The Lover's Cost

Drawn In

"Mistress," Heather bowed her head respectfully. "Before we begin, I have questions to ask you."

Esther tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. Sharp and focused, they hid marginally under the brunette curtains which shrouded her head in a partial up-do. "Yes?" She replied.

Finding comfort in their one-on-one solitude, Heather raised her head to her mentor and explained, "I attended the camping trip last night. One of your other students, Leon...he told a story that I found a bit odd. Does black magic exist?"

Jaw clenching, Esther paced a little through the small, dim room. She passed stacks of grimoires and jars of colorful liquids which Heather did not fully understand. The mentor tapped her fingers on her desk for a moment. "I do recall hearing stories about a mage in possession of black magic...I think her name was Violet?" Those words widened Heather's eyes. Esther continued, "Only stories, as far as I'm aware. There aren't any documented cases of magic that color."

Heather nodded, grinning to herself. The story may have been interesting, but it was just that – a fairytale. Exactly as she thought. "Thanks, Mistress. I thought so."

Esther returned the nod and laced her fingers. "Now then, are you ready?"

"Yes."

The mentor placed a small, wooden block in front of Heather, who frowned upon seeing it. So many times it had denied her. Esther needn't supply instruction; Heather simply focused her gaze on the block and attempted to call upon her magic. She could feel it thrashing inside of her, begging to be used; reaching far for her mind, only for that mind to panic.

Bright, lime green sparks crackled from Heather's eyes in vain. The block twitched. It wobbled across the desk, yet firmly planted itself there.

Heather strained to wrap her sixth sense around the block, to lift it into the air, but she only huffed in failure. The sparks fizzled away. Crossing her arms, Esther showed her student an unamused expression. "No luck again," she stated.

Embarrassment dug its fangs into Heather. She shook her head. "I'm trying...I don't understand what keeps going wrong."

"Heather, I've told you," Esther sighed. "You have to focus on your emotions."

As if she didn't know that? Heather wanted to spit in disgust, but she respected her mentor. She bit back any sassy comments. "Mistress, I am focusing on them. I want this so badly. I'm harnessing my strong desires as much as I can!"

"You want to be a noble mage someday?" Esther asked with a raised eyebrow.

"More than anything," Heather replied. "It's all I've been able to think about since Pierce decided to bring them back."

"Then you must do better."

Heather lowered her head with a long sigh. Despite her detest for the statement, it was fact. "I know..."

Their session continued, Heather's sorrow only weighing heavier on her with each second. She begged her magic to work for her, but it was tied in her chest like a knot – one she could not unwind.

Failure greeted her repeatedly. Nothing new, much to Heather's dismay. Her mentor's eyes burned into her as she left, having made no progress as usual. And on the long, lonely walk back home, envy nibbled Heather's lungs. She couldn't breathe knowing that her fellow students excelled while she was stuck. They laughed without a care in the world and claimed fictional stories were fact; they didn't deserve to succeed as much as she did. Her bookcases outweighed theirs tenfold, her knowledge could fill an entire ocean while theirs struggled to make a puddle.

The only one of Esther's students that didn't sicken her was Aldous. He reached greater heights than her, but she had witnessed his devotion first hand. At least he deserved his delicious fruition.

Sour and bitter, Heather marched into her quiet home and flopped onto the bed. The sun sunk beneath the horizon, marking another day's end. So many blurred together in Heather's mind; the monotony twisted her stomach.

Perhaps she could visit her father to break up the pattern? One second after the thought arrived, she shooed it away. He wouldn't want to see her. He never did unless he needed someone to blame. The stinging memory of blaring lights and marching guards was her only lullaby as she drifted into a well-needed nap.

Nightmares of her father's departure did not haunt her, much to her relief. Adding to that joy further was the voice from her last slumber. Once again, Heather could not move or see in her sleep, but she could hear. The woman's voice was clearer, allowing Heather to study every lovely note of it.

Again, it whispered, "Heather...help me."

"It's been a long day. I don't know what I can do for you," Heather grumbled.

"I told you...come to me..."

"Didn't you say you were near Pierce's palace? That's pretty far from me." To help and meet this woman would be a welcomed change of pace, but Heather feared the journey and the risks. Could this woman even be trusted?

"Airships fill this world," the voice continued. "Get yourself a flight. Come to me..."

Heather toyed with the idea for a moment. The desire to help prodded at her ribs, but second thoughts poked even harder. "That's...not exactly cheap, lady," Heather said, unamused.

The voice paused, and Heather began to wonder if she angered the mysterious woman. Soon, however, the voice returned. "Of course, I will give you something in return," it cooed.

Images of riches, skills, and other pleasures flashed in Heather's mind. Her skeptical side was quick to smudge them. "Like what?" She asked slowly.

Several shaky, weak breaths later, the voice continued, "Surely you've noticed...I'm using telepathy to communicate with you..." The woman took a slow, deep breath. Her voice lowered into a whisper, one which tickled Heather's ear. "I know how badly you want that sort of power...so help me, and let me help you."

Chills ravaged Heather's spine and potent desires filled her mind. Suddenly, the cost of an airship flight seemed like pocket change. To help out an innocent woman and to have another hope of harnessing magic? Few things were as satisfying as killing two birds with one stone.

"Okay," Heather said, steeling her motivations. "I don't know what you're going through, but try to hang on. You mentioned a door by the palace. Can you tell me more about it?"