ã€ŠDreams of Dustã€‹


 Nightmare #1

    The whistling wind did little to disperse the dust. The winnowing breeze, as always, failed to disturb the ever present remnants of life and decay. It was always there to be called, a subtle reminder, that all things shall return to it in time. Dust.

    James closed his apartment window, having banished the mana infused element. He stood in his work suit, agitated. The cold no longer seeped into his bones as it once did, when he first arrived in London. He was a young man then. Demeaned as rash and unruly, a common frontier mage; the young man he once was would be shocked at the man he was now.

    No longer was his hair long and unruly, nor did freckles tan his cheeks. Marks of true Summer were noticeably absent, and yet James couldn¡¯t solely blame the British weather for that fact. It had been too long. He had taken too long. A lifetime ago, with all too few memories remaining. But he clung onto those memories all the same, nightmares and all.

    He discarded his suit jacket on his bed and checked the remainder of his apartment. The singular hallway that connected the apartment¡¯s rooms was cold. Heating was a superfluous cost at this point. No windows remained open, most of the blinds had never been opened anyway. As if searching for something to put his mind at ease James check the three other rooms of his once-home.

    His meagre study was empty. His tomes packed away, his dust stored and his spell book by his side. It was a marvel, a modern mage protecting a material spell book. Yet, the weight of it residing by his side in a custom holster made all the difference to his sanity. A simple quirk, but even his Mentor acknowledged the difference it made to his casting. Traditions and rituals were never wholly useless. He exited the study.

    The living room held his bags, brimming with possessions, but overall it to was empty. The furniture had been cleared out that morning. It was done by some friendly non-magical movers, who¡¯d enjoyed some of his earlier work at university; James tipped them well. He scoured the floors for any left over items, but he knew there was nothing there. A quick dispersal of his dust and a mote of circulated mana confirmed that suspicion.

    ¡°Where are you Cosmo¡­?¡± He muttered.

    His hands opened and closed at his side. He was agitated but he didn¡¯t want to face the truth of it right then. He finally moved to the kitchen. It was connected to the living room, but before he passed through the doorway his eyes caught the last thing in the room. A mirror.

    As if bewitched he stood still, facing it. He studied how the pallor of his skin appeared so pale in the dim evening light. The lines of wear and tear on his forehead combined with the crows feet in the corner of his eyes; it was the face of someone much older. It was not the face of a tired twenty-eight year old. His shirt was damp with sweat, and his oxfords were scuffed and dusty. There was no sheen or shine visible on his person, for the dust had scoured him whole. Even his eyes appeared tired.

    He attempted a smile. His reflection grimaced. With a sigh he moved into the kitchen, placing the kettle on the stove. Setting the water to boil, James leant heavily on the kitchen bench. His breathing was shallow, so he closed his eyes trying to relax and calm his nerves. As he was debating whether he needed to circulate his dust-infused mana a presence entered the space.

    James turned, slowly. He was confronted by the cheshire cat grin of a Baku spirit.

    ¡°By the Towers! DON¡¯T DO THAT!¡± James yelled at his companion.

    The devious spirit barrel-rolled in the air, laughing directly into James¡¯ mind through telepathy. It would have been an adorable sight had the spirit not scared the life out of him.

    ¡°You¡¯re in a good mood, Cosmo. I take it the hunt was successful?¡± The Baku replied by widening its grin to the point of grotesque. James felt the tension depart his body as he sat down on the cool tiled floor.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Cosmo is here, it¡¯s fine. Lil¡¯pest almost gave me a heart attack, but it appears safe. Just need to sleep tonight and I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m home. It has been too long.

    Cosmo returned to an upright position floating before his friend. The feline face it wore shifted to that of a puppy. A black Labrador with large expressive eyes. Its torso remained panther-like, if not for the longer fur near it head, and its back legs and tail remained nothing but etherial smoke. Applying its new face properly, Cosmo expressed sympathy and warmth with his friend.

    ¡°Aww. Now that is cute. It¡¯s alright now Cos, I was just getting scared you got caught.¡± The Baku had enough pride to look appalled at the notion of being caught. James chuckled, but didn¡¯t doubt that Cosmo was noticed in this Tier 1 city.

    ¡°All is well.¡± James lied. His friend rested on the bench above his head, staying close. While not as prone to nerve as James, it was clear the Baku had adopted a protective mentality.

    The kettle began to whistle, so James stood to gather the tea. He took out two mugs and a bowl. He poured the boiling water into each adding Melbourne breakfast tea-packets into the bowl and one mug. There was a light rap at the front door.

    ¡°It¡¯s open¡± James announced, unlocking the door with a brief flare of his enchantment sigil.

    Walking through was a tall woman. She wore a large black and white fur mantle over her business attire, with a black handbag by her side. The Autumn winds were cool this time of year, and yet this woman¡¯s presence caused the room to feel frigid. He icy glare almost pinned James to the bench; but he willed himself to turn back towards the empty mug.

    ¡°Tea?¡±

    ¡°Earl grey.¡±

    He nodded to the curt reply and fulfilled her order. He moved out of the kitchen leaving Cosmo¡¯s bowl on the bench that separated the living room from the kitchen. He was content to look on, if not back his friend up from behind.

    James handed the woman her mug and stood before her. She was tall, much taller than him. Shame the furniture is gone. Would have helped to break the ice, being at eye-level.

    She accepted the mug, but made no move to sip it or get comfortable.

    ¡°Why?¡± She inquired.

    ¡°Well, I believe Cosmo also-¡±

    ¡°Do not get smart with me, James Scanlan. Why are you leaving?¡±

    James stalled for a moment. Cosmo sent him comforting vibes with telepathy, but that did little to clear his muddled mind. He looked up and made eye contact.

    ¡°Because, Madam Ouvrier. There are things I must do, scores that require settling, and here in London I cannot complete either.¡± She held his gaze. A glimmer of respect appeared to glint in her eyes before vanishing. She was a hard person to read, but James knew her well enough over the years. There was no winning, only escaping the Madam relatively unscathed.

    ¡°I have seen you perform, James. I cannot fathom how you found this¡­¡± she waved to Cosmo, ¡°beast but it has done wonders with your art. You are no combat mage, nor are you a politician or some Great-House¡¯s scion; there are other ways, darling.¡± She moved closer. James stood back before she could touch him. ¡°But I see you are set.¡±

    Jame internally sighed with relief, but held fast to any external signs of the same. Madam Ouvrier reached for her hand bag. Her hand plunged into it, far deeper than what appeared possible (a bag of holding?) and emerged with three letters.

    ¡°Well then, I will conclude my business with you Master Scanlan.¡± James winced. Her tone was eerily formal. ¡°This one is for you, to be opened after you have registered with the Tower. Do not open it prior.¡± She stated handing over the first letter. James nodded.

    ¡°This second letter is for the Tower-Master Guldric Uther. Hand this to him personally, understood?¡± James nodded again, swallowing his nerves. This letter was heavy as he accepted it.

    ¡°Finally¡­¡± The Madam paused. Her brow furrowed as she looked over her young prodigy. James was unsure in that moment what she was looking for. Was it doubt? Possibly fear?

    I¡¯m truly sorry to leave on these terms Madam. I wish I could tell you what an honour it has been, but I must move on.

    She turned to his companion, who once again grinned with his feline form. She almost smiled, James thought, but it was too quick a flicker to be certain.

    ¡°Finally, this is for your family. Mother, father, sister, brother, this is for them.¡± The letter was simple and elegant. It held a weight beyond the physical, and James¡¯ eyes glistened at the thought of what it might contain.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He whispered.

    ¡°Take care of yourself, Master Scanlan. The nightmares your beast consumes are not the only dark things you will face. I pray for your good fortune. May we meet again, and share our stories; like old times.¡± Madam Ouvrier said wistfully.

    ¡°I pray we do. Be safe Madam, and thank you. For everything.¡± James said. He guided her out the door. Taking her now frozen cup of earl grey, he brought the mugs back to the kitchen. He left for his bedroom, Cosmo levitating by his side.

    ¡°May our futures be of dreams, for I know the nights to be rough.

    Our enemies will know only nightmares, trapped in dreams of dust.¡±

 Nightmare #2

    White light doused the magic circle, illuminating the silhouettes of James and a myriad of other returning Tower officials. After a few moments of stumbling outside the magical array - and a few lost lunches - the transported moved out of the teleportation array.

    I¡¯m back, finally.

    The thought brought a tear to James¡¯ eyes. He circulated a mote of dust to quench any unresolved emotions, and to stem his unresolved lunch. Teleportation remained a gruesome trial for the stomach, but he had grown used to it over the years. He walked towards the Tower officials, once he was in full control of his faculties. He was eager to return home.

    Approaching the customs check James couldn¡¯t help but notice the regiments that patrolled the border of the teleportation array. Uniformed soldiers manned exit points, donned in green and gold. As James walked, he noted how the Australian crest was plastered on his surroundings, not just on the Tower mages¡¯ breast pockets. The roof, the customs desks, even spaced out along the floor, the coat of arms was everywhere. Silently casting detect magic, James noted how the crests thrummed with mana. Security had been upgraded significantly since his last visit.

    The storming and murdering of a renowned Tower Magister - dubbed ¡®Deathless Henry¡¯ - inside his own Tower was a strong wake up call for this young Tower¡¯s own protections.

    James continued walking, satchel bouncing by his side. He was only slightly perturbed by the siege mentality he was witnessing.

    The desk he arrived before was manned by a young female acolyte. Her hands fidgeted with a data slate, eyes darting between each of the new arrivals. Focusing too closely to the other international mages, she had over looked the man standing before her; a plain sight deception. James allowed a smile to spread across his face. He remembered the first time he encountered Magus¡¯ from across the Tasman sea; he hoped he didn¡¯t disappoint. James coughed softly into his hand.

    ¡°Oh! G¡¯day, I¡¯m Officer Melisa. I¡¯ll need to see your passport, sir.¡± The girl said startled. Her cheeks reddened at having been caught out in her daydream. James handed over his Australian passport, clearing small traces of dust off the old booklet. He offered a small smile as he handed it over.

    ¡°One moment please, sir.¡±

    ¡°No worries.¡± James replied. However, the young woman¡¯s brow began to furrow. Having scanned the old passport, she wasn¡¯t pleased with the results on her data slate.

    ¡°Sir, I believe I¡¯ll need to call for assistance; if you will just wait here.¡± She exited her booth, quickly making her way to a secondary office before James could interject. He began to tap his fingers on his spell book.

    He looked around to see each of the other teleported mages being ushered through without issue. He was now the sole object of each of the guard¡¯s glares. Swallowing his panic, James adopted a neutral expression befitting a Dust mage. However, his fingers continued to tap his spell book with fervour.

    He could faintly hear the sounds of discussion out the back, and, had he felt safer, James would have deployed Cosmo to see what the issue was about. He didn¡¯t dare release his friend now though; to many eyes. It would ruin the surprise he had in store for later. Soon a lean man emerged from the back room with Melisa in tow. He looked sleepy, as if he was coming to the end of his shift.

    He was shorter than James, with a slightly tanned oriental complexion. There was something familiar about his gait as he ambled in James¡¯ direction. On his nose was a pair of spectacles, with varying sized lenses attached to the corner of them to be rotated up and down. Each of the additional lenses - of which there were three for each eye - appeared to be inscribed with Enchantment runes, which were illumined in the rooms harsh light. He wore his uniform laxly, taking care to make himself more presentable as he entered the booth desk in front of James.

    ¡°Now then, who do we have¡­¡± The official¡¯s eyes lit up as he analysed James¡¯ passport. ¡°Well I¡¯ll be fireballed. Is that you Scanlan?¡± He looked up and met James¡¯ confused face. He took off his spectacles and gave him a wide grin. ¡°We all thought you some aristocrat¡¯s house slave but wow, you¡¯re back!¡± The casual demeanour and light humour tuned James in to who he was speaking to.

    ¡°Danny, Danny Feng? Wow, by the Towers it has been a while ayy.¡± The two old friends shook hands.

    ¡°I actually go by Yilin now. Felt right to take a Tower job under my given name.¡±

    ¡°Well it¡¯s a pleasure to see you again, Yilin. It¡¯s been too long.¡± Both men smiled warmly at each other. It was not every day two mages got to reunite after ten or so years; life seemed to get in the way. Officer Melisa grumbled.

    ¡°Oh, sorry Melisa. Well, Scanlan¡­ Wait you¡¯re not a Lord or any-¡± James shook his head swiftly, ¡±well it appears your passport is out of date. I¡¯ll need you to provide some other identification before I can let you through mate, sorry.¡± Yilin¡¯s smile waned a little.

    ¡°No worries. This should do.¡± James assured his old mate. He handed over his newer English passport.

    ¡°Wow, you sure moved up in the world.¡± Yilin commented friendly. ¡°This¡¯ll do for now; and we can do a biometrics test another time for a new Aus passport later.¡± James nodded in agreement. All the magic in the world and yet a customs check almost stopped his mission. Bureaucracy is a marvel.

    ¡°Well now that that¡¯s done. Want me to escort you home, Scanlan? I¡¯m heading out myself.¡± Yilin offered.

    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± James said. He walked past the booth joining his old friend in making his was to the exit. ¡°It was nice meeting you Melisa.¡± James called out behind him. The young woman waved, before she resumed her post.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°So James,¡± Yilin whispered, ¡°Have you heard the news?¡±

    _____________________

    While Melbourne was a Frontier city - known for hosting young Gunther von Shultz during the Portsea Incursion - it possessed the greatest potential (next to Sydney) to become Australia¡¯s first Tier 1 stronghold. Bordered by naturally fertile green zones, and a diverse cast of flora and fauna, Victoria was the safest of the colonies down under. Its capital city possessed some of the most competitive education facilities on the southern continent, in conjunction with varied magical goods and food.

    What instigated the colonisation of this area was the untapped Highly Dense Mana reserves, uncovered throughout green and orange zones. Fertile lands, access to HDMs and a close relationship with nearby Towers across the Tasman; Melbourne possessed all the requirements of a fledgling Tier 1 city. However, what held this vibrant multi-cultural hub back wasn¡¯t its inland potential but rather its aquatic southern neighbours.

    As James and Yilin boarded their transfer magi-tech train, departing the inner-city hub, a new report buzzed over the trains intercom. One of the boarding mages swiped glances at the pair during the announcement. He positioned to stay close to the pair of friends.

    ¡°Breaking news; Mermen incursion tests Lorne, Anglesea and Fairhaven defence network. Casualties are at a minimum with two mages in stable conditions, and seven NoM deaths. This is the third incursion of the month, stay tuned for¡­¡± The two mages, and their follower, found places in the express rail¡¯s carriage.

    ¡°Huh, they are getting troublesome.¡± Yilin commented on PA. He held tight to the cabin¡¯s railing as the train took off. However, James wasn¡¯t focused on the conversation anymore, instead his mind was on the casualties.

    Seven lives cut short, and all they can say is that casualties are at a minimum. It seems few things change out here. He shook his head, eyes open to his surroundings.

    ¡°So these incursions are a recent thing?¡± James asked. He snagged a seat before the carriage was filled and looked up at his old friend who wasn¡¯t so lucky. His fingers fidgeted with his satchel, that laid across his lap. Small motes of dust poured out of the satchel. They trickled down until disappearing, not appearing to hit the floor. Yilin didn¡¯t appear to notice.

    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ve had a brief reprieve the past half-year or so, due to the Sydney incursion being fought off. But recently the outer townships have been the targets of raids.¡± Yilin replied. He rubbed his eyes, whether because of lethargy or the discussion¡¯s borish nature James couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°Are the shielding stations not active? The Tower¡¯s security seems to-¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t operational.¡± Yilin interjected. James¡¯ eyes widened. Their follower¡¯s eyes narrowed, it seems he heard part of that response.

    ¡°This ties in to what I wanted to talk about earlier, Scanlan.¡± His friends face appeared dour, his glasses tucked away into his breast pocket exposed his emotions to the world. ¡°See, since the conflict the Militant Faction has been posturing. Using the fear of the Sydney incursion they have managed to consolidate their position as the ruling faction.¡± James held his tongue, his dust still trickling.

    ¡°The thing is, they were probably right. They eliminated threatening colonies and our port has never been safer. It¡¯s just¡­ recent policy hasn¡¯t been so friendly.¡± Yilin looked over to the upper corner of the carriage. Along the wall, news feed highlights flashed across; quotes from Tower officials and fearful bystanders appeared. The eavesdropper turned to follow Yilin¡¯s eyeline.

    ¡°I take it this policy is not, well, copacetic with public perception?¡± James inquired. Yilin shook his head. The dust had stopped pouring out of the satchel.

    ¡°Arriving at Hampton station.¡± The PA system buzzed.

    The two mages exited the train. They moved outside the station, with James following his companion through the suburban streets. Their eavesdropper followed, dust falling off the heel of his boots.

