The Lost Element of Magic

1. The Unexpected Letter

Today's just another day.

Waking up, I stalled around for a while, staring at my laptop screen unseeingly.

Today's schedule caught my eye, though. It's visitor's day.

Hmph. A special day.

Not for me, though.

Heading out of my room, I noticed everyone around buzzing with excitement. They're receiving their mail today , I noted.

In my usual sullen mood, I continued to head down for breakfast. To eat, wash up, die, whatever.

Looking across the hall, I noticed the mail man arrive, with his big bag full of letters from family. How nice.

I kept looking though, even when I was sure no one would write to me, my spoon shifting around the peas in my plate, my mind idly dwelling on an imaginary gay couple.

I was shaken out of my reverie by the post person handing me an envelope.

"Mail for you," he said, in that gruff monotone of his.

I watched him leave, and-

Wait what?

Placing the letter in my hand might as well have been like he slapped me with it.

I stared at it, dumfounded. Turned it around. Stared some more. Sitting there on the paper, in neat cursive, was written:

"To the savior of my own and the doom of hers , Emrys Graves ,of the world without magic" .

Emrys graves. Me.

My heart beat fast. A letter, addressed to me?

"Stolen a letter, have you now, Graves?" drawled a boy behind me. Caeles . "So desperate to see everyone's happiness to steal your way into all the gloating?" he mocked, his make-shift "man voice" making my ears itch. "Couldn't bear to be a sore loser, could you now?"I retorted .

"Is there a problem?" , said the strict voice of our teacher behind us. "No Ma'am", I replied, quickly walking away from the crowd forming.

Stolen. Unreal. Unauthentic.

"The world without magic."

Then it clicked. This could all be a prank. Heck, this is a prank.

Not wanting to get my hopes up, I stuffed the letter into my pocket. No one would write to me. No one. No one knows of my existence, or cares. Back in my room, I dressed for class and ran to attend them, pushing the dratted letter to the back of my mind.

Classes passed. Lunch passed too. Evening came, and so did dinnertime. But when bed time arrived, I was left with myself again, at the start of my circle. The letter. My letter. The lie. Taking it out of my pocket, I smoothed it's crumpled edges,.

Noticing the slightly aged paper , vintage aesthetic, golden ochre designs all around the writing, I read it again.

"To the savior of my own and the doom of hers , Emrys Graves of the world without magic".

Then, deciding to get my hopes up, I opened the letter. Written inside, in the same neat cursive, was a statement:

"Hello. I am Isfet, from the world without Fire."