arrive from the sky. Secondly, he'll need to have a one-of-a-kind sword with him - one of those rare swords, which don't have copies or anything else made in a similar style. And thirdly, he'll need to slay one of the three most powerful monsters in history with one slash. But since demons and witches didn't exist anymore, then that only left dragons as one of the three most powerful monsters.
Hyssop chuckled to herself.
«If such a cool man exists, I might change my mind and marry him,» she thought as she was preparing to meditate in order to send her three omens to Heavens.
Friday, August 8, 2025
Genius || Variable thirty-two
Spruce sat on the ground, with his head between his legs, and his hands on his head. He was dizzy, and he tried to control himself from vomiting.
“Are you okay?” Yew asked after he walked up to his neighbor.
“I feel sick,” Spruce responded.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, moved his head to the side, and vomited, receiving some ewwws from the nearby students, who didn’t like what they saw.
“Are you sick?!” the voice of the approaching teacher made everyone stand aside. “You don’t have to come to class, if you don’t feel well,” Cacao said, as he came closer. “Take him to the clinic,” he commanded Yew, who stood by Spruce. “I excuse both of you from today’s class. Just for confirmation, Spruce Fire and Yew Sky?”
“Yes, professor,” Yew answered.
“Good, then. I’ll mark your absence as excused today. Just go, already.” Then he turned to the other students and said in a loud voice, “everyone else, get inside the classroom, or I’ll give you negative points for being late.”
The students quickly hurried inside the classroom. Meanwhile, Spruce slowly stood up with Yew’s help and, as they began walking away, the teacher took a final look at them, nodded with sympathy, then also entered the classroom.
“Which way is the clinic?” Yew asked.
“How do I know?” Spruce responded, then added, “it’s fine. I’m not sick. That ride was just crazy.”
They stopped walking and Spruce pointed at the grass under a tree. “I just need to sit down for a bit, and it’ll go away.”
Both boys sat down on the grass under the tree. There were no other people around them, because students and teachers alike were already inside their classrooms holding classes for another hour.
Spruce kept his head down between his legs, and Yew was just quietly sitting next to him, while observing the empty roads, and wondering how odd it felt to be alone in such a vast labyrinth of buildings.
After a long time of rest, Spruce finally felt better. “Let’s go to Sorrel’s class,” he said, then slowly got up. Yew did the same.
Spruce’s legs were still tired from yesterday’s run, so he knew that he couldn’t walk fast. However they weren't far away from the History building, and with the extra time, which they had, he could slowly get there on time.
“So how did you happen to meet with that tutor?” Yew asked, after Spruce began walking.
“I woke up late today, and when I was on my way to class, she saw me and asked me, if I was skipping class. I told her that I’m late and I'm in a hurry. Then she dragged me onto that bench and before I could get off, the bench started flying.”
“She dragged you? Without asking if you want a ride or not?”
Spruce confirmed with a nod.
Yew thought for a moment. He remembered the first time, when Chervil came over to the classroom and introduced herself. She certainly appeared like a rather odd type of a person, and the latest story from Spruce made Yew even more afraid of the gal. He decided that he would stay away from her as much as possible, even if he had to skip Exercise classes every Wednesday.
The two of them arrived early to the Process class. The door was closed, because the previous class hadn’t yet finished. The boys sat by the wall. However they didn’t have to wait long, because soon the classes had ended, and the door to classroom B was opened from inside. The girls of the first year began stepping out and heading toward another classroom. Among them was Wasabi, who didn’t spot the boys, because she was busy talking with another girl from her class.
After all the students had left, Spruce and Yew got up from the ground, and entered the classroom, which was empty except for the teacher, who sat at her desk. Spruce quickly headed for his desk, while Yew took a moment to look around. Being the only two students in the classroom had an interesting feel to it, and Yew couldn’t quite tell what it was.
However, the quiet moment didn’t last long. Soon their classmates arrived. The room became full of students as usual, and the lecture started.
“Now that everyone can use magic, or their magical items,” Sorrel smiled at Spruce, “let us move on.”
She knocked on the board and two words appeared: «concentration», and «stamina».
