Imago: Prologue - A Dying Art

AUTHOR'S NOTE: New story! Well, not quite new. This story is a revamp of an older story I wrote back in 2021. The story is not going to be very different from the original, in fact some of the text is going to be exactly the same - but I wrote it whilst playing on XBox last time so no mods or CC were used. Now I have the option, it will look a lot better and hopefully be cooler. It takes place 300 years after Divided, in the modern day. (You don't need to read Divided to read this one, it will spoil the first Sages and one character death in Divided and that's it.) A good 80% of the plot ideas are from an old Realm of Magic theories thread comment from the official forum by ryttu3k. This was also credited in the original. I have told them this and asked permission to revamp the story to which it was given (thank you < 3)

 

Áine

In the past, people like myself were feared - so much so that we were hunted for centuries.

Whilst the witch-hunts didn't spare anyone of either gender, those who went after us were twice as fearful of the women. We were powerful. We did not do as we were told, and we did not care what was expected of us. We were a living nightmare for the men who made the rules, as well as for the men who broke them. Those who didn't know anything about magic saw themselves as the authorities on the matter, with a Tartosan noble penning a completely-false guide on magic and how to spot a witch.

We were tortured, burned, drowned. Many of the victims were even just regular humans, without a sliver of magic running through their veins. Some were proven posthumously innocent, but what good is proof of innocence when you are not alive to hold them accountable for their mistakes?

Most of my kind were killed. I witnessed the extinction of the mooncasters of old, and it seems the vampires, the descendants of the ancient bloodcasters, may have met the same fate. After years of hard work from magic and mundane folk alike, we managed to overcome the worst of it all.

The history I remember is naught more than inspiration for dreadful literature and movies marred with washed-up starlets these days, a convenient feel-good story of power for the mundane women of today who didn't know a thing about solidarity - who would more than happily throw their fellow brothers and sisters under the bus in a heartbeat so long as they got what they needed. They were not the granddaughters or grandsons of the witches Lord Volpe could not burn. They couldn't tell an Inferniate from a Chillio.

These days, it seems 'witch' is considered greatly offensive to most with the power of magic, given our blood-soaked history. I would have thought that they may have reclaimed it at some point, but it seems that day is yet to come. Now almost everyone sticks with 'spellcaster'. The bloodline spellcasters were what remained of the olden-day witches, the descendants of the lineages of mundane folk and the true witches. Many of these families in the modern day dedicate their lives to keeping the spirit of magic alive- and that is exactly what myself and my fellow Sages do here at my realm.

This pocket dimension, settled snugly on the edges of space and time, is one of my own creation. It is connected to my own life force, a necessary component in the creation of this realm. As I grow older and weaker, the realm begins to crumble more and more. Nevertheless, I will fight to keep the art of magic alive until I turn to dust. 

The teaching of magic is now being passed on to anyone who may want to learn it. About fifty years ago, we finally considered using a spell that would, in theory, imbue a mundane person with the power of magic - and it worked. Thankfully, it is a much safer procedure today.

In my day, non-bloodline spellcasters did not exist; back then, no bloodline caster in the past few hundreds of years would dare share the secrets of their kin with those who sought to destroy them in the past.

For many, my realm is an escape from a world so grounded in reality that it fails to see the beauty of the metaphysical world. It is an escape from a world where those who do not fit the standards of a few are ostracised by the many. Our differences as spellcasters do not matter. All that matters, all that has ever mattered, is our shared passion for magic. As such, our school of magic attracted people from all walks of life, especially those often shut out by the ordinary world.

Of course, this is not something I can do alone. The education of magic is shared between three of us:

 

Practical magic, represented by the level-headed and resourceful Wolf, is taught by Sage Ethren Reyes. He is a relaxed, honest and hardworking man who came to learn Practical magic in his forties to help him deal with arthritic pain, and now he teaches this to his students. Many students of Practical Magic learn it to assist others who otherwise cannot assist themselves in various ways.

