Far away, in a distant world, a group of people in red robes convened inside a tower, one of many hideouts for their order.

“Tim, that was cutting it close. The Star Tunnel almost warped you,” a member of the order spoke. His hood hung haphazardly off his neck, and underneath the red fabric, a white lab coat nearly touched the floor. He removed a bandage from his almost scar-less ear. Giving it one rub over, he let his hand fall to the cold exterior. For a mirthful name such as Wishes of the People, their sense of decor spoke otherwise.

“I wanted to have a word with one of your star pupils. It’s not good manners to leave without saying goodbye and a present.” Tim perched himself on a massive chair made of brown and black twisted wood.

Resting an elbow on the circular table, the man responded with a dry hack. By returning to the order, he had already renounced his previous occupation; but somehow he couldn’t let go of the lab coat, which felt perfect on him.

“The decennial census of the order always wishes to recruit fresh talent. It’s unfortunate that the one-time transmigration magic didn’t include Lark, but perhaps that is fate.”

“I, for one, am glad! Did you see that bloodthirst?” A woman no longer hiding behind her facade of a teacher, jeered. The index finger that was shot off during the battle was already reattached with no lingering scorch marks. The crimson-colored handguns, which the order used, delivered an extra burn effect with the psionic bullets. It was as if she hadn’t lost a finger at all, save for some phantom pain. “Blew it right off like it was nothing! You outta know, I was like a mother to that boy.”

“Goo'ness gracious, that’s a helluva mother.” Tim cawed like a crow and withdrew a bottle of liquor with a mysterious purple tint to it from his ring. The label on the high shoulder bottle read: Fae Blood. No one in the order could ascertain if it was the actual blood of a fae, but its sweet scent was reminiscent of the nectar in Ambrosia. And it was only its distinct whiff that the other members could taste. If only being near the liquor could enrich the soul, then imagine drinking it!

“A drink to saintly mothers,” Tim raised the bottle to his lips, while the others swallowed their mouth water. Fae Blood was as rare as a white stag, and only certain magic merchants could sell them for an astronomical price. Not even all the stars you could grab with one sweep of a hand could afford one bottle of this special liquor.

Mrs. Zayne coldly harrumphed as she ran her tongue over her dry bottom lip. “Never mind about losing a precious piece, what about that present you decided not to bring with us.”

“Oh? The strange assassin butler?” While Tim laughed, some purple liquid flew out with that spittle. The other red-robed members could only feel a splinter of their heart break. Some even had devious thoughts of coveting the special Fae Blood but held it down due to the status of Tim’s ring. Unlike their green spiral rings, the dark blue ones were awarded to those who met certain, unknown requirements of the order. In other words, they’ve risked their lives to complete a quest that greatly benefited the upper hierarchy in Wishes of the People. Of the thirty present members, Tim was one of ten members they’ve seen with the special ring, and he was one of the more pleasant kind in spite of his strange quirks.

Tim cradled the bottle of Fae Blood in his arms like a strange instrument and sang like a drunken muse in a bar.

“The convergence of Celestia,
Sacrificial lambs to Gaia,
And lost herds to Volaria,
In search of a myth
And what do have here,
Only memories and broken meridians.”

He spoke in rhyme and riddles to the headache of his co-workers. Tim touched his forehead with three fingers and traced them around his face down to his chest.

“Three broken foundations,
And forced awakenings
Will lead to corruption,
And untimely endings,”

Taking a break from his refrains, Tim pressed the glass bottle against his cheek and spoke again with clarity in his eyes this time. “My present should break the boy’s heart all over again, and I wish I could’ve stayed longer to see it. The sadness, the anger, and then the spike in his growth.”

He commiserated over the loss and took another swig of the half-empty Fae Blood when his ring glowed.

“The recipients of the transmigration spell have all arrived in their new respective homes,” he said to everyone in the tower. “And oh, what’s this?”

Within the ring, a message that only he could see showed the bright iridescent soul of the other star pupil. He winked at the Zaynes.

“When one old star dies, the universe dims for a moment until a nascent supernova appears! Finally, something worth celebrating!” Exulting in whatever he saw, he downed the entire bottle of Fae Blood like water to the upset of the party.

 

---

It was getting worse. Lark rubbed the morning crust off the corner of his eyes as he planted his feet on the ground he couldn’t see. He could feel the yellow, grained threads brush in between his toes, but when he looked down only a moldy cheese entered his sight. His hand inched over to the nightstand, where he kept his prescription glasses.

