Bright screens, whirring, city streets dotted with lights, different landmarks and sights passing by, a sense of searching, a sort of urgency? Magic…There was magic…
“CAW!”
Startled, Ian sat up with a deep inhale, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Feeling a sharp tugging at his pajama sleeve shirt, he looked over to see Raven attempting to drag him out of bed.
“All right, all right, I’m going,” he reluctantly threw the blankets off himself and walked sleepily into the bathroom to take a quick refreshing shower. In his mind, that was much better than coffee, the drink River claimed to be superior above all, especially in the morning. The witch was just addicted and didn’t want to admit it, Ian knew. As he stepped out of the shower cabin, he noticed the black raven was perched on a waist-high drawer next to the sink.
“You know that River will blame me if you shed any feathers here again,” Ian complained as he towelled off and dressed for the day, but only got a blink as an answer. With a resigned sigh, he put the towel away for drying, brushed his teeth and combed his hair.
“Come on then,” he told his companion, who then promptly flew to his shoulder and seemed content to dig his sharp claws into Ian’s shoulder while being petted then transported around the house. Ian walked downstairs to the kitchen, used to the slight abuse to his shoulder and not particularly minding the fresh scratches he would have there. A digital clock on a wall showed that it was barely past 7 A.M., something he could have guessed easily enough by looking out any of the windows, had they not been obscured. Preferring the natural light, he moved the curtains and spent a few moments observing the steadily brightening morning sky.
A slight tug at his hair broke Ian out of his reverie and he moved to the counters and prepared breakfast, a simple meal of eggs, bacon and bread for two, and brewed a pot of coffee. As if she had somehow known that a fresh delicacy was waiting for her, River shambled out of her room upstairs, looking worse than he had felt waking up,
“Thought I smelled coffee,” she mumbled, taking a mug and draining it. As always, Ian found it fascinating how that single cup sent such a spark of life into her eyes, as if she really had been raised from the dead. It truly was a sight to behold on someone still alive.
They ate their meal in companionable silence, and Raven stole a strip of bacon even though he did not, strictly speaking, require food to function. Ian stretched when he was done, jostling the bird on his shoulder while doing so, and getting an annoyed peck in condemnation. River tsked at the raven, but Ian could see her hiding a smirk behind the last cup of her coffee. She was about to stand up, but the teen interrupted her “Let me,” and stood up, clearing the dishes himself.
“Aww,” River cooed half-mocking half-serious.
“What a sweet-heart you are,” she ruffled his hair playfully when he passed her on the way back. Embarrassed, Ian ducked to evade any further shows of affection, though he was secretly pleased.
“Master,” he said in order to channel the tutor side of her instead of the motherly one.
“We have a potion to complete.” She stood up and gave him a knowing look, but allowed the transition.
“You have a potion to complete, and I have some experiments to perform,” she then headed to their basement, and Ian followed. A few hours of work later, Ian could without exaggeration say, that his
intermediate-level potion was perfectly made and gave every indication of being exceptionally potent. And while this made him very glad, of course, it also puzzled him – with mana decrease this should have been…well, not exactly impossible, but…improbable for someone like him, at least. As soon as she was done, Ian gave his potion over to River, and though she was surprised she said only
“Well done. Let’s try something more complex next.” Ian did, with the same results – his work was exceptional. Puzzled, but proud, River smiled at him
“I don’t know what happened, but your connection to magic might have finally opened fully. Something to do with maturity perhaps?” Ian was unsure…but there was a way of testing it.
“I’ll be in the backyard,” he ran out, leaving his guardian to her work.
Out in the sun, in the backyard obscured from passers-by by tall hedges, Ian drew an intricate ritualistic circle in a clear patch of earth, setting various ingredients at various points, then sat in the middle, drew out his wand – he
always kept it somewhere on his person – and chanted. For the first time
ever, Ian felt the rise of powerful magic. He finished the ritual by adding a drop of his own blood and one of Raven’s feathers to the circle.
Suddenly, there was an explosion of noise. There was cawing everywhere, the flying of birds dizzying and Ian could only watch the scene for a few moments. Raising an army of corpses was a technique any self-respecting necromancer could do, and something Ian had previously been unable to.
“Quiet,” he commanded and the infernal noise died down as dozens of black beady eyes turned to look at him from trees, hedges, the house’s and shed’s rooftops, a nearby bench, the floor…The ravens were practically littered around and Ian could feel Raven puffing up on his shoulder, whether in challenge or something else he didn’t know.
And then, amidst the silence of black feathers, a white-winged female descended from the sky, handing him a letter, barely saying anything before disappearing. What… Ian blinked. He supposed the various thoughts warring for attention in his mind might be sorted out by the letter. He opened and read it.
What an unlikely explanation…but given all that has happened…Yeah, an evil entity sucking power out of people then giving it to them…So if I suddenly became stronger is whatever apocalyptic plan this thing has near? His musings were interrupted by River’s appearance and exclamation of
“Ian!” He looked at her, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, and passed her over the letter.
“Oh, this explains so much,” she murmured.
“What do you think?” she asked and Ian guessed what she was referring to.
“I would love to go but…” after a brief internal struggle, he continued
“What about you?” River’s look softened to a fully affectionate one and crossing the few steps separating them, she gave him a brief hug.
“I will be fine, son. I have my ways, you know that. Now, let me help you pack. But first, get rid of those infernal noise makers,” she said the last dryly, trying to lighten up the situation.
Two hours later, Ian had everything he could possibly need or want packed in no more than a small black backpack with the essentials, a worn, brown-leather medium-sized suitcase fitting the hard-to-replace arcane items (mostly the tools, but also some ingredients), and a large grey-blue travelling case containing everything else. Raven, the only bird he did not get rid of, was perched on his shoulder. River who made the packing much more efficient was now sitting on his bed, looking tired and somewhat wistful. Ian cleared his throat and initiated a hug, hoping he wasn’t blushing.
“Good-bye,” he said, and picked up the letter from his desk, took a tight hold on all of his belongings, and ripped the missive in half.