“As you already know, concentration is necessary to start magic, and stamina is necessary to continue using magic. All of you had some stamina and some concentration, when you first came to Hecate. However, not all of you had enough to make magic happen, which is why you struggled to perform magic in your first week of school.”
She walked up to the word «concentration» and slid her finger under it. A vertical list of ten labels appeared from one percent until ten percent.
“Magic concentration is divided into three ranks: bronze, silver and gold. Each rank is further divided into percentages. Hundred percent of bronze rank is required to graduate Hecate. Hundred percent silver rank is considered to be a professional magus, and hundred percent gold rank is, well, rare.”
She took a moment to quietly look at her students. “When you first walked in this class, your concentration was somewhere near zero percent. It takes about one percent of bronze rank concentration to shake a pen, and in order to advance to the second year, you’ll need to have at least ten percent bronze rank concentration by the end of the school year.”
She turned back to the blackboard. “But concentration isn’t enough.”
She slid her finger under stamina, and once again a vertical list of labels appeared. This time, it started at zero percent and went up to five percent with the intervals of half a percent. “Stamina is also important. To measure stamina we use stamina levels. The lowest one being zero percent, which is that of a newborn baby. Thirty percent stamina is the average for most adults. Anything beyond that is considered above average levels of stamina.”
She faced the class once again. “You need at least five percent of stamina in order to graduate the first year. If you fail the minimum requirements in the magic concentration rank or in the stamina level by the end of the year, you’ll have to either repeat the year or find another school.”
She walked up to her desk. "So today, we’ll check your current concentration rank and stamina level.” She pointed at an alarm clock on her desk, “this is a stamina clock. As you see, it has percentages from zero point zero until one point zero. When your stamina goes over one percent, then it will do another circle. So, if any of you have a stamina of three percent then the clock handle will make three circles.”
Then she pointed at something, which looked like a thermometer, “this is a basic magic concentration indicator. It can be used to measure bronze rank from zero to fifty percent. I’ll read your namehoods, so if you hear your name, I want you to come to the desk, and move this pen,” she pointed at the pen on the table. “When you do that the magic concentration indicator will calculate your concentration, and the stamina clock will measure the amount of stamina you possess.”
She read out the namehood of the first student, and when he came up to her desk, she addressed him and the class, “make sure you give your best, or your results will be lower than actual.”
The student did try his best and received zero point seven percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. Sorrel noted down the results and called out the next person, who received zero point five percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. This pattern went on for another five people, who ranged between zero point five to one point two percent on stamina and between one to two percent on concentration.
Sorrel called out Linden, who came up to the table, and levitated the pen with ease. The stamina clock ranked four point six percent and the magic concentration indicator showed fourteen percent. The whole class couldn’t believe the results, and Sorrel shook her head in disapproval. With a scorn on her face, she wrote down the results. And when Linden was on his way back to his desk, she said to him, “please come to my office in the afternoon.”
Several namehoods later, Aspen was called to the teacher’s desk. He returned back with one point four percent level of stamina, and a whole eight percent bronze rank in concentration.
After all the magic-talented students were called, Sorrel called out Yew’s name. He came up to the teacher’s desk totally stressed. He didn’t know what his results would be, but he prayed that it wouldn't be anything higher than Linden’s. Trying to control his power as much as he could and use only the minimum of it, he slowly shook the pen.
Sorrel noted Yew's results: zero point seven percent on stamina and one percent on concentration.
Yew couldn’t feel happier how perfectly he managed to fit in with the average students around him. He returned back to his desk feeling blissfully relieved.
Last to be examined was Spruce. When he walked up to the teacher’s desk, Sorrel looked at him, and said, “oh yeah, your tool uses fire. Instead of floating the pen, please set it up on fire."
Spruce did just that. The pen burst into flames, and Sorrel looked at the stamina clock, which ran a full circle, and then another one and stopped at two point nine percent.
She took a quick look at the magic concentration indicator, and so did Spruce, who was so surprised that he stopped his magic. “Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, ready to redo the flame, but Sorrel stopped him.
“It’s fine,” she put her hand over the pen, which wasn't even charred. “I already saw the result. Four percent,” she took back her hand, and wrote down both numbers next to Spruce’s namehood in her register book.