    ¡°I know you¡¯ve been out for, well, a long long time. But I highly recommend you talk with your sister. She¡¯s been very active in the community. Wish I could help you more but-¡± Yilin nodded over his shoulder to the eavesdropper, ¡°I can¡¯t afford to be caught discussing Tower business with a Rogue mage.¡± James sent his friend a comforting smile. He understood the situation, and his friend had given him enough info to start with.

    The pair of friends moved through closely built housing. It was similar to the American style of suburban housing that James knew from his travels. Every now and again school buildings or grass oval divided the one- and two-storey homesteads. It was a pleasant place to live it appeared, but James was still fretful as to his family¡¯s situation.

    ¡°Shall I get rid of him, or you?¡± Yilin asked, nodding over his shoulder. He led James across a small park and oval, approaching a picnic bench surrounded by eucalyptus trees. A sweet spot for a nap.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it. Home¡¯s still on Charles street to the left, here?¡± James replied.

    ¡°Yep, I¡¯m going right so this¡¯ll be where I leave you.¡±

    ¡°Easy. Just a little further please, for appearance¡¯s sake.¡± The pair didn¡¯t hesitate or even appear to be departing from each other. As their stalker began to traverse the park in their wake, an ethereal cloud of dust began to surround him.

    With each step the eavesdropper slowed. He swayed onto each leg, moving from muscle memory more than on purpose. He approached the bench the friends had just walked past, then staggered and fell. His arms were draped over the bench, head resting on them. As his eyes closed, fatigued, the soft laugh of a hyena echoed in his mind.

    The dust departed the sleeping man and returned to James¡¯ satchel. It appeared denser than before. Tightening the satchel James said goodbye to Yilin and made his way home.

    ¡°Good work, Cos. Now, let¡¯s go home.¡± His satchel emitted a faint purring as he walked on.

    ____________________

    James stood outside the small two-story building he had bought from overseas. It possessed a small front garden, hemmed in by a stout wall and the two houses on each side of it. The house¡¯s red door appeared as if a portal to another plane to James. Weird to confront a gift bought out of love but delivered in one¡¯s absence.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope they recognise me, ay Cos?¡± His friend sent him warm thoughts. The eavesdropper must have been a deep sleeper.

    James walk close to the front door and rapped it twice. There was a rustle from behind one of the curtained windows, left of the door. James took a deep breath, steeling himself for disappointment. The door opened slowly.

    ¡°James? Is that you?¡± A deep voice asked.

    ¡°Yeah Dad. It¡¯s me¡± James croaked out.

    His father whirled the door open, dumbfounded. His son stood before him, pale but healthy. Moisture condensed at the corner of both men¡¯s eyes. James was engulfed in a bear hug. His Dad¡¯s barrel chest a comforting presence, his head caught on his fathers beating heart. It was the warm embrace a child would beg for, and in this moment it was exactly what James needed.

    He hugged his Dad. For a moment the world was peaceful, his inner vortex of emotions settled. But time moved on, willingly or not.

    ¡°James, it¡¯s amazing to see you here. Struth, I know we¡¯ve waited in hope for so long. Your Mum will be ecstatic but, well, we need your help.¡± His Dad said.

    James listened carefully, once again besotted by a whirlpool of emotions. When his Dad finished speaking he thanked the stars that he was not a Fire mage; otherwise the whole neighbourhood would have known he had returned. He was not happy.

 Nightmare #3

    Late afternoon had shifted to dusk, with the moon hanging precariously over the large gathering James stood aside of, watching. He was puffed, out of breath from his frantic jog from Sandringham station. It had been months since his last expedition and the artistic lifestyle had led to waning fitness levels. He hoped that wouldn¡¯t be an issue tonight.

    The crowd loitered outside of a town-hall. Chanting could be heard from the front of the audience, their shouts rippling outwards until it was a loud-whisper to James¡¯ ears. At the front of it all was a group of seven; five women and two men. One of the women led the gathering, copper skinned and short in stature, yet her voice reverberated through the plaza with passion and intensity. James noticed the wide berth traffic gave the group; not a magical but very human berth. This was not a peaceful occasion.

    ¡°For too long have we allowed our rights to be abused. Working tirelessly for a Tower that would sacrifice our lives for military gain. But they ask even more, again and again pushing our lot to the fringes of this lustrous city; NO LONGER!¡±

    ¡°NO LONGER!¡± The chants echoed throughout the plaza. James could barely see her, but the dark woman¡¯s voice echoed almost louder than the crowds. He was sceptical of her voice¡¯s clarity, and its palpable influence on the vast crowd.

    The crowd itself was a conglomeration of characters; from labourers in dirtied overalls, to white-collar workers wearing older fashioned suits, akin to his own. James subtly doused himself in dust, diminishing the sheen of his recently cleaned attire; it was never smart to stand out in a mob.

    Moving slowly into the crowd the scent of tobacco and industrial smoke assaulted his senses. The plethora of body odours congealed into a thick musk as he plunged deeper into the crowd. Briefly, he silently-casted Detect Magic, confirming his suspicions. This was a near wholly magic less crowd. There was faint whispers of mana on the air, however, confirming his suspicions regarding the woman speaking. Blood rushed to his cheeks, as anger sat in his stomach. Once again he thanked fate he wasn¡¯t a fire mage.

    He knew these people, the lost, the disenfranchised, the foundation from which the Mageocracy has flourished. Most of the gathered appeared youthful, young adults out with like-minded friends, work mates from the area, the most virile of the magic-less demographic. James even spotted some uniformed high school students, chanting proudly with the rest of the cohort.

    You were always one to go against the status quo, Sis. But how deep into this are you? I guess you couldn¡¯t just wait for me, could you?

    James approached the epicentre of the crowd, barred from moving any closer to the front due to the sheer density of the crowd. He tried to look over the top for a better view, but he could only see the seven figures and the town-hall ahead.

    ¡°How can we allow ourselves to languish in obscurity, reduced to numbers on these official¡¯s balance sheets?! We need to be heard, we deserve to be heard: HEAR US!¡±

    ¡°HEAR US!¡±

    James stared at the town-hall, the people inside the target of the chants. It was a red-brick building, showing signs of age in with chips and cracks on the face of it. Wide steps led up to the barred front double-doors of the building, with multiple rows of windows illustrating its multiple floors. Peering into a second-floor window, James pushed mana through his Enchantment Sigil gaining clearer vision.

    There was a group of men and women trapped inside. One of the men held a child close, a younger sibling or son, James couldn¡¯t tell. The kids eyes were red, face wet with tears. A few of the women held each other, while a single individual appeared to remain calm; she was on the phone.

    James possessed mix feelings for how to handle the situation. The crowd was a keg of emotions - emotions all too common within the magic-less, through no fault of their own. However, he was terrified of the prospect of violence if a confrontation occurred now.

    Where are you Lucy Scanlan? I¡¯m not telling Mum and Dad I failed to stop you being arrested, on my first day back in ten-years. Come on, where are you?

    It was times like this where James envied Diviners. Still, he used his clarified vision to peer at the seven instigators. He thought he recognised one, but was sidetracked by the lead¡¯s sermon.

    ¡°Where has the Tower been, when merman attack our shores? Where are the defences, that which each mage is given from birth? We are powerless because they want us to be, and I say: NO MORE!¡±

    ¡°NO MORE!¡±

    ¡°Damnit that¡¯s ominous.¡± James muttered to himself. He recognised a violent call to action for what it was; a slippery slope, emblematic of most societal agitators.

    By the Towers, I¡¯ve used the same tactic myself.

    James opened his satchel, wincing slightly at the drain of mana and vitality. The hit to his health was small, thanks to Cosmo¡¯s consumption of the eavesdroppers mana beforehand, but the pallor of James¡¯ skin still turned ghostly white. His emotions were suppressed by the use of his Dust-infused mana, emotions fed to Cosmo to provide him a semi-physical form.

    He sent his friend the mental image of his sister, focusing on the locket he gave her before he had first left home years ago. He hoped she hadn¡¯t removed the dust it held. Cosmo affirmed his order, telepathically, and disappeared through the crowd, an ethereal haze.

    James focused on the woman speaking again, praying Cosmo could find his sister before the police arrived. The Militant faction didn¡¯t take kindly to social unrest.

    ______________________

    Cosmo eagerly devoured the crowds emotions, an ethereal haze of negative energy passing through a feast of desires. It could no longer remember the times it had lived without Master. Times when Cosmo could not feed the hunger. Times where Cosmo didn¡¯t exist. The hunger for life could never be satisfied, but with Master it was no longer a ferocious impulse, begging to survive. Where Cosmo was once condemned to the fringes of reality, it now possessed access to all of it. It was euphoric.

    Speeding through the crowd, leaving muted mouths and tempered tempers in his wake, the Negative-affinity spirit searched for it¡¯s Master¡¯s target. Master had never asked to be called Master, but Master¡¯s Master warned Cosmo not to call him anything else; the thought of that man caused the ethereal haze to shiver, if that was even possible.

    Cosmo sought out the mote of Dust-essence his Master had left on the cherished target. Fuelled by Master¡¯s essence and the sleeping eavesdropper¡¯s dreams, Cosmo strategically let some of the fuel ¡®slip¡¯ his form; the slipped essence, itself, sought out more of its likeness. Cosmo loathed the loss of reality, of existence, but he knew Master would reward it in time. Most of the essence returned to Master¡¯s spell-book, a battery of essence so bright Cosmo internally salivated at the prospect of devouring it.However, faint trickles of slipped power led Cosmo to the front of the crowd.

    The spirit was nigh invisible to the low-essence crowd. None of the emotions it had fed off changed to horror, so Cosmo assumed itself safe. It knew Master had later plans for it. Master hadn¡¯t realised that feeding Cosmo his dreams showed it his plans. Or, maybe Master knew that; Master was smart after all. Cosmo concluded it loved Master anyway and moved on from its distracting thoughts.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The trickling trail of essence shone like an arrow for the semi-corporeal spirit. It raised itself above the crowd, depriving itself from its feast with a degree of regret. It flew to the town-hall steps with pace. Before it arrived, its metaphysical senses alerted the spirit to flashes of power, inside the town-hall and around Master¡¯s position.

    Cosmo sent emotions of urgency, approaching danger, and the images of blue and red all to Master. Cosmo received another dose of Master¡¯s essence in return. The Baku moaned with gratitude, but made certain not to be heard by the low-essence humans near him.

    However, the Baku wasn¡¯t quiet or stealthy enough to avoid the outcry of the cherished target on the steps. The cherished target pointed towards the spirit, more than semi-corporeal at this point. Cosmo dispersed the dust form to become even more translucent, moving behind the cherished target and her six companions on the steps. Cosmo then consolidated its form, readying for action.

    Cosmo sent Master an affirmation that he had found the cherished target and waited. It remained near the cherished target and her companions, in between them and the town-hall doors. Cosmo hoped Master sent it some more essence soon; the high-essence humans were beginning to arrive. And Cosmo was hungry.

    __________________________

    James sighed with relief; Cosmo had found his sister. However, the relief turned to dread as he felt waves of mana-slippage wash over him. The police had arrived.

    Dispensing with niceties, James formed the rune for Fear with his Dust, igniting the spell with a burst of his Illusion-Enchantment Sigils. He ran towards the town-hall steps. The crowd slowed around him, each person within a ten-metre radius was besotted by an overwhelming sense of dread. He invoked Greater-Invisibility, wincing at the loss of vitality and mana; Cosmo had already taken pound of flesh out of him. He picked up pace, as the frightened mob parted for his invisible form.

    Oh course she¡¯s at the top. Sis allayed enjoyed giving orders. Sigmund Jung would¡¯ve a field day with her psyche I reckon.

    Just when James arrived at the bottom of the steps he heard the first of the police¡¯s mages.

    ¡°Wall of Force.¡± Came the unified cry. James looked up, witnessing his sister and her agitator companions being surrounded by summoned force barriers. James began to assess his options.

    ¡°Remain calm. This is the police, you are surrounded, remain calm. Disperse, and return home or we will arrest for curfew violations. I repeat; remain calm and disperse.¡± The enchanted echo filled the plaza.

    Most of the protesters hesitated, with those on the fringes eagerly departing the scene. The blue and red lights of teleportation circles, of which the police had arrived in, lined the outside of the gathering. However, the police were not alone; in each glowing circle stood a mage in green and gold.

    The Militant faction had taken an interest in tonight¡¯s proceedings.

    ¡°My friends. Will we let this subjugation continue? This censorship of rights? We have done no wrong. I Suggest we take a stand; are you with me?!¡±

    ¡°Oh fuck, you foolish woman.¡± James swore. Around him his Fear enchantment remained active but further into the crowd there was movement. James could feel the compulsion push on the back of his mind. Looking outwards a few of the younger police officers appeared similarly affected. Whilst James and the officers were mages, resistant to AoE mind magic, the non-magical masses were not so protected.

    The fraying crowd consolidated itself. People linked arms and moved out to trap the officers. Those closest to the steps began to run forward, searching for a way to aid their leaders out of the Wall of Force. Then the magic happened.

    James watched as many of the green and gold mages began to cast together. The more eager of the police contingent casted stunning spells; which were almost lethal to the protesters. There was pandemonium as those affected by Fear began to run, making themselves clearer targets than the others. Furthermore, those behind the arm-locked lines of protesters began throwing all they had at the officers.

    Shoes were met with magic missiles, rocks with shields, someone threw a metal tool of some description only for it to be hit with a Burning Hands. The sizzle of the tool-throwers flesh shocked not only the protesters but the young mage who had cast it. This was no longer a protest; it was a riot.

    By the bloody towers, Cosmo can you gather those inside the Force Wall together. Quickly!

    He saw Cosmo, more corporeal than not, push each of the agitators together. The hardest was the leader who had invoked the riot, but she was too drained of mana to stop Cosmo¡¯s persistent pushes.

    James tapped his spell-book, stealing from his external mana reserve. What he stole was a fraction of his stored power, but it hurt all the same. It was meant for when he joined the Tower for his demesne, a get out of jail free for a mage with a dangerous element and low VMI; but he authorised the use in the dire case of an emergency.

    ¡°This counts.¡± James grumbled. Channeling through his connection to Cosmo, James sped through the necessary incantations to aid his sister and her friends.

    ¡°Dispel Magic! Seeming!¡± James shouted. His Invisibility and Fear were dropped. In exchange he had executed two spells at fifth level. The Wall of Force dissipated, from the higher tiered Dispel Magic. The rioters, who were pressed against the now vanished wall, swarmed over the steps. Which in turn hid the seven targets of James¡¯ spell from view, long enough that Seeming could alter their forms.

    The rioters began to slow. Shouts from the officers continued and the uproar made by the chanting Militant mages wasn¡¯t helping. But, the Dispel Magic had a secondary effect of removing the mental compulsion besotting the rioters, slowing down the carnage and madness. It was not necessarily a good thing, as James grimaced at the new wave of natural fear that overtook the crowd. However, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to care too deeply for the protesters; he had a sister to save.

    James ran up the steps, shoving his way towards the seven he had saved. Cosmo hovered over his sister; she was so grown up now.

    She looks so much like Dad¡­ Why couldn¡¯t she have been as good natured as he is? I should have been around more, to help.

    A tinge of regret dwelled in James¡¯ heart, but he moved on fast with his Dust-infused mana coursing through him.

    ¡°Major Image.¡± Cast James. The town-hall¡¯s doors opened revealing a line of officers. However, they were confused by the stone wall in front of them.

    ¡°Dust Ward.¡± The illusion the officers walked towards solidified. The lead officer¡¯s firebolt bounced off the brief shield hid within the illusion.

    James used the distraction to get to his sister¡¯s side. He grabbed her illusory appearance, and held her for a moment. ¡°Sis, if there was ever a time when I needed you to listen to me, now would be it. Follow me.¡±

    ¡°What! James! How! Wait!¡± It was odd watching the appearance of a bland character speak with his sisters voice. Even weirder was the realisation that her voice had matured. The regret weighed heavier in his heart.

    ¡°We need to get the others. I can¡¯t leave them. Please James.¡± James could feel the emotion in her voice. If it wasn¡¯t for her lack of a mana signature he would have called her an Enchantress. James analysed the situation and noted her friends, scrambling to avoid the crushing crowd.

    ¡°Fuck, fine. But you better know somewhere close we can all hide out.¡± He rushed to the six other agitators, each groggy from the Dispel Magic and confused by the Seeming.

    ¡°Hypnotic Pattern.¡± Cosmo and James began leaving hypnotic runes on the hands of the six. The only one to resist his spell was the woman preacher, but she was still OOM and so didn¡¯t resist for long.

    Cosmo find me an exit. James messaged his friend. The Baku appeared as a panther, gliding between protesters and leading the escape. James grabbed his sister¡¯s hand and ran after his friend. Behind him the group of six followed, cloaked in illusory disguises.