 

Ethren has quite a few disabled students who have found learning Practical Magic to be a useful accommodation. Others who learn Practical magic just want to make the necessary activities of life a little easier. Many see it as dull and boring, and dedicated Practical casters aren't always the most extroverted or excitable - but practicality is a necessity. The headstrong natures of the Mischief and Untamed casters would be lost without them.

 

Mischief magic, represented by the cunning and tricky Cat, is taught by Sage Keisha Hughes. She's in her mid-thirties, quirky, and a joker at heart. She used to be a 'magician' at children's parties, until she realised there was much more to magic than illusions and card games. Of course, mischief can easily get out of hand, but it can come in handy for a bit of fun- and can even save a life. Mischief is a popular choice for students who do not have a serious reason for wanting to learn magic, and it's popular with female spellcasters as a form of non-violent self-defence. In my day, it was only taught within small pocket communities as they feared their power would be misused by others. Some consider it even more dangerous than Untamed magic.

 

 

Untamed magic - represented by the ruthless force of nature, the Dragon - is taught by none other than myself. I am  Áine Ó Sé, the last of the true witches. Untamed magic, formerly known as Wild magic, is considered by many to be the most powerful, and most terrifying, school of magic. 

 

Many fear it so much that they never bother to learn any of the spells. Some students learn a few Untamed spells, but many do not dedicate themselves to it anymore. Spellcasting 'politics' often gave Untamed magic a bad name, and had done for years. Many were deathly afraid of it, and plenty of casters worried that growing use of such dangerous magic would ruin our image and potentially reignite historical violence against us.

 

The academy is full of students of all kinds, mostly ranging from sixteen to the early thirties, sometimes even older. Some live here in the Magic Realm's own hall of residence, and others travel here. Not everyone walks or drives. Some use a magical broom to fly on or a glimmerstone, a special stone imbued with the Transportalate spell that allows students to quickly travel to and fro from the Magic Realm and back to where they Transportalated from.

 

Two well-known students of the Magic Realm are Grace Anansi and Tomax Collette. Grace is a descendant of the first Sage of Mischief Magic Katlego Anansi, who was one of my closest friends, and a Mischief caster herself. Tomax hails from Champs les Sims and is a varied caster who dabbles in all three schools of magic. The two of them appear to be in a friendly battle to see who can reach Virtuoso rank first to the point where there is a table of their 'points' on the study area's whiteboard. The entire academy is in on this, so much so that we Sages have offered to throw a realm-wide party for the winner.

 

There's also brother and sister Darrel and Gemma Charm, hailing from the Charm bloodline, with the house animal of the Mare. They seem to get on fairly well and are both Practical casters. Darrel enjoys magical duels and has even started a sort of club for it. Their mother, Minerva, is very particular about them both doing well and this kind of pressure can stress Gemma out, especially since her mother won't let her practice Mischief magic like she wants to. Darrel is a little on-edge sometimes given the history of Charm men meeting an early death. His own father died in an unfortunate accident involving horse-riding a few years ago. Unlike the deaths of past Charm husbands, this death was actually an accident.

I spend the free time I get reading through my own hand-written spell tomes, assuring it is all accurate for the students. Other times, I like to immerse myself in old fairytales or read through my old grimoire, a collaboration between my mother and I. It is wonderful to enjoy some peace and quiet...That is, until Keisha bursts in. 

 

"Áine! I think there are ghosts in the gardens again!"

"Ghosts? Well, this won't do. I don't want the students having to deal w..."

"What? Why are you - Oh. Oh...It's a trick, isn't it?"

Keisha's laugh is equal parts joyful and infuriating. It wouldn't be the first time that I fell for her tricks...

"I'm sorry! I just had to. You're so gullible! Never change, Áine! Never change!"

Keisha snores beside me, and I resist the urge to shake her awake.

"Áine, are you burying yourself in your books again? Come on, get up - there's plenty we can do."

"There's nothing to do. The botanical garden is sorted, the place is clean, and arcane history class isn't for another hour."

"You never know, Áine. Today might be the day someone turns up wanting to dedicate themselves to the Untamed arts."

"I'd have a bigger chance of winning the lottery, Ethren. Besides, you work too hard - come sit here and rest with us."

"I'm doing alright today, actually. I think I've even got it in me to water the gardens."

