《Adventures in the Magic Trade》 Waking Up It happens in a dream. A hand wraps around her wrist. A man¡¯s hand. He hates this part. ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asks. ¡°Who are you??¡± Kara struggles to place him. There¡¯s something familiar about his face. But she doesn¡¯t know where she has seen it before. ¡°You asked me to do this,¡± he says firmly. More to himself than to her. ¡°I need you to trust me.¡± ¡°No!¡± She pulls away. Her eyelids flutter. This is becoming a nightmare. Her head twitches, struggling. She is trying to wake up, but her body won¡¯t let her. Not yet. Not until it believes there is real danger. He can¡¯t let that happen. ¡°Kara, breathe. I¡¯m not going to hurt you. You know me. You trust me.¡± The same thing that made Dreamland mind-numbingly boring to him gave him a useful advantage in this one situation. His will be done. He¡¯s right. She trusts him. ¡°I¡¯m going to take you somewhere,¡± he says. ¡°Just remember: You asked for this. This will all make sense soon.¡± He grabs her hand again. This time she lets him take it. They walk. Scenery flies past them, faster than they are moving. Faster than they can comprehend it. The rules of time and space have no hold here. Why would they? The world stops spinning. They¡¯re at a pool of water. Clear. Deep. Kara can¡¯t help it. She peers in closer. ¡°Do you remember why you¡¯re here?¡± he asks. She shakes her head no. ¡°You will. Look closer.¡± Kara leans toward the water. She sees her own reflection looking back at her with the same puzzled expression that she has. The reflection of the man¡¯s face appears over her shoulder. Where does she know him from? She tilts her head, trying to put the pieces together. But everything is foggy, like it so often is in a dream. She notices that her reflection did not tilt its head to mirror hers. She looks at the face of the man. Where does she know him from? The reflection puts two and two together before she Kara does. Its eyes grow wide in horror, and its mouth starts to scream. Dreamwalker. Kara feels his hands on the back of her head as he shoves her face first into the water. It¡¯s icy cold. His rough hands push her deeper. She struggles to breathe, thrashing then¡ª She breathes deeply. She is not drowning. He has not pulled her head back up. She has not felt the yank of a hand on her hair. She is now watching (suddenly certain) from the other side of the water. Her reflection is still drowning, sputtering, eyes wide in fear, inhaling bubbles, thrashing, and finally it stops. Everything hits Kara all at once. *** Ace stumbled out of the bar, squinting against the noonday sun. He reached into his pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Only one left, and it was broken. He tried to light it. No dice. He tossed it to the ground with a curse. ¡°Ace Harrington?¡± a young woman asked. Ace peered down through his blurry double vision. ¡°Who¡¯s asking?¡± he slurs. ¡°It really is you?¡± ¡°How¡¯d you find me?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve spent the last four years searching for you. I need a Dreamwalker.¡± Ace¡¯s demeanor changed instantly. He buttoned right the fuck up, taking a step back from her as if she were dangerous. ¡°I don¡¯t do that anymore,¡± he gestured at the bar behind him and at his general state of inebriation. ¡°Clearly.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the only person who can help me. Buy you a coffee?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He waved her off and started to walk away. ¡°And a fresh pack of cigarettes?¡± *** Kara sat across from the rumpled looking man whose combination of boyish features and poor personal hygiene made him look either 22 or 57. It was impossible to tell. He puffed away on his lifeline, his coffee untouched. Kara sipped her latte, regarding him as a priceless artifact she had finally uncovered. ¡°Tell me about it.¡± ¡°About what?¡± She gave him an impatient look. ¡°The Dreamwalking, what else?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hell,¡± Ace said. He took a long drag before stubbing it out and immediately lighting another one. ¡°What do you want to know?¡± ¡°How you do it.¡± He shrugged. ¡°You know how the second you wake up, your dreams begin to fade? You just remember little glimpses of details, even though at the time, they were vivid and important and all-consuming? But also, you¡¯re coming out of sleep. For eight hours or so, your unconscious took over, and your thinking mind got to take a backseat?¡± Kara nodded. ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t happen to me. My conscious mind is always aware during every single moment of my dreams. I remember everything that happens in them as clearly as you remember what you did yesterday. So, when I wake up, I don¡¯t feel rested. I never get a moment¡¯s peace. That¡¯s why they call us The Sleepless.¡± He did have pitiable bloodshot eyes. ¡°I long for death,¡± Ace said. He wasn¡¯t melancholy about it. Just matter of fact. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you killed yourself?¡± The words were out of Kara¡¯s mouth before she could even think to stop them. She slammed her hand over her lips, mortified. Ace gave her an amused look. ¡°I¡¯m afraid,¡± he said simply. ¡°I have no idea what awaits us on the other side, and I am terrified that for me, there will be no rest there either. That it will be just like Dreamland. An unending, boring wasteland.¡± At this, Kara leaned forward in her seat. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± ¡°Dreamland?¡± She nodded. ¡°You know how in dreams, anything is possible? Well, when your conscious is experiencing what the unconscious is manifesting, it can be unsettling. And unlike mortal sleepers, we experience it all in real time. Real boredom. Agonizing fear. Drawn out for hours.¡± Kara¡¯s face grew tight. This description stirred something in her. ¡°Can¡¯t you just stay awake?