Like a windshield wiper mopping off the condensed murkiness from the morning air, his vision refocused on his feet entrenched in his grandmother’s favorite daisy carpet. He looked behind him on his bed and saw Gushi flattening himself over his duvet.

“Morning Gushi.”

Reacting to his owner’s voice, Gushi bounced up from its strange stretch and bounded like a puppy onto to Lark’s lap. Lark picked up Gushi like how Mishka cuddled cat plushies and smothered him with love, cheek to cheek. “How do I get my skin so supple like yours?” Lark murmured as he held the squirming Gushi. “Yeah, you hungry? Let’s go see what Wangshi cooked!” He beamed.

Gushi could only look at his owner with a slight head tilt.

Lark brushed his teeth, took a shower, and inserted two, fresh contact lens over his cornea. He hated the feeling of poking his own eye, but seeing as his old contacts slipped out of place, he needed new ones to see clearly. Checking to see if they were fitted on correctly, Lark zoomed in closer to the bathroom mirror. The grey color of the lens shimmered in the reflection, and Lark winked at himself.

He jogged down to the kitchen with Gushi stuck on his back. Wangshi was nowhere to be seen, but the dining table was filled with toast, jam, tuna, and other toppings. Gushi flew off Lark’s shoulders and landed on the table, observing each goodie. Lark told the slime to help himself, but mind its manners and don’t eat the plates.

Lark bit into a piece of toast and turned on the T.V. next to the bookcase. Almost all the news channels repeated the same things: deadliest terrorist attack in the world, floating questions about what happened to the specialized government agency meant to counter the cultists, what was the government doing, memorial services, and survivor testimonials. Then there were also the conspiracy theorists gaining traction for asking, “Well, where are the bodies?”

He clicked to his favorite local channel where the two news anchors were both camera-friendly, and intelligent. Benny Holland and Paula Watts were his favorite charismatic reporters, maybe its because they had actual news-reporting experience in the field that translated over to their opinion pieces.

Benny already began the morning news segment with his opening statement: “Morning California viewers, it’s been three days since the event the world is calling ‘The Worst Global Terrorist Attack.’”

Followed by Paula’s sensational input, “That’s right Benny, over tens of thousands people from across the globe reported to have been lost due to the unknown objectives of the Anti-alien cultists. I can’t even wrap my head around that astronomical number. Benny, people are so scared to even look out their homes.”

“I know, and many people are asking what in the world happened. Even our local high school, Dubois High, was not left unscathed. Over two-hundred families have been tragically affected by what was supposed to be a normal day at school for their loved ones. Meanwhile, the state capital of California, Sacramento, has also made a statement about lost staff members and expressed that they’re doing everything possible to learn about the incident. Meanwhile, the Governors of every state are adjoining an emergency meeting with the federal government, and the federal government is convening a meeting with other world governments. Paula, this fiasco goes so high up the ladder, it’s hard to predict what will come to pass.”

“What I don’t understand, Benny is how nobody knows how these people simply disappeared. In the modern age of information processing, smartphones everywhere, and alien technology…how is it that no one captured anything?”

“Well, for one thing, these were all isolated incidents. And people were complacent with the support of alien technology. You remember that incident with the Redlines Airship? Zero casualties and all the perpetrators in the event were caught due to the might of alien technology safely engulfing the riders into a nearly indestructible capsule. While the government agency swiftly caught those behind the attack. For the years to come, I have to say not just America, but the entire world has to stay vigilant.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Paula said to Benny, and then faced the camera with a poised look. “Coming up, a Dubois student’s harrowing tale of being one of the few survivors in one the deadliest attacks in history.”

A picture of the female soccer manager floated up to the right corner of the screen and Lark’s toast fell out of his mouth. Daisy survived? Her crying face popped onto the screen as she told the world how she was at a doctor’s appointment and didn’t feel better until after lunch hours when she decided to go back to school. She blew her nose, wailing how she thought it was so strange no one was at school and that she thought the school was playing a strange prank on her.

He promptly turned the T.V. off. The lucky survivors of the incident were only a handful of students who had excuses not to go in the morning. So what was his story? Did Mr. Federov already come up with a cover-up to explain how he lived? Lark rubbed the side of his neck, as he considered how the information blackout was progressing. Paula raised good points and the conspiracy theorists were gaining a reputation. How long could this be covered up to keep the calm?

“Gushi, come over here.” Lark beckoned the slime, who stood over a fried egg. As if growling, Gushi expanded and wiggled its body over the yellow yolk, before slinking away to its spot on Lark’s back.

The bookcase flipped over and Grandpa Rune greeted Lark. “How was school Lark?”