    ¡°There¡¯s a friends place nearby.¡± Lucy announced. James nodded.

    We need to break the perimeter first.

    They sprinted. James applied a mix of illusory combatants, and hellish beasts, to the task of moving strangers out of the way. Whenever people failed to move, Cosmo steamrolled them. The path was clear. Meanwhile, the Militant mages chanting grew in intensity.

    ¡°Fuck that doesn¡¯t sound good¡± Lucy intoned.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± James tapped his spell book for a top-up of mana. ¡°Do we need your friends?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Was the quick reply. James fumed.

    ¡°Freedom of Movement.¡± He applied the spell to the group, increasing their speed through the turbulent crowd. It also hit James mana to near OOM status. They sprinted for the perimeter, ducking and weaving between the police and Militants.

    They only just made it.

    They sped like a group of magic missiles through the crowd and perimeter. The few mages that tried to intercept them had themselves slowed or put to sleep by Cosmo, as he used the stored Dust-essence. Four women, two men, two mages and a Baku spirit all escaped the riot with minor injuries.

    The hundreds of NoMs remaining within the perimeter were mass teleported, with the police in tow. The Militant mages waited in their circles, exhausted. A few of them kept tabs on the retreating figures of James¡¯ rescued.

    The escapees, horrified, continued their retreat into the night.

 Nightmare #4

    The group was silent as they walked down suburban roads. James kept an eye on Lucy, while Cosmo scouted the area ahead. She had provided directions to a close friend¡¯s house, but beyond that she had been mute. Her friends were also mute; however, while Enchanted they didn¡¯t have a say in the matter. The group was no longer cloaked in Seeming as they made their way to safety.

    Yilin wasn¡¯t wrong, but damn I wish he hadn¡¯t been so vague. What am I meant to do with a bunch of instigators? They can draw crowds and agitate, sure, but there were no set rules of engagement; their de facto leader panicked and incited a riot; furthermore, not a single one of them appears to have a grasp of dealing with the police appropriately! If I hadn¡¯t of arrived the Militant faction would have quashed all of them, failing once again to achieve anything. I thought she was smarter than this; what were you thinking Luc?

    James eyeballed his little sister. Nearly his own height now, she had grown a lot since he knew her as an eight-year-old. Long brunette hair cascaded down to her shoulders, their Dad¡¯s lightly-tanned skin, she was a refined woman. Older, taller, resourceful, she had grown-up in his absence to be the striking figure he always knew she would be. And yet, James couldn¡¯t help but treat her as the bossy little misfit he once knew.

    Mum and Dad will have a fit when I tell them what happened, if they aren¡¯t having one already. Damn, would the riot make the radio? Or did I get them a proper television last New Year?

    ¡­

    I¡¯ve been away for too long.

    Despondent, James walked on. They neared an intersection and wordlessly Lucy pointed left. They trudged on. James debated removing the Hypnotic Patterns from the others, but decided quiet was the safer option out in the open. Cosmo sent James cool and calm emotions, so he felt content with the situation at hand.

    How in the nine-hells am I going to manage this lot?! The mage has potential but she¡¯s still a Rogue, and most likely self-taught and more likely unwilling to work with the stranger who Enchanted her. By the Towers, I hope Luc¡¯s friend can send Mum and Dad a message once we get to her place. It is way too late to get caught breaking curfew.

    Lucy slowed to a halt before one of the larger houses on the quiet street. It was a two-storey building sitting behind a squat concrete fence. The houses next door had raised their own fences to block the sides of the building, hemming in the concrete abode. It appeared a weird sight to James. The building was pretty bare, with steel scaffolding and coloured-wires lining the front of it. There was a garage door on the right hand side of the building, but overall it was very bland. If not bland then James would have called it reductive, but constructive nonetheless.

    Once everyone was together, Lucy walked to the front door and knocked. Cosmo returned to James, receiving scratches behind its now canine ears. James motioned for the Baku to return to his satchel, but he left the top off it so his friend could see.

    Step echoed from inside the house, responding to Lucy¡¯s knocks. The front door reverberated from the thud of footsteps, weakly made compared to the concrete exterior. The hinges, were shiny new, but their appeared to be scorch marks around where they were placed on the doorframe. The door opened to reveal an auburn-haired woman, dressed in tradesman overalls.

    ¡°I told you Lucy, it was never a good idea going to-¡± The woman froze at the sight of the escapees.

    ¡°Jenny can we please¡­¡± Lucy pleaded.

    Minor cuts and abrasions were evident in the dim light. James himself was a ghoulish visage, left looking like a spectre from his magic and Cosmo¡¯s negative drain. He smiled. The woman, Jenny, shivered.

    ¡°Come in, come in. I see it went as I anticipated, damn fools. Quickly now! Don¡¯t need the neighbours complaining to no coppers that I¡¯m harbouring you lot.¡± Jenny opened the door and ushered them inside. She eyeballed James as he walked past. He nodded his thanks. The trailing Enchanted followed closely behind him.

    Jenny scouted outside before shutting the door, the group making their way inside. The house was well ordered. There were few decorations or ornaments on the walls, but there was an overwhelming sense of organisation and sterility to the place; indicative of Jenny¡¯s character, James was sure.

    The house was divided by a single hallway, that led the group to a comfortable living room. There were a few old couches, Lucy collapsed on one. She sunk a few inches into the couch she sat on, entrapped by old suede pillows and held up by old springs. James dusted an old armchair off before sitting down. It smelled of mould and grease, but James dealt with it.

    Jenny strode into the room and stared at the Scanlan siblings. The Enchanted stood to the sides of James, their leader fighting slightly as she regained her mana.

    ¡°What¡¯s with them?¡± Jenny asked. She stared at James.

    ¡°Are we safe to talk?¡± James replied. Jenny narrowed her gaze. Lucy nodded to James, and he snapped his fingers to break the hypnosis.

    The six freed from the Enchantment barely moved. Jenny peered at each of them, still surrounding James¡¯ chair before leaving to enter a side room down the hall. She returned with a large wrench.

    ¡°Okay, Mage,you have some explaining to do.¡± The righteous anger that emanated from Jenny¡¯s voice intrigued James. He had forgotten the last time someone had threatened him so openly. He sighed, enjoying the sensation of sitting down after the ordeal of the last two hours.

    The six around him began to position themselves, encircling him. The girl who acted as their voice and leader moved to stand just outside the corner of his vision. James turned to watch her. She sent him a glare that would make wyverns flinch. He responded with a curt smile.

    Ignoring Jenny¡¯s provocation, James addressed the girl. ¡°If you speak, or attempt to inlay your voice with mana, or cast magic of any kind, and I have not directed you to, then I will Silence you and your friends and this will become a monologue, not a dialogue. Do I make myself clear?¡± His eyes were whirling orbs of hazel dust.

    She nodded begrudgingly.

    ¡°Good, well then Ms¡­?¡± James turned to Jenny for answer.

    ¡°Grayson.¡± She answered. She stood only a metre from James; the wrench held with both hands to her side for an easy swing.

    ¡°Ms. Grayson, my name is James Scanlan. I am hear because my parent couldn¡¯t contact my sister and feared something like tonight would occur.¡±

    Lucy didn¡¯t move. Her eyes were closed and feet up, lying length ways along the couch. Tired, frustrated, confused, thankful, James couldn¡¯t tell what myriad of emotions she was feeling; but he had gotten the point across to the others.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    He was here for his sister.

    ¡°Lucy, you never said your brother was a-a-a fucking mage!¡± One of the two boys shouted. He was tall, well over six feet, wide with an array of tattoos inked across his arms. The other boy of the group stood next to him. He was skinny and a little shorter than his gruff companion. He wore glasses and fidgeted with his hands, unsure of the situation. He appeared to echo his companion¡¯s sentiment, flitting his focus between James and Lucy.

    We don¡¯t look that different from one another. Do we?

    ¡°He¡¯s been out of state, Mitchell. No point telling you guys.¡± Lucy said. She had placed her arm over her eyes, hiding them from the pale-yellow lights on the ceiling.

    ¡°Is being a mage an issue?¡± James surveyed the room.

    Jenny maintained her grip on the wrench, wary of the stranger. Gruff Mitchell huffed in annoyance; more likely from being kept out of the loop than from James being a mage. The other lad had stopped fidgeting, holding James¡¯ glance, curious. They appeared similar ages to James. The difference in composure astounded the Dust-mage.

    The three girls who he hadn¡¯t been following had huddled together. Two of them, from James observation, were twins, but all three of them could have been university students. They didn¡¯t appear wholly capably of anything but seeking safety and rest for the night. The look of terror they gave James

    So young, and yet, so angry and so scared. Fuck, so am I, and I¡¯m not that much older. At least they aren¡¯t specifically angry at me, but the night has taken its toll on them. They aren¡¯t ready for what they attempted to incite tonight. They aren¡¯t ready for me.

    ¡°Well then. Ms Grayson, thank you for accepting us into your home. We may-¡± James was cut off.

    ¡°Mitchell, take Phineas and the girls home.¡± Jenny ordered.

    ¡°But Jen, it¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t think you can get home stop by Damien¡¯s. He¡¯ll take you sorry lot in. Just get out. You stay Kiara.¡± With Jenny¡¯s demands made, the gaggle of girls and guys began to amble out of the house. The young Enchantress remained. Jenny¡¯s wrench remained ready.

    ¡°You three,¡± Jenny waved her wrench over the Scanlan siblings and young Enchantress, ¡°have some explaining to do.¡±

    ________________________________

    The aroma of tea wafted through the living room. James reclined, enjoying the Melbourne Breakfast brew Jenny had provided him. Lucy had her hands wrapped around her own mug, sitting up right. She had asked for lemongrass and ginger, a late night favourite of hers. Jenny made herself coffee, while the young Enchantress - Kiara Dissanayake - had stuck to water.

    Odds are, her throat is sore from overusing her mana to inlay it with persuasive qualities. A powerful talent, yet she possesses such a distain for the Tower; I need more information. It¡¯s all too messy.

    Cosmo had escaped James¡¯ satchel and was lapping up his own brew. It was peppermint tea, an interesting choice for a Baku. Jenny had been startled when James had introduced the Baku to the group, but the cheshire grin it gave the girls endeared itself to the group. Lucy, unfocused, scratched it behind the ears.

    Cosmo was excited by his more-corporeal form, having maintained much of the essence donated and stolen from the night¡¯s antics. James appreciated the loving emotions Cosmo emanated; it aided the rooms atmosphere. James was a little perturbed by the telepathic feeling of being scratched though.

    ¡°So, you lot went through with the rally. Failed to close up shop by curfew. Incited a riot when the cops rocked up. Then was saved by Lucy¡¯s absentee mage-brother, escaping a night in a cell with a hundred other poor sods. Have I got the gist of it?¡± Jenny probed.

    James recoiled from the ¡®absentee¡¯ label, but nodded at her assessment. Lucy had spilled the story, stared down into her mug now she¡¯d finished delivering it. Kiara continued to watch James; a whirlwind of emotions visible in her eyes.

    The enchantress was an enigma to James. A mage with a reservoir of anger so vast she¡¯d rather incite violence than diffuse a situation to fight another day. She was striking, her hair lustrous like onyx stone, framing her handsome features. It had flared behind her as she¡¯d delivered her impassioned sermon, picturesque of an old-school priestess or sorceress from history. Her strong eyebrows were conduits of emotion, expressing distaste for mages and a ferocity in pursuing the elevation of her peers; she was the idyllic apprentice for Madam Ouvrier¡¯s work. And yet, she was here all alone, a wolf wishing to lead sheep.

    What is your story Kiara?

    ¡°It was meant to be different. We need the attention, otherwise it¡¯s all pointless Jenny. It¡¯s all fucking pointless.¡± Lucy said. The mug in her hands caught her tears. A continuous drip, drop, drip, drop, that paralysed the room. A moment of thought swept over the room.

    ¡°I won¡¯t apologise. It was just.¡± Kiara said.

    James turned to face her. Her eyes held his, defiant. He raised his eyebrow, then sipped his tea. She balled her hands into fists, shaking. Her emotions whirled caught in a typhoon of insecurities and powerlessness. James placed his mug down, internally rebuking himself from pushing the girl. She didn¡¯t deserve to be patronised. At least, not by him.

    ¡°Now, now, just because something was ¡®just¡¯ doesn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t wrong.¡± Jenny intoned. She was a hard woman. James was no stranger to a social-groups rock, and while Jenny possessed misgivings towards the group¡¯s goal, she was most definitely an authoritative figure in their lives.

    She stood and grabbed tissues from the kitchen, handing them to Lucy. She thanked her. Her red eyes did not show weakness or guilt or remorse for the night. She was angry.

    ¡°Girls, this is a lesson I didn¡¯t want you to experience. I love your little faction for change. Mitch and Phineas are smart men but being smart ain¡¯t gonna cut it. The twins¡¯ propaganda posters and flyers are inspirational, and Carrie¡¯s band spreading the word is phenomenal. But, that¡¯s not going to cut it. Kiara you are the most gifted of the lot, Luc your speeches are exemplary; together you two can bring grown men to tears¡­ But that¡¯s not going to cut it.¡± Jenny paused. She basked in the silence. Her hands were direct and manipulated her speech to gather the room, to focus it. And with her audience hooked, she delivered the brutal truth.

    ¡°We, are NoMs. Raised by, live with, and will forever go on to be, nothing more or less than, NoMs. Accept it.¡± A mug shattered. Jenny reached with a calloused hand for her wrench.

    James stood, angry. Cosmo gave a low whimper, distracted by his master¡¯s emotions. James stood, between the girls and Jenny. He uttered one word.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Lucy stared at her eldest brother. A war of pride and cynicism waged within her. Her brother stood stalwart, combating Jenny¡¯s speech with his presence alone. His breathing was shallow, his breath visible from the broken tea¡¯s warmth.

    Kiara remained silent; eyes wide open. She observed to the mage before her. Sceptical, cynical, James didn¡¯t care what they thought; the weight in his heart had proven too much.

    ¡°Ms Grayson, I respect your view. But I cannot accept it. I would not be here if I could accept it. These girls would not inspire hope and raw emotion in hundreds of others if we could accept it. I am sorry for anger, when you¡¯ve shown us hospitality, but no. I will not accept it.¡± Jenny eyeballed the Dust-mage.

    His once marvelous navy suit had begun to show signs of wear. His eyes held specks of hazel, hypnotic as if they moved with this man¡¯s emotions. His oxfords, no longer shined, were scuffed and damaged from the nights escapade; he had work hard. Her stance softened. She smiled.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. It was just a mug. I¡¯ve said my peace.¡± Jenny returned the wrench to the coffee table that divided the seating, and reached for the broken shards.

    ¡°Allow me.¡± James murmured a brief incantation and the pieces were swept up onto the table. Each of the broken shards held by a tendril of Dust. Slowly the tendrils reconstructed the shattered mug, filling any gaps with Dust. Cosmo levitated to the once-broken item and breathed over it. The lines of fractures were glazed over. The mug, now possessing a rough matte appearance than its once smooth ceramic, was whole.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Jenny said with respect. She considered the state of the escapees. Cuts has bandaged, the tea had helped with their jitters; tension remained within the group, but it had been managed for now. ¡°Kiara there is a spare bed down the hall, first door on the right. My workshop is to the left, and I will know if you enter it. Don¡¯t. Scanlans, you two can take the couches. I don¡¯t have much food, but just grab water from the tap. Bathroom is the second door on the right, down the hall.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Jen.¡± Lucy said. James nodded to their host.

    ¡°Just count yourselves lucky I¡¯m so kind hearted. G¡¯night.¡± The echoed her sentiments and made themselves comfortable with the sleeping arrangements. Kiara followed Jenny down the hall before turning to the right. A loud clunk of a lock echoed down the hall.

    Lucy turned away, facing the back of the couch. She had latched onto Cosmo and embraced the ethereal beast. James felt telepathic purring from the Baku.

    Time for some shut eye. Cosmo, please keep the nightmares at bay for her; she needs the rest.

    James received confirmation from his friend, before drifting off to sleep.

 Nightmare #5

    The spring sun shattered the prospect of a sleep in. It¡¯s rays of light shone through the living room¡¯s skylight, illuminating James¡¯ eyelids. The Dust-mage despised the prospect of waking up.

    Did I leave my apartment¡¯s blinds up? Damn, when did Autumn get light so early? Urgh, why is my bed¡­

    James peered at his hazy surroundings. The previous night¡¯s antics slowly formed in his memories. He groaned.

    Argh, my back. Last time I¡¯m accepting the couch as a bed. Man, yesterday was an ordeal.

    He shifted to sit on the edge of the couch. He rubbed away the sleep from his eyes, his surroundings came into focus.

    The living room was almost cosy in the morning light. The stained coffee table held last nights remnants of tea. The few pictures and paintings on the walls were visible, illustrations of Jenny and another man; a couple of her at the beach with some girlfriends. The space held that feeling of being lived in, despite the high roof and cool concrete flooring.