¡± Ace looked more annoyed by this question than by the suicide one. ¡°I¡¯ve tried. My body still needs sleep. It always betrays me eventually.¡± ¡°And you can go into other people¡¯s dreams?¡± Although Kara was trying to ask this question with the same measured curiosity she had used with all the others, the tensing of her hands around her coffee betrayed her. Plus, Ace knew, she had sought him out for a reason. ¡°Years ago, I had a¡­ mentor.¡± Ace winced at the euphemism but did not elaborate. ¡°She showed me that Dreamland is all connected. It¡¯s all the same realm. Most people don¡¯t venture outside their own little ids, but sometimes it does happen on accident. The thing is, when Sleepies like yourselves run into one another, you almost never remember it in the morning.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s possible?¡± Kara stopped trying to hide her excitement. ¡°Anything is possible in Dreamland,¡± Ace shrugged. ¡°How does one¡­ become a Dreamwalker? Can you make me like you?¡± Ace¡¯s eyes flashed angrily. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t. It¡¯s impossible. This is an innate talent that you¡¯re born with.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me,¡± now it was Kara¡¯s turn to look angry. ¡°I know that¡¯s not true.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s so clear that you remember what you¡¯re missing.¡± Ace was annoyed, but Kara was right. ¡°After everything I told you, you still want this? The process is irreversible. You would never know a moment¡¯s rest again. It¡¯s a living hell. Why would you choose this?¡± Kara stared into the now-cold coffee in front of her. ¡°It¡¯s my sister. Our parents died when we were very young. She¡¯s all I have left in this world. Five years ago, I¡ªuh. There was an accident. Left her in a coma, in the hospital. I went to see her every day, talked to her. They said she could hear me, but¡ª¡± Kara shrugged. ¡°Then one night I saw her. In a dream. She was crying for help; said she was trapped in there by someone. Some¡­ thing. But I couldn¡¯t ever find her again, I can¡¯t control my dreams. Not like you.¡± Kara gave Ace an admiring look that sent an unwelcome shiver of pleasure down his spine. ¡°I went to a medium, and she told me it was real. Melody is in there. In Dreamland. I have to go get her out. I¡¯m her sister. She¡¯s my responsibility.¡± ¡°You need a Dreamwalker,¡± Ace nodded. ¡°But why don¡¯t you just ask me to go in for you? I used to run¡­ errands for people all the time.¡± Kara shook her head. ¡°It has to be me. She¡¯s too scared. If a strange man comes for her, she¡¯ll just run and hide deeper. I¡¯ll lose her forever.¡± Ace sucked on his cigarette even though he had burned it down to the filter. ¡°I¡¯ve never turned anyone before,¡± he said softly. ¡°The experience was... non-consensual, when it happened to me.¡± ¡°How did it happen?¡± Kara asked breathlessly. ¡°There was a witch. A Dreamwalker who had a fixation with me. She met me once in Dreamland but couldn¡¯t find me in the waking world. I was just a kid.¡± He looked away. ¡°Anyway, it wouldn¡¯t have been as satisfying for her to seduce me while I was asleep. She wanted me awake for it. Aware. She found me one night and made me into this.¡± ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Kara whispered. She didn¡¯t know what else to say. Ace gave her a bitter smile. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I never forgave her. And eventually, I killed her. I promised myself I would never, ever be that kind of predator to anyone else. And I would never inflict this hell upon anyone, even someone willing. Even for a good reason.¡± He stood up. ¡°So, thanks for the cigarettes, but no. I won¡¯t do it.¡± ¡°Wait!¡± Ace didn¡¯t turn back, so Kara had to run after him. ¡°Please, you have to help.¡± ¡°Go away, kid. You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking.¡± ¡°I know. But my sister, the one who¡¯s trapped in there. She¡¯s a Dreamwalker.¡± Ace froze. ¡°She¡¯s conscious in there?¡± Kara nodded. ¡°She¡¯s been conscious in there for five years?¡± ¡°If she¡¯s still alive.¡± ¡°She¡¯s alive. No one dies in Dreamland.¡± Ace saw real desperation in Kara¡¯s eyes. ¡°Do you have a place for us to sleep?¡± She nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a hotel just down the road.¡± *** Kara stares at the pool of water. Her reflection is a corpse, floating just below the surface. Ace stands next to her, somber. ¡°I brought you to hell,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°What you do next is up to you.¡± Magic for Beginners It was a book that would ruin Lana¡¯s life. She was seven years old, and she could already tell that she was different from the other kids. Moody, prone to getting lost in her own thoughts, seeing the world in a way others didn¡¯t. Lana would make observations, and people would look at her funny, as if she were speaking in a foreign language. Then they would inevitably change the subject to something actually interesting them: gossip about mutual friends or an upcoming sporting event. Then they would all move on and forget about Lana¡¯s faux pas, leaving her to continue looking at the clouds and the way the sunlight shimmered around their edges¡ªor whatever romance she eventually learned to keep to herself. No one liked to hear that the earth was singing to her. No one else wanted to listen to its music anyway. It would have gone on like this forever. Lana would have continued to bottle up her senses for the rest of her life. She would have tuned out the voices of the world around her. And as she stopped listening and tried desperately to make friends, find love, earn approval from authority figures, the more-than-human world would have stopped reaching out to her. And she would have fallen deaf to them, just like everyone else. It¡¯s a survival mechanism, you see. Human beings are pack animals. But Lana avoided this fate. Or rather, this fate was wrenched away from her. By a cunning enchantress who couldn¡¯t bear to see a good, young mind wasted. At the book fair. As her classmates perused picture books with glossy pink covers and pencils with smelly erasers, Lana sifted through the advanced chapter books on a shelf in the back of the room. Most of these she had read before (the perks of being a loner). She was just about to turn back to her mom and say they could go. When a flash of gold caught her eye. Lana shoved aside a stack of mislaid Magic Treehouses and gazed in awe at what she had uncovered. There was only one copy of this book. The cover was a deep purple leather that felt buttery soft in her hands. The gold lettering (and to her child brain, it was undoubtedly real gold) read, Magic for Beginners: An Overview of Witchcraft and Occultism for the Curious Mind by Madam Miriam Stipplesew.