as the star pledges
as the star dances
we are in the wings of it all
emerging like butterflies
holding hearts together
missionaries of a greater good
hear us
the golden dawn of a new age has arrived
here and now
we are infinite
a million petals withering
and blooming at the same time
isn’t it wonderful?
this ultimate dance of life and death
eternal bliss and eternal undoing
umbilical cords
from eyes to eyes
hearts to hearts
ultimate connection
never to be broken again
yes, yes, yes
chanting of our souls
let us all dance to the notes of eternal magic
red cherries popping
wildflowers swaying
in forever sway
joyfulness in joyful smiles
unstoppable embrace
ultimate embrace
it has begun
it has ended
we are here
and we are already gone
—Excerpt from The Apocrypha of Eorbe, by unknown

Chapter 001:

Whisper of the Snowflake (part I)

As blind as I am sometimes to the many facets of living life never once has the magic of the sky been lost to me. It speaks to me, day and night, in a language that is as familiar and distant as my own existence.

Well, maybe it would be more accurate to say that it tries to at least. Most of the time I just want absolutely nothing to do with it. However, so far all of my attempts to put a stop to it have ended in nothing but failure.

Last year I stopped using magic for a couple of months hoping that would do the trick, but unfortunately that didn’t do anything at all to resolve it.

In fact, it only made it worse.

Not to mention that one time I got so desperate I even took advice from Ms. Frangipa, that weird Old World activist lady from next door, and attended a week long retreat in the mountains at some Levurian Monk Monastery.

The only thing that gave me was backpain, backpain, and even more backpain.

They did teach me some breathing exercises in order to help with my anxiety which was kinda nice. I still use them to this day so I guess it wasn’t totally pointless.

But as for my other problem? Yeah, going there didn’t do shit.

It seems that no matter what I try the end result remains the same.

Somehow, it always manages to find a way to speak to me.

Why?

Because, in the end, there is one thing that overshadows all other things past, present, and all future days to come.

It will never stop wanting to tell its stories and thus it will never stop searching for ways to be heard.

And I, like an utter and complete fool, am afraid that I will never be able to fully stop wanting to listen to what it has to say.

No matter how frightening those tales might be.

This is my spiral. This is my fate.

Someday this cursed curiosity of mine will be the end of me.

I am as certain of this as I know the fabric of my own name.

As I know the bones of my own body.

Still I can’t seem to stop searching for it everywhere, even when listening to it is what has gotten me into this mess in the first place.

This has never been more apparent to me than in this very moment as I am, once again, confined to a sight that has quickly become part of my daily routine ever since I was brought to this awful place.

Of course, today is no different.

As usual, thick snowflakes are gently swirling down from the grey clouds above and ever so slowly eventually some of them will land on the surface of the window next to me. Without fail, what follows after this mesmerizing spectacle always is the same exact haunting scene.

After spending more hours than I can possibly count gazing at this from my seat by this very window I have started noticing that, when looking carefully enough, a certain pattern in the falling of these snowflakes can be found.

For the path each of these flakes take in their descent from the sky is all different. That is, until they touch the surface of a window. From that moment on the fabric of their very being will be forever altered.

No longer can they freely fall as they wish. No, now they are forced to follow the path of their former companions.

Whenever I find myself staring at these melting bodies often there are more than a million thoughts running through my mind. Does this newly formed droplet of water remember who he was before he became what he is now? Does he remember what it was like to fall from the sky? What it was like to be free? If yes, can he whisper its secrets to me?

But there is one thing that I think about most often.

Hidden deep within me resides this desire, this unreasonable hope that somehow one of these flakes would find a way to break free from this all.

From this cycle of water rising up from the earth, to the skies, only to inevitably fall back down again to the surface.

Over and over again in their perpetual spiral.

I don’t know. Maybe I need proof of the impossible.

A defiance of the natural order of the world itself.

Perhaps if this little snow being could manage to alter its fate then well, so could I.

Looking down at the street below the window people are busy swarming up and down the sidewalks. They kind of remind me of these snowflakes. Just trapped in different spirals. Wake up, go to school, go home, sleep, and repeat.

Repeat until the day you graduate.

Repeat until the day you die.

Actually, it seems to me that we never even graduate at all. Maybe we are all still stuck in the sandboxes we once played in. Eternal children trying to catch up to the dreams we have buried in the sandcastles of yesterday whilst playing dress up in the uncomfortable, ill fitting clothes of tomorrow.

Maybe this is all we will ever be. Meant to be. Supposed to be.

Doomed to be.

Adulthood, I am still not sure if I want to take its hand or not.

Technically I should have been one of them. After all, this was supposed to be my senior year in high school. But I guess life has a funny way of not going the way you want it to go.

Ever since that day I have been stuck in this state where I am not here, but not exactly there either. Frankly, I don’t seem to know a lot about anything these days. However, between all the not the knowing there is one thing that I do know for sure.

Today will be the last day I will ever have to set foot in this god forsaken place.

Fucking. Finally.

It suddenly dawns upon me that it has been awhile since the clock on the wall behind me has chimed. Which means that it must be long past four o’clock. After all this time here I thought that I would have gotten used to not having any expectations anymore, but still I can’t help but feel the familiar irritation and anger warm my neck.

Perhaps someday I’d burn this whole place to the ground. Starting with this window right here.

I am still lost in a maze of thoughts when the door abruptly opens, followed by a woman with short pale blond hair stepping into the room.

Instinctively my whole body tenses up, nails digging into the leather covered arms of the chair beneath me.

“Graycoat,” hisses a voice from somewhere deep within the walls of my mind.

Hands grabbing me, holding me down, and I am screaming and screaming and screaming

I force it down.