    It was reminiscent of a warehouse some of his uni-mates had rented as a makeshift home and workshop. The nobles loved to keep young independents out of the housing market; James could hardly afford his minuscule apartment, and he¡¯d been on the successful end of Atlas theatre performers.

    He arose of the couch, stretching out the kinks in his neck and back. Lucy was still curled up with Cosmo. The Baku had awoken from its trance, contented with his evening meal.

    I so spoil you Cosy.

    The Baku shared his sisters nightmare. James staggered at its weight. It was akin to being winded by a tackle, but a tackle to the mind not the chest. His eyes watered; the frustration, terror, anger, and hopelessness crashing into his mind like tidal waves. James circulated his Dust to abrogate the sensation and return to calm.

    Thank you Cosmo, I see you worked hard caring for her. I¡¯ll let you pick lunch for the day.

    Cosmo accepted his offering, returning to his trance-like state. James stood motionless. His right hand tapped away at his spell book at his side. He focused on his breathing, embraced the feeling of being back in Melbourne, reunited with his sister, knowing that his friend was looking after her, for now.

    Picking up the mugs, James moved to the kitchen. It was clean and organised. He emptied the remnants of the tea into the sink and filled up his mug with water. Drinking it slowly, he assessed the space for food. The pantry held little in the way of substance. A few protein bars and canned goods lined the back of the shelves, however, the fridge next to the pantry had some useful items.

    James pulled out a carton of eggs, and a few leftover pieces of bacon. Checking the frozen section he found some old bread, he brought it out to defrost. Once he had his ingredients lined up the next task was finding a frying pan, plates and a toaster.

    Over time he found what he needed, the aroma of frying eggs and bacon drifted throughout the home. His sister twitched on the couch, her body craving sustenance. Yet, the first person to arrive was Jenny. She wore a baggy t-shirt and trackies, yawning loudly as she entered the kitchen. Her auburn hair up in a loose bun, and handed hands scratching the mess of hair; she too was not a morning person. Wordlessly, she collected some plates and placed a butter-boat and Vegemite jar out on the bench.

    ¡°Mornin¡¯.¡± She said.

    ¡°G¡¯mornin¡¯.¡± James replied.

    Jenny buttered and spread the Vegemite on the toast. James made sure the bacon was crispy and eggs sunny-side up. It was a peaceful union of characters towards a common goal. A good breakfast. James smiled.

    Lucy eventually arose from her slumber, guided by Cosmo to a seat at the bench. She only had one word for the cooks: ¡°Coffee.¡±

    They chuckled, and Jenny turned to heat-up a homemade contraption. It was a large machine built into the wall. Clumps of ground coffee could be seen organised into tight disks, connected by a tube. As Jenny heated the machine, Lucy stumbled to where her friend was sleeping. She knocked loudly on Kiara¡¯s door before returning to the bench.

    Jenny poured a jug of water down an alternate pipe to the ground-pods of coffee beans. The water steamed, heated by the pipe as it descended to meet the bottom-most pod. The result was barista coffee, homemade and all the more delicious for it. Jenny parcelled out mugs of the brew.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Lucy said. She perked up with the brew in hand. James, smiling at the scene, began to distribute the food. Kiara entered to the sight of Lucy feeding a Baku coffee, Jenny and James cooking , warm sunlight filtered into the house, and the succulent scent of eggs and bacon on Vegemite toast was ravaging her nose. Her dusky eyes were bewildered by the sight. She chuckled.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I need more mornings like this. So peaceful, satisfying, I don¡¯t know exactly how, but these moments just¡­ fill the soul.

    Cosmo agreed, doing his barrel-roll trick, hyped up on coffee. His large puppy eyes and wolfish grin as he span made the girls laugh. Even Kiara.

    Ah, a good morning it is then.

    The group sat down on either side of the bench for breakfast. For that small moment in time, there was happiness and calm. It was a period of peace, of nourishment. As they ate, all was well.

    They enjoyed the food.

    ______________________________

    ¡°Thank you Jenny, for your hospitality. I¡¯m sorry for imposing.¡± James said.

    ¡®It was interesting to meet you, James. It¡¯s not every day a group of young adults seek refuge from the law at my simple home, ha!¡± Jenny chuckled. She clapped James on the back.

    They stood outside Jenny¡¯s concrete home. James and Lucy, along with Cosmo, were prepared to head home. Lucy had already vowed to a Saturday snooze, keen to return to her warm dreams from the night before. She spoke of how real the puppies and kittens she¡¯d played with in her dreams had felt. James had chuckled when he¡¯d heard.

    Kiara, however, stood behind Jenny. The cold glare had returned, directed James¡¯ way.

    A good breakfast can¡¯t solve everything. Cosmo ardently disagreed.

    ¡°Thanks Jen. I¡¯ll try to listen more, next time.¡± Lucy said.

    ¡°See that you will missy.¡± The older woman nagged playfully. ¡°I¡¯m no hostel. I¡¯ve got serious work to do, and a Damien as well, ha!¡± The girls cringed at the crude humour.

    ¡°Well, thank you. Here,¡± James passed over a cache of HDMs and LDMs, ¡°for your troubles.¡±

    All of the girls eyes widened at the sight. LDMs were common currency for mages, but to part with what appeared to be several HDMs was astounding to the magic-less women. Kiara¡¯s eyebrows deepened in thought.

    ¡°Why, I¡­ Yes, it was a hassle.¡± Jenny smiled, accepting the cache of crystals. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure Kiara gets home safe. G¡¯bye.¡± Kiara and her waved, the Scanlans echoed the goodbye.

    Good to see Aussie hospitality is alive and well. Unfortunate that it was needed like it was. Towers, Mum and Dad are going to be mad.

    The siblings walked along the sidewalk, blue skies above them and an amalgamation of houses to their sides. They made their way to Sandringham station, wary of anyone recognising them from the night prior. James was confident his Seeming was sufficient but still he was wary.

    The peace of breakfast had passed. Tension sat between the eighteen and twenty-eight year-old. Cosmo turned ethereal; perceptive to the distance between the two.

    We used to be so much closer. And now¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.

    ¡°Why¡¯d you come back?¡± Lucy broke the silence.

    ¡°I always planned on coming back.¡± James deflected.

    They walked on, step after step, allowing emotion to ferment the air. James had never felt less confident, his sister by his side. His shoulders slumped, eyes turning away from his little sister. Lucy watched him.

    ¡°Why?¡± She asked.

    James was silent for a few metres.

    ¡°I¡­ I was gone a long time. This conversation cements that fact. I never planned to be away for so long, Luc. It¡¯s just that I wasn¡¯t old enough, mature enough, I¡­ I wasn¡¯t ready to come back.¡± James offered.

    Lucy pondered for a few metres. The tension built up again. The air was heavy, heated not solely by the Australian sun. Lucy, again, broke the silence.

    ¡°I missed you, James. Richard and Pete; you got them out. But I¡¯ve been here all alone, James. Alone.¡± Her voice was hollow.

    Cosmo floated to her side, materialising his head. Lucy scratched the Baku behind the ears. The station could be seen ahead, not too far away.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t understand your leaving, I was too young. But seeing the others go, only having Mum and Dad, it was hard.¡± James listened. The weight in his heart grew ever heavier. He didn¡¯t dare deaden his emotions with Dust now.

    ¡°You became something¡­ something ethereal. Reduced to this locket around my neck. This shackle.¡± She clutched the locket of dust to her chest. ¡°The brief messages for birthdays or New Years, it wasn¡¯t enough. I was alone James, and it was because of you.¡±

    The emotion in her voice stabbed James in the heart. The cache of her breath, her shaking shoulders and forlorn look; he wanted to the embrace her, make it known that he was here. He hesitated.

    She stopped walking. He turned to reach for her and stopped. He met her eyes; her angry, angry eyes. They stood still.

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. You¡¯re a mage.I don¡¯t blame you for forgetting your NoMsister, your NoMfamily. It¡¯s in your programming, to forget us. Leave us to fend for ourselves in a world built to harm us, kill us, oppressus.¡± Her chest was rising and falling fast, tense. The anguish in her cries increased the mental load in James¡¯ mind.

    ¡°I knowwhy you didn¡¯t come back. It¡¯s because we are reminders, of what you could of been, of what you shouldhave been. Stuck on the bottom, fending for your life with no fancy spirits or spells to protect you. Knowing that a single injury or wrong encounter or any plethora of possibilities could end you. We make you feel weak!¡±

    Tears condensed in the corner of James¡¯ eyes. Lucy went apoplectic at the sight of them.

    ¡°NO! You don¡¯t get to cry. You don¡¯t get to feel, to feel¡­ Human! I want you to feel-¡± She began to pull at the locket, making to tear it off.

    ¡°No. Please, don¡¯t.¡± James croaked.

    She stared at the stream of tears running down his face. Disgust in her eyes, she snarled.

    ¡°Oh look, I¡¯ve made a mage cry. The world must be ending. You¡¯re pathetic and I hate you.¡± She shoved past her brother running to the station ahead. He winced as she went past, Cosmo echoing her anger; held back from devouring it by James¡¯ will.

    He watched her enter the station proper, the train arriving and her subsequent departure. He breathed deeply, holding his hands from tapping his spell book. Cosmo watched its master deal with his emotions; no Dust, no consumption.

    James accepted responsibility. He knew he owed her that much. He made his way to the station, his emotions matching his worn appearance. He waited for the next train, consoled by a singular thought.

    She had kept the locket.

 Nightmare #6

    The wait for the train became a meditation session for James. Eyes closed, he timed his breathing with the ticking of the stations clock, and the tap of his fingers on his spell book.

    His sister possessed his penchant for challenging others with words and emotions. Her attacks on his personhood, his love for his family, the dire notion he had forgotten them - regretted them even - it had hurt the very core of his being.

    Who am I?

    It was a ludicrous question, and Cosmo was ready with its own telepathic answer; but that wasn¡¯t what James was aiming at.

    I left for ten years. Over half of her lifetime I¡¯ve been gone. She called me ethereal, something out of this reality. Am I truly so heartless.

    A dichotomy of logic and emotions tugged at the conflicted man. He swept his hand through his hair, greasy. His hands felt grimy, unclean and he almost cast Lesser Restoration just to be rid of the sickening sensation.

    The wind blew steadily, cool in the warm Spring air. The sounds of other commuters surrounded him.

    ¡°You won¡¯t believe what happened to¡­¡±

    ¡°Oi, Davo! How¡¯s it been? Did you catch the news¡­¡±

    ¡°To think, just down the road there was a mass¡­¡±

    James stiffened at the talk. It all traced back to his sister. He reached for his Dust, but Cosmo - of all things - rebuked him. James opened his eyes to stay at the Baku. It held the face of a puppy, wide-eyed and pleading for attention. Rapidly the face shifted, to a Burmese cats face, laconic and purring with its belly. Finally the Baku shifted to a wolf¡¯s head. A harrowing visage, bloodshot eyes, long fangs and mangey fur; James understood his friends meaning.

    He swallowed in the morning air, inhaling the scents of coffee and pastries from the surrounding commuters. He breathed out, relaxing his shoulders and hips, his arms and legs, fingers and toes - he basked in the feeling of weightlessness, of released muscles.

    Slowly the ball in his chest lightened. He continued his breathing, fingers no longer tapping, the sounds of the clock lost in a haze of breaths. The weight dispersed, still within him, but no longer a constant suffocating weight.

    Thank you Cosmo. Where would I be without you, you brilliant empath?

    Cosmo hid within the satchel as the train arrived, but James could feel the Cheshire grin it wore.

    <hr>

    Home was as he left it. Not how he left it ten years ago, but how James had left it last night. The brick building was of moderate size, a clear doorway, low fence and a couple windows facing the street; it was a comfortable home for any young mage family. However, James¡¯ family was not a mage family.

    He walked towards the building, fearful of what his parents were thinking, when he noticed some strangers staring at the home. They were kids, probably no older than thirteen or so, but what caught James¡¯ attention was the rocks they had piled up in a wagon.

    James released Cosmo, in his Dust form, to scout the kids.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, their bloody NoMs. They shouldn¡¯t live round here.¡± Said the tallest and widest boy of the bunch.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I thought we were going to hunt possums and rats.¡± Said a younger boy.

    ¡°Yeah, they can still beat yo ass Mike. No a good idea.¡± Antagonised an acne-ridden teen.

    Chubby Mike was incensed at that comment. He huffed the classic, ¡°I¡¯ll show you!¡±, and made for the cart of rocks. James was not having it.

    ¡°Boys, what are you lot up to?¡± He inquired.

    The young teens looked at each other furtively, none of them wishing to respond. Mike continued to grab a rock. He then turned to James, still mad at his friend¡¯s earlier comment.

    ¡°What¡¯d you want?¡± He said.

    James raised an eyebrow, looking down at the boy. He was tall for his age but James was a grown man, and so the boy sagged at little looking up at him.

    ¡°I want to know why a bunch of kids have a cart of rocks?¡± He asked.

    ¡°We were looking for possums, sir. They hid out with their young during Spring, we were just trying to get rid of the pests.¡± Acne-boy said.

    ¡°I see, so where are the possums?¡±

    ¡°Um, I thought I saw them go that¡¯a¡¯way.¡± He pointed and ran off with the cart, the younger friend in tow. Mike still stood before James, rock in hand. He looked to him, and James¡¯ home and back to James.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I was you.¡± James said. Mike looked up, traces of defiance on his features. I reminded him of his little sister; the way she gobbled down a whole chilly, only because James had said not to. The defiance of the young, it struck a chord of emotion in James.

    ¡°They have a magical-dog, Mike. I wouldn¡¯t test them.¡± The boy looked up confused. He was about to deny the dog¡¯s existence when Cosmo appeared, in Nightmare-Form.

    Cosmo had adapted a dire-wolf body and frame; the ribs and spine showing through the emancipated torso. Battle scars lined the flesh, framing the demonic beasts front claws and hind legs. The ethereal Dust was now necrotic shadows, distorting the light around the beast and forming ghoulish faces in the haze. Cosmo opened his mangey mouth, fangs bared and a long slender tongue - a perversion of an ant-eater¡¯s and a snake¡¯s, double in thickness as it taped to a fork - emerged and lashed at the air. The Baku¡¯s dark red eyes locked onto the boys, the beast prepared to pounce.

    Mike ran. He sprinted with all the power his tubby little legs could sustain. He ran so fast his friend had to rush with the cart to catch up. They disappeared around a bend in the distance.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Oh kids, I could¡¯ve done a lot worse than that. Good boy Cosmo.

    The Baku returned to its Cheshire form and returned to the satchel to receive scratches. James walked to the front door, only to see his Dad already waiting there.

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t of done anything, you know. If they had, we would have told their parents. Situation resolved. They¡¯re a good lot, Mike just has a bad older brother, you didn¡¯t need to do that.¡± He told his son.

    James nodded. ¡°But now the older brother can¡¯t put him up to something stupid anymore, and so its resolved anyway.¡±

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re not one of them, arbitrators or something, ha!¡± The father and son made their way inside.

    <hr>

    Home was where the heart felt at rest - and yet all James felt was anxious palpitations. It was a home bought out of love, seven years-prior at the eve of his first advance as an accomplished Magus. He faintly recalled the joy he¡¯d felt, bubbling with excitement at bring his family closer to a better life. Now, he walked the broken-in hallway with trepidation, uncertain of himself; had he done enough?

    The walls had been repainted. No longer white but a cool grey, with colourful splatters whirling in patterns at the foot of the walls. Pictures and paintings lined the hall; proud moments, of Richard and Pete holding up a trophy, to Lucy beaming at Mum and Dad a large diploma in hand. Next to the picture of Lucy was a contemporary artwork.

    It was a vivid galaxy of dust. Reds and blues and yellows and oranges, forming a vortex of passion that evoked awe in James heart. Cosmo, leaping from the satchel, emulated the terrific catastrophe of the painting. James stopped, and smiled.

    ¡°Ah, yes. It won her a Tower Prize for the Arts, you know?¡± His Dad said. ¡°And it was all thanks to you.¡± He beamed at his son, pride in his eyes.

    James¡¯ brow furrowed, head tilted he look at his father. He gave a short laugh and comment - ¡°Surely you remember your first performance?¡± - an pointed with his muscular arm to a picture a little further down the hall.

    James peered at it in disbelief. It was a memory forgotten, a time before, when he had still dreamt of dreams without needing his friend¡¯s protection.

    The picture was of him on stage at high school, spell book levitating before him as his arms were held out-stretched. His face illuminated by his marvellous construct; a Dust nebula, refracting colours like a kaleidoscope throughout the hall. The passion in the performance, his family cheering below his original creation, it was a different time. His breath caught in his throat.

    ¡°The school was kind enough to send us the Lumen-pic, just after you had left. Every day it stands out, just as magical.¡± A sweet voice spoke behind him.