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Lana knew that she had unearthed a treasure. The simple lettering, the gold edges. She thumbed the pages and realized with a start that when she pushed the edges down and away from one another just slightly, an image was revealed. It was a beautiful enchantress. She had blonde curls, kind eyes, and luscious lips, with a single finger held up to them, as if telling the reader, ¡°This is our secret.¡± And just as Lana was thinking this, words appeared on the pages next to the illustration. ¡°This book was written for you, Lana.¡± Lana almost dropped it. She caught herself and snapped the book closed. She stared at the gold edges for a good long moment before getting up the courage to pull the covers apart and press the edges of the pages away from one another again. There were no words this time, just that illustration of the shushing enchantress. But this time it looked like she was winking. If Lana had been rational like the adults in her life, she would have convinced herself that the book hadn¡¯t spoken to her. She must have simply imagined it. But Lana wasn¡¯t rational. There was a word for what she was that she would learn later. She was enchanted. And she needed this book. Lana ran up to her mom, who was waiting patiently by the checkout register, trying not to look as tired as she felt. ¡°Mom, mom!¡± Lana said breathlessly. ¡°I want this one.¡± Lana gave her a stern look. ¡°Please.¡± Lana gave her a polite, charming smile. Mom eyed the gold details of the hard cover, dubious. The book looked expensive. ¡°Lana, I don¡¯t know. Isn¡¯t there anything¡ª¡± her eyes flicked wistfully over to the discount paperback section. But Lana clung to her arm. ¡°No, Mom, please, please!¡± Lana¡¯s lip quivered. She had never wanted anything in her life as much as she wanted this book, needed this book. I mean, it had spoken to her. ¡°This is the book. I promise. I¡¯ll read it right away, and you always say reading is important!¡± Mom sighed. Her daughter was right. There were worse things in the world than having a child who was eager to read. She and Dad had made it a priority to require Lana¡¯s literacy, and if this was the book that would keep her excited about learning, then so be it. The cashier rang up the book, and Mom paid for it with her credit card. Neither she nor Lana knew that her daughter would never be the same again. This book would light a fire. It would teach her to imagine. It would tantalize her with descriptions of possibilities for a future that Lana had not previously dared herself to dream. She would learn that there were hundreds, even thousands of people out there who were just like her. She would not be content with the path that she was on. This book would stoke her ambition. It would ruin Lana¡¯s life. The Naming Ceremony ¡°I want to make this absolutely clear,¡± Miriam said. ¡°I¡¯m not gathering a bunch of amateur teenage witches and magicians into a boarding school setting and letting them all know each other¡¯s names. Not revealing your birth name to classmates should be our rule #1. So, we need to figure out a way to get all first years into one location and through a naming ceremony before any of them have a chance to introduce themselves to one another.¡± She looked around the room at her board members. There were twelve of them; six enchanters and six mages, each representing different disciplines. They all agreed with her. The problem was figuring out the best way to go about this. Blank, the apotrope, spoke first. ¡°Seems like it would be easiest to just send them a letter explaining the danger and asking them to come with a new name prepared.¡± Miriam gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ¡°Kids are stupid, and they don¡¯t take homework seriously. Plus, it¡¯ll take more than a cautionary brochure to convince someone to give up the name they¡¯ve identified with for the first decade of their life.¡± Gregor, the ritualist, spoke next. ¡°We could go to each child¡¯s home personally and perform a naming ceremony for the individual. A bespoke experience would impart the significance of the transformation. And¡± he continued, as an afterthought. ¡°We could add a censoring spell to blur out their birth name if stated, should anyone slip up. It would only last for up to about thirty days, but that should be enough time to correct the habit.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Miriam pointed at him with approval. ¡°I like where your head¡¯s at. We¡¯ll do the censorship spell. But we have hundreds of students coming in this first class. We don¡¯t have the time or resources to travel to everyone¡¯s home individually. It¡¯s just not an efficient or scalable practice. So, let¡¯s figure out a way to get everyone into one place without talking to one another. Isolation here is key.¡± Colson, the air enchantress, spoke up. ¡°Seems like a teleportation single-use wand is your best bet. ¡°And I disagree on the homework. Students at this age will be excited to embark on their upcoming knowledge journey. If we send out introductory materials with an illusion flair, they¡¯ll lap it up. Then they can spend the summer months before orientation figuring out a name.¡± Miriam frowned. ¡°We¡¯re letting them choose their own names?