All students were beyond words, and many of them also looked at Linden, who simply rolled his eyes. Yew looked at Spruce, then at Linden, then back at Spruce, as he recalled Juniper’s words: “there are two kinds of geniuses in the world, those who start earlier than anyone else, and those who start later than everyone else.”
“Are you okay?” Yew asked after he walked up to his neighbor.
“I feel sick,” Spruce responded.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, moved his head to the side, and vomited, receiving some ewwws from the nearby students, who didn’t like what they saw.
“Are you sick?!” the voice of the approaching teacher made everyone stand aside. “You don’t have to come to class, if you don’t feel well,” Cacao said, as he came closer. “Take him to the clinic,” he commanded Yew, who stood by Spruce. “I excuse both of you from today’s class. Just for confirmation, Spruce Fire and Yew Sky?”
“Yes, professor,” Yew answered.
“Good, then. I’ll mark your absence as excused today. Just go, already.” Then he turned to the other students and said in a loud voice, “everyone else, get inside the classroom, or I’ll give you negative points for being late.”
The students quickly hurried inside the classroom. Meanwhile, Spruce slowly stood up with Yew’s help and, as they began walking away, the teacher took a final look at them, nodded with sympathy, then also entered the classroom.
“Which way is the clinic?” Yew asked.
“How do I know?” Spruce responded, then added, “it’s fine. I’m not sick. That ride was just crazy.”
They stopped walking and Spruce pointed at the grass under a tree. “I just need to sit down for a bit, and it’ll go away.”
Both boys sat down on the grass under the tree. There were no other people around them, because students and teachers alike were already inside their classrooms holding classes for another hour.
Spruce kept his head down between his legs, and Yew was just quietly sitting next to him, while observing the empty roads, and wondering how odd it felt to be alone in such a vast labyrinth of buildings.
After a long time of rest, Spruce finally felt better. “Let’s go to Sorrel’s class,” he said, then slowly got up. Yew did the same.
Spruce’s legs were still tired from yesterday’s run, so he knew that he couldn’t walk fast. However they weren't far away from the History building, and with the extra time, which they had, he could slowly get there on time.
“So how did you happen to meet with that tutor?” Yew asked, after Spruce began walking.
“I woke up late today, and when I was on my way to class, she saw me and asked me, if I was skipping class. I told her that I’m late and I'm in a hurry. Then she dragged me onto that bench and before I could get off, the bench started flying.”
“She dragged you? Without asking if you want a ride or not?”
Spruce confirmed with a nod.
Yew thought for a moment. He remembered the first time, when Chervil came over to the classroom and introduced herself. She certainly appeared like a rather odd type of a person, and the latest story from Spruce made Yew even more afraid of the gal. He decided that he would stay away from her as much as possible, even if he had to skip Exercise classes every Wednesday.
The two of them arrived early to the Process class. The door was closed, because the previous class hadn’t yet finished. The boys sat by the wall. However they didn’t have to wait long, because soon the classes had ended, and the door to classroom B was opened from inside. The girls of the first year began stepping out and heading toward another classroom. Among them was Wasabi, who didn’t spot the boys, because she was busy talking with another girl from her class.
After all the students had left, Spruce and Yew got up from the ground, and entered the classroom, which was empty except for the teacher, who sat at her desk. Spruce quickly headed for his desk, while Yew took a moment to look around. Being the only two students in the classroom had an interesting feel to it, and Yew couldn’t quite tell what it was.
However, the quiet moment didn’t last long. Soon their classmates arrived. The room became full of students as usual, and the lecture started.
“Now that everyone can use magic, or their magical items,” Sorrel smiled at Spruce, “let us move on.”
She knocked on the board and two words appeared: «concentration», and «stamina».
“As you already know, concentration is necessary to start magic, and stamina is necessary to continue using magic. All of you had some stamina and some concentration, when you first came to Hecate. However, not all of you had enough to make magic happen, which is why you struggled to perform magic in your first week of school.”
She walked up to the word «concentration» and slid her finger under it. A vertical list of ten labels appeared from one percent until ten percent.