I force it all down, down, down and I fold and fold and fold until it becomes a thing so small, so insignificant, that it can fit somewhere in a forgotten corner of my mind.

Until it becomes a thing that can no longer hurt me.

I manage to keep myself still, still and silent, even when every fiber of my being is screaming at me to jump out of the window.

Or to throw her out of it.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she says, clearly not sorry at all as she fans her flushed face. “It just has been so hectic here because of the holidays, my goodness.”

Her signature long, ash coloured coat sweeps behind her, as she hurriedly walks over to the desk in front of me where she takes a seat.

C’mon, breathe. Just focus on something. Remember why you are here.

“So, Miss Turner, I am very curious as what it is I can do for you, given that we weren’t supposed to see each other until next week,” she beams at me, folding her hands on top of the desk.

Her teeth are almost just as annoyingly bright as the huge rock she is wearing on her hand. How much did this one cost? It certainly looks bigger than the one she was wearing the last time I saw her.

Taking a deep breath I force myself to sit up a little bit straighter and smile back at her. Only just not that brightly.

“I was actually wondering if you could take a look at this,” I say, as I hand over the papers I have been clutching in my hands.

There. That sounded confident enough. See Cas, you got this.

She reaches over and takes the papers from me with one hand and with the other she puts the glasses on that she has hanging around her neck on a golden chain.

Even though I must have gone over this moment in my mind over a hundred times, and definitely practiced more than that, the words still refuse to come out as I want to.

“So, I have been thinking..” I start to say, wringing my hands beneath the desk. “I am well aware of the fact that the official results of my clearance test are not supposed to arrive until two weeks from now, but I really want to take this year’s practical magic exams this upcoming weekend otherwise I won’t be able to-“

The more I continue to speak the darker her face gets until eventually she interrupts me by putting the papers down and taking her glasses off.

She lets out a deep sigh.

Fuck. This can’t be a good sign.

“Miss Turner… ,” she begins, rubbing her eyes. “I am afraid I simply can’t sign these papers for you.”

This time I can’t manage to keep a straight face and my lips turn down into a slight frown.

“What, why not? I did everything you people have asked me to do,” I say with a slight edge to my voice.

“I am afraid the results of your tests… well…you weren’t supposed to find out today, but you have left me no choice than to tell you now.”

She then looks me at me with this certain look in her eyes.

I fucking hate it when people look at me like that.

“I am so, so sorry to tell you this, but you have been diagnosed with stage one of the Mage Disease.”

I jerk back as if she has slapped me in the face.

Everything around me goes dark and quiet, as my lungs inhale air from all directions and, for a split second, I think that even the whispers can’t find me here but then-

In my mind, chaos erupts.

Thoughts screeching inside of my head like a thousand nightingales burning alive with

nowhere to go, nowhere to enter but

back.

I am back here and I think I am screaming but then I realize I am not screaming and now I am screaming at my mouth to open so I can scream and rage and cry and beg, beg, beg her to deny it.

Instead I just keep on staring at her. Silent. Voiceless. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

I can feel myself starting to slump back in the chair.

No. No. NO!

It can’t be true.

It mustn’t be true.

Today is supposed to be the day I finally get out of here for good. Not receive a fucking death sentence.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“Thankfully, it’s still in the early stages so as long as you take the prescribed medication, follow the proper steps, and listen to our guidance you will still be able to live a… somewhat normal life.”

A somewhat normal life? Yeah right. Everyone knows that it is pretty much game over once you have been diagnosed with this condition. Those pills you have to take? No thanks. I have seen what it does to people and I would rather die right here and now then spend the rest of my life on some mind-numbing shit.

Yeah, I really should have jumped out of the window when I still had the chance.

Out of the corner of my eye I vaguely notice that outside the snowflakes are still falling, still striking the glass of that damned window next to me.

One by one by one. 

For the last couple of years my world has been defined by the four walls of this room.

By the surface between those four corners of that window.

By the moment before a snowflake landed on its surface and the moment after.

I simply existed in the space between those things. They became my binoculars to the universe.

I began to see things I will never be able to forget. I began to see things I will never be able to fully understand.

Thus so it came to be that in this room, in the middle of a nameless night, with nothing but the distant light of those innumerable stars as my witness, I made a silent vow to myself.

I decided that once I left this place I will never let the borders of my world be defined by others ever again.

By anything ever again.

Never again will I be confined.

Bound.

Trapped.

The following morning after I had made this promise I noticed something.

For the first time ever since I was brought to this place my small world had become a little bit bigger.

It had become a little bit brighter.

Tick.

Tock.

Hurry, and open the window.

Just as swift and sudden the mists of darkness engulfed me earlier, just as quickly they fade away again, only leaving behind wisps and murmers of silent clarity and loud certainty.

I know what I have to do now.

“….matter of fact I will book you a new appointment right away.”

As she reaches for her computer I reach down for my bag and without saying another word I stand up, turn around and briskly walk towards the door. My hand is already on the doorknob when the woman calls out to me.

“Miss Turner, wait!”

Slowly I pull my hand back from the doorknob and let it fall to my side.

My mouth draws back into a smirk.

Tick. Tock.

I have come.

Humans are so predictable it almost makes me laugh.

I turn around and walk back.

The woman is still typing and looking at her monitor and talking, talking talking.

My god, when will she shut up?

“I know you must be very startled right now so I totally understand your reaction. However, if you run of like that one more time I, unfortunately, am forced to report you my dear. We can’t have unregulated people like you walk around now, can we?”

Ignoring her remark I scan over the desk in front of me until my eyes land on what I am looking for.

Bingo.