¡± ¡°It lets them take ownership over their identities,¡± Titania, the crone, stepped in. ¡°An important step for young minds.¡± She smiled. ¡°But it will be up to them to convince their classmates to use those chosen names. We all know how difficult it is to get a self-created nickname to stick. Miriam nodded. ¡°Very well. I see. We¡¯ll send out a document with an illusion explaining the rules. It¡¯ll include a transportation wand time to ensure staggered arrival. We¡¯ll perform the censor spell on each student when they enter the atrium. After that, they can mingle with one another until a group naming ceremony. Then a mixer.¡± She was starting to feel better about her venture. ¡°I think this is a good plan.¡± In the Dark ¡°What was the last thing you were doing before you woke up here? Do you even remember?¡± ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Do you remember anything about yourself? Who you are?¡± ¡°No, I¡­ Wait. Yes. David. My name is David.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Course, I¡¯m sure. I have no idea why, but somehow, I just know. That¡¯s my name.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Oh, no. It¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s just, you don¡¯t really sound like a David.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t ''sound like a¡­''? I feel like you¡¯re being combative for no reason. What does a David even sound like?¡± ¡°Not sure. But I¡¯d know one if I heard one.¡± ¡°Well if you¡¯re so smart, what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡± ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay. Why don¡¯t we call me Isabella?¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Because we have to call me something, and I¡¯ve always liked that name.¡± ¡°¡¯Always¡¯? How would you know, if you don¡¯t remember anything from before?¡± ¡°Okay, now who¡¯s being unnecessarily combative?¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. Sorry. Isabella.¡± ¡°Thank you. Okay, I guess, first things first, we need to figure out where we are.¡± ¡°Can you see anything?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°No. It¡¯s pitch black.¡± ¡°Is it dark? Or are we both blind.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell.¡± ¡°Great.¡± ¡°Okay, wait. What if I¡ª Woah.¡± ¡°Woah. How did you just do that?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just¡­¡± ¡°Do you have a lighter on you?¡± ¡°No, I just¡ª¡± ¡°A match or a flint or¡ª¡± ¡°No. I have nothing. Just these cotton pants and this shirt. Feels like the same material. Do you think¡­ Do you think whoever put us here changed our clothes?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about that. Do that thing with the spark again.¡± ¡°Why? I have nothing to catch it on. It¡¯s just going to go out in an instant again. We won¡¯t be able to use it to look around.¡± ¡°What if we use your pants?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± ¡°They¡¯re cotton. We could spark them and light a fire.¡± ¡°Light my pants on fire??¡± ¡°Yeah. I mean, it¡¯s all we have.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t we light your pants on fire?¡± ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to be naked from the waist down when we finally somehow escape from here.¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t either!¡± ¡°Okay, fair point.¡± ¡°Isabella?¡± ¡°Yeah, David?¡± ¡°Do you think we¡¯re somehow down here because of the spark thing?¡± ¡­ ¡°Isabella?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. I heard you. I don¡¯t know. Maybe. That guess is as good as any.¡± ¡°Well, what can you do?¡± ¡°Hm?¡± ¡°I mean, if I¡¯m imprisoned because of some kind of power, maybe you are too.¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Oh. Really? You¡¯re certain?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your power?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain.¡± ¡°Well, try.¡± ¡°Okay, well. I can see through your eyes.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I can get into your brain and see what you see. Somehow.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t see anything. It¡¯s pitch black in here.¡± ¡°I know. It¡¯s a useless skill when you¡¯re locked in a cell like this. But just as sure as you know your name is David, I know that this is something I can do. I can enter your eyes and see through them.¡± ¡°Like, you can possess me?¡± "I don''t know. Maybe? I think so." ¡°Okay, well please don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t possess you?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I wasn¡¯t planning to. It wouldn¡¯t be much use to me down here.¡± ¡°Okay well that¡¯s¡­ comforting. You can see through other people¡¯s eyes too, right? Not just mine?¡± ¡°One would assume.¡± ¡°Like, a guard perhaps?¡± ¡°You¡¯re smarter than you look, David.¡± ¡°Ha.¡± ¡­ ¡°Isabella?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I think I have a plan.¡± My Date with the Chosen One ¡°So how did it go last night?¡± Isabel sipped her mimosa. Lena, quite visibly still hungover, groaned. ¡°Is, it was so bad.¡± She chugged her Bloody Mary through its straw until it gave her life again. ¡°Did you go home with him? Was he good in bed?¡± ¡°Ew, no. It did not get that far.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Okay, well. You know how when we were in school, he was always like, disappearing off with his friends to go do mysterious things that somehow correlated with weird shit that was happening in the outside world?¡± Isabel pondered. She shook her head. ¡°Weird shit?¡± ¡°Yeah! Remember? He¡¯d be gone from class for like a week. And then all of a sudden would come back, and at the same time like three of our teachers would be mysteriously ¡®retired,¡¯ and he¡¯d be best friends with some former loser?¡± ¡°I do remember that one time our Advanced Spellcasting professor completely vanished right before finals week. Did they ever find him?