Each library, in its own way, is musty to an extent. Collections of knowledge, upon reaching a certain mass, create an inexplicable gravitational field that appears only to attract dust and deepen shadows between shelves. Candles seem to illuminate only enough to read by, sounds become slightly muffled, and solitude turns more isolated. Even new and clean shelves, upon being laden with enough volumes, appear to moulder in an instant.
Within the academic gloom sat a young kholo, spectacles mended with tape perched at the end of a long muzzle pointed down at one of many tomes laid out on a table. The cub’s posture was more hunched than the usual members of his species from his time bent toward books. Since his rescue, the cub had struggled to fit in among the non-monstrous humanoids in Touvette; adding to this difficulty was the local clothier’s inability to make something that didn’t bulge and stretch in places. As such his student robe caused his adolescent mane to bunch and puff out around his neck. Resting among the stacks, curled but with its own muzzle facing the book as its eyes kept pace with the kholo’s, was a small hyena with a matching mane. On both faces was the glassy look of one who had started with the high of enthusiasm, but was left with the weight of obligation.
Moments later, the kholo yawned then tried to shake the drowsiness from his eyes. This only succeeded in flinging his glasses from his snout. He watched them fly, then sighed when they landed on the floor in two pieces. Being alone in the library, he saw this as an opportunity to test the skills he was laboring toward. With some effort, as a kholo’s natural stance was that of a question mark, he straightened up and took a deep breath. Facing his stricken spectacles, he attempted the verbal and somatic components of the spell as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the silence of the library.
Of all the ways magic could go wrong, from sparks and a fizzle to a fiery BANG, there is no way more disheartening than what happened for the cub: absolutely nothing.
His heart sank and his ears fell. A spark, a light, a crackle, ANYTHING would have at least proven to him that he was making progress. He was sure he had done it all precisely as his master had shown, had been studying for months, and had literally nothing to show for it. He was crestfallen as he retrieved his glasses the mundane way and returned to his seat.
Despair rarely comes in one form at a time. As he sat and stared at the blurs on the page he felt his heart become further weighted down by the events that brought him here years ago, and further by what he had faced since. In his drowsiness the weight was more than he could bear, so he folded his arms in front of him on the table and rested his head against them.
From a railing on a floor high above the cub watched the budding wizard’s master. By the look of him he was old enough to have been dirt’s grandfather, with a wrinkled face like a wax sculpture in a heatwave. He had come to check on the boy since hearing he had been seen rushing in with broken glasses. The wizard trusted the culprits were already being dealt with, so he had decided to follow his protegee from a distance. The boy was proving to be bright, a shining example against the savagery of his kin. Learning common had come to him quickly and the arcane arts seemed to be intuitive for him as well. It pained him however, to see the boy treated so poorly by the others of his relative age. Kholo bands were known to the people of the River Kingdoms, in certain areas nearly everyone had a tale of the carnage they could wreak; but this was just a boy who hadn’t harmed anyone, yet he was treated like a monster.
The wizard watched as the boy had gathered texts and piled them high on a table, then propped one up against a stack and began diligently taking notes. After a while he left and returned, checking in as hours passed. He had been just ready to leave the boy to it when he heard the clatter of spectacles hitting a wooden floor. He watched as his student looked at the glasses, give a masterful attempt at plagiarism, then put his head down in shame. As a teacher it made him proud to see how well his student had learned, but as a wizard it went right up his spine to see someone try to copy another’s casting. When the boy didn’t pick his head up again after a few moments, both sides agreed it was time to make his presence known.
The old wizard gave the table a thump, startling both cubs into consciousness with a yelp.
“Master!” cried the kholo once his blurred vision had focused enough to recognize the man.
“Sleeping were we?” asked the wizard in the way a teacher or a parent does when they know the answer they’ll receive.
“No sir,” answered the boy as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “merely-”
“Good, then I would like you to show me what you’ve learned,” interrupted the wizard as his severe expression turned into a smile, “where are your spectacles?”
The boy sighed and held up the sad sight of his glasses, broken neatly in two pieces.
His master nodded, stared at the glasses for a few moments, before the pieces knitted themselves neatly back together as if they had never broken. As his student gingerly placed them back into place on his snout while he stood, the wizard said, “now, I would like for you to attempt to cast Telekinetic Hand.”