    He turned and faced her. Mum.

    She smiled a warm smile, pride dancing in her eyes as she took in the sight of her son. She placed a hand on his shoulder, holding firm as if he¡¯d disappear at any moment.

    ¡°Hi Mum.¡± James said.

    ¡°Welcome home, James. Come here.¡± She wrapped him in a big hug.

    Just as a father can set his boy¡¯s heart at ease, a mother¡¯s embrace can fill a son with all the warmth of the world. James returned the hug, melting into her embrace.

    ¡°I see you haven¡¯t lost those emotions of yours.¡± She stepped back, wiping a tear from his eye.

    ¡°I guess so.¡± James said.

    It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve felt this much Mum. You have no idea what I¡¯ve¡­ Who your son is now.

    ¡°Well come sit down.¡± Dad clapped him on the back and the couple guided him to the living room.

    It was a shock, compared to Jenny¡¯s home. Cushions were splayed around the couch, chairs unorganised and an easel stood in the corner facing the window. It spoke of activity, and family. His sister¡¯s presence found in each discarded utensil and unwashed cups of tea. His Mum¡¯s penchant for redecorating, found in the scuff marks of the wooden floor; almost hidden by the circular carpet that framed the living-room space from the kitchen.

    Only his Dad was organised, moving to the kitchen sink to fill the kettle - clearing away a myriad of plates and cups in the process. The pride in his eyes had never waved, now sharing space with a calm happiness at seeing his eldest son returned home.

    James sat at the head of the wooden-table that divided the kitchen from the couch-ridden space. He felt¡­ content, reclaiming his old haunt. Mum sat to the right of him, facing the kitchen where his Dad had gotten the kettle on the stove.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where to begin.¡± James said. He looked over his family. They returned his gaze with heart-felt smiles.

    ¡°How have you been? Keeping well, I hope. How have your performances been?¡± His Dad asked from the sink.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ busy. But, that¡¯s both in getting my work out there and finding the resources to come back here. It¡¯s been a long year, but I¡¯ve been well. I¡¯m just glad I¡¯m home.¡± James answered.

    ¡°As are we.¡± His mum squeezed his hand.

    ¡°How have things been around here? Did I send enough resources for Luc, and you guys. Have I missed any-¡± Mum shushed him.

    ¡°Love, everything you have sent us has been more than enough.¡± She consoled him.

    ¡°Ha! You can say that again. Our friends still ask us why we still work, having such a caring son.¡± Dad filled up four mugs, steam rising from them. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He vanished, his footsteps heard pounding up a set of stairs.

    James looked to his mother. She was just past middle-aged, edging towards a young grandparent. He¡¯d even heard whispers that Richard had found a partner, an odd thought. Her eyes were a verdant green, the hazel of James¡¯ eyes inherited from his father. She wore comfortable jeans and sweater; and if true to routine, she¡¯d gone for her early morning run before he¡¯d arrived. She was so steady, holding his hand and yet he felt so uncertain of himself.

    Mum, I think I need to tell you something important. But, I just don¡¯t know what it is.

    ¡°I heard you two had a fight.¡± She asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°I also know that she is vicious in a debate.¡±

    ¡°She definitely is.¡± Mother and son sat in silence for a minute or two. It wasn¡¯t an awkward silence. It was a silence of contemplation. They sipped their tea as Dad returned.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but she won¡¯t come down right now.¡± He said.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll come around, love. Distance is jarring, especially after its been in place for such a long time. You¡¯ll be back on the same page in no time.¡± James¡¯ Mum rubbed his back, watching him carefully.

    ¡°I feel that I¡¯ve missed out on so much. This was not how I thought you guys would react. I thought the incident made the news?¡± James placed his spell book on the table.

    Tap, tap, tap¡­

    His parents watched his actions, familiar with the habit. Dad sat on James¡¯ left, looking into the living-room. James turned, following his eyeliner. The easel in the corner seemed so¡­ empty, to the Scanlan men.

    ¡°Well, with the friends she¡¯s made over the years; we¡¯ve learnt to accept who she wants to be. Gosh, you remember how feisty she was as a kid.¡± Mum said.

    ¡°Yeah, she was always crafty. I¡¯d wake-up one morning to find myself glad wrapped to my bed; all because she thought I wasn¡¯t paying enough attention to her the day before.¡± James remembered.

    ¡°Ever since she met Kiara, she¡¯s been channelling her passion, super focused. At first we didn¡¯t know what to think, with all the ideas and egos she brought home; but we made peace with her goals, and friends, and have done our best to look out for her.¡± Dad said. ¡°Thank you, for finding her last night. I know it went ruff.¡±

    James watched as his parents eyes turned sardonic. They understood the realities at hand; their daughter being branded a criminal was tantamount to exile in this small community. But, there was love in their shared expressions. The cups of tea, never forgetting who is home, reminders of the past - James had missed them dearly.

    ¡°It was no issue, really. I always wanted to be here for you all; and now I can be.¡± He smiled. ¡°Now, what do you-¡± He was interrupted by a telepathic message.

    ¡°Hey James, it¡¯s Yilin. I¡¯m all clear to get you that passport and register you with the Tower today. Let me know if that suits.¡±

    James shot his old friend a reply, letting him know he¡¯ll be there soon. He turned to his parents, curious as to his peculiar pause mid-speech.

    ¡°I have to go. Got to register at the Tower, and see a few old friends.¡± He stood up and hugged his family. He let them know he¡¯d be back tonight if not late-afternoon, thanking them for the warm welcome.

    ¡°Oh, when did you get so formal? We¡¯ll work on diffusing your sister, enjoy the rest of the day now.¡± James joined his Dad in a brief laugh.

    ¡°Now, don¡¯t go and faint like you did at the High School registration. I can still remember the anxiety of waiting for you to wake up.¡± Mum reminisced.

    ¡°Heh. I¡¯m sure I won¡¯t. I was much younger and very underprepared back then. See you all later.¡± James replied.

    Gathering Cosmo, who¡¯d dyed some of the Dust in his sister¡¯s paints, James left out the front door. His heart lighter, and head clearer, James enjoyed the remnants of the sunny Spring morning.

 Nostalgia: Beginnings

    14 Years Prior¡­

    James¡¯ head pounded, his shoulders hunched as he walked home. His light-green uniform - a polo-top and shorts - failed to his the scraps on his arms, and the bruise on his thigh. He trudged with his head hung, uncombed hair just reaching down to cover his eyes.

    The afternoon was late. The sun positioned low on the horizon, it illuminated the faint miasma emitted from the shielding stations as the light struck the opaque surface. It was early Summer, the heat not yet fierce enough to boil the tarmac James walked upon. His sneakers squeaked with each step, he pondered how long until this pair would stop creating unwanted noise. The last pair had taken four months; the harsh material had always fostered blisters on the teenagers feet, up until the holes in the soles were too big to patch over. He always hated his new things.

    He winced, walking along the main road from school - an uphill slant that twinged his bruised thigh. The soccer ball had only hit him in the head. A few ¡®friends¡¯ has knocked it hard into the goals James had stood in unwillingly. It was a good shot. It always seemed like the good things were the most damaging to James. The ball sent him to the nurses bay, where the kind old nurse asked him: ¡°What was it this time Master Scanlan?¡± She was a grandmotherly woman, especially so for James'' scapes and scraps out at lunchtime. Her mother-hen nature, when James first met her, comforted him; now, all he felt was disappointment. He''d become too frequent a visitor, in his mind, another person who had to go out of their way to aid him. He mumbled about a soccer ball to the head, and the nurse set him down on a bed to rest.

    She had held him until twenty-minutes after the last bell; on the last day of school no less. His eyes were still fuzzy, having stumbled over his own feet a few steps on the way home. They¡¯d had to send for his brother Richard to take little Pete home. It was no issue, as despite being two years James¡¯ junior, Richard had the gift of the gab in convincing others; the teachers gushed over his maturity. James hoisted his bag up again, wishing it was a shell for him to hide inside.

    Concrete apartment-blocks, with too few windows on the outside, framed James¡¯ solitary walk. Each building hugged its neighbour, a cascading sight of concrete and unfilled frames. Windows only added to the Summer heat, for those trapped in these multi-storied bunkers, so they were removed early this season. It did not help. James knew that from experience.

    He looked up at the street signs, he waited for the one that signalled his block. The walk was always the hardest part of his day. There was no laughter from Pete¡¯s antics, or Richard¡¯s insistence that the family should buy more sweets as they filled him up more at school. There was only the silence. The deep sullen self-inflicted silence.

    It was once filled with tears, or self-loathing, or questions as to why he couldn¡¯t stop the slow creep of isolation from entering his walk. His eyes had grown weary of tears, his soul now apathetic and so the silence consumed him.

    The sun had fallen behind James, a long shadow cast before him. The twenty-minute hike had comes thirty, and forty, slowing as he neared his own concrete complex.

    Pete had marvelled at the complex. To him it was a blank canvas. A wall became a medium of thought, the ceiling a challenge to reach, and the lack of windows an invitation to innovate. At only nine-years-old little Pete had demonstrated a cunning eye for creation. He also displaced an extreme tolerance for risk.

    James recalled how neighbours watched his precarious exploits, as Pete stood on a window frame¡¯s edge building a path to the next apartment window. Richard, the conniving smarty-pants that he was, managed to console the anxious crowds. He¡¯d placate them with assurances that it was safe, and even offered to show them a forged signature of their mother¡¯s like; he had taken the brunt of the blame when Pete first fell.

    Luck had it that it was only a single floor he fell, before being caught by a workman the floor below, installing the Winter-windows. Mum and Dad had been stern with the pair of miscreants, especially James who was made to do the communal laundry for the floor in recompense. However, there was a note of sadness in their eyes when they learnt that James had not been a part of the escapade. When he was asked why he said he, ¡°didn¡¯t understand the fun in it.¡± His parents had shared a look, that his teenage mind didn¡¯t fully understand, and they hugged the teenager saying that they always had his back.

    James could not understand why, but he felt as if he had disappointed them. Hadn¡¯t he done the right thing?

    James shook his head of the memory, clutching his temple when the headache returned. Sorrowful was an apt description of the lad, but he¡¯d given up describing himself a while ago.

    He climbed the concrete steps, up and around the concrete floors, only to stumble and trip on his heavy feet; they too felt like concrete. He never tried to get scuffed and dusted but it always happened. The dust had dried his tears often enough that it acted as a foundation for his face. A wretched look, and sometimes James wished he could make it go away. He¡¯d wanted to be happy, but the world conspired against him. He got up off the floor.

    Standing before the apartment door, James waited. His chest rose, and a cough deflated it. Faint rustles came from behind the heavy door, but still James waited. He waited until the tightness lessened. The weight had fled from his feeble heart.

    He opened the door. Inside was another world. The transmuted walls of the commission plates had been painted in vivid colours. Blues and reds and yellows, of diverse images and of childish creation; the apartment was a place of life. James had never felt welcome in it.

    His family jumped out from behind their single sofa. Cheers erupted, with Mum holding young Lucy on her shoulders. Even the little one appeared to cheer.

    James looked back and forth, even over his shoulders. Dad laughed and went over to hug his son. James was a shorter teen and so his Dad lifted him and wrapped in a bear hug. Warmth suffused his tired body. His brothers ran to Dad¡¯s feet and cheered all the same. They patted James on the back, smiles radiating love.

    ¡°What-what-what¡­¡± James stammered.

    ¡°Oh, we are so proud of you James!¡± Mum said.

    ¡°Unbelievably so!¡± His Dad said putting James down.

    Surrounded by family the world appeared a little brighter. He didn¡¯t understand why they were all so pleased with him. His headache had disappeared though.

    ¡°Why?¡± He asked. Mum walked closer, leaning down to give her son a hug. Lucy patted his head leaning down.

    ¡°Your results came back today. You¡¯ve been accepted to a Mage-school! Bluestone Hall no less!¡±

    James could not believe it. He searched and searched for signs this was an elaborate joke, a cruel prank, but no. He was a possible Mage.

    A smile burst across his face. Tears streamed down his face as he held his family close. It was a chance, finally somewhere to start anew.

    ¡°Thank you¡±

    <hr>

    A Few Months Later¡­

    James hesitated outside the bluestone building. Mum had left him at the gates, his sister stood with her waving. He¡¯d vanished into a new world, a brighter one. Old stone buildings stood before him, awesome in size and structure. The centre of the campus was a majestic chapel. He¡¯d been shown the inside of it during a tour, before the term began. The outside was rugged bluestone, mined from the heart of Victoria; the inside was inlaid with a New Zealand mineral called Punamu - it glistened and brought a sense of wonder to James¡¯ mind.

    The chapel was at the schools centre, with an open quadrangle before its entrance. James had walked through the open quad, witnessing older students go about their morning routines, catching up with friends and converse with teachers and staff. It was a bustling environment that felt close-knit despite the open sky above. The campus held two green ovals and a defined soccer pitch that would double for Magic-games. The simple ball sport truly came alive when combined with elaborate magics.

    The school was a dream. James held close his satchel, a navy blue with the schools crest on the front of it. He¡¯d been provided a score of books, treasuring each one as his most valuable possession. Many were primers on magecraft, and yet it was a humble leather bound tome devoid of all writing and graphs that stole his attention.

    It was his book. He vowed it would be his spell book, in time.

    So, James stood before a bluestone building, anxious to what it may contain. He leant forward and back, compelled to enter but his body refused to move. He debated going home, forgetting this wonderful opportunity, escaping before his hopes to be a NoM born mage dissipated like smoke; leaving him once again with nothing.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    A young boy opened the buildings door. He was of similar height to James. Signs of puppy fat on his cheeks, but a lean figure was slowly emerging from his teen body. Black hair and of oriental descent, James stood silent before the young man.

    ¡°Hi!¡± Said the dark-haired teen. ¡°My names Yi-¡­ um, its Danny, Danny Feng.¡±

    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m James.¡± James murmured. Danny tilted his head at him, but as if hearing a call looked over his shoulder inside the building.

    ¡°So wanna come in? I¡¯m new myself, so we can see what being a boarder will be like.¡± He beamed at James. James blinked, and he smiled.

    ¡°Sure.¡± He followed his new friend inside, and began his journey at Melbourne¡¯s Spellcraft Academy; Bluestone Hall.

    <hr>

    A Year Later¡­

    It was theday. James tapped his personal tome. Tap tap tap, tap tap tap, tap tap tap¡­

    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine James. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± Danny stood by side, encouraging his friend. They stood inside the Memorial Hall; a place to commemorate the lives lost to the Undead and Beast-Tide. Today it was a place to commemorate new beginnings.

    School officials stood on the stage at the front of the hall. Their chairs positioned in a semi-circle facing a lectern. The students sat before the stage - rows and rows of chairs cascading back until being raised, so all seated could watch the proceedings. Usually the hall only hosted services and assemblies. Today, the hall hosted the Awakening.

    James¡¯ year-level only made up a quarter of the hall. Each boy awaiting their turn to place their hand on the mana crystal inlaid in the lectern for the occasion. Most were generational mages, eager to receive their title and schools as fully-awakened mages. However, in the crowd James and three other NoM born students were anxious.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯ll be fine.¡± James repeated the phrase as a mantra. Danny patted his friend on the back, more self-assured. His family possessed a long mage lineage, even if he was a part of a side-branch of the clan. James, however, understood how dire this ritual was for him.

    He was either a mage, or not. Failure meant mediocrity. Success meant life.

    James looked over at the other NoM scholars. Big Fergo fidgeted, his seat creaking and squeaking with his incessant movements. James felt sorry for each chair he deign to collapse onto. Sweet Matilda was still in her seat, but her head was constantly moving. Roving back and forth with her eyes, she was as on edge as the rest of them. It was only Finlay, a similar boy in stature and heritage to James, that sat completely still. He was dead silent.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine James.¡± A voice affirmed from behind him. James turned to see Mr Jack. He was a middle-aged man with greyed hair and a kind countenance. His gut was a little too wide for the aisles between the rows, but it provided a heartiness to his presence.

    ¡°The world knows how hard you¡¯ve worked. It¡¯ll be right.¡± His baritone voice had a way with James. Calmness suffused the young man. Whether it Mr Jack¡¯s presence as an Abjurer or his ability as a teacher which comforted James, he did not fully know.

    James turned to the stage, hearing thuds. Standing before the cohort was the Headmaster, Magister Roy. he was an esteemed old student of the Bluestone, and one of the few Melbourne born mages to become a Magister. His father aided in the foundations of Melbourne¡¯s Tower and of the modern aspects of the school, a powerful Magus in his own right. The Headmaster''s own accolades began before he was Headmaster. He was the youngest Magus ever-recorded in Victoria, an internationally recognised figure on the modernisation of the teachings of magic, and a decorated Officer from fighting along the Brisbane-line; he was James¡¯ idol. It was thanks to his progressive attitude towards NoMs, and his influence in enforcing such views, that James was at Bluestone Hall today.