“Ditching,” Lark answered.

“Very good,” Grandpa Rune said before disappearing. Was he playing hooky too?

Lark settled himself in the chair and cleared some space for himself on the U-shaped desk, while Gushi settled himself on a workbench next to the coffeemaker. Lark turned on his spatial ring and pulled out all the materials inside including the flash drive, their backpacks, slime crystals, batwings, a few coins, the unknown plant filaments, and scary-looking potions that came with what looked like a potion-making tool-kit.

First, he emptied Sky’s and Mishka’s backpacks. He took his own flash drive and downloaded whatever files they had on their laptops to his own. He would finish what they started and give the information back to Mishka whenever he makes it to Terragon. He placed their backpacks away in the room and moved on to the flash drive Mr. Federov gave him.

He clicked it open on his grandfather’s desktop. A list of files appeared on the screen, each categorized by worlds and what looked like lesson plans. The worlds were listed in descending alphabetical order: Avalon, Celestia, Pantheon, Terragon, Volaria, and Zzz. Lark squinted at that last one, who named their homeworld three letters, or maybe it was a lost in translation thing. Avalon and Pantheon sounded like familiar places on Earth, and a quick search engine prompted links for legendary places in books. He frowned as his head buzzed over whether or not these worlds related to Arthurian or Roman legends.

He clicked on the file labeled Terragon and hundreds of documents lined up for him; likely lesson plans Bon and Mr. Federov combined together to teach Mishka about her magical roots.

A document titled, Old Magic and New Magic, piqued his interest.

“Lesson 1: What is Old Magic?

Old Magic or what we called in our native tongue, Wicca Vicar, a sacred magic that began since time immemorial includes ancient artifacts, inscriptions, scrolls, grimoires, runes, mana, spiritual powers, natural energy, potions, enchantments(blessings), and lost arts. Each listed item will be discussed further in future lesson plans.

Lesson 2: What is New Magic?

New Magic, known as the generational term encompasses new experimental types of Vicar. To best describe it, New Magic explores a new type of energy known as psionic powers. These psionic powers were once thought to be demonic. People would hear voices, believe they could move objects with their mind, and so on. The last generation of Terragonians discovered that psionic energy could manifest itself as ‘matter.’ An example of this is the recent innovation we’ve seen on Earth, the sound barrier—”

Lark stopped reading and sucked in a deep breath. The Trinity Watch had so many mysteries to it, and he wondered it had contained other magical properties before reading further.

“—which uses psionic energy to materialize a thin layer around the user. It shows an illusion of not allowing sound to pass through an invisible membrane, but it’s actually a thinly veiled layer of psionic energy that can easily be broken by stepping into the user’s personal space. Other forms of new magic include cosmic energy, pill creation, and technology from power crystals(RGBIV). Please ask Bon, if you have more questions.”

Lark’s head felt like scrambled eggs by the end of Lesson 2. If this were a textbook, no doubt the entire document would be highlighted with random questions and doodles on the margins.

He clicked out of the document and typed in ‘spells’ in the search engine.

There were over three hundred entries, but he clicked the first one that talked about magic circles. After perusing the document, Lark discovered that spells were categorized by ranks and affinities.

Branching off the Old Magic system, affinities were based on natural energy from the environment. This included what Lark imagined to be the ultimate goal of mortals on Earth, which was to have full control over the environment. Control over water, fire, air, and earth were common affinities. Uncommon affinities included thunder, metal, wood, and ‘others.’ Rare affinities occurred only in 1 of 100,000 individuals and they were often protected by the state. These individuals would have affinities with either darkness, light, or astral. People could also develop more than one affinity, which was uncommon, but not unheard of. The extent of how many affinities one could handle remained unknown.

Diving in further into the text, spells were ranked by difficulty and rarity. Known magic spells were ordered from F, being the least difficult, to A, the most difficult and rare kind of magic spell. Other spells that could not be categorized by this system would be assorted into another ‘box’ under research.

And by the Old Magic system, all these spells required mana, a type of magic force prevalent in nature that the user would gather inside themselves or an object before casting a spell.

Lark stopped staring at the screen and pinched the bridge of his nose; he felt like he was receiving a head rush. It was the beginning of the 22nd century, and the world still hadn’t figured out how to download information straight into their brains yet.

He whistled over Gushi, who played with all the toys in the laboratory. Gushi spat out the fox-ear hearing aids, before jumping into Lark’s arms.

“Hey Gushi, I couldn’t find anything about slimes on the flash drive, but do you think you could absorb these crystals and batwings to power-up or something?”