“Magic concentration is divided into three ranks: bronze, silver and gold. Each rank is further divided into percentages. Hundred percent of bronze rank is required to graduate Hecate. Hundred percent silver rank is considered to be a professional magus, and hundred percent gold rank is, well, rare.”
She took a moment to quietly look at her students. “When you first walked in this class, your concentration was somewhere near zero percent. It takes about one percent of bronze rank concentration to shake a pen, and in order to advance to the second year, you’ll need to have at least ten percent bronze rank concentration by the end of the school year.”
She turned back to the blackboard. “But concentration isn’t enough.”
She slid her finger under stamina, and once again a vertical list of labels appeared. This time, it started at zero percent and went up to five percent with the intervals of half a percent. “Stamina is also important. To measure stamina we use stamina levels. The lowest one being zero percent, which is that of a newborn baby. Thirty percent stamina is the average for most adults. Anything beyond that is considered above average levels of stamina.”
She faced the class once again. “You need at least five percent of stamina in order to graduate the first year. If you fail the minimum requirements in the magic concentration rank or in the stamina level by the end of the year, you’ll have to either repeat the year or find another school.”
She walked up to her desk. "So today, we’ll check your current concentration rank and stamina level.” She pointed at an alarm clock on her desk, “this is a stamina clock. As you see, it has percentages from zero point zero until one point zero. When your stamina goes over one percent, then it will do another circle. So, if any of you have a stamina of three percent then the clock handle will make three circles.”
Then she pointed at something, which looked like a thermometer, “this is a basic magic concentration indicator. It can be used to measure bronze rank from zero to fifty percent. I’ll read your namehoods, so if you hear your name, I want you to come to the desk, and move this pen,” she pointed at the pen on the table. “When you do that the magic concentration indicator will calculate your concentration, and the stamina clock will measure the amount of stamina you possess.”
She read out the namehood of the first student, and when he came up to her desk, she addressed him and the class, “make sure you give your best, or your results will be lower than actual.”
The student did try his best and received zero point seven percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. Sorrel noted down the results and called out the next person, who received zero point five percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. This pattern went on for another five people, who ranged between zero point five to one point two percent on stamina and between one to two percent on concentration.
Sorrel called out Linden, who came up to the table, and levitated the pen with ease. The stamina clock ranked four point six percent and the magic concentration indicator showed fourteen percent. The whole class couldn’t believe the results, and Sorrel shook her head in disapproval. With a scorn on her face, she wrote down the results. And when Linden was on his way back to his desk, she said to him, “please come to my office in the afternoon.”
Several namehoods later, Aspen was called to the teacher’s desk. He returned back with one point four percent level of stamina, and a whole eight percent bronze rank in concentration.
After all the magic-talented students were called, Sorrel called out Yew’s name. He came up to the teacher’s desk totally stressed. He didn’t know what his results would be, but he prayed that it wouldn't be anything higher than Linden’s. Trying to control his power as much as he could and use only the minimum of it, he slowly shook the pen.
Sorrel noted Yew's results: zero point seven percent on stamina and one percent on concentration.
Yew couldn’t feel happier how perfectly he managed to fit in with the average students around him. He returned back to his desk feeling blissfully relieved.
Last to be examined was Spruce. When he walked up to the teacher’s desk, Sorrel looked at him, and said, “oh yeah, your tool uses fire. Instead of floating the pen, please set it up on fire."
Spruce did just that. The pen burst into flames, and Sorrel looked at the stamina clock, which ran a full circle, and then another one and stopped at two point nine percent.
She took a quick look at the magic concentration indicator, and so did Spruce, who was so surprised that he stopped his magic. “Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, ready to redo the flame, but Sorrel stopped him.
“It’s fine,” she put her hand over the pen, which wasn't even charred. “I already saw the result. Four percent,” she took back her hand, and wrote down both numbers next to Spruce’s namehood in her register book.
All students were beyond words, and many of them also looked at Linden, who simply rolled his eyes. Yew looked at Spruce, then at Linden, then back at Spruce, as he recalled Juniper’s words: “there are two kinds of geniuses in the world, those who start earlier than anyone else, and those who start later than everyone else.”
