I sat peacefully in the chaise by the window, enjoying the morning rays of sun peeking into the room and finishing the last chapter of the book Howell had recommended, lest I be responsible for his suicide. The morning had been such a delight I had successfully resisted the urge to stew over the situation, instead treating myself to the amenities of a world blessed with magic. No maids in sight, and not a speck of dust settled on any single piece of furniture thanks to the innovative development of household charms. There was a constant, pleasant light scent like a breeze through a flower garden that drifted about the room. I even had a gorgeous self-heating kettle and tea station nestled in the corner, and was sipping the most lovely lavender tea I’d ever tasted. One could almost forget they are a literal harbinger of doom. I felt a bit of sweat form at my brow at the thought and casually swiped it with the back of my fingers. Almost…

I snapped the book shut with a sigh, the heartwarming ending losing a bit of its effect thanks to my incoming stress. I was thankful my new dad would be inviting me down for our strategy session soon–it felt nice to know I’d have a partner in all this–but there was so much to figure out without him. I’d slept, dreamt, and awoken, further proving what I knew in my gut to be true: this world was real, as was my presence in it. How I’d come here and whether I could return was impossible to know, but I could feel my survival instinct under the surface warning me to take this world seriously, to stay alive. The problem was, my knowledge of the world was also flawed…

I padded over to the desk on the opposite wall, grabbed a notebook and pen, and retreated back to the comfort of my chaise, pen scratching angrily against the paper as I began to jot down the details, listing the members of the house. The game I’d begun creating was both clearly the same world as this one, and also clearly not an accurate or exact depiction of events. For starters, I’d awoken in this body after the Ascencion ceremony, when in my game it had been the first major event, and had gone quite differently. The characters seemed to be consistent so far, much to my delight at the opportunity to meet my beloved creations, but the plot was not, which was more than a little worrying. 

The fact that I hadn’t completed Ascension presented an interesting twist, and an opportunity. It’s possible I can bypass the entire storyline and stay safe by preventing the manifestation of my full dark magic. But I also knew, based on the plot, that there was an underlying organization laying in wait for the prophesied dark magic user to appear and capitalize on them, and that I had entertained the possibility they had divined who the black magic user would be. And even if not, the way my first ceremony had gone was enough to tip them off. I mentally kicked myself for not developing the villains of the story more fully first, wishing I hadn’t allowed myself to fly by the seat of my pants and figure it out as I wrote, procrastinating to the very end. 

Then of course, there was the question of whether it would be actually possible to prevent or fake the ascension ceremony… I rubbed my temples, letting out a deep sigh. I also prefer to have as much power here as possible to protect myself, and refusing to ascend would be unnecessarily handicapping myself. When I’d designed the game, dark magic was not the all-consuming power it seemed, but more like a conduit: the ability to absorb and redistribute or transfer power. The prophecy that implied dark magic was like a black hole, a growing void that sucked everything into it, was false and based on fear and ignorance. Instead, as a dark magic user, I could choose to draw away power and even store a modest amount of power within myself, or even inappropriate crystals and gems for later use. If I faked ascension, I would be essentially powerless without any developed magic and would likely have to avoid attending the Academy. It meant lowering the status of our house even further, and being a failure in the eyes of the kingdom. But at least we wouldn’t be persecuted…

I was doing mental backflips trying to come to a solution when a soft knock sounded on the door. Time already?

“Come in!” I called out, sitting up straighter. My father only peeked his head in, cheerily announcing “I had breakfast prepared for us in the garden today to lift your spirits. Are you up to the walk?”

At the mention of the garden I sprang to my feet, saying yes much too quickly and excitedly following him out the door, a little bounce in my step as we went. I may have been chronically inside in my last life, confined to my small corner of a concrete city with little to look at, but the world I’d designed was meant to be lush and overgrown, powered by the magics running through the world and refined by the people, for the most unrealistically gorgeous settings I could think of. I couldn’t wait to see the reality, though I kept chanting to myself it couldn’t possibly live up to the wild expectations of my overly flowery writing. 

As we rounded the corner to the garden, I froze. Oh. I almost chuckled at my own arrogance. And here I thought it wouldn’t meet my standards. Truly, it was beyond what I had come up with and made me feel as if my imagination was narrow and limited. Flowers bloomed in every color, some showing a faint luminescence, and vines grew as if they were structures themselves, creating beautiful arches and sculpture-like towering shapes. There was grass and moss living in colorful, inviting harmony in a patch in a corner nook with a flower like a wisteria hanging from above that I had the sudden and desperate urge to take a nap in. I was gazing at it forlornly when I heard the Baron’s sharp laugh and realized I had lost myself.  “Don’t worry, we’ve kept your sacred spot safe for you,” he teased, eyes glinting back at me before he turned to the long table in the center. I smiled and caught up, mentally patting Silvana on the back for her good taste.