I never know whether to believe him, but he's much better lately at not pushing himself beyond his limits.

"All that you give me about not overdoing it for the sake of my physical health, and you're not looking after your body or mind, Áine. The hypocrisy!" he says, with a soft chuckle.

"Ethren, my good friend... I fear for the future of this realm."

He gives me a slow nod and a mumble in agreement, in true Ethren fashion. "What did Dr. Annorin say about your condition?"

"She says it seems stable. The results have not changed much as of late, but it's hard to say what to realistically consider to be normal in someone as old as myself, that's the trouble. Either way, it's never too late to have someone take over, just in case. Anything can change at any time, Ethren, I hate to say."

He glances down at the floor with a solemn expression. He knows exactly what I mean; he has no way of predicting whether or not the next day will be productive for him, or spent in bed.

"Out of curiosity...How exactly do you plan to have someone take over the ownership of the realm from you? Surely that's a lot more complicated than just handing the key over."

My necklace hums with power. I clutch it and it softly vibrates between my fingers.

"Indeed it is, Ethren. No, I do not have a solid plan just yet. What I do have is an idea, and that's a good enough place to start. All I can do is hope I am granted the time it will take me to figure it all out."

"Hm. Well, you made the Magic Realm, so you could probably do just about anything else if you put your mind to it."

Morgyn

[Morgyn Ember's journal entry]

Spencer and Wilhelmina are on my case again. They wish I would stop with 'all of this magical nonsense' and 'focus on something more worthwhile'. Ever since I was young, they have been hounding me to work hard so I can go into either law or banking, something we've been doing as a family for hundreds of years. Trouble is, I don't have any interest in either of those things.

The Ember family have been known for putting money and power before everything. They have let some of the most corrupt people in the country get away with their terrible misdeeds untouched by repercussions, and they do not care for the poor at all. Why would I want anything to do with this tarnished bloodline and everything it stands for?

If only something under this roof were my choice.

[There is a scribble of a dragon at the bottom of the page.]

* * *  

I can't stay here any longer.

I can't keep holding back, I can't keep freezing up every time I'm about to stand my ground. If I don't do it now, then I'll never do it.

Ever since I was a child, I have buried myself in fantasy to escape reality. Dragons, knights, witches, I wasn't fussy. I'm still not. Anywhere I can be that is not here is good enough for me. However, as I learned more about real magic and spellcasters, I delved into reading nonfiction about the arcane arts. 

I have been reading A Brief History of the Occult, Third Edition for a long time now- a hefty tome, but an excellent book on the history of magic. The rural town of Glimmerbrook became a safe haven for spellcasters back when it was far more frowned upon. The Magic Realm, an academy for spellcasters, is apparently a dimension all of its own. I would love to go there. I do not believe it is too far from Willow Creek.

I have always dreamed of being a spellcaster, and often pretended to have magic powers in my youth. I'd always hoped there was a way to make my parents disappear into thin air, but sadly, no such spell exists. These days, however, it's possible to just become a spellcaster. Even if you were not born a spellcaster, you can become one. Isn't that fascinating?

I suppose there's no time like the present.

I bury the burning nausea of self-respect down as far as I can shove it and I look up directions to Glimmerbrook. It's about a forty-minute walk from here, and it's dark and freezing cold - but there's a café along the way I can stop off in.

My mother screams up the stairs telling me to go down. As I walk into the dining room, I'm met by her usual signature scowl and my father's narrowed, judging eyes. I takee a deep breath and prepare myself for the worst.

"Your supper is going to be cold if you don't eat it! What was taking you so long? Reading those pathetic books again, were you?"

"What did we tell you about those fantasy books, Morgyn? They're useless. They won't get you far, will they?"

"One moment - why do you have your satchel on you? Where on Earth are you going at this time?"

"I won't be having any supper tonight, Mother."

"And why not?"

There's a tightness in my chest and throat. I'm not even a spellcaster yet and I'm already playing with fire...Oh, well. It's no different than it's always been - knowing every outcome and every decision is met with the same attitude.

"I won't be staying here any longer." 