    ¡°Boys. Girls. My colleagues. Special guests. Today we witness the emergence of the next generation. You have all worked extremely hard, elevating yourselves and striving to be the best each of you can become.¡± His voice resonated throughout the hall. Every face in the crowd paid him sole attention.

    ¡°There are some who will be disappointed in today¡¯s proceedings. All of you will face many challenges and hurdles ahead. Today is the beginning of your new lives, for better or worse, spawning from this ceremony, ad infinitum. Know this, however¡­¡± He paused, looking over the cohort with grey eyes. He soaked in the scene before him, acknowledging all.

    ¡°This school is for all students. From the highest of Magi to the lowest of our magicless brethren. This school thanks each, and every one of you, for your service to this point and we will endeavour to aid you to ad infinitum. Good luck.¡± The room erupted with applause.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good. Even if I don¡¯t become a mage I can be magicless at a magic school.¡± James whispered sardonically to Danny. Danny answered with a concerned expression, before turning back to the stage. He also was consumed by the spectacle.

    An official from the Tower stood up and began to call the role. James palms were greased in sweat. He proceeded to put his tome away, as to not damage the cover.

    The first of the cohort walked up to the stage. Unlike public schools, of the kind that Richard or Pete may end up, the proceedings was full of excitement. Each student had already responded well to magical aptitude testing, so this was more or less a formality to most. Despite such results James felt only fear in his gut.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    ¡°Evoker, Tier 3 Air affinity.¡±

    The newly minted Air sorceress smiled.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    ¡°Transmutation, Tier 2 Earth affinity.¡±

    The Earth mage grimaced. He¡¯d expected a higher affinity.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    Matilda walked across the stage to the lectern. James held his breath.

    ¡°Ah! Biomancer, Tier 3 Positive-mage. Congratulations.¡±

    Matilda maintained her sweetness, eyelashes fluttering in astonishment. It appeared her aptitude was well earned; her family will be well cared for. Their was only a small pang of envy in James'' heart as he clapped for her.

    ¡°Good for her.¡± Danny applauded the new cleric with the rest of the cohort. James nodded to himself. The success had eased the butterflies in his stomach.

    The roll continued to be called. Soon it was Danny that walked on the stage. James wished him luck as he strode to the front of the hall. He appeared to already have it in spades.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    ¡°Diviner¡­¡± The official paused a moment, studying the mana crystal.

    ¡°We have a Divination, Transmutation, Tier 2 Water mage. Congratulations.¡±

    Danny was dumbstruck. His eyes wide as the hall cheered. It wasn¡¯t everyday a frontier mage had the benefit of two starting schools. James gave him a fist bump, his friend unable to sit still once he''d returned to his seat.

    After the brief applause the awakenings continued. There was a Magma mage, conjurer; an Ice mage, evoker; and even an Earth and Water dual-mage, abjurer. A variety of schools and affinities made themselves know. There were a few people who failed to awaken, each guided out by Headmaster Roy, each time the light dimmed in the room ever so slightly; the energy lost in the vacuum of a kids crushed dream. Before long it was Fergo¡¯s time on stage.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    He placed his large mitt onto the crystal.

    ¡°Transmutation, Tier 5 Earth affinity.¡±

    Fergo didn¡¯t know what to do. He stood with a look of consternation on his face, a weird lack of excitement. A loud explosion emanated from the young man¡¯s backside.

    ¡°Eeeeewww, Fergo!¡± Shouted a gaggle of girls. Most of the hall laughed and welcomed the high affinity Earth mage. He was a basic transmuter with an edge, but still James felt better that another NoM born had become a mage. The gaggle giggled as the big boy stepped off the stage, face flushed. It was a cheerful atmosphere within the hall. However, following Fergo was Finlay, composed and stern. The whispers and muttering softened as the boy walked up the stage, enigmatic.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    A plethora of lights flashed, dimly. Each one came to the crystals surface before fading, only a dimmed light remained.

    ¡°Evoker, Generalist.¡±

    Finlay turned to the official, hand extended. The official, with grace, shook the boys hand. Headmaster Roy stood by Finlay¡¯s shoulder and guided him out the hall. The mood in the room faded from excitement to filling with anxiety. Those who had yet to be awakened felt their nerves increase, akin to James¡¯ prior to the event. James, now, only felt fear. The official neared his name on the roll.

    ¡°It¡¯ll go well, have faith.¡± Mr Jack whispered behind him. James nodded, a stern face plastered over his nervous disposition. He ambled up the stage.

    ¡°Next.¡±

    James stood before the lectern, lost in the turbulent mana crystal¡¯s opaque surface. After some vicious breaths, stolen from the still air, James placed his hand on the crystal.

    The world darkened. All light, noise, emotion and passion, all of it dimmed. His body was locked in place, his nerves abrogating their responsibility of responding to his will. Greyish light flashed across the crystal, James was uncertain to its meaning. He¡¯d lost the ability to hear, and soon the ability to see. It felt as if the world was monochromatic, so bleak; so futile, worthless.

    The last thing he saw was Mr Jack rushing with all his might to the stage front. His lips moved so slowly to James, casting an incantation. He failed to reach James as he collapsed.

    He fell into darkness. It was a soft fall.

    <hr>

    A Few Hours Later¡­

    The sick bay was too bright for James¡¯ waking eyes. The harsh white light searing into his retinas. A hand held his own, firm.

    ¡°What¡­¡± James mumbled. His mouth felt full of cotton.

    ¡°Shhh. It¡¯s okay love, Mum and Dad are here.¡±

    James tried to focus on the blur to his left. He was flat on a gurney, a dark haired blur to his left and at the foot of his bed. A hand emerged from the edge of the distorted vision to pat his leg. He shuddered, restorative mana rushed through his body; a caring infusement.

    ¡°That should help, I¡¯ll leave you three with him.¡± The school nurse said.

    James blinked. His eyes focused and yes there was three people in the room. Headmaster Roy stood in the rooms doorway. James scrambled to sit up. Why would he be here?

    He felt only pain, in his mind and body.

    ¡°Slowly now. Your um¡­ Mana conduits, I think they said, are drained. We were told you¡¯d also feel famished.¡± His Dad said. James froze at the term ¡®Mana conduits¡¯. Then he remembered the Headmaster, proceeding to cry.

    ¡°Shh shhh. It¡¯s okay. Are you in pain?¡± Mum asked worried.

    James turned to the Headmaster. ¡°I¡¯m a Generalist aren¡¯t I?¡± He whispered. ¡°That¡¯s why your here.¡± The Headmaster titled his head. His eyes, a wondrous grey, scanned the young man who shed tears of grief. He walked over to the bed. He stood by the right side, facing James¡¯ parents and him. He was an imposing man, built strong an firm despite the signs of age. However, that imposing demenour faded to compassion, warmth emenating from his stoney features.

    ¡°Master Scanlan,¡± He smiled. ¡°You are far from anything general. Congratulations.¡±

    James sat, slack jawed. His eyes, frantic, watched his parents; they nodded, smiles adorning their humble faces. The tears intensified. However, they spoke of joy and relief, far from wretched grief.

    ¡°You, Master Scanlan, are the first of your kind in this institution.¡± James didn¡¯t grasp the Headmaster''s meaning.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean to say I¡¯ve called on an old student - Magus Doherty - to come aid in your studies, for you are an enigma in your talent. You are a Dust mage, Master Scanlan. A Tier 4 Affinity Dust mage, with the dual schools of Illusion and Enchantment at your disposal. A sharp talent and bright future lie ahead Master Scanlan; I look forward to hearing of your hard work.¡± The Headmaster shook the bewildered boy¡¯s hand. He bid his parents a ¡°G¡¯day¡± and left the sick-bay.

    James failed to move, as his parents hugged him hard. He sat still. Silent.

    This is a beginning. My beginning. Where is my spell book; my spell book!

    Despite the drain, the weariness, the fake mana born high; James felt exhilarated. An array of emotions coursed through him, and he felt them - he felt them all. He hugged his parents. And, he smiled.

 Nightmare #7

    James awoke from his memories. The faint feeling of nostalgia plagued his mind. They weren¡¯t bad memories, they just¡­ were. A combination of time and maturity had smoothed there ragged edges. They reminded him of simpler times. Sad times, happy times, lost times; the nostalgia was a combination of each. Time; he never felt he had enough of it.

    Cosmo continued to ping James telepathically, eager to depart. The train was coming to a halt.

    ¡°Now arriving at, Flinders Street Station. Please depart for¡­¡±

    James opened his eyes to the carriage around him. People were dressed in casual weekend clothes, some in the colours of a favourite sporting team, and some like James wore suits. It was early-afternoon on a Saturday and a myriad of events would be occurring in this vibrant city. James chuckled to himself, catching a few confused glares from strangers.

    It¡¯s just like when I first got to London. Surrounded by a million different lives, a million different possibilities; except, I¡¯m trapped on a singular path.

    The carriage door of the Sandringham line train opened to the underside of Flinders Street Station. A large transmuted concrete slap framing the other end of the platform¡¯s walkway, which James hopped off the train to land on. He followed the bustling commuters towards the end of the walkway, climbing stone steps, framed by graffitied walls of glass, towards the light of the station proper.

    James emerged from the underground portion of the station to a hub of human traffic. Men, women, children, and the like all striding with purpose, waiting for friends, simply doing something at the heart of this station. The thrum of mana-cores sat in the background, growing louder with each train that passed through the station. Headlines ran across banners on the walls. Different shop stalls lined the inside of the station, serving barbecued meats and baked sweets; even more interesting were the stalls that framed the outside of the station, possessing dual access points inside and outside of Flinders Street. James marched along with the crowd, soaking in the diverse atmosphere.

    The hustle and bustle of the station consumed James. Jostled through the crowd towards the light; openings to Melbourne¡¯s CBD. The cries of kids and parents in the background brought a smile to his face. He watched, while making his way to an exit gate, as a young couple was reunited; their passionate embrace evolving into a very private scene in too public a place. He adverted his gaze with the crowd.

    Loud ringing emanated from the other side of the exit gate James walked towards, the thrum of mana a continuous white noises even outside of the station. The ringing came from the trams that lined much of inner city Melbourne. A wonderful innovation, combining mass transit of the populace with interconnected roadways, trams were how the majority of Melbournians traversed the city; cars were far too expensive and restrictive.

    James fed the gate an LDM and was given passage to the CBD. Federation Square, a place built on the cusp of the Eastern-Colonies agreement to work as one for the betterment of this fledgling nation. The square possessed buildings of culture and art, trams leading towards universities and historic sites. It was the metaphorical heart of Melbourne; Flinders Street Station and Federation Square. Yet, across the Yarra river was the nervous centre, or brain, of this Frontier city: the Eureka Tower.

    James ambled out along Swanson Street, walking to the bridge that divided the heart and mind of Melbourne. Great slabs of concrete decorated the walkway, made to protect citizens from any nefarious movement of traffic, or malevolent beings rising from the Yarra. The slabs were patrolled by police and Militants, an unusual sight for James. When he had last lived here there was no need for such simple protections or show of fear at what lurked at the base of the Yarra. However, the rise in mermen offensives and the recent escalation in tension had left its mark on the serene city.

    Melbourne glistened in the warm afternoon, glass structures refracting radiant light evoking an ethereal glow. The shielding stations could be seen on the horizon, if one looked down towards Port Philip bay to the south. The shield blended with the sky today, as the slippage of miasma was low this time of year.

    James was enraptured by his home. It felt older, and more matured then when he had left ten-years prior; but it was the maturity of a teenager compared to the darkness of London and other, older, bastions of humanity.

    He¡¯d crossed the bridge, having received a few shoves while distracted by the skyline. He stood on Southbank, closer to the Melbourne Arts Centre and an array of stores. The Arts Centre had been a favourite den of young-James, its tall top-hat espouse spire that sat atop the bright building appeared to pierce the sky. Within was red-velvet furnishings, and a labyrinth that led to theatres of wonder, and stages of awe. James still dreamed of hosting a performance there, but for now he knew to withhold fickle fantasies from consuming his focus. He had been summoned to the Tower.

    James made haste along the Southbank Wharf, noting how his favourite burger joint had survived the loss of his patronage. Bright red with white and black text scrawled across its walls, the joint looked as endearing as ever to James. The usage of his Dust-magic always famished him, and so Mana-Grill¡¯d had always been his favourite place to chow down after school. Especially when he received a full-scholarship after his awakening; James had been very proud of his burger fund.

    Maybe Yilin will be inclined towards a nostalgic meal. Ah, the memories.

    James continue along the bank. The shops became more dispersed, and the faint radiation of ley-line tapped could be felt as James neared his destination. Eureka Tower.

    Eureka was a sharp tower, built with sharp-angles and adorned with an assortment of precious magical material near its top. The angled quadrilateral frame was built with sturdy glass, azure in the noon sun. James remembered learning about it¡¯s construction; the windows would consolidate and become a dark navy, once attacked. The Tower in battle resembled Bluestone Hall, muted colours of absorption material to abrogate the impact of all elemental attacks.

    The top of the Tower was the true differential of Melbourne¡¯s Tower from its Sydney and Brisbane counter-parts. James understood that Melbourne¡¯s wealth came down to both location, and raw mana-reserves. However, Victoria also possesses a myriad of other valuable magical minerals and metals that culminated in the Rush of 1851.

    Despite the honourable indigenous people¡¯s warnings, and the deadly nature of Bush, many mages pushed for expeditions and mines to be built. At first it was highly prosperous, devastating the landscape for a near exponential return in minerals and mana-crystals. Yet, the land will always have its way in the end. Mines caved in, the indigenous population fought for the land, Saurians raided the encampments, it was a massacre.

    From all the suffering and torture a deal was finally struck. It was only after a rebellion from the underpaid, and fed, miners and their families that it finally occurred; but nonetheless a deal was made. The mines became more regulated, and the workers offered greater protection. The aboriginal people were provided succour for a time, being allocated a reserve to flourish in (it was accepted under great duress sadly). And, with the young Victorian populace appeased, the Saurian tribes were combatted with earnest. It was the first unification of the southern populace, all thanks to rebellion and disaster.

    Hence, the Tower commemorates those memories of harder times. The Eureka Rebellion, now honoured with a bastion of humanity; a Tower fitted with the fruits of past men and women¡¯s labours. Gold and electrum, bluestone and quartz, amethyst and opal, framing the top of the tower with an asymmetrical line of bloody-ruby inlaid to commemorate those who fell. It was a radiant Tower, befitting multifarious Melbourne.

    James stood below the decorated Tower. He stole a deep breath from the humid air before entering it.

    <hr>

    James felt a wave of diagnostic magic wash over him as he entered the Eureka Tower. Cosmo hid within the satchel, but James could feel the mana affect his friend nonetheless.

    It¡¯ll be right Cosmo. Now, where to find Yilin.

    The interior of the Tower was circular, a distortion of space from the hard and rigid outside. Glass framed walkways decorated the interior of the Tower. Some led to upper floors, others appeared to vanish into hidden alcoves of space. However, what unified the interior was the large Australian crest that depicted a different floor. If James remembered correctly there was an estimated ninety-one floors to this skyscraper; whether due to spatial magic or sound architecture James wasn¡¯t sure. Most likely a mix of both, was his overall consensus.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The ground floor was a large open space with a desk facing the entrance. The desk was circular, residing in the centre of the Tower, with the centre of it being a pillar of mana; possibly the main mana-core that taps into the surrounding ley-lines.

    The reception desk held multiple mages, most plugged into diagnostic magic and recording data on mana-slates. Around the floor there were couches and waiting areas for guests and those seeking an appointment. What caught James¡¯ eye was the regularly spaced alcoves on the borders of the floor, each held a minute magic circle. James watched as one flashed, a mage solidifying in the light and moving to the back of the desk to converse with a receptionist.

    We are so close to Tier 1, so close. And yet, for how great this Tower is, we struggle every day. If only we could proliferate this technology with the public.

    James moved past the foyer and headed for an available receptionist. The frustration of witnessing magical marvels was that he knew it was highly concentrated to this building, and a few outposts alone. He wished to change that fact, but he was uncertain how.

    At the desk he encountered a familiar face. A young woman with brunette hair and dark eyes, which looked at him bemused.

    ¡°G¡¯afternoon Melisa. I¡¯m here to see Yilin.¡± James said. Melisa gave a curt smile, and held up a finger signalling for a moment. James nodded, tapping his spell book at the signal. Melisa tended to her work, Divination magic glistened as she compiled and edited her work. Every now and again she¡¯d fire a document towards a tube behind her; embers trailing the thrown document. Each tube she threw a document to sucked the document up in a flash of light.

    ¡°I¡¯ve let him know you¡¯re here. ¡± Melisa said. James thanked her, trying to ease his finger away from his spell book.