Thursday, August 7, 2025
Item || Variable thirty-one
Spruce stood in front of Sorrel’s office inside the schoolmanor. He was here two weeks ago in order to help Sorrel move the boxes from her office to the classroom, and at that time it was a lot of fun, but today he came prepared for the worst.
In his head, he could already hear the teacher tell him that he has no talent for this; that he should consider going to another school; that if he cannot succeed by next week, he would be expelled. Having his lifegoal destroyed like that was going to be painful, but he couldn’t change the inevitable, so after standing still for quite a long time, he finally found the courage to face his fate. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The door magically opened with a soft swooshing sound, and Sorrel welcomed him with two words: “come in.”
She was walking around her office room arranging some documents from her desk back onto the shelf. After Spruce walked in, she pointed at the chair in front of her desk and warmly invited him, “please, sit down.”
Spruce sat and waited. In the meantime she kept looking through some of the documents in her hand.
Eventually Sorrel cleaned the documents off her desk and put them back onto the shelfcase. Then she sat down on her chair at the other side of the desk.
“I’m sorry that you had to wait," she started. "Can I see the magical item, which you've bought last week?”
Spruce quickly nodded his head, and put the dagger on the table.
“Oh," Sorrel was slightly surprised. "I should have expected that from a boy." She pointed at the item, "so even with this dagger, you still cannot float a pen, huh?”
Spruce nodded once but firmly.
“What kind of magic does it have specifically? Sky magic? Air magic? Wind magic? Gravity magic?” she listed the most likely options.
Spruce blinked in confusion.
Seeing his reaction, the teacheress explained, “well, I haven’t taught that yet, because magic variations are many in number, but when you were buying this item, the seller should have told you its magic variation.”
“I don’t know,” Spruce quietly admitted, but then he recalled what happened when Linden used it. “I think it may be Fire magic,” he added.
“Fire magic? Oh, then that explains why you couldn’t float a pen.”
After Spruce heard Sorrel’s statement, he looked at her in hope.
“Fire cannot float objects,” she continued. “At least not by itself.” She took a pen from the basket of pens on her desk and put it in front of Spruce. “Instead of trying to float it, try to set it on fire.”
Spruce furrowed his eyebrows, and concentrated.
“Don’t forget to hold it,” she reminded him about his magical item.
Spruce put his hand on his dagger, and imagined setting the pen on fire. A spark appeared, then another one, and three more sparks twinkled consecutively before a flame burst out and surrounded the whole pen.
Sorrel snapped her fingers above the burning pen, and the flame disappeared in an instant.
“I don’t want you to burn my office,” she said with a sweet smile. “But other than that, it’s a pass. I recommend you practice under the sink.”
Spruce looked at the burned pen, and couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“Do you have any more questions?” Sorrel asked the boy.
Spruce looked at her, then back at the pen.
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She touched the pen, which returned back to its preburned state. Then she put it back with her other pens. “As long as the damage isn’t extensive, it’s always easy to fix.”
“I can use magic,” Spruce still couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“Yes, you can. And if you have no more questions, you can go back and practice more. I expect to see it again tomorrow in class.”
“Yes, professor, thank you,” Spruce responded then got up the chair. He was already on the way out, when Sorrel once again reminded him of the dagger, which was still laying on her desk. He turned around and before feeling too embarrassed, he took the dagger and quickly left the office.
Outside, he couldn’t contain his euphoria. He ran through the hallway of the schoolmanor, and got yelled at by some of the teachers, who didn’t approve of anyone running around or near their offices. However, Spruce didn’t stop to listen to their preachings. He continued to run.
Right after he exited the schoolmanor, he jumped up as high as he could, and screamed, “God-made!”
A lot of students and teachers looked at the boy, who just ran off as suddenly as he ran out of the building. Many smiled with an understanding. They all knew that something very good must have happened to him.
The phrase “God-made” was a common phrase used by those, who experienced something awesome. Some linguists claimed that it was an abbreviation of the sentence, “God made a miracle”, while others sought the explanation elsewhere. The phrase itself had been used for so many centuries, that no one really knew where it came from, but the meaning behind it had never changed. It was always the expression of unlimited joy.