"That's preposterous!" My mother bangs the table, and my father gasps. "Where else would you go? And more accurately - who else would take you? You disappoint us enough! Do you know how much we pay for your home tuition, Morgyn? Not only are your grades poor, now you've decided that's not good enough for you?!"

On the inside, I am set alight with seething rage. On the outside, I'm as calm as can be. It's a technique I learned online - I try to make myself as uninterested and as unbothered as possible. That way, she cannot feed off of my reactions. Sadly, it doesn't do much, so I am changing my tactic.

"The tutors are terrible. They teach me things either that I already know, don't need to know, that they've already taught me, or can be taught better by online videos. There's a man in Tomarang that taught me more about mathematics in three hours than I learned from that 'tutor' in years!"

"Morgyn, we know what's best for you, and what's best for you is not burying your head in fantasy drivel or rotting your brain with online videos. We are a proud lineage of lawyers and bankers, Morgyn! We've been doing this for as long as we've been around, even back to Regan Ember!"

"Regan was a classist parasite with his head five miles up his rear - rather like you two, come to think of it."

Mother almost jumps out of her chair to wag a finger at me, but she's not quick enough. I grab her wine glass and chuck it all over her expensive designer dress, knocking the wine bottle all over her as well.

Now I am beginning to understand why Mother does what she does. Her reaction to her misfortune is quite enjoyable.

"Spencer? SPENCER! Do something! I can't go to the Landgraabs looking like this! Nancy will never speak to me again!"

"So put on a different dress, my darling."

"Look what you've done! You, you cruel, insolent little - you don't think of anyone except for yourself, do you?! You never have done! All you care about are your stupid little fantasy worlds! You're a disgrace to our bloodline! Just another lazy, incompetent, selfish teenager! Your entire generation are a stain on this country!" 

As much as I'd like to stay and revel in my parents' well-deserved misery, I ought to get going.

 The Willow Creek Coffee Company didn't leave much to the imagination. You only needed to take one look at the interior design and decor to know you were paying far more for a coffee than you should be, but such is the way of modern Willow Creek. It's a popular spot for nightshift workers or university students from Britechester or Foxbury. Still, it's well worth it. The blend of aromas in this coffee lifts a weight off my chest.

All of my family's talk of what they expected out of me drove me to madness. I did not want to be a lawyer, nor a banker! I do not intend to enforce the rules; I intend to break them.

"You're up late, my lovely," says the barista. "Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"It's an inset day tomorrow."

"Ah, I see. I don't keep up with these things. I left school a long time ago."

I don't know if I could do her job. Dealing with two horrific people on a daily basis was enough for me, and even then, it's slightly easier when you know exactly what to expect.

"Can I ask you something, if it's not too personal?"

"Oh? What's the trouble?"

"You must deal with so many terrible people, day in and day out. How on Earth do you cope?"

The barista looks at me a little bug-eyed, and she almost overfills another customer's coffee cup by mistake.

"Oh. Well, I'm not sure, actually, my lovely." She chuckles to herself, trying to regain composure. "I suppose it's the customers like you that make it all worth the while. Otherwise, I don't know. It becomes second nature with age and experience."

The two of us look at each other for an awkward moment, both wishing there was more to life than endurance. I suppose there's coffee...

 

I stay at the café until it's light outside. I should have taken another coffee with me - the cold is bitter, the snowfall is thick, and the only thing that makes up for it is the blanket of show drenching Willow Creek, Finchwick and Glimmerbrook in a Winterfest-esque aesthetic.

Much of old Glimmerbrook has been replaced. A Brief History of the Occult mentions an old arena studded with crystals which is now a bar. The Viridis and Charm mansions still stand proudly, as do the lion and horse statues outside of them.

Eventually, I have to take a rest, and the only place to rest along this long path is in the snow. The River Bagley is completely frozen over, and in about five minutes, I probably will be as well. I have no idea how far I am away from the-

What's that strange sound?

I'm not far from it all! After all of my walking and my poor frozen toes, I've made it! There's a low, humming sound, with an underlying high-pitched sound. The colours swirl inside of the portal, almost like the surface of a bubble. The fire of excitement inside of me warms me up enough to push me forward a little more. As I move towards the portal, the heavy snow finally begins to subside. The sound grows louder, and I can feel a vibration through the freezing soil.