    Why¡¯d she send three different messages? Hmmm¡­

    ¡°Will that be all, sir?¡± Melisa inquired. There was a hint of never in her voice, a faint warble. Her uniform was immaculate, no signs of wear or age in them. He hair was tied up in a pony-tail, and her eyes had flashed scarlet when she¡¯d sent the messages off. James thought her just another young sorceress, working hard to elevate herself in the Tower. Maybe he had been too kind in that simple assessment. He outlined a rune on the cover of his spell book.

    ¡°Well I was wondering how long you¡¯ve been at the Tower, Officer Melisa? If you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡±

    ¡°A few months now.¡± She replied. Her eye twitched at the thought.

    ¡°And how have you found it? I thought I¡¯d end up here myself when I was younger.¡± But then again, I thought I¡¯d be nothing more than an earth transmuter at best.

    Melisa missed his cynical thoughts, only perceiving the neutral demeanour of a Dust-mage. ¡°It has been¡­¡± She didn¡¯t appear sure of herself, taking note of her occupied colleagues. ¡°Laborious, sir. We never appear to have enough staff, or hours in the day; I didn¡¯t sign up for this. Its just that the factionists¡­¡± A hint of anger tinged her voice. Yet, she held her tongue; more stable than other Fire-mages James knew.

    ¡°I see.¡± He said with understanding. ¡°Well, I hope you find what you are looking for in time. I¡¯m sure something will open up, eventually.¡±

    ¡°Eventually.¡± She echoed. James bid her well and left. The compulsion rune faded as he took a seat in the foyer. He didn¡¯t have to wait long.

    ¡°James!¡± Yilin called. He stood beside an alcove, hunched slightly and with his glasses askew. James jogged over, satchel knocking against his hips. Cosmo remained silent.

    He must be conserving strength within the Tower; too much magical dissonance.

    ¡°Just step here, I¡¯ve booked us the cognisance chamber.¡± Yilin told James.

    ¡°Hmm. Okay.¡± James said. This was a peculiar step in renewing his Australian Passport, but he trusted his friend.

    They stepped onto the magic circle. A brief flash of magic and the pair of old friends found themselves in a bright chamber. There was a operations desk to the right, which Yilin moved towards.

    ¡°Wait.¡± James commanded. Yilin stopped and peered at him. Faint traces of sweat ran down his forehead. James held up a finger to his lips.

    He unholstered his spell book, and signing the runes, cast an enchantment and abjuration spell over the room. The faint sound of a cord snapping rang out, an Yilin appeared to straighten.

    ¡°Is that better?¡± James asked. Yilin looked sheepish.

    ¡°Yeah. Thank mate.¡± He turned back to the operation desk, not meeting James¡¯ eye.

    ¡°So? You going to tell me what¡¯s happening? No one can watch us now. I didn¡¯t take you for a factionist, Danny.¡± The use of his old name stung Yilin. He passed a pale hand through his hair, it was damp from sweat.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. But, they are very hard people to say no too.¡± Yilin unbuttoned his uniform, and lifted up his shirt. A dark purple bruise almost ten centimetres in diameter was visible on his side.

    ¡°By the Towers! Yilin what happened?¡± James reached in his satchel and pulled out a healing injector. Yilin accepted the health potion, thankful of his friend¡¯s generosity.

    ¡°The Militants did not enjoy having one of their own fall asleep on the job. His squad complained to their captain, and the captain directed the complaint to me.¡± Yilin grimaced, recalling the three men who cornered him at his desk. James stood beside him, cold.

    ¡°Write me their names.¡± He asked. Yilin observed his friend. He was still lean and a fraction of an inch off being six-feet tall, and yet his cool countenance made him feel dangerous. Yilin stared at his eyes, seeing only specks of hazel floating in his green-irises. No Dust-mana was visible.

    Yilin wrote down the officers names, marking the one would fallen asleep due to James¡¯ Enchantment. ¡°Thank you.¡± James said. Yilin watched him, his glasses still askew.

    ¡°I know you won¡¯t, but for my sake; don¡¯t do anything stupid Scanlan. The captain of that squad isn¡¯t known for pulling his punches. No need for an Illusionist to get himself injured in a direct scrap, okay?¡± James nodded, but cocked hi head at Yilin¡¯s last sentence.

    ¡°Only an Illusionist am I?¡± He raised an eyebrow at his old friend. ¡°Activate the chamber.¡±

    Yilin pressed a few buttons on the desk and the core of the chamber shifted. James walked into the centre of it.

    The chamber was muted in colour, with faint wisps of mana streaking around the edges of the display. However, once James entered the entire chamber became illuminated by his Astral Body.

    The Astral Body was laid over his mana-conduits, trickling Dust running across the Body like it would an hourglass. Yet, this wasn¡¯t the greyed dust a person would see in bright light, but a cosmic dust. Each particle was a different colour, a different hue, coursing across this Astral Body in unrecognisable patterns. The Dust would disperse and rejoin, intertwined and yet separate from this form. It was a dichotomy, brilliant prismatic light emitted from a substance of decay. Yilin was hypnotised by the sight.

    Within the shifting nebula that was James Scanlan, three Sigils vibrated with power. The foremost was the School of Illusion, the most powerful of the three; it formed distortions and shapes with the Dust, never set. Secondly there was the School of Enchantment; a bright beacon within the turbulent nebula, it emitted the prismatic effect. Finally a third Sigil, the School of Abjuration; it was the faintest of the three, a construct imposed on the Dust rather than naturally born from it. The Abjuration Sigil stole the prismatic light from the Dust, returning the motes to the expected grey.

    The three Sigils faded, as James felt the diagnostic magic search the rest of his Astral Body. James, silently, invoked a ward disguising his connection to Cosmo and his spell book.

    Best to keep some cards up my sleeve. I think that is enough for the Factions to get a read on me.

    After the operation desk alerted Yilin that the diagnostics had been completed, he shut down the chamber. James pondered how many HDMs the Factions had wasted on gathering information about himself, he snickered at the thought.

    ¡°The data will just be a moment. It¡¯s coming out-HOLY HELLS WHAT!?¡± Yilin bellowed.

    James moved to see the results, enjoying his friends reaction of disbelief.

    James Scanlan:

    Illusion: 6.1

    Enchantment: 5.6

    Abjuration: 3.0

    Affinity (Dust): 7.3

    VMI: 79

    ¡°Hmm. Yeah that¡¯s about right.¡± James said. Yilin collapsed on the desk. He was muttering to himself, and finally righted his glasses as he did so.

    ¡°Scanlan you are, you¡¯re¡­ Fuck, you could be a Magister!¡± Yilin exclaimed. James nodded to his friends astute observation. ¡°But what I don¡¯t understand, is how is your VMI so abysmally low?¡±

    ¡°Yilin.¡± James spoke slowly, calming his agitated friend. For a Water mage he wasn¡¯t very flexible with anomalous information. ¡°I have had an amazing Mentor, achieved Magus as a Frontier mage, fluked out with an insane elemental affinity, and have been blessed with the intelligence and training to manage the negative effects of it effectively. I have lucked out in so many ways, but there is one thing I cannot escape; I come from a family of NoMs.¡± The word left a bad taste in James¡¯ mouth as he spat it out. ¡°There is a reason I carry this spell book, Yilin.¡± He patted his tome fondly.

    ¡°I see.¡± Yilin said. His eyes kept drifting towards the tome but he willed himself to look at his friend¡¯s face instead. All people have secrets, talents and weaknesses, Yilin remained respectful of James'' - for he had plenty of his own.

    ¡°Okay, well I¡¯m sorry to say this but I have to give the Militants this info Scanlan. I can fudge it a little but most of those idiots can still check the chamber¡¯s data log.¡± Yilin dropped his head in shame.

    ¡°Hey man, that¡¯s okay.¡± James said, holding his friends shoulder. ¡°Also, don¡¯t forget to add Magus to the information, and if anything fudge the VMI so it¡¯s lower. People would find this stuff out eventually, it¡¯s not an issue for me.¡± Yilin stepped back bewildered.

    ¡°What do you mean? Most of the neophytes and acolytes would dream of knowing the power levels of Magus¡¯ and the like. If anything you are going to attract more interest, and that¡¯s despite your sister and her friends being monitored as agitators.¡± James recoiled.

    I know we aren¡¯t meant to let others know this stuff. But that is exactly me point. I need access, and this trap, or bait, is my best bet at attracting the right kind of opportunities. The wrong kind as well but like Madam Ouvrier said - I ain¡¯t a politician.

    The thrum of mana within the chamber was dissipating while James assessed his options. The Private Sanctum ward he had cast will break soon, they needed a plan.

    ¡°Yilin. Trust me. Give this to the Militants,andthe Grey Faction equivalent. It should balance out any of them sharking me, as they¡¯ll keep themselves accountable. Unless you have a better idea?¡± Yilin was deep in thought. He reviewed James¡¯ data, and adjusted the VMI value to be even lower. He turned to his old friend, an idea forming in his head.

    ¡°Okay, so I¡¯ll do as you say - but there is a third option to pursue.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember old Magus Doherty?¡±

 Nightmare #8

    The office epitomised the mind of Magus Doherty; unsettled, frantic, and yet without a trace of dust. James faintly recalled his previous office at Bluestone Hall, a smaller space which held a not too dissimilar feeling of disorganisation about it. The cleanliness of his distinct mess was a comfort to James - with all the changes in friends and family some continuity of person was more than welcome.

    Behind a desk, hidden by stacks of scripts and tomes, sat a tall man of Malaysian origins. He was portly in shape, black hair unruly from hunched work, but in all other aspects he held himself to a standard of habitual cleanliness. Because of his habits, he hated how his hair refused to be tamed while he worked. His left hand flared across his workspace, sweat dripping onto signed documents, leaving destruction in ink and victory was marked be a stamped seal.

    He was older than James by a considerable margin and yet he held no lines of age on his face. The usual depiction of a crusted squinting figure, desiccated by his own element, did not suit Magus Doherty; the premier academic on stabilising the effects of negative drain from the elements of Dust and Salt. Well, the premier expert within Victoria at least, as the passing of Magister Kilroy has led to rumours of other quasi-negative experts emerging in Oceania.

    The juxtaposition of cleanliness and disorganisation played havoc with James concentration - unable to lock down where exactly in his old mentors office he should look. The only dusted corner of his office was behind Magus Doherty. It held his dissertation on why Salt and Dust are stable elements providing solace to a forgotten thesis on negative-drain, and the applicability of his findings to the Void, and Ash quasi-elements.

    The unclean corner remained in shadow, relegated from youthful dreams of a Meistership to now symbols of embarrassment. The past haunts the minds of most, especially the most precocious of them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two to your reunion.¡± Yilin whispered. James nodded as his friend departed, off to enact their plan. James mentally noted to check in on his friend periodically; once his status was out it should provide a degree of protection to his friend. Magus Doherty remained absorbed in the thick of his work as he left.

    James walked the edge of the office. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the Magus¡¯ desk, faint runes glistening along some of the tome¡¯s spines. The Magus¡¯ office was within the central structure of the Tower, and as such there was no natural light as the Magus forwent windows in favour of privacy. However, enchanted mana crystals levitated in a dizzying patterns around the room. They each emitted a soft glow akin to Daylight. James stopped, attempting to grab a crystal from the formation - he was curious about the dizzying effect.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, Scanlan.¡±

    James refrained from clutching the crystal that floated before him. Cosmo whined, trapped in his satchel. The Baku desired to emerge and consume the ambient mana, but James held his friend back with his will.

    Not now Cosmo. Not in the Tower. Not now, I¡¯ll feed you later¡­ I still owe you a meal.

    The Baku was sated by James promise of future experiences. James pondered what his old Mentor would make of the Negative-Affinity spirit. A living(?) impossibility, untied to any stabilising elements, with a singular desire for consumption; James¡¯ true mentor was ambivalent as to the academic aspects of his friend. Magus Doherty filed away the last of the documents signed on his desk.

    ¡°And, finished. The bureaucracy of a Militant Mageocracy Tower is of such a redundant degree. I believe it could contest even the American¡¯s obscene fascination with paperwork.¡± Magus Doherty sighed.

    ¡°They¡¯ve begun to bring in more data-slates over the Pacific, Doherty. No longer physically drowned in work, only mentally.¡± James grinned. Magus Doherty nodded flashing a disgruntled smile. He faced his old student, ears twitching at what he heard. Or, the lack of what he heard.

    ¡°Am I only Dohertynow?¡± He inquired.

    ¡°Considering I¡¯m only Scanlan to you, and not Magus Scanlan¡­ It¡¯s fair.¡± Doherty stood from his desk and moved aggressively to James. James, eyes wide, leant back on his heels. He braced for impact - Doherty did not disappoint.

    ¡°Ha! Brilliant!¡± James felt his life being squeezed out of him by Doherty¡¯s bear-hug. ¡°I knew you had it in you. No pesky negative-drain or Frontier restrictions could stop you, young man. My word, it is good to hear you have flourished outside Aus.¡± James, with a small amount of effort to escape his large mentor, stepped back and clapped Doherty on the shoulder. He grinned at his old mentor.

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been all good, but yes; I found my niche and stuck to it.¡± James lifted his left hand. With his palm open, he fuelled his Illusion Sigil. A cosmic Dust-nebula appeared. It undulated above his hand, expanding and retracting, a living construct built from a substance of decay. Luminous lights of varying colours swept through the apparition. It was far from the monochromatic grey of James¡¯ original Dust creations. Doherty was awestruck.

    ¡°See.¡± James closed his hand and the nebula dissipated. Doherty¡¯s wonder still evident on his face.

    ¡°I had some brilliant mentors in my journey. Thank you for being the first.¡± Doherty shook his head. ¡°It was my pleasure. I finished my dissertation thanks to you, even if it wasn¡¯t wholly helpful.¡± The two men shook hands. The great fear surrounding distance is the strain it places on relationships. But it was a strain that dissipated through a simple medium; respect.

    James could still remember his first few personal sessions with Magus Doherty. He was three years older than James was currently, when he had taught his younger self that is at Bluestone Hall. Doherty was an entity of awe back then, a wealth of knowledge that James desired for himself. Yet, it was when James had to make his way through London, Europe and eventually the Americas, it was then that he found true kinship and respect for Doherty¡¯s work. The end to the influence of one¡¯s elemental affinity.

    ¡°I have a present for you.¡± James said, contemplative. Time had passed in James absence from Australia, and despite their already cordial natures James felt it his duty to reignite some familiarity with his old mentor after ten long years. He was uncertain to whether the Magus had remained in Melbourne during his absence, but James had come prepared with a plethora of gifts for many of his old colleagues and peers.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°It¡¯s the latest reports from Shanghai. A group of IIUC proctors smuggled out some recent documents on Void-matter.¡±

    Doherty¡¯s demeanour altered drastically. The warmth of earlier had been sucked dry from the conversation, all from the mention of the tenebrous Void. Coldness wasn¡¯t how James would describe Doherty, but calculated at the prospect of someone studying the abyss.

    ¡°Give it here.¡±

    A hint of fear sat behind his eyes, a hint of frustration. James reached passed Cosmo into the depths of his satchel, pulling from it a copy of the Shanghai thesis. He handed it to Doherty.

    Silence reigned.

    He skimmed the thesis¡¯ index, flicking through the booklet to interested chapters. He blew out his cheeks, shaking his head at what he first read. The hypothesis was outlandish at first-glance, but both James and Doherty exalted in the quasi-elemental space of negative elements; hard limits on its possible uses were founded on superstition alone. He kept reading.

    Further on he looked as if he was going to tear the booklet to shreds, anger rising in his flushed cheeks. James couldn¡¯t imagine the frustration of seeing one¡¯s own failed thesis being evaluated with live testing by a foreign entity, all due to lucky chance and possession of Tier 1 City resources. Yet, he held firm and made notes on interested sections. He did tear a few pages off and shove them inside a jacket pocket, but the remainder of the booklet was placed on his desk.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°No worries.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I admit, I hadgiven up on my own thesis.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡±

    Silence continued to reign supreme.

    The Academia of spellcraft was a volatile space. James had handed his old mentor the ability to return to that battleground - the possibility of rebuilding his arsenal of information with this academic capital. James prayed he didn¡¯t flinch at the task. At least, he hoped he did not flinch for long.

    I hope the Bluestone is more confident with my gifts of information. Melbourne desperately needs an edge, or at least a reason, to get stronger, to be valued in this brutal world. Not militarily, but socially - intellectually.

    ¡°I hope it provides some clarity. It stands in alignment with research into my own quasi-element.¡± Doherty nodded to what James said. He was lost in thought. He glared at James, envious if not jealous of the allusion to his own personal findings. James didn¡¯t hold it against him.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know how I find it.¡± Doherty said. The room was cooly arid.

    Time for a conversation shift. I hope Yilin hurries up, this is getting awkward. James had never been one for conversations, at least not ones without purpose.