¡± ¡°No idea.¡± Lena sipped her Bloody Mary meaningfully, like, ¡°See what I mean??¡± Isabel shook her head, not buying it. ¡°And you¡¯re saying he was involved in all that.¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°Okay, remember like freshman year when there was that weird prophecy announcement?¡± ¡°Oh yeah! The one about a child born under the full moon defeating the dark king?¡± ¡°It was a New Moon, but yeah.¡± ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°That was him!¡± ¡°Justice Harbinger was The Chosen One from the prophecy? Weird.¡± Isabel downed the last of her mimosa as she pondered. ¡°Feels like I would have noticed.¡± ¡°Well when you weren¡¯t blacked out at some Order party, you were basically always with Mark. You were never really the go-to person for campus gossip.¡± ¡°Harsh, but fair.¡± Isabel set her glass back down on the table. In the blink of an eye, it was full to the brim again. ¡°So, what has Justice been up to since school?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Literally nothing.¡± Lena made a face. ¡°I was actually pretty excited when I matched with him. I figured he¡¯d be doing something cool. I mean, he saved the world like four separate times while we were in college.¡± ¡°Four? How did I miss that?¡± ¡°Well, it was like usually behind the scenes,¡± Lena said. ¡°But if you want all the details now, I can give you a complete play-by-play. It¡¯s all he would talk about last night.¡± ¡°Yikes.¡± ¡°I know, right? I mean, we¡¯ve been graduated for like three years now. And I know I¡¯m not the wizard who defeated the Dark King or whatever, but I¡¯ve been doing really well at my job working for Aurora. Did I tell you she was going to let me do one of the Transit readings next retrograde?¡± ¡°No shit, that¡¯s awesome! Congratulations.¡± They toasted. ¡°Exactly. I¡¯ve been working hard and killing it. And he didn¡¯t even ask me one question about myself.¡± ¡°That¡¯s hardly surprising.¡± ¡°I know, but it¡¯s disappointing. He literally just talked about his two best friends, the times he almost died saving the world, and he kept trying to get me to come back to his apartment to show me his wand.¡± Isabel giggled. ¡°He did not.¡± ¡°He did! It was disgusting. We weren¡¯t even done with our drinks when he was like, ¡®You wanna see it? It¡¯s sooooo big.¡¯¡± ¡°Did you???¡± ¡°Ew no! I¡¯m trying to find the real deal here. Could you imagine what would happen if I seriously went out with him. It would be a lifetime of listening to this loser replay his glory days. Literally, what could be more boring.¡± ¡°So, you didn¡¯t go home with him?¡± ¡°Okay, well at first I didn¡¯t want to.¡± Lena turned a little red with shame. ¡°Girl, NO.¡± ¡°But we were three drinks in.¡± ¡°I know how you get after a couple martinis.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± Lena groaned. ¡°But yeah, he told me he had a Philosopher¡¯s Stone.¡± ¡°Wait, really? Where did he get that?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, one of the times he saved the world, probably.¡± Lena shrugged. ¡°But I was at least curious. Especially because he wanted to split the bill after drinks. I figured the least he could do was let me turn some base metals into gold.¡± ¡°And achieve immortality! Do you think he¡¯s immortal?¡± ¡°Isabel, no. That¡¯s just a myth.¡± Isabel shrugged, like, ¡°Maybe it is, maybe it isn¡¯t?¡± ¡°So anyway, we take an Uber back to his place, and he goes into his bedroom to find it. I sit in his living room, and it was so embarrassing, all the posters are like, newspaper headlines from those times he was involved in taking down the government.¡± ¡°Crazy.¡± ¡°I know. Oh, and his wand was on the coffee table. It was pretty big.¡± ¡°Girl.¡± ¡°What?? I didn¡¯t touch it.¡± Lena smirked. ¡°But yeah, so he doesn¡¯t come out of his bedroom, and I check my hourglass. It¡¯s been like 45 minutes. I go in to check on him, and he¡¯s just face down passed out on his bed.¡± ¡°I think maybe you got off easy?¡± ¡°Agreed. So yeah, I just called an Uber for myself and went home.¡± ¡°And you never got to see the Philosopher¡¯s Stone?¡± ¡°If there ever was a Philosopher¡¯s Stone in the first place, I¡¯d be shocked.¡± ¡°You think it was just a line?¡± ¡°A line I fell for.¡± Lena buried her face in her arms. ¡°So, are you going to see him again?¡± ¡°Isabel!¡± Lena threw her celery at her friend, laughing. But then she thought for a moment. ¡°Maybe.¡± Justice Harbinger is the Last True Movie Star ¡°This is bullshit.¡± Ryn Harris slammed the shiny edition of The Oracle on her agent¡¯s desk. Marti peered over at it, pretending to read the headline carefully through her glasses even though she had seen it earlier this morning. She knew the second Ryn saw it she would be in Marti¡¯s office. Now she was just stalling for time, hoping to give her client a second to calm down. ¡°Why don¡¯t you have a seat, Ryn? This is an excellent opportunity to talk about the next steps in your career.¡± Ryn obliged. She perched herself at the edge of the armchair across from Marti¡¯s desk. But instead of settling in and listening to what Marti had to say, she rifled angrily to the article in question. ¡°Since defeating the Dark Lord when he was fifteen years old, Justice Harbinger has been the darling of the enchanted community. He consulted for the LAPD, the FBI and even (on one occasion) the CIA, ultimately closing over 238 separate cold cases and resulting in the sale of a beloved procedural that went on for ten seasons. His bestselling series of memoirs¡ª¡± Marti held up her hand. ¡°I¡¯ve read the article. Justice is a client here as well. He¡¯s a beloved icon. There¡¯s no reason for you to be angry about it.¡± ¡°The last great sorcerer?¡± Ryn stabbed the page with her finger. ¡°There¡¯s no reason for you to be angry about it.¡± ¡°Marti, I¡¯ve busted my ass this year. Last year I was a nobody. Now I have a bestselling book, and I just finished a sold-out domestic tour. And I don¡¯t even get a mention???