Spruce kept running through the schoolground without taking a break to rest. He passed different buildings, students, and teachers. All of whom looked after the runner with questioning countenances, not knowing the purpose or the cause of his run.
He only slowed down, when he arrived by the hamlet, not because of close proximity to his home, but because his stomach muscles began to hurt.
When he finally entered the living room of his cottage, Aspen, who sat at his desk on the left side, looked up from the textbook, which he was reading.
“So how was it?” he asked.
“God-made,” Spruce answered with the last bit of breath, which he had, and fell onto the sofa.
“That’s good,” Aspen responded then went back to reading.
Spruce, who didn’t sleep well the night before, fell asleep on the sofa right away. He woke up later on, when it was almost dark outside. Aspen was already in his bed, so Spruce quietly took a shower, and while doing so, he kept recalling the meeting with Sorrel. He couldn’t get enough of the warm feeling of success burning inside him.
When he was dressing up into his pajamas, he imagined the reactions of his friends tomorrow in class, and he couldn’t wait until the night was over. He hid himself under the comforter and giggled like a bride the night before her wedding. Not realizing when, he fell asleep with a big smile on his face.
And while he slept, the new day arrived.
He felt someone take off his bedcovers, and heard Aspen talking to him.
“If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll be late to class.”
He opened his eyes, and saw that Aspen was already up and ready. It didn’t surprise him, because Aspen was always up and ready early in the morning.
“What time is it?” he asked, while rubbing his eyes.
“Look at the clock,” Aspen pointed at the round clock above the door.
Spruce slowly turned around his head. However, when he saw the hour, his lethargy immediately disappeared and he began to dress up ultra-fast.
“I’ll be going ahead,” Aspen said before he left.
Spruce quickly finished dressing up. He didn't have enough time to eat breakfast, so he went straight to the entry room, put on outdoor shoes and ran out. But as soon as he left the cottage, he felt a quick sharp pain in his legs. The fatigue from the crazy long run of yesterday took over his body, and he couldn’t move well.
He believed that he could still make it on time, if he walked, so he began the difficult journey toward the classroom. His body gave him signals that it would rather rest than walk, but he didn’t want to give up. When he was halfway to the classroom, he felt a sharp stab in his side and he had to make a stop.
“Skipping class?” a female voice asked him from behind.
He turned around and saw Chervil Sun walking around leisurely at a time, when most students ran as fast as possible to make it on time to their classes.
“My legs hurt,” Spruce said.
“Take a day off,” she suggested.
“I don’t want to.”
“What resolution,” she snorted with fake admiration. “But your hands are fine?” she asked with a smirk.
“Yeah?” Spruce didn’t know how it was related.
“Which building are you heading to?”
“History building, classroom A.”
Chervil took him by the arm and pushed him onto a nearby bench. “Then grab on,” she said and also sat down.
“I have to go,” Spruce began complaining, but stopped, when he realized that the bench started levitating.
“All passengers aboard, please hold on,” Chervil said like a kid playing a bus conductor. “We take no responsibility for passengers, who accidentally leave the plane mid-flight.”
Spruce grabbed the bench and held on as hard as he could. His intuition was telling him that he wasn’t going to like it. When the bench was at the height of about five meters, it suddenly moved forward at a speed, which was way too fast for a travelling bench.
“Oh no,” Chervil shouted, “the speed limit is only twenty kilometers per hour. Our car has exceeded the speed limit,” then she looked behind and said, “we’re being chased. We must increase the speed.” Instead of slowing, the bench moved even faster and faster, taking sharp turns around the buildings and among the trees.
Spruce began to feel sick after six or so turns, but before he had a chance to throw up, Chervil announced, “we’re sinking, the boat is too heavy.”
The bench began to slow down and flew downward toward the ground. It suddenly came to a halt, and while it was floating right above the ground, Chervil shouted, “remove excess baggage!” before she threw Spruce off the bench right in front of the History building, classroom A.
All the students, who didn’t enter the classroom yet, were staring in surprise at the method of arrival, which Spruce had acquired unwillingly. Meanwhile, Chervil stood up on the bench and declared, “this is a pirate ship.” The bench once again began floating up. Chervil pointed into the distance and shouted, “the treasure is right ahead,” and the bench quickly flew away.
