I was only eight years old when I met Noelle Beilani. 

The day of our encounter, it took me everything I had to keep from throwing a massive temper tantrum. 

“Jude, this is your fiancée,” Mom said, gesturing at the sullen-looking girl who looked no older than nine, “You will marry her when you come of age.”

Mom and Dad were sitting on either sides of me, while Noelle and her family sat across from us, dressed in formal attire. When I failed to answer, Mom pinched my leg from underneath the table, adding a painful twist in the process.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance,” I said, remembering the severe greetings my parents had previously grilled into me, for this unique occasion, “I hope we get along well.”

That was a damn lie and she knew it.

The moment Noelle and I made eye contact, it was very obvious that we wanted nothing to do with each other. 

I reached out to shake her hand. Noelle continued to glare at me, but judging from the way the scowl turned into a grimace, it was safe to assume that her parents had probably pinched her too. 

Reluctantly, we shook hands.

“It is very nice to finally meet you, Jude,” Noelle’s mom said in a happy tone. Too happy for that matter, “I’ve heard so many great things about you.”

“Like what?”

The moment the question slipped out of my mouth, I knew I had committed a grave error. Noelle’s parents gave me a flustered look and Mom bit her bottom lip. She dug her nails into my skin, until tears blurred my vision.

“Excuse me, young boy,” Noelle’s dad spoke up, “Did you say something?”

The four parents bore their eyes onto me, daring me to open my bloody mouth again. Daring me to say something irrelevant, shattering their fairy-tale friendship.

I looked away, angry and hurt. Mom had told me that I was to speak only when my cue arrived. I was not supposed to mess up the ever-so perfectly written script she had done about the meeting.  

I had disobeyed Mom and Dad again. I was a bad boy.

A bad, bad boy.

“I’m not going to marry him. He’s stupid.”

This time, all attention was on Noelle. All four adults gasped in shock. They all looked as if they wanted to rip her into shreds. 

But Noelle could not care less.

“If you think for a second that I will stoop so low as to marry a pathetic, pampered boy who wags his tail to his Mommy and Daddy’s every order,” she said, instantly demonstrating how advanced her vocabulary was for someone so young, “ then you are dreaming. Time to wake up.”

Noelle pushed her chair back and, with as much dignity and authority as she could muster, she walked away, her short-high heels clicking against the shiny floor.

Her parents finally snapped out of their stupor, seeming extremely embarrassed by their daughter’s behaviour.

“Please excuse her. I can assure you that she is so drawn to the young boy, that she got carried away. It’s not every day lower sorcerers of our kind get to socialize with mighty, powerful, pure ones like you,” Noelle’s dad said, lowering his head respectfully.

“If you’ll excuse us,” the mom said, quickly gathering their things from the table, “We are going to leave. Again, it was very nice to meet you. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, the two of them rapidly scurried away, the meeting ending much sooner than anticipated. Mom’s script and my arranged marriage were heading straight for the drain.

Or so I thought they would. 

Next thing I knew, two days had passed, and Noelle and I were already having playdates. Getting to know each other, as some liked to say.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked her one day, after we had finished taking our boring piano lessons.

Noelle curled her lips in disgust. “I do not converse with wealthy snobs. Please, do refrain from addressing me.”

I cocked my head on the side, “What’s a snob?” I asked curiously. Since we began courting, Noelle had been using words I had never heard in my life. Big words, small words, complicated words.

The night before, I’d overheard Rhea ask our parents why they had agreed to a lower-class betrothal. Why they would mix our rich, pure blood into the next gene pool.

Dad had answered, stating that indeed, Noelle and her family were poor insects compared to us, but Noelle was gifted. 

She had a special ability, a unique quality that many sorcerers would do anything to have.

Not only did she have the brains and physical strength, but Noelle was immune to every single spell. Apparently, she could nullify any type of magic, as long as it was not part of the dark, forbidden ones. 

This, as Dad concluded, would be an asset to our family. It would give the Malakais even more power.

“A snob,” Noelle spoke in a tone one would use to address a newborn baby, “Is basically you. You and your disastrous family. Wretched scum of the Earth. Putrid city dumpster.”

That was when I attacked her.

To this day, I do not know what came to me or why I had thought pitching a ball of electricity at her would have solved the problems.

As a huge, hissing sphere came zooming across the room, Noelle simply raised her pinky finger. My attack screeched loudly when it connected with the tip of her finger, and to my complete surprise, it exploded into nothingness. 

Vanished into thin air. 

She had cancelled my move, and to top it off, did not even have a scratch on her. Only her glowing, green eyes indicated that she had relied on her rare powers.

“Is that all you can do? Disgraceful,” she said arrogantly, “Now, if you'll be so kind as to excuse me, I will take a trip to the bathroom.”

She swung her long, beaded braids behind her shoulder and walked away, leaving me petrified.

In the world of witchcraft, every member knows that a sorcerers’ attacks are impossible to avoid, unless one has a way to counterstrike. No one could receive a direct hit, or come into contact with a full gust of offense magic, without facing severe injuries.

Noelle was an exception. She was immune to all types of magic.

As Tony held my hand, his grip tightening every few heartbeats, the magic force around us gradually declined. 

“You,” he repeated gravelly, “You’re a sorcerer, aren’t you?”

For once in my life, I had nothing to say. I was stunned into speechlessness. Absolutely baffled. 

My magic had not harmed him. The electricity had not burnt him to a crisp. My powers were futile against him. They had disappeared, upon his coming into contact with me. 

He was the same as Noelle Beilani. 

“I had my suspicions,” he said, as the last trace of aura withered away, “At first, I wasn’t too certain. Nevertheless, when Rhea Malakai disappeared from the school, and Damian appeared to be the only one to remember her, I knew it had something to do with one of you. It was easy to recognize a sorcerer's spell.”

“Rhea?” I asked, still in awe, “You remember her?”

Tony scoffed, “How could I not remember her?” he said, “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”

I nodded.

“Damian’s been dragged into your world? That’s why he’s in trouble now?”

Again, I nodded.

Tony’s squeezed my hand so hard, my blood circulation practically cut.

“There’s something ominous brewing in the distance, yes?”

For some reason, I finally managed to overcome my mixture of emotions, opening my mouth to speak. “Who are you?” I asked, fearing for the answer. 

Fearing for what could unfold between the two of us if it came out wrongly.

Tony led me towards the couch and sat me down. He let go of my hand, and ruffled his black hair into place. 

As soon as he released me, I felt my magic returning. It was as if I was fully recharging again. 

Tony spoke up while I flexed my quaking hand. Watching my every move.

“The thing about this world is that it contains many secrets and mysteries. Knowledge is unlimited. There are many things left for us to discover. That is why it’s complicated to understand everything around us.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, slighlty afraid of the person I had previously believed I knew everything about. The person I had stalked to corner Damian. 

I had not done my job right. Tony was not who he appeared to be. 

“There is more to this world than just 'your' magic. You know, the supernatural you grew up knowing about and experimenting with,” he paused, “Do you understand what I am saying?”

I shook my head, visibly confused. The more he talked, the more I realized that I had no idea what was going on anymore. My head was spinning.

“For instance, there is one type of force I am acclimatized with,” he said.

This was surreal. Absolutely bizarre. 

There was more to this world than the enchantment I knew of? There were other types of supernatural forces? 

“Hey, Jude,” Tony smiled for the first time, since I'd met him. A nice, yet eerie smile, “Ever heard of Vodou?”