¡± ¡°There¡¯s no point in putting so much stock into trade publications like this.¡± ¡°Yes, there is. The Oracle matters. Everyone reads it. The Fates who write it know what they¡¯re talking about. They¡¯re right. I don¡¯t have a chance of becoming a sorceress if no one will even give me a chance.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Just give it time. They¡¯ll see. Look, I had our touring division put together a plan for the European leg of your tour, and¡ª¡± ¡°I want you to set a pitch meeting for me with Justice.¡± Marti was taken aback by this. She expected outrage and the demand for an action plan. She knew her client was desperate to get on the map, but she didn¡¯t know what good could come from a conversation like this. ¡°¡­ Why?¡± ¡°I want to challenge him to a duel. Televised, of course.¡± ¡°Marti, as your agent, the person you pay for professional advice and guidance, I cannot stress enough how bad of an idea this is.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve thought this through actually. It¡¯s perfect. Once I defeat the ¡®last great sorcerer¡¯ in direct enchanted combat, everyone will have to acknowledge that he is a washed-up has-been child hero and that a new generation of magician is actually capable of taking up the mantle and moving us into the 21st Century.¡± ¡°I agree that you¡¯re a talented magician,¡± Marti tried to be as calm and persuasive as possible. ¡°But your specialty is ceremonial abundance magic. And you¡¯re great at it. You have no idea how many conversations I¡¯ve had to have with government regulators because they demand to monitor how many people attend your rituals, how often you have them, and where in the country we¡¯re allowed to set up shows. Most magicians aren¡¯t capable of delivering results as tangible and reliable as yours. You are one of the few people that actually makes the economic elite nervous.¡± Ryn shifted in her seat, trying to remain fired up. Marti was getting way too good at placating her. ¡°If you keep your head down and keep doing what works, I can build you into one of the world¡¯s most influential wizards. Random House has been calling me for weeks, asking when your next grimoire will be ready.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to be just another abundance wizard hawking my showmanship.¡± Ryn rolled her eyes. ¡°Next you¡¯ll be asking me to do love readings for people.¡± Marti silently aborted the next suggestion she was about to make and switched tactics. ¡°Look, combat enchantment is Justice Harbinger¡¯s specialty. It¡¯s what he built his career on. Most likely, you¡¯re going to lose. That would devastate your reputation. There¡¯d be no coming back from it.¡± Ryn opened her mouth to argue, but Marti held up her hand. ¡°And winning against the beloved voice of a generation could be even worse for you. Do you really want to make the public your enemy? Right now, when we have spent a year making them rich and making them adore you?¡± Ryn looked down at the magazine in her lap, then looked back up at her agent. ¡°Maybe some of your clients are content to be workhorse wizards forgotten by the ages, but not me. I want to make a name for myself. And that starts by sending this smug, irrelevant, ¡®chosen one¡¯ to the dumpster of history. I know how much of an attention whore he can be. And I know that the streamers would leap at the opportunity to showcase his first duel in over ten years. I¡¯m going to find a way to defeat this man with or without you. So do you want your 10% commission or not.¡± Marti pursed her lips, trying to find a way out of this, but Ryn was unwavering. ¡°Fine.¡± She picked up the phone. ¡°I¡¯ll give his team a team a call.¡± Secret Santa The gift looked innocent enough, wrapped in shiny red paper with a gold bow. But Kyle had been working at the Bureau long enough to be alarmed by the sight of it when he stepped out of the elevator on Monday morning. ¡°This office doesn¡¯t happen to have a Secret Santa program, does it?¡± he joked hopefully to his desk mate Rose, who had happened to be walking into the building at the same time as him that day. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°And this place is on lockdown over the weekend. There¡¯s no way someone could have gotten in to leave something like this here.¡± Kyle reached out to touch it. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s a protocol for this sort of thing.¡± Kyle knew that Rose was right, but he was in no mood to do a mountain of tedious paperwork at the beginning of the last workweek of the year before the holidays. When he had first started this job, he had thought working in Enchanted Containment was going to be much more exciting than this. In the late 90¡¯s, a series of ostensibly fictional fantasy novels had revealed to the world that a hidden population of humans existed, capable of performing witchcraft and magic. The books had been allowed to be published because no one had actually thought that they would become popular. That couldn¡¯t have been more wrong. Obviously, the books contained tons of inaccuracies. Though based on real magic, a real world, real schools, and real historic figures, the plot itself was fiction. And although she became a billionaire by shining a light on a previously hidden subculture, the author herself was rational. But now that the rational world was obsessed with magic, coupled with the invention and proliferation of the internet, social media, and ecommerce, the Enchanted realized that they could leverage their new popularity into prosperity. No one wanted to remain hidden anymore. They wanted to make money. The American Enchanted Congress knew that they couldn¡¯t put this toothpaste back into the bottle, so to speak. So, they amended the laws that had for so long required the Enchanted to remain hidden. With the following regulations, of course:
  1. Practicing witches and magicians had to obtain a license permitting them to accept money in exchange for performances, products, or services.
