“And so, the brave knight climbed all the way to the top of the tower!”

Mother continued to read from the book before us, and I followed along, seated in her lap. I was less interested in the children’s story--which she was reading with impressive bravado--and more interested in matching the letters to her words.

I had been so focused on mastering my fine motor skills that I had not even considered that I would need to relearn how to read. After all, it seemed that I had retained most of my mind’s capabilities and even my ability to cast magic! I focused on the foreign symbols as my mother continued.

“But! Waiting for him in the princess’ tower was the evil wizard, Zambolithar!” Maker’s wrath, “Zambolithar?!” How the hells am I supposed to learn how to read with ridiculous names such as this? I squinted my eyes and stared at the page. Eee-vill. Ee-vil. Evi-

I could feel my mind was on the very precipice of fitting the two pieces together. I watched as the symbols transformed before my eyes into legible lettering, the sound of the word repeating in my mind. Then the door swung open and all concentration flew to the wind. Damn it!

“It was nothing more than blind luck, I assure you!” My father was calling off to some other guildmate beyond the cottage entryway.

“Nonsense! I heard how you cut it down, flipping through the air like a damned acrobat!”

“It must be from all the hunts I was paired with someone other than you,” my father jested. “Your clumsiness must finally be wearing off of me!” He shut the door behind him with a laugh.

“You look quite pleased with yourself.” My mother looked cross. 

Father wrapped his arms around the two of us, showering us with kisses. I giggled under the barrage. “You mustn’t worry. It’s only the members within the guild who still speak of it.”

“And the vendors, and the smithie, and anyone who comes through Bev’s Kitchen,” my mother said, her reply suspiciously quick. “Are the happenings of our village so quaint that we must really discuss your slapping around a mutt weeks after the deed?”

“As I recall, it was a bit more than a slapping,” my father said, all essence of modesty slipping away. “And, second, the guild has taken to calling it the Fire Wolf, so it was a bit more than a mutt as well.” He snuck another kiss to Mother, who failed to stifle a giggle.

I closed the book I had been reading with Mother. Alright. We need to clear some things up right now. I crossed my arms and tried to appear as menacing as possible to my parents. First, Father says not to use magic. Then, I go on a hunt and Father is the worst hunter in the entire guild, but then he just single handedly takes down a fire breathing wolf AND--I gestured with both hands to my mother--Mother uses magic and it’s, just, FINE?! 

The menacing look didn’t seem to convey the right message. “Awe, he’s pointing at you!” Father chimed in.

This isn’t getting anywhere. I crawled from my mother’s lap to their bed. I pressed my hand down, pushing my whole weight onto the floorboards until I found the hidden compartment. I turned to my parents and slapped the floorboard. There, they HAVE to understand that.

My parents looked to each other with concern, figuring out how to proceed. Oh, wow, they actually did understand. 

Mother approached me and knelt to my level. “Yes, Crow, Mommy did use magic, but I shouldn’t have.” She was speaking slowly, but I was unsure if it was in an effort for me to understand or because she didn’t quite know how she would explain. “People like… us. We don’t have permission to use magic. We’re not allowed. I shouldn’t have broken the rules, but I did because Daddy was hurt. Now that he’s better, we can’t use magic anymore.”

So, Mother was also born an Imbued--perhaps that’s how I gained the ability in this life--but she can’t use magic because… she couldn’t receive proper training? Probably due to her lower class. I supposed it made sense. If she never received proper training, it could be dangerous for her to cast magic. But how did she get her hands on an artifact like that? 

Wands, staffs, rings, amulets: no matter the item, it typically held a crystal or stone at its core to properly channel magic. Crystals in their raw state are not as fine-tuned as when they are affixed to an item by an Artificer. When unaffixed and raw like this crystal, the magic was far more volatile. But that kind of control doesn’t just come naturally! How can Mother have such an affinity for magic without receiving proper tutelage? This doesn’t make sense! 

A bell rang in the village square, and Father moved to the door to investigate the cause. “Krig, honey? What is it?” Please, don’t say wolves.

Through the window, a small regiment of soldiers could be seen marching past our cottage. Across the way, I could see neighbors looking through their doors to see the commotion, only to shut the doors at the sight of the cause. Father closed his door and turned to Mother. “Soldiers from the capital,” he said, looking grim. “And they’re with a marshal.”