The Unskillful Thaumaturge

LI

"Who's watching the thaumaturgy building?"

"Derek and Diane."

"Not Erica?"

"It's not my fault, she just doesn't like working over the weekend."

Lillian winced. "Oh. Right."

"No worries," Galena said easily. "Derek and Diane have been quite tireless. Janelle and Evan say they'll have your DNA results by Tuesday at the latest."

Lillian's eyes widened in excitement. "How about Rolf?"

"He's not working on the weekends either anymore." Even over the phone, Lillian could recognize a note of mournful disappointment in Galena's tone.

"What happened to Diane's list of students?"

"She finally procured it yesterday, but there aren't enough people here. I'm going over it alone."

"Really?" Lillian sighed in empathy. "I can come over and help you with it if you want."

"If you need to study, I don't want to bother you."

"No, no." Lillian waved her off. "I have barely any homework left. It'll save you a lot of time." She shoved her wallet into her pocket and pushed open the dorm door. "I'm coming over right now."

"Persistent, aren't you. It will save me a couple hours."

"That's the point," Lillian replied instantly. "You need that extra time."

Galena snorted. "For what, exactly?"

❦

He is running.

Away, all he can think is away, getting away, gone, leaving, OUT.

He knows exactly where he is going. He just doesn't know where he is.

He stares upward, familiar constellations like pinpricks in the black sheet, the galaxy stretching across the sky. The moon, nearly full, glows with an ethereal light. He drops to the ground, his head resting on the rough soil, and gazes into the sky, eyes flitting from star to star with a restless fervor as the summer wind whispers across his face.

He could just stay, he could go to sleep right here, he could forget everything and close his eyelids and let go.

He has a responsibility.

In realization of where he is, he rises, pushing himself off the ground and stumbling, following the stars. And soon he begins to recognize the landscape. Gazing ahead, he trips and falls, ripping open the skin of his right thumb on a sharp rock. He winces, sliding the injured finger into his mouth.

The house once more. He nearly breaks down when he first sees it, thumb flying out of his mouth, a reminder flashing through his mind that his family will never see this place again. He rushes inside, unprepared.

The first floor is empty, not just of people, but everything- stark walls gazing at each other across the halls, hollow rooms once loved but seemingly long forgotten. The boy's eyes widen, his family gone, his house gone, his life gone.

Obliterated.

He pounds up the stairs to the second story, empty as well, but for the one necessity in every house. A sparkling mirror at the end of the hall.

The boy dashes into his own room, fingers curling into talons.

Did they find everything?

His unkempt fingernails dig into the wall, clawing feverishly at the plaster, but he can tell the effort is futile. He glances around, looking for something to throw- but the stark emptiness of the house works to his disadvantage. Wild-eyed, he kicks at the wall, to no avail. He narrows his eyes, staring intently at one section of the wall, and chunks of plaster fly out of place at an incredible speed, embedding themselves across the floor.

He takes a deep breath and worms his arm into the hole he has created, stopping when his hand brushes rough fabric. He seizes the fabric and pulls sharply, a knapsack shooting through the hole in the wall. The pieces of plaster fly back into place as he checks the knapsack frenziedly. He notices a bead of blood forming on his thumb, but wipes it off.

Bread. Cheese. Fruit. Identification. Money. A hat and a change of clothes. And, of course, a hand mirror.

He has no use for the enchantment, and removes it after changing out of his stained, soiled clothes, which he shoves back into the knapsack. He is planning to use the mirror for other purposes.

He hoists the knapsack over his shoulder and sprints out of the room into the hallway, towards the large mirror.

Then comes the familiar sensation- almost like a flick into another state- even as his mind clouds, he continues running- then another flick, to bring things right again. The door key is still hanging on a peg next to the door, but he ignores it, fumbling to open the lock on the door and slam it behind him. He rushes out of the room and weaves frantically through the rooms and hallways, strangers and friends alike gazing at him with confusion, wondering who the exhausted, maniacal-seeming boy is and what he was looking for. A look of searing pain flickers across his face as he watches people he knows take on that confused, concerned expression of sympathy mixed with fear.

But he knows exactly where he is going- he pushes open the clearly labeled door, and flick-flick he is there, its tip seeming to pierce the very sky as, again, he narrows his eyes and focuses.

And then it is the new sky, a sky darker than he has ever known, pinpricks of a few stars shining through the black abyss. He feels as if he has left a part of himself behind, realizing that the galaxy wrapping around the sky is gone, smoggy clouds shifting across a crescent moon. He shivers in the cold air, drawing into himself.

He should have been better prepared.

He sits down, looking up into the night, and begins to concentrate harder than ever. Beads of sweat roll along his arms as goosebumps form on his legs from the cold. His eyes dart feverishly back and forth beneath his eyelids as, half asleep, he prepares himself for the most difficult task of his life.