 The portal dwarfs me. It's a little battered, cracked and worn from weather and time alike. The three schools of magic's symbols are etched into the top - the Practical Wolf, the Mischief Cat and the Untamed Dragon. I feel an odd change in the air standing here. It's warmer, and it feels as if gravity is trying to pull at me a little.

I can't believe it. I've heard so many stories about this place, and I've found it. 

This portal is the threshold I must cross if I truly want a fresh start. This is all that stands between my failure and my success, between my misery and my happiness. So why is it that I am so anxious?

For a long time, I've felt like an insect trapped inside of a cocoon - a formless mess trying to rebuild itself from a larva into an adult, unsure of what my final form looks like both physically and metaphorically. With any luck, I will find answers here. Even if I don't, it can't be anywhere near as bad as home. 

There is every chance that I will have to go back. They may call the police, they may report me missing - but if I am lucky, if they really hate me as much as I think, they'll be glad I'm gone. We will see which is more important to Spencer and Wilhelmina - having someone around to control, or being rid of a stain on the Ember image.

The portal reacts strangely to my touch when I reach my hand in, trying to pull me a little. There's a kind of tingling sensation in my arm. I grit my teeth and move through the entire portal. The low sound reverberates through my skull and I fall face-first onto cobblestone. 

As I lift myself up, I notice one of the magic symbols in the stone circle. The sky is a deep purple, there doesn't feel like there's much air here, and the low droning sound is all around me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was dreaming. 

A spellcaster zooms past me at high speed on a broom. People chat and laugh all around me. Everywhere I look, there's a lively energy. I try to steady my breathing. I never would have thought a dimension outside of known time and space to be possible, and yet...and more interesting still, it was magic that created it instead of science.

"Don't worry, mate." A young man offers his hand and helps me to my feet. "You won't be the first and you won't be the last."

I don't respond to him, too distracted by the gorgeous architecture of the school building. Glowing torches light the entrance, and archaic stained glass with moons and flowers decorate the walls. Crystals rise from the ground next to two large sets of curved stairs, and stone dragons guard the doors.

"That bit up there is for the study area. If you're new, keep going forward into the foyer."

Once I shove the doors open, I can't believe what I see. It's beautiful! The walls are jet-black, and blue stars twinkle all over the walls and ceiling, as if I am standing in the Heavens themselves. The walls are full of tapestries and old paintings, and in the center are daunting statues of what I can only assume are the first Sages of the Magic Realm. Katlego Anansi, Sage of Mischief. Owen Annorin, Sage of Alchemy, of which there is no longer a Sage as every Sage is expected to master it. Tsuna, Sage of Practical Magic. Last, but not least...

Áine Ó Sé, Sage of Untamed Magic. Her descendant who wrote the third edition of the Brief History of the Occult writes under the same pen name as her ancestor. That same descendant is the current Sage of Untamed Magic.

I try to gather the little confidence I have to ask around as to where the Sage is, and someone points her out walking down the stairs - a woman with long black hair and a black dress. Weaving through crowds of students with wands and stacks of books in their hands, I manage to catch up to the woman. It takes all of my mental energy to force the words out.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

She turns her head towards me with an inquisitive look in her eyes. I can't quite think of a better description, but there's a hollowness about her. I've never seen anyone so pale. She must barely leave this place.

"Are you Sage Ó Sé?"

 

She has quite a daunting air about her. I feel it's the lack of eyebrows. It's hard to tell quite what she's feeling...

 

"That would be me. Can I help you at all?"

 

"Yes, you can. First off, I just want to say I've been reading A Brief History of the Occult: Third Edition. It's a fantastic look into arcane history and present day matters. Thank you for writing it."

 

She gives me a soft smile and puts a hand to her chest. "That's kind of you to say, my dear. That book took a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and research. I appreciate it. Are you here for anything in particular, or did you just come here to see me?" she asks, with a little laugh.

 

"Both. You see, I'm interested in studying magic here."

