He tried again. Greeting, doorway, hidden. He felt a tingle, but there was still something wrong. His magic, even the simplest of cantrips was doing nothing for him. He simply could not understand it. Again and again he tried to cast the cantrip without success, until finally, on the fiftieth try, he finally felt something snap open inside him, and a gushing feeling flushed out of his body. He shook slightly and breathed out a black cloud of gas that had bubbled up his throat. The unsealing sensation relaxed Mal in a way that he had never experienced before, not since he had first cast a spell when he was eight years old in front of lord magi Jonathan Crowley, his would-be master for the next thirty-two years and close friend for the rest of his life.
Mal gritted his teeth and breathed out, trying the positions once more. Greeting. Doorway. Hidden. “Obscure!” he shouted, as loud as his young voice could go. Immediately he felt the rush that he had always felt when casting. A thick flame of pure energy rushed from his head down to his chest, then throughout his body as the spell passed out through his fists. A soft light wrapped around him before dissipating into the aether like everything else in the world. Magic came from within, but it was limited and even a simple cantrip like the one that he had just performed completely drained Mal of energy. He knew now that he had to get home soon, or he would collapse and fall asleep for days, vulnerable and alone in the wilderness. In his rush to hide from his potential angry victim, he had forgotten that he would not be able to defend himself after casting the spell.
He swallowed nervously and splashed water on his face, before following the stream back towards Regal Cliffs. It was a ten minute journey, but in his lethargic state he took an hour, finally reaching the edge of the village at almost four in the afternoon. He was messy, tired, and oblivious to his father running up to him with panic on his face. They had obviously been worried about him, so to ease their worries he kissed his father on the cheek and whispered “I’m sorry Daddy. I got lost,” before falling asleep on the man’s shoulder.
His father smiled and took Mal home, putting him to bed before quickly finding Mal’s mother and informing them that their baby had turned up after getting lost in the forest. Together they watched over their son, and called the village healer when they realised that he had not woken up the following day. The healer came, and left extremely shaken. It was like he had seen a ghost, but he would not tell either Eevie or Gawyn what he had seen, only that their son would be back on his feet, with even more energy than before within a couple of days, and that it was nothing to worry about.
Mal awoke three days later to a changed world. It was not changed much to him, but he could feel an air of concern that hovered around all the adults in the village. He quickly greeted his mother with a hug and watched as people sent the occasional furtive glance to the carriage that had been parked outside the town hall.
After about fifteen minutes of idle chatter and worry from his mother he asked, “Mummy, why is the big house making everyone sad?”
Eevie stopped and looked at Mal. She frowned, slightly surprised at her son’s insight, but only dwelling on it for a moment. “That building has a wizard in it, a man with great power. He’s visiting the mayor of the town because something went wrong and he is looking for someone”.
“What’s a wizard Mummy?” Mal replied. He was confused. Wizards were not something he had ever heard about the last time he was alive. It was a new term, but he had no idea what it entailed.
“Baby, there’s some people in this world who are very powerful. Generally they are split into three groups though. Magi, wizards and hedge mages. The magi are considered the strongest of the three, as they are all connected to something called a major arcana. Wizards are connected to a minor arcana, and hedge mages are stuck to something called false arcana”.
This made Mal frown even more. He knew of the major and the minor arcana. They were well documented, studied for thousands of years by the greatest minds of the world, and yet he had never come across false arcana, let alone these new classes of magic users. He wondered what had prompted the change, and whether it was an actual study of magic or instead a bastardisation of what he had known that was the cause.
“What’s an arc ar narr?” Mal said, fishing for more information on the arcana and continuing with his clueless charade.
“Arcana? I’m not really sure. They seem to come in many forms, but there are supposed to be eight major arcana, thirty-six minor arcana and thousands of false arcana. I don’t know what they are, or what that really even means to be honest, but each arcana gives a magi of any kind the ability to use magic and change the world with their spells”.
Mal stopped asking questions and sat in his mother's lap, pondering what she had told him. He wondered if his symbol, the eight spoked wheel, was one of these false arcana or if it was something else entirely. It was practically impossible, but he still held out hope that his new life would let him be something special. Surely the fates could not be so cruel.
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