    ¡°So how did you come to be here?¡±

    ¡°Bluestone was limiting my research.¡± Doherty confessed. ¡°I felt a change was needed.¡±

    ¡°Interesting. Was it hard to gain authorisation for an office? I¡¯m in the market for my own study, personally.¡± James said honestly.

    Doherty scanned him up and down. The document had left him perturbed but the candid speech of his own pursuit for Tower recognition was alarming to the older Magus. James couldn¡¯t tell why. Back at Bluestone Hall he had championed the Headmasters call for the spread of information. Seems a person can only be so much the same over time.

    ¡°I thought you valued your independence? The politics of this place are not for the faint hearted. Not that I¡¯m saying you aren¡¯t capable, it¡¯s just, not how I remember you.¡±

    ¡°Is it really that combative right now?¡± James deflected, searching for information.

    You were never one for politics yourself Doherty. But you are here¡­ How?

    ¡°I managed to escape the brunt of the factional conflict. The Greys were hit hard by the loss of Walken on the council of ten due to his idiocy. I was given access, both for my research and recent acquirement of Evocation. It helps being an impartial figure, the Militants felt they could rely on my self-interest to mitigate any Grey backlash they faced.¡± James signalled he understood.

    And so the militants kept you on side. What are you working on now then¡­?

    ¡°I see. Do you have any advice then? For dealing with the factions, anything is helpful?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Doherty went silent, pondering something for a time. He scratched his chin, choosing to look at his desk rather than at James. He was conflicted over an issue in his head, but James couldn¡¯t puzzle out why.

    ¡°Besides sitting as an impartial figure, the Middle faction by consequence, I don¡¯t have anything else to offer. The Tower is breeding hostility with the recent incursions, and any extra fuel to the fire is bound to end up with someone getting burned. Sorry Scanlan, even vowing impartiality won¡¯t be enough for entry nowadays.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± James held a neutral expression. ¡°Congrats on finally breaking into Evocation by the way. Abjuration, Enchantment and Evocation; a very interesting mix.¡± James commented.

    ¡°Ha! Acquiring Tier 1 took way too long for my liking, but it has been a worthwhile endeavour. The route to Magister is a long one, and I do not intend to abandon the pursuit of it so soon. Especially with your recent gift aiding me.¡± He gave an informal salute when mentioning the gift. There was respect there, and yet conflict in providing his one information to James. The Tower mustn¡¯t be in a good situation.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll need to head off.¡± James said. He¡¯d received the all clear from Yilin via a Sending spell. Magus Doherty became pensive. He rolled his head from side to side, something bouncing around in his mind.

    ¡°One last piece of advice then.¡± He finally spat out. ¡°If you are going to interact with the Tower, as it stands, there are some key players you¡¯ll need to know.¡± Even divulging that piece of information dried Doherty¡¯s demeanour.

    ¡°The Militants are in power with Magister Guldric as the leader. The greys are more prevalent here than the Middle faction, due to the closeness to demi-humans, but they are inferior to the Militants in numbers. The Middle faction is absent from the Tower due to congregating in Sydney and being in the Victorian education system. That¡¯s as far as I know.¡± James stated.

    ¡°Accurate, I¡¯m sure Yilin filled you inasmuch. For the Militants don¡¯t expect to deal with Magister Uther directly, unless you¡¯ve really step into the middle of the Militants plans. He is too busy with militarising the state for most of the Melbourne day to day. However, there are three others you might meet.¡± Doherty grew grave as he spoke.

    ¡°The Magister¡¯s right hand man, Magister Evans; he is an Evocation-Transmutation-Abjuration Earth-mage, each of his Schools are at least Tier 5 with Transmutation being he primary School. He erupted onto the scene when he single-handily fought the two current squad Captains to OOM stalemate.¡± James questioned the power of the Captains.

    ¡°Do not think that shows the weakness of the Captains, as both are decorated Magus¡¯ in their own rights. Captain Julia is a Conjuration-Abjuration Water-mage, while her counterpart, Captain Roland, is a Evocation-Conjuration Fire-mage. Each have fought on the Brisbane, and Portsea lines. If not for the fame of the Scarlet Sorceress and the Morning Star, these two would be help in much greater esteem.¡±

    James felt a degree of foreboding hearing of the Militants powerful leaders. Not one of them sounded easily subduable, not without aid that is.

    For Magister Evans to fend of two conjurers to OOM is a phenomenal feat. Damn, I¡¯d already suspected it but direct conflict is off the table. Tactics are ineffective against overwhelming power.

    ¡°Those three are the most direct threats you will encounter in the Tower. They have been provided a long leash while our Tower-master is devising an effective Purge of the merfolk. Be careful Scanlan, be careful.¡± The gravity of the situation sat heavy on James¡¯ shoulders.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The older Magus bid his old student ¡°Good Day¡± and went to his desk. He possessed some new material to analyse.

    James left with more questions than answers. He felt nervous about Melbourne¡¯s precarious political climate, within the Tower and out of it, but he held his dream close.

    I need to find some allies. I need to rebuild Lucy¡¯s confidence. I need to register my status with the Tower, for the sake of the Madam¡¯s letter. I need to meet the Tower-Master. I need to¡­.

    A loud grumble was heard from James abdomen as he stepped into the magic-circle.

    I need to get lunch. Cosmo heartily agreed.

 Nightmare #9

    Melisa hid behind her desk, enraptured by the two Greys and four Militants who all watched Magus Doherty¡¯s magic-circle. News had travelled quick once Yilin had released the Cognisance Chamber data. James Scanlan¡¯s data. Melisa held her own copy under her desk, praying her supervisor wasn¡¯t watching her with Arcane Eye.

    This James Scanlan, he was an anomaly alright. Returning to Melbourne, after gaining citizenship in London, bloody London! The arrogance to waltz into the Tower, to Enchant a fricking Militant, and what¡¯s worse is he bloody got away with it too! She couldn¡¯t describe the feelings of rage and frustration she had felt when talking to him earlier, but now she knew what had rubbed her the wrong way.

    Melisa felt a feeling much similar to that of all other working-class Tower denizens; envy. To work day in and out, coming from a humble family of Fire and Earth mages, never having been gifted an opportunity or chance beyond a public education - she was fuming at the thought of a Magus who had so obviously been pampered his whole life. He would have been gifted everything since he awakened - his VMI status was obviously a false reading. How else could this Magus Scanlan have achieved near Magister level prowess in his 28 years of life?

    Melisa calmed herself down by circulating her Earth-mana, blanketing the burning flame within her with stones and dirt. Most Fire-mages called her lucky for her secondary Affinity, but Melisa only felt as a failure. She had awakened late to her secondary Affinity, on the back of years of toiling as an Evocation-mage in surrounding orange-zones. She attempted excursion after excursion and yet she¡¯d always fallen short of being above the average. It fractured something within her.

    She was from Bright; a sub-alpine village that survived due to a vast green-zone within the base of the Victorian Alps. It was a fertile valley, many wineries and adventurers stopped at her family¡¯s small corner of the world. It was how her family came to be. Adventure.

    An intoxicating draught of danger and glory, adventure. It promised a life of meaning, if not a life of memories. Her Mother was born within Bright, an Earth-mage Tier 2 Affinity. She hadn¡¯t been anything special, a basic Transmutation-mage and so she¡¯d remained in the valley. Her father had been an adventurer in his own right, but he¡¯d accepted a hard-working life with the birth of his daughter.

    Melisa¡¯s father, however, was a different beast to her mother. Hailing from a small family situated in Geelong, an hours train from inner-Melbourne, he had gone to Bright seeking adventure. An orange-level dungeon sat at the top of the Alps, amongst the peaks of and falls of the Bogan High-plains. He had accept the call to arms, and Melisa¡¯s mother was swept up in his wake.

    The two trained and came to love each other, each occurred with passion. The retellings by Melisa¡¯s Grandma were enough to bring her Grandpa to a deep red blush. Even with his Earth-mana circulating. From all reports they had been a dynamic pairing. Melisa wished she could have known it personally. But it had not come to pass.

    Melisa burned the evidence of James¡¯ stolen data, and kicked the ashes into a bin under her desk. She hated it. To be powerless in a world of Mythic beings and fantastical predators, human and monster alike; Melisa allowed frustration to simmer in her belly.

    She hated knowing her job was going nowhere. She despised it all right then. She returned to watching the Greys and Militants. The magic-circle was glowing.

    <hr>

    Time to feel out the factions. And also time for lunch.

    The Greys approached him first as he exited the magic-circle. They were keen as to why James was at the Tower, intrigued as to what his purpose was in coming to Melbourne. He told them he was visiting family and friends so far. They sniggered at him, but were respectful enough to leave him be. There was no trace of fear in their eyes - only the malaise of defiance.

    The Militants were much bolder in their actions. They boxed him in after the Greys departed. They slowly guided him towards another teleportation alcove, asserting their dominance overtly.

    Backing force so easily, without a trace of nuance in their approach; the hostility of the Tower was well-founded.

    James declined moving when they were five or so metres away from the intended alcove. They all halted.

    ¡°I am a busy man, and I do not take kindly to distractions.¡± James composed his most authoritarian voice. It was a mixture of two characters.

    The first character was the General; bred for battle, a veteran of tactics, and a figure who was not to be questioned. James conceived this character for one of his more ambitious projects, under Madam Ouvrier¡¯s guidance. He could remember the looks on the mages faces when this hardened General was brought low by his NoM love. That had been the first of his subtle rebellions.

    The second character provided complexity to the voice. It was a nasal rasp, adding a layer of condescension to his tone. The voice demanded height. Thus, James stood straight - reliving the time he learnt to balance books on his head for a role. It was a Noble character, distinct in an important way. He did not require the use of magic to employ his prowess.

    The Militants held the box formation around James. Sweat glistened on the neck of the mage to James front left. The tension had been subsumed with James¡¯ act of defiance.

    ¡°If your superior desires my¡­ Audience, let¡¯s say. Well then, they will have to personally invite me. I do not take kindly to coercion.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The sweating mage began to turn to the Militant to James right. However, a sharp gale rebuked him for breaking formation, swatting him back into place. The wind came from behind James, so he couldn¡¯t ascertain which Militant cast it.

    ¡°We are here to escort you, Magus. Our Captain has notified us to your irregular status, and so we are here out of respect.¡± The voice came from behind James.

    Respect for power, not a respect for myself.

    ¡°Please inform the Captain that I am not inclined to a meeting today. He can feel free to contact me through Officer Feng.¡± James stated. He turned to leave the box-formation, heading for the exit.

    ¡°I cannot attest to the availability of Officer Feng in delivering such a message. The Captain will not be pleased.¡± James paused only for a moment as he left the formation.

    ¡°The ire of your Captain is of little interest to me, so long as it is directed at me. In the event of Officer Feng¡¯s incapacitation, I will hold you four,¡± James memorised the faces of each Militant, ¡°responsible. And I will reinstate the notion just and civil discourse to your Captain.¡±

    James strode off. The Militants did not follow.

    Passing the reception desk, Melisa stared at James. He gave her a curt nod before exiting the Eureka Tower.

    She did not return the greeting.

    <hr>

    James dug into his burger, ecstasy visible on his face. Burger juices dribbled down his chin, dripping onto a waiting napkin. Traces of lettuce and tomato were scattered across his plate. Bystanders stared at the suited Magus, who devoured with glee the Auroch-beef burger, revelling in the taste of home.

    Eavesdroppers from neighbouring tables to James could hear the faint sound of purring and carnivorous exclamations of contentment from below James¡¯ table. However, there was nothing to see when people looked under the table.There was no food under the table, but the experience of James consuming his own burger was quite intoxicating to the Baku. Cosmo, once again, reaffirmed his love for its master. James accepted the gratitude of his friend, just glad that he¡¯d escaped the Tower unscathed.

    ¡°You should slow down. You¡¯ll end up with a sore stomach, and I still remember how much you complain.¡± Yilin sat opposite James. He¡¯d arrived shortly after James had received his burger. There was more confidence in his old friend. James hoped he could install some more in him, as he was a talented mage in his own right Frontier or no.

    ¡°It¡¯s too good.¡± James said between bites. Yilin smiled.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what though, you really knew how to get the factions riled up. You went from an interesting foreign mage, to an identified possible threat. And now you sit here eating away at a burger, seemingly without care.¡± Yilin¡¯s smile appeared hollow. He looked like a reservoir during a drought; precarious. He was still uncertain of James¡¯ goals. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±

    James finished his mouthful. The succulent beef dissipating from is taste buds, his stomach choking on butterflies. The hostility of the Eureka Tower was unlike what James expected. Having spent many years outside of Tower affiliations and on active quests, progressing his career, James was wholly inept at Tower politics.

    Madam Ouvrier was the main link he had, besides his Mentor, with the London Tower. She had dealt with the fallout of his more provocative performances. She was the one that registered James, and sponsored his Magus examination. His Mentor wasn¡¯t one to be tied down by his ward.

    The culmination of ten-years experience James held from the outside world did not possess that of Tower politics. All he knew were the Factions, and his own stance, nothing more.

    He drank from a can of ginger-beer and swallowed slowly. Cosmo grew jittery at the sugar rush. He faced his old friend and told him what he had considered for the past thirty odd minutes.

    ¡°I need to build a team.¡±

    Yilin gestured for him to elaborate.

    ¡°As it stands I¡¯m a known entity, in all but my spell-list. It opens me up to offers of protection, and also hostility if I refuse. The Greys and Militants have made that clear.¡± James reached into his satchel and began stroking Cosmo.

    ¡°The Greys I don¡¯t agree with fully, neither the Militants due to personal experience.¡± He reflected on the Militant¡¯s reaction to Lucy¡¯s protest, and recalled the last Quest he¡¯d attempted for the Grey Faction. Neither experience provided him with optimism. ¡°Thus, I¡¯m either in the Middle Faction or an impartial. I do not intend to be impartial.¡±

    Yilin nodded. ¡°Just make sure you¡¯re not labelled a Rogue.¡± He quipped.

    James smiled. ¡°That¡¯s plan D. Plan A is after I am re-registered as an Australian Mage, I¡¯ll go back and sign up with Eureka Tower. But I need a team.¡±

    ¡°A team for?¡± Yilin asked.

    ¡°A power-base to work with. I doubt there is a single Magus in that Tower that doesn¡¯t hold allegiance to at least two other Magus¡¯. Those simple connections are what elevates people, Yilin. I need to build some of those connections; all my inter-continental relationships aren¡¯t much help domestically.¡±

    ¡°Well alright. Find you some allies is a good start.¡±

    James looked Yilin in the eye. ¡°That being said, Yilin will you-¡± Yilin silenced him with a raised hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can to stall any rumour mills, and keep you informed on the inside. Transferring CCs for new spells, or finding out Quest details; I have you covered there mate. However, I¡¯m not a fighter.¡± He appeared to diminish in his seat with that proclamation. James sent Cosmo to comfort Yilin. Yilin scratched behind the Baku¡¯s ears with care.

    ¡°Thats a great help Yilin. Thank you.¡± James said.

    ¡°Happy to help.¡±

    ¡°Also, I told the Militant¡¯s to contact me through you. Just a heads up.¡± Yilin laughed but accepted his role as a liaison.

    So, Tower liaison secured. All that¡¯s left is; find four competent mages to fill-out a Questing Team, register as a Tower Magus (Doherty may be helpful?), rebuild my relationship with my family, and champion progressive social policies with my fledgling base. Simple.

    ¡°So, where are you planning on heading next?¡± Yilin asked. He borrowed James ginger beer, transmuted it to water and took a sip. James glared at him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll go home and try and enjoying being around family tonight. I¡¯m open to any suggestions you have, besides waiting for the Militant¡¯s message to have a meeting.¡± James snatched back the beer. It was only water. James sighed.

    Yilin adjusted his glasses. They were a marvel of Enchantment. James was eager to know the extent of there prowess, but held off asking Yilin. Diagnostic magic was not James¡¯ specialty, but it was Yilin¡¯s passion. James had always preferred learning the means as which to obfuscate his foes, and bewilder his audiences.

    ¡°Huh. Why don¡¯t you pay Ye Old Bluestone a visit? If you were going to find some allies, then chasing up Alumni isn¡¯t a bad idea.¡± Yilin mused.

    James chuckled. It was a simple idea but one he¡¯d overlooked. ¡°Sounds good to me, thanks Yilin. I¡¯ll pay you back one day, for all the help.¡± James raised his beer-now-water to Yilin. The two friends smiled.

    <hr>

    James caught the train home. He picked up a modified Message-Device that worked within Oceania. His personal device from London was too expensive to be used locally, let alone the lag in sending messages was horrible. Yilin could handle any Tower messages for now.

    He arrived home to a warm house, a fabulous home cooked meal, and a loving family. If one didn¡¯t could the still brooding sister, it was a loving family.

    James enjoyed the evening respite. A plan of action settling in his mind that night. It was time to go to school.