He had just finished reading a section about power crystals that magic practitioners used to expand their pool of mana. The power crystals had more uses that Lark had yet to read about, but he wanted to test out the idea right away.

Lark swept his arm across the goods and brought them closer to Gushi, who seemed to like the experiment. The silver slime quickly engulfed 40 slimy batwings, effectively cleaning the goop off the table and 22 slime crystals. Lark felt a bit strange with the last one, thinking maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to practice slime cannibalism, but Gushi seemed okay, cheerful even. And then Lark suddenly felt fearful of his slime pet.

Exercising the same move that expanded its body to great heights, Gushi’s body boiled, and all the suspended materials dissolved.

Lark couldn’t tell what changed inside of Gushi, except that maybe the slimy coat became shinier?

Noticing his owner’s curious eyes, Gushi performed his jiggly pudding dance and glowed!

“Whoa.” Lark pulled his face back, thinking Gushi was undergoing some sort of monster evolution.

When two tiny, tiny wings emerged on the side of Gushi’s silver body, Lark cupped a hand over his mouth to prevent the sound of laughter escaping him. Gushi bounced around the desk very satisfied with the extra limbs, then he glowed again and the wings disappeared. A short antenna-looking bubble formed over Gushi’s head instead.

Lark nodded as if he understood all the mechanics behind Gushi’s body. He patted Gushi’s head but inwardly cried having no idea if eating the crystals was actually a good thing or not. He resumed back to examining what was left on the desk, temporarily putting Gushi’s new abilities in the back of his mind.

Looking at his over-shoulder backpack, a flashbulb went off in his head as he dove towards it. The pure alien object Grandpa Rune hid was still inside there!

Just as he first found it, the gray pyramid with weird lines sat in the middle of his palm. Mishka had said before, he could perform a Blood Rite to discover what properties it had. He wondered why she didn’t say it during the day she and Sky came over.

He typed in ‘Blood Rite’ into the search engine. An entry popped up under ‘Old Magic.’

“Lesson 34: Blood Rites

Blood Rites are one way of preserving ownership over a piece of magical equipment. The history of Blood Rites goes back eons…”

In other words, Uncle Bon and Mr. Federov had no idea how it worked.

“By dropping the user’s blood over the magic equipment, they are able to bind it to their physical body. Blood Rites also allow others to covet other magical equipment as long as they are not soul-bounded(refer to Lesson 40). If a user performs a Blood Rite over a soul-bound object, that user may undergo spiritual attacks(refer to Lesson 88), which can cause soul-death(Lesson 89).”

That did not sound good. Lark looked at the gray pyramid again to weigh the risks. But before he looked for Wangshi to plan out the highly risky Blood Rite, he searched for Lesson 88 and 89.

Turned out Bon or Mr. Federov didn’t have much information on matters of the soul, except that soul-binding was a complicated process that required a high-level magician adept with Contract Magic. Lark guessed the mysterious inventor behind the Trinity Watch was some sort of hidden expert, or a magic merchant if there was a job like that. Soul-death, on the other hand, sounded scarier than physical death. Upon soul-death, reapers from the underworld would gamble over your soul to become one of their minions. At least with physical death, your body could be revived with the right timing and magic or you just simply die. That’s not too terrible…?

Lark turned off the monitor, which bleeped off like his mind, and went outside with Gushi to look for Wangshi.

The kitchen was unusually absent of pungent tea and it was nearly noon, which worried Lark, seeing as none of the breakfast trays were touched after he and Gushi left. Wangshi would never leave dishes sitting out in the open for so many hours. Unease settled in as he walked outside.

The front door to Wangshi’s penthouse was unlocked.

Lark whispered to Gushi, “Stay close.” He reached into his spatial ring for the baseball bat.

Pushing the front knob, Lark took the first step inside. His heartbeat quickened as he saw the deep cuts embedded along the walls and the imported zebra-print carpet his grandmother loved was in pieces.

His jaw tightened at the sight. Walking between the strewn white, and black fabric, he noticed pieces of china and jewelry his grandmother collected also broken; so that meant whoever did this, did not intend on robbing them.

The cuts along the bare walls grew deeper and longer as he approached further inside. If walls could bleed, they’d be screaming.

Gushi and his bubble antenna bounded up ahead to the next room before Lark could say stop.

“Gushi!” Lark ran after him. “Careful!”

Rounding to the open area in the next room, Lark stood frozen, feeling his breath leave him.

Lying paralyzed on the floor with his eyes closed was his caretaker with frothy, blood still spooling out of his mouth.