The boy felt a pit open in his stomach and his heart lurch.
After a few moments the wizard spoke again, “something small of course. Here,” one of the books floated from a stack onto an adjacent table, “simply move the book from there, back onto the stack. Simple.”
The hyena on the table perked up with a concerned expression.
The boy, like any his respective age, still had too much pride not to at least attempt a challenge when presented one. He took a deep breath, straightened up once again, and tried the spell precisely as he had earlier.
The boy slumped, feeling ready to burst into tears out of fatigue and a general sense of failure.
His master watched this, watched how the hyena also seemed crestfallen, and nodded, “right.”
The boy looked up, mouth open to speak.
The wizard continued, “you cast the spell perfectly, but for one insurmountable mistake.”
The boy’s ears flattened as his eyes burned in that way one’s do before tears come.
“Do you know what it was?”
The boy’s mouth closed and opened again while his mind raced, reviewing the runes and gestures in his mind’s eye.
His master leaned in close and whispered, “you aren’t me.”
This was such a strange thing for his master to say, that the boy closed his mouth and could only blink up at him in confusion; his heartache replaced with bewilderment.
The wizard sighed dramatically, “I suppose I should have seen it. You’re much too hairy to be me. I had thought my sight was going, but alas…”
“Now, with that in mind,” the wizard continued, “we can adjust, can’t we? Because, if you aren’t me, then why would casting the same as I do work?”
The boy was starting to piece together what his master was saying and nodded along; as did the hyena.
The wizard nodded back and his expression turned thoughtful. “I understand the children are being unkind, treating you as though you are somehow responsible for the actions of those who just happen to share your shape.”
The boy looked down, “I’m a kholo. A savage. They say it’s only a matter of time until-”
“I’ve lived long enough to see so-called savages be more civil and more intelligent by half than many gentile folk I’ve known. I’ve known orcs that have a better grasp of etiquette than elves. I have even had quite the engaging conversation with a Gug over tea. Savage. Bah! I would teach them a lesson myself on the matter, but I think my teeth wouldn’t survive biting anything tougher than chowder.”
The boy was smiling now, his ears perked up, and the hyena was squirming happily on the table.
“That’s better. Now I would like you to attempt the spell again,” he raised a hand to stop the boy’s protest, “but this time I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on how the spell feels for you. How the energy flows between your fingers, how the words roll across your tongue, and the image that brings to your mind as you do it.”
“No buts! Close your eyes and begin.”
The boy nodded and obeyed. He wasn’t very good with abstract, he found his thoughts couldn’t grab onto vagaries, which was why he had so closely mimicked his master’s form; that, and it felt more civilized. His mind wandered, pondering the words his master had said about savagery and about his kholo heritage. His memories of his time before his master were somewhat fuzzy, possibly as a kind of defense against how his tribe’s end had been brought about. Instead his knowledge of his people came more from books and testimonies, neither of which tended to be kind. Then he tugged his attention back to the task at hand.
His mind wound the arcane symbols around, while hazy memories of his birth family swam between. Finally he found one that stood out, clear as crystal. It was one of warmth and care, of tenderness and soft words. He knew it to be his mother, holding him and speaking words he hadn’t understood, with strong and gentle hands. As the memory and thoughts of the spell intermingled, his mouth and hands formed the components of the spell entirely unconsciously.
“Excellent!” the master cheered
The boy’s eyes shot open. He looked at the table for the book and it was gone, then his gaze turned to the stack and he saw it placed atop it with a ghostly hand floating above it similar to his own.
He let out a cheer alongside the hyena’s chatter. “I’ve done it!” he cried and jumped with joy.
“Yes!” his master laughed, “and do you know why that is?”
The boy took a breath to compose himself, “because…”
“Because you cast it as yourself. Just as one may not think for another, at least under normal circumstances, so too can one only cast in their own way. It doesn’t matter the source, be it god or blood, one’s own self is what channels the force. One may fool others, but in the end there is no fooling the energy that flows within us all.”
“Thank you master,” the boy nodded and yawned in tandem with the hyena.
“That hyena of yours is something to consider as well,” his master added, “quite the close bond between you too. But it is late, and I think you best get to bed. I will handle the books.”
The boy nodded and sleepily picked up the dozing hyena before heading off toward his future.