When I got to his side my mouth watered, looking at a display like a fairy’s feast laden with mounds of fruit, cheese, and the cutest array of dainty cakes I had ever seen. I popped one of the mini slices with a perfectly bright red strawberry on top into my mouth and muttered approvingly as I chewed. My father was chuckling again and I coughed lightly to hide my embarrassment at the impropriety, but he teased me anyway, “Glad your appetite hasn’t left you! Let’s sit.”

He pulled my chair out for me with a showy bow and helped me scoot into place. I chuckled at his antics, and he produced a teacup from seemingly nowhere for my pleasure with a playful wink. I sipped obligingly, pleasantly surprised at the strength of the unusual dark brew. 

I met his eyes across the table and my joy faded, taking in the dark circles he had attempted to hide and the heaviness in his eyes. Of course, he’s worried for his only child. I smiled reassuringly at him across the table.

“Truly I am feeling much better father, and I feel we may have more options than you realize.” He raised his eyebrows in surprise at this, and I continued, “I don’t think we need to fear my magic. I know it sounds crazy but I know in my gut it isn’t dangerous to me, and though it seems counterintuitive I believe it could even help us in our efforts to hide.” He scratched at his chin, answering in a puzzled tone, “You’re arguing you should complete the ascension? But you have to know that revealing your magic will lead to imprisonment?” I understood his concern–if the world was anything like my writing, the kingdom in power was ruled by a tyrant king who believed himself chosen by the gods, despite lacking the light magic of nearly every other king. The king’s family line was full of light magic casters, and promises to defeat darkness were common in their speeches, but sadly the current king was a common water magic user, much to his chagrin and denial. The prophecy was held in high regard, and in my writing the kingdom had sought to imprison Silvana via a rather long process of “verifying” her status of Harbinger and turning the public on her. She had been forced to submit to study of her magic in the Academy (where luckily, her primary Professor was a conquerable character whose open curiosity about the world far outweighed his prejudice towards dark magic), and then slowly set up for more and more public persecution until the date of a public trial, set for a full year from her ascension. Without winning the affection and protection of one of the conquerable characters before the trial, she dies; and if she does not successfully identify the plot to make her the Harbinger… My eyes flicked up to meet the Baron’s. My father’s, I corrected myself internally. If we don’t uncover the truth of the prophecy and the group that seeks to abuse it, he will die too. 

“What if it were possible to ascend, and still hide that I had done so?” I questioned him and he paused, scratching his chin. 

“I am concerned about the effects ascension will have on you, I’m not sure we should risk it. But theoretically, at least for other types of magic, if you were already ascended, touching an ascension crystal would have no affect on you…” I could see the wheels in his head spinning more rapidly. “I suppose you could even more easily fake the ascension if you had control over your power to subdue it.” His eyes met mine, as he considered the options grimly. I kept his stare, waiting for his assessment of my idea. This is the best of both worlds–I can hide that I’m a dark magic user, avoiding the worst restrictions of the game plot, and still have the power to survive the later events. 

“This makes me deeply anxious Silvana… We have no idea what it means to be a dark magic user. What if you’re wrong, and dark magic can perform harm to your body and health, in the same way light magic users seem to live longer?” I was quiet at this–I couldn’t really refute it. But what choice did I have? I couldn’t come out and say I was weighing living a year or less as the alternative… Or could I? In a brief moment of lunacy, I considered telling my father the things I had no business knowing. But maybe there’s a way…

I considered my words carefully. “Father, I believe there is a strong chance that some will take the events of the ascension ceremony as proof of dark magic anyway. Performing a private ceremony will equally fuel rumors.” Not to mention that we are relatively poor for nobility and our low rank makes us easy to pick on. “In an unascended state, with no true power to wield, I will be fully vulnerable to any future tests or attacks we can’t plan for; but with control of my magic it is possible I can more easily survive. We can test the abilities of dark magic together, here, with enough time to prepare for the Academy.” If I was correct, I would be able to essentially absorb any form of magic I needed, store it, and pull it out for use. It was, admittedly, OP–any magic used against me I could absorb as well, up to my limit and then direct it out. It was essentially impossible to do me harm with magic power. It would also make faking another sort of magic, or continuing the idea that I have affinity with multiple types of magic, massively easier. I was abandoning my plot altogether here, but I knew in my gut this was the best way. This is my best ally, I need to take advantage of that. My chances of survival and even a happy life, with or without the conquerable characters, were infinitely larger if my dark magic remained a secret.

“That again assumes dark magic won’t hurt you.” His firm tone was laden with concern, and I couldn’t blame him. I had a little fear sitting uncomfortably in my belly as well, as I was banking on knowledge of a world I had already proven I didn’t know as well as I thought. But the extreme consistencies that do exist are the only advantage I have, and a life with no magic is far too distant from the realm of the known to bank on. 

“No other form of magic has such an effect. Even the light magic users you refer to are likely more the result of the pampering the royal family receives than an effect on lifespan due to magic; they don’t live so long it’s unnatural.” He muttered somewhat agreeably and continued deliberating, lost in his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at me and said heavily, “Well… then we better prepare to ascend you.”