In his head, he could already hear the teacher tell him that he has no talent for this; that he should consider going to another school; that if he cannot succeed by next week, he would be expelled. Having his lifegoal destroyed like that was going to be painful, but he couldn’t change the inevitable, so after standing still for quite a long time, he finally found the courage to face his fate. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The door magically opened with a soft swooshing sound, and Sorrel welcomed him with two words: “come in.”
She was walking around her office room arranging some documents from her desk back onto the shelf. After Spruce walked in, she pointed at the chair in front of her desk and warmly invited him, “please, sit down.”
Spruce sat and waited. In the meantime she kept looking through some of the documents in her hand.
Eventually Sorrel cleaned the documents off her desk and put them back onto the shelfcase. Then she sat down on her chair at the other side of the desk.
“I’m sorry that you had to wait," she started. "Can I see the magical item, which you've bought last week?”
Spruce quickly nodded his head, and put the dagger on the table.
“Oh," Sorrel was slightly surprised. "I should have expected that from a boy." She pointed at the item, "so even with this dagger, you still cannot float a pen, huh?”
Spruce nodded once but firmly.
“What kind of magic does it have specifically? Sky magic? Air magic? Wind magic? Gravity magic?” she listed the most likely options.
Spruce blinked in confusion.
Seeing his reaction, the teacheress explained, “well, I haven’t taught that yet, because magic variations are many in number, but when you were buying this item, the seller should have told you its magic variation.”
“I don’t know,” Spruce quietly admitted, but then he recalled what happened when Linden used it. “I think it may be Fire magic,” he added.
“Fire magic? Oh, then that explains why you couldn’t float a pen.”
After Spruce heard Sorrel’s statement, he looked at her in hope.
“Fire cannot float objects,” she continued. “At least not by itself.” She took a pen from the basket of pens on her desk and put it in front of Spruce. “Instead of trying to float it, try to set it on fire.”
Spruce furrowed his eyebrows, and concentrated.
“Don’t forget to hold it,” she reminded him about his magical item.
Spruce put his hand on his dagger, and imagined setting the pen on fire. A spark appeared, then another one, and three more sparks twinkled consecutively before a flame burst out and surrounded the whole pen.
Sorrel snapped her fingers above the burning pen, and the flame disappeared in an instant.
“I don’t want you to burn my office,” she said with a sweet smile. “But other than that, it’s a pass. I recommend you practice under the sink.”
Spruce looked at the burned pen, and couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“Do you have any more questions?” Sorrel asked the boy.
Spruce looked at her, then back at the pen.
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She touched the pen, which returned back to its preburned state. Then she put it back with her other pens. “As long as the damage isn’t extensive, it’s always easy to fix.”
“I can use magic,” Spruce still couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“Yes, you can. And if you have no more questions, you can go back and practice more. I expect to see it again tomorrow in class.”
“Yes, professor, thank you,” Spruce responded then got up the chair. He was already on the way out, when Sorrel once again reminded him of the dagger, which was still laying on her desk. He turned around and before feeling too embarrassed, he took the dagger and quickly left the office.
Outside, he couldn’t contain his euphoria. He ran through the hallway of the schoolmanor, and got yelled at by some of the teachers, who didn’t approve of anyone running around or near their offices. However, Spruce didn’t stop to listen to their preachings. He continued to run.
Right after he exited the schoolmanor, he jumped up as high as he could, and screamed, “God-made!”
A lot of students and teachers looked at the boy, who just ran off as suddenly as he ran out of the building. Many smiled with an understanding. They all knew that something very good must have happened to him.
The phrase “God-made” was a common phrase used by those, who experienced something awesome. Some linguists claimed that it was an abbreviation of the sentence, “God made a miracle”, while others sought the explanation elsewhere. The phrase itself had been used for so many centuries, that no one really knew where it came from, but the meaning behind it had never changed. It was always the expression of unlimited joy.
Spruce kept running through the schoolground without taking a break to rest. He passed different buildings, students, and teachers. All of whom looked after the runner with questioning countenances, not knowing the purpose or the cause of his run.
