@dienamiite liked for a starter.
harrison has to bring his brother back. it’s not about wanting that — even if he truly does miss his sibling — because it’s never about what he wants. this is a necessity, a burden that’s been placed on his shoulders because this is a task no one else can complete. no child should feel so weighed down, & yet, he’s been cornered into this position. everyone misses his brother, & his parents are terrified of what he’s capable of. he’s the one who made all of this happen, the one who created these rifts ... he ruined everything, & he knows it. that’s why he’s put so much work into figuring out how to bring his brother back. ( if completing this task took his life, he’d give it — such a grim thought for a boy as young & innocent as he is, but in this dark realm of magic, he’s been forced to consider it more than once. )
his parents aren’t home this evening — it’s just him, & he’s chosen to perform his task in the attic. setting everything up without them catching on had been difficult, especially now that even seeing card tricks scares the crap out of them ... but it’s finally ready, & his plans are coming together. wherever his brother is trapped, wherever harrison trapped him ... he’s going to come back tonight. he has to come back tonight.
the boy never wanted to do anything like this. he’s an illusionist, a master of parlor tricks. his interests were ( he assumes ) a coincidence, an ironic trick that the universe has played on him — &, for a while, a guise that masked his true potential. he hadn’t known what he was capable of was unnatural until it was too late, & his brother was nowhere to be found. he’s been studying the darker side of his capabilities on his own, sneaking home library books & researching on his dad’s computer; but this is, by far, the most serious thing he’s attempted to do in his life. candlelight usually seems warm & soft, but the flickering white lights seem menacing as soon as he’s turned off the dim attic lighting. he’s not supposed to show fear, but that’s a difficult task ... he’s only a child, after all, & this isn’t something he’s meant to be doing.
old books are messily stacked all around this space, their musty scent somehow equally familiar & foreign. only one of them is needed in his hands, & he flips through a few pages once he’s seated within the large circle of candles, making sure everything is right. he’s shut off the exits, he’s closed his circle, he’s lit every candle, & he’s spent a painstakingly long time perfecting these detailed runes. one of his brother’s belongings, stolen from that bedroom he’s no longer allowed to enter, rests in the center of his circle — harrison himself is facing it from closer to the edge, but he doesn’t dare disturb the line or move outside of it himself. technically, it’s not too late to go back ... but for him? it might as well be. this still isn’t a choice.
green eyes flutter shut for a moment, & he takes that time to still his own heartbeat before reopening them & focusing on a part of the book that he doesn’t really understand. the language should be completely foreign to him — he’s not even sure what it is — but the words are oddly comfortable when he begins to read, pace quickening with every slippery syllable as he recites the incantation. for harrison, everything seems to go dark, but he manages to keep going — the world is spinning, things are levitating above the wooden floor, & there’s a bright flash followed by intense darkness. everything falls back down with a thud, including harrison himself, & the candles seem to relight themselves. standing before harrison, in place of the object from his brother’s room, is ... another boy, apparently. & he’s not a familiar face in the slightest. when harrison regards him, it’s with mixed feelings, none of them positive. disappointment. guilt. confusion. fear.
❝ ... you’re not my brother. ❞