  2. Elemental Magic was strictly forbidden.
  3. Any form of magic that violated Plausible Deniability was strictly forbidden.
  4. Any witch or magician whose enchantment affected wealth or markets had to obtain written permission from the Abundance Magic Department at the SEC before performing any spell or ritual.
  5. Any witchcraft or magic that violated (or attempted to violate) free will (including, but not limited to, love potions, love spells, and possession) was strictly forbidden.
  6. Witchcraft or magic could not violate (or claim to violate) any local, state, or federal laws.
Naturally, a law enforcement agency had to be established to ensure that these regulations were obeyed. Enter the Bureau of Enchanted Containment (a new, highly secretive division of the Department of Justice). The BEC employed rational and enchanted agents alike. But its elite team of enforcement agents were a handful of sorcerers who could be called in to neutralize the most dangerous of cases. As a rational person, Kyle had never paid much attention to the Enchanted. Their policy of only using plausibly deniable magic had worked. Kyle never really believed that magic had the power to operate outside the laws of physics. He thought everyone who believed in it was a sucker. And to be fair, some of them were. Like any salesperson, Enchanted could operate at varying levels of competence and integrity. But that didn¡¯t mean that magic wasn¡¯t real. It had never been Kyle¡¯s dream to work a government job, but he had needed a paycheck, and this was the only place that was hiring. Now he spent his days answering the tip hotline. The laws governing the use of magic were well-communicated to the Enchanted community. There were whole classes at academy and university levels, and any witch or magician hoping to obtain a license to practice publicly had to pass an exam demonstrating that they understood the rules. But these laws weren¡¯t explained to the rational portion of the population. That would defeat their entire purpose. When Kyle started his job at the Bureau, he learned the laws governing Enchanted behavior. At the tip line, his job was to assess the level of each call¡¯s severity (and urgency) as well of the likelihood of its veracity. Usually, he dispatched an enchantress or wizard-level special agent to check it out. If that claim turned out to be true, the agent was authorized to use their judgment: let the Enchanted off with a warning, fine them, or require that they enroll in a class that would review the rules surrounding containment and why they were so important. And then this person would go on a list. A third violation meant the Bureau would have to take extreme measures to remove them from interacting with the public. For everyone¡¯s safety, of course. But sometimes the tip that came in was particularly alarming: reports of necromancy, possession, elemental magic, sedition, or terrorism were never taken lightly. If something came in that was serious, Kyle had to bring the report straight to Hecate. Which he probably should have done with this suspicious looking package on the desk in front of him. But Hecate gave him the creeps. Kyle didn¡¯t want to go to them unless he absolutely had to. ¡°I¡¯m just going to open it and see what it is.¡± Rose scooted her desk chair as far away from Kyle as possible. ¡°It¡¯s your funeral.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve seen how heavily this building is guarded.¡± Kyle looked around at the windowless fluorescent room of the underground office that they were in. A Christmas tree was erected in the corner, doing very little to bring festive cheer to the sterile environment. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a prank from a co-worker. Or a secret admirer,¡± he joked, trying to hide his nerves.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Rose arched an eyebrow. ¡°If you¡¯re hoping your crush on Hadley is mutual, you truly are delusional.¡± Kyle felt his face turn bright red. ¡°I don¡¯t have a¡ª¡± ¡°Relax,¡± Rose said laughing at him. ¡°Everyone has a crush on Hadley. That¡¯s one of the reasons she¡¯s so powerful.¡± Being called ¡°everyone¡± did not actually make Kyle feel better. He decided to distract himself with the present on the desk in front of him. ¡°There¡¯s no card.¡± ¡°You better hope it¡¯s not full of anthrax¡ªor a hex.¡± Kyle yanked his hand back. Was he being stupid? No, it was just a Christmas present. Probably from a co-worker. But still, he kept his face as far away from it as possible as he carefully ripped the wrapping paper at its taped seams. ¡°It¡¯s a music box.¡± He looked at the heavy polished oak antique in front of him. It was exquisite. Lined with dancing flames and etchings of holly leaves. Rose scooted her chair back closer towards him, interest piqued. ¡°What are you, a teenage girl?¡± Kyle ignored her as he ran his fingers over the brass metal clasp holding the lid in place. He took a deep breath to steel his courage and flipped it open. The tinkling melody of ¡°White Christmas¡± pinged out, but that wasn¡¯t what made Kyle almost drop the box. In place of a ballerina twirling in front of the mirror at the back of the lid, there was a tiny yet exquisitely carved figure of him. Of Kyle. Sitting at his desk. Answering a phone. The figure twirled in a lazy circle as the carol played. ¡°What the¡ª¡± Kyle almost snapped the thing shut, but then he saw what was contained in the belly of it. A dead salamander, ceremonial dagger driven straight through its body. Kyle didn¡¯t want to touch the dead animal. It could have been diseased or something. So, he picked it up by the handle of the dagger and held it up closer to his face for inspection. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± But Rose¡¯s warning was too late. The salamander twitched and opened its eyes. It looked directly at Kyle¡¯s face and then burst into flames. ¡°Shit!