He only slowed down, when he arrived by the hamlet, not because of close proximity to his home, but because his stomach muscles began to hurt.
When he finally entered the living room of his cottage, Aspen, who sat at his desk on the left side, looked up from the textbook, which he was reading.
“So how was it?” he asked.
“God-made,” Spruce answered with the last bit of breath, which he had, and fell onto the sofa.
“That’s good,” Aspen responded then went back to reading.
Spruce, who didn’t sleep well the night before, fell asleep on the sofa right away. He woke up later on, when it was almost dark outside. Aspen was already in his bed, so Spruce quietly took a shower, and while doing so, he kept recalling the meeting with Sorrel. He couldn’t get enough of the warm feeling of success burning inside him.
When he was dressing up into his pajamas, he imagined the reactions of his friends tomorrow in class, and he couldn’t wait until the night was over. He hid himself under the comforter and giggled like a bride the night before her wedding. Not realizing when, he fell asleep with a big smile on his face.
And while he slept, the new day arrived.
He felt someone take off his bedcovers, and heard Aspen talking to him.
“If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll be late to class.”
He opened his eyes, and saw that Aspen was already up and ready. It didn’t surprise him, because Aspen was always up and ready early in the morning.
“What time is it?” he asked, while rubbing his eyes.
“Look at the clock,” Aspen pointed at the round clock above the door.
Spruce slowly turned around his head. However, when he saw the hour, his lethargy immediately disappeared and he began to dress up ultra-fast.
“I’ll be going ahead,” Aspen said before he left.
Spruce quickly finished dressing up. He didn't have enough time to eat breakfast, so he went straight to the entry room, put on outdoor shoes and ran out. But as soon as he left the cottage, he felt a quick sharp pain in his legs. The fatigue from the crazy long run of yesterday took over his body, and he couldn’t move well.
He believed that he could still make it on time, if he walked, so he began the difficult journey toward the classroom. His body gave him signals that it would rather rest than walk, but he didn’t want to give up. When he was halfway to the classroom, he felt a sharp stab in his side and he had to make a stop.
“Skipping class?” a female voice asked him from behind.
He turned around and saw Chervil Sun walking around leisurely at a time, when most students ran as fast as possible to make it on time to their classes.
“My legs hurt,” Spruce said.
“Take a day off,” she suggested.
“I don’t want to.”
“What resolution,” she snorted with fake admiration. “But your hands are fine?” she asked with a smirk.
“Yeah?” Spruce didn’t know how it was related.
“Which building are you heading to?”
“History building, classroom A.”
Chervil took him by the arm and pushed him onto a nearby bench. “Then grab on,” she said and also sat down.
“I have to go,” Spruce began complaining, but stopped, when he realized that the bench started levitating.
“All passengers aboard, please hold on,” Chervil said like a kid playing a bus conductor. “We take no responsibility for passengers, who accidentally leave the plane mid-flight.”
Spruce grabbed the bench and held on as hard as he could. His intuition was telling him that he wasn’t going to like it. When the bench was at the height of about five meters, it suddenly moved forward at a speed, which was way too fast for a travelling bench.
“Oh no,” Chervil shouted, “the speed limit is only twenty kilometers per hour. Our car has exceeded the speed limit,” then she looked behind and said, “we’re being chased. We must increase the speed.” Instead of slowing, the bench moved even faster and faster, taking sharp turns around the buildings and among the trees.
Spruce began to feel sick after six or so turns, but before he had a chance to throw up, Chervil announced, “we’re sinking, the boat is too heavy.”
The bench began to slow down and flew downward toward the ground. It suddenly came to a halt, and while it was floating right above the ground, Chervil shouted, “remove excess baggage!” before she threw Spruce off the bench right in front of the History building, classroom A.
All the students, who didn’t enter the classroom yet, were staring in surprise at the method of arrival, which Spruce had acquired unwillingly. Meanwhile, Chervil stood up on the bench and declared, “this is a pirate ship.” The bench once again began floating up. Chervil pointed into the distance and shouted, “the treasure is right ahead,” and the bench quickly flew away.
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