“So…I can’t do anything about the voices?” I asked, the cyclops woman shook her head softly.

“Unfortunately, no, as we discussed, you were born to be a bridge between this plane and the afterlife, a large amount of ghosts choose to just become ghosts, just regular people who are ghosts…however, if someone passes and refuses to pass on, they can become ghosts like you see; trapped between the realms until what is keeping them from leaving is fixed…sometimes they will refuse to be dead and possess their corpse which is how some zombies about the city exist.”

“So…the visions I’ve seen for my entire life are…flashes of how people died?”

“And they’re trying to get you to understand what happened to them and to help them pass on.”

“I…I can’t do that” I shook my head

"Help...me..." A voice whispered as I instinctually wafted my hand over my right shoulder because it heard and felt like someone was whispering from there.

“It’s the duty that the weave has chosen for you”

“Weave?”

“Imagine magic as…threads, they are in everything and anything, there is not a person or object or creation that exists on this plane and beyond that does not have at least a single one of those threads connecting it…stronger magic is more threads to that figure. They form a network across the world, like a grid that protects the magical world from the nonmagical, where those thick cords of magic cross…often times you’ll see a magical city. That intersection not only influences where magical cities are built but has across history…influenced where nonmagical cities are built. These intersections of the ley-lines are conduits for magic; both a lightning rod and a tesla coil at the same time, as much magic as it draws in, it gives out in tandem.” She explained before adjusting her glasses, “There’s all sorts of theories like…a Seer is born whenever one of those pints has a flare or every flare causes someone nonmagical to suddenly be magical or various things like that, but they’re just theories and there is no proper way to see exactly how or when the flashes are going to happen, so there’s no possible way to be able to test those theories.”

“I think I’m only more confused” I whispered, she sighed

“It is a…strange idea to contemplate when you’re…freshly introduced to all of this” she sighed, “Rook is special in that…because of the heavy numbers and influence of the indigenous people, nonmagical humans for a long time were uncommon…people were being brought into magic on a daily basis, so…Rook formed a program called the Sponsors Personally Educating Latent Localization System.” She explained

“…the Spells Program?” I asked

"I...wish...for...freedom" another voice, a different voice, whispered as I reached up and softly rubbed my ear as if trying to clear something from it.

“They were quite proud when they came up with the name. It is a system that people can volunteer to be a sponsor for someone who is freshly brought into magic, being there to explain how the magical world functions, answer questions among various other aspects.” She added as she flicked through some more people, “Unfortunately, there are also some judges who use the Spells Program as a way for people to work of community service. Due to the uniqueness of your whole situation, we are looking to see if there is someone that is currently on the list who has a specific magical typing and classification that could best teach you everything you need to know. We also don’t know how long, if at all, you will be able to access your magic…it will take some time, at least a week or so before the first cantrip is gifted to you by the Weave.” She explained as she rifled through the papers and things on the clipboard she was holding.

“Why…why does someone special need to work with me?” I asked

“Magic associated with the dead is…not the most common, but in the aspect of yours, being aligned with the dead who have not moved on…you are a very rare sort, so we wanted to find you someone who has similar magic, someone who has an idea of what you can do or what happens to you.”

I set the thick packet of papers aside as I leaned my head into my hands, rubbing my temples as the voices just…wouldn’t stop, most of the time I’m able to treat them as nothing more than white-noise, a buffer between myself and the din of the city, but…sense I woke up they have been far, far stronger than before, much clearer and the voices more direct and more words coming through instead of just muffled, blurred smears of voices.

“I’ll…leave you to read through that at your own pace. Is there anything I could get brought up to you? Coffee, some juice?”

“Is tea an option?” I asked, she nodded

“I’ll have that brought up” she added as she stood, obviously having pawed through my phonebook thick medical file as she read about everything and anything that has been tested through every system of my body. I’ve probably had more X-rays than anyone, been through an MRI machine more times than I could count…at some point, my blood was probably ten-fifteen present contrast dye used for CAT scans.

She walked out of the room, softly closing the door behind her as her footsteps were barely audible as she walked down the hall of the hospital. I breathed deeply once I knew that nobody, at least that I could tell, was in ear shot…as I just squeakily breathed inwards as my exhale escaped me as a rocking, heavy sob, it wasn’t hard for the tears to start pouring down my face and starting to speckle the bandages wrapped around my hands and arms, I kept my head down as my tears soaked through the top pages of the packet on my lap and with…not a scream or any similar sound, but….a sound the perfectly fit how I felt, I threw the packet against the far wall across from me.