¡± Kyle dropped the Salamander on the floor in front of him, and Rose ran from the fire. The smoke from the burning creature billowed towards his face and caused a coughing fit as Kyle felt himself accidentally inhaling it. He tried to run away, but something had pinned his feet to the floor. He was stuck breathing in ash and smoke and enchanted elemental amphibian until finally with a TSHHHHHHHH sound Rose put the thing out with the fire extinguisher. Once Kyle stopped coughing and wheezing, he took a deep breath of air. They looked at the dagger drenched in foam on the floor in front of them. ¡°I should probably take this to Hecate,¡± Kyle said reluctantly. Rose nodded in agreement. *** ¡°Hecate¡± didn¡¯t refer to the actual goddess. It was an internal, tongue-in-cheek nickname for the Bureau¡¯s team of three powerful sorceresses. Kyle stepped timidly into their office, music box in one hand, residue-drenched knife in the other. Crone Mother, the oldest of the three, was sitting on a couch off to the right side of the door, looking directly at him. ¡°Kyle, come in,¡± she croaked at him, her wrinkled face twisting into a smile. ¡°Have a seat.¡± Of course, she had known he was coming. Crone Mother was a divination sorceress. One of the world¡¯s few oracles, she had been snapped up early in her life by the government for purposes of maintaining world order. She even had her own temple somewhere in the underground office that held the innerworkings of the BEC. Crone Mother¡¯s job was to consult the gods to detect enchantment that was violating the laws. She also divined the authenticity of tips that the department received. Based on the information that Crone Mother divined, the two other members of Hecate would go to the source in person and contain the problem. Kyle sat in the chair across from Crone Mother¡¯s sofa. ¡°I, uh, was given this.¡± He set the box down in front of her on the coffee table, open so she could see the miniature model of him inside. ¡°And this was inside it,¡± he set the dagger with what was left of the salamander next to it, cringing in embarrassment a little as he did so. ¡°I¡¯m guessing it wasn¡¯t in that state when you received it,¡± Josie¡¯s voice said from behind him, and Kyle sank deeper into his seat in shame, suddenly feeling like he was a child, getting a stern talking to from his mother. Josie had that effect on people. She sat down next to Kyle and kindly but judgmentally looked at the pieces on the table in front of them. Josie was a middle-aged woman, a little dumpy and kind looking. This image was her greatest weapon. Josie could blend into any crowd and had a consummately forgettable face. Every person she met was comforted by her and trusted her. They were disarmed, which almost always caused them to open up to her, not feeling threatened at all. This made her very persuasive. She almost never needed to resort to physical violence. But when she did¡ªKyle had heard rumors from senior agents. Josie was a master at krav maga (a firm believer that not every combat move needed to be enchanted), and she could put anyone into a sleeper hold in seconds¡ªbefore they realized what was even happening. And if she needed to use magic? Josie was one of the few people in the world who had mastered the elements. Rumor had it she could start a fire with her hands, burn your skin just by touching it, or change the state of any body of water (up to the size of a small lake), yes including the water molecules in human cells. She was one of the most powerful sorceresses on the planet. And most people would never even know her name. ¡°Uh, yes,¡± Kyle said, nervously. ¡°It came wrapped as a present and I, uh, opened it. It burst into flames and¡ª¡± Josie looked at him with gentle understanding. ¡°You inhaled the smoke, didn¡¯t you?¡± He nodded. ¡°Can you work with this?¡± Josie asked Crone Mother. The old woman nodded. ¡°It¡¯s troubling,¡± she said. ¡°But it clearly points to a fire elemental. Whether this enchantress is the one who sent the tip is¡­ a separate question.¡± She held the items carefully in her brittle hands. ¡°But I think we can find their location.¡± Crone Mother looked at Kyle seriously. ¡°You should have come to us before unwrapping it,¡± she said. ¡°I know,¡± Kyle felt his heart beat faster. His palms were sweaty, he¡ª ¡°No matter,¡± the crone said. ¡°It is done. This just means that now you have to be involved in the ceremony.¡± ¡°The what?¡± he gulped. ¡°The locator ceremony,¡± Josie explained patiently. ¡°Part of the evidence is inside you. So, we¡¯ll need to bring you with us while we track this person down.¡± ¡°Oh, but I¡ª¡± this could not be happening. Kyle was starting to wish that he had just filed the report and done that fucking paperwork. ¡°I¡¯m rational, I can¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, little one, we¡¯ll protect you.¡± Kyle¡¯s voice caught in his throat as he looked up and saw the third member of the team. Hadley. People who didn¡¯t know the sorceresses usually mistook her for Josie¡¯s daughter. In the field, that was usually the cover story they went with. At twenty-two years old, Hadley was one of the youngest sorceresses in the world. She was unnaturally beautiful, thin, and curvy. The benefit of having two sorcerer parents was that she was able to master her craft and move up the government ranks quicker than should have been possible. She was disarming for completely opposite reasons than Josie. Hadley¡¯s skillset was protection magic. She was fluent in younger futhark and could create amulets would stop a bullet. She knew rituals that would render participants immune to certain spells for a finite period of time. And her best trick was an elixir that provided invisibility to the person who consumed it (for as long as the liquid was in their system). Of course, Hadley had started in the military before being recruited to the highest level of enforcement at the BEC. A company girl through and through, she could always be counted to put the mission before everything else. Unlike Kyle, who had allowed his curiosity to destroy evidence before he was able to pass it up the chain properly. And now he was being dragged into the field. ¡°Here, put this on.¡± Hadley tossed an amulet at him. ¡°You¡¯re going to need it.¡±