 

"Wonderful to have a potential new student on board. Can I ask what you'd be interested in studying?"

 

"Untamed Magic, but I'd also like to learn more arcane history and alchemy, if possible."

 

She looks taken aback. Was it something I said? I hope I didn't sound rude.

 

"Oh! Well, that's fantastic! If you'd like, I have time now to do a little interview with you."

 

"It's no rush. You look busy."

 

"No! Not at all. Come with me."

 

She hurries back up the stairs and I follow her into what looks like a staffroom. There are beautiful old paintings of animals on the walls. I don't hear what she says the first time, mesmerised by the view from the window. I could swear I just saw a piece of broken bridge floating in the air...

 

"We have to gather some details about students for security and vetting reasons. I hope you'll understand."

 

Talking about myself is never a fun ordeal. There are many questions which I'd rather not answer, and yet if I don't answer them, I won't have a chance of studying here. She asks me some basic questions and starts filling in a form. She asks to see some ID, so I show her my Henford Citizen's Card with my name and date of birth on it. Thankfully, sixteen is the minimum age to study here.

 

Then she asks for my gender and pronouns, which I do not expect in the slightest, and I'm almost sick on the floor. She tries to reassure me, saying it's only so she and the Sages refer to us properly. These discoveries are still fairly recent for me, and every time it comes up I find myself suddenly outside of my own body trying to figure it out myself or I'm constantly second-guessing myself. If I am to find a fresh start here, then I have to be honest. 

 

All of these rumours about spellcasting bringing people from all walks of life together, well, I hope they are true. To Hell with it! I tell her I'm nonbinary and use they/them, and she doesn't seem bothered at all by that. I doubt I'm the only one here who does.

 

She then asks about my current schooling. I tell her the truth - that I was homeschooled, but have no plans to pursue further education...at least, not in the typical manner.

 

"Thank you, Morgyn - and now for a few character questions, just to get to know you. What are your motivations for wanting to study here?" 

 

"Hm. Well, I suppose the world of magic has always been my safety net. I grew up reading fantasy and then the real world of magic was opened up to me through various books, including your own. I've had an insatiable curiosity for it ever since."

Sage Ó Sé gives me a nod. "And what is it specifically about Untamed magic that makes you so keen on learning it?"

 

I was waiting for that. I'm not entirely sure myself.

 

"It's often regarded as dangerous and people are fearful of it, but it only makes me want to dedicate myself to it and keep the school alive in my own way. After all, it's like any other tool, isn't it? It's only dangerous in the wrong hands. If everyone avoids it, then I fear it may become obsolete somewhere along the line."

 

Her eyes are intensely focused on my own as I talk, and the murky blue of her irises is a little unsettling the longer you look into them. She clasps her hands together with her elbows on the desk. 

"If I am to tell you the truth, Morgyn...I don't have a single dedicated Untamed caster under this roof. Many dabble in it, but nobody wants to learn it in detail. As for your reasoning, I find it admirable. Many true witch spells have become essentially extinct over the years, as did the vampires and mooncasters...For the next generation to keep the craft fresh and alive, that is half the reason the Magic Realm was established."

I can't believe it. Who wouldn't want to play with fire? It's a little bizarre to me that dedicated Untamed casters are such a rarity - especially with how reckless the people of Henford tend to be.

"Since you do not have magic, you'll have to be ascended as a spellcaster. There will be more details on that once you complete your form, but you will have some extra things to sign. Just as a warning, the ritual will leave you feeling a little strange for a few days - but we'll come to that in more detail later."

How did she know I didn't have magic just by looking at me? Do I have an...'unmagely' look about me?

"The last step will be requiring a signature from a parent or guardian."

I resist the urge to faceplant the desk. Of all things, Sage Ó Sé, why, oh why do you require a parental signature?

"I know you're eager, Morgyn, but we require parental consent from any student under the age of eighteen. It will also be needed as you will have to undergo the Rite of Ascension. We will also require a contact number in case of emergencies."

For goodness's sake. As if Wilhelmina would care about any emergency I find myself in! 

 "I see. I may have to come back in a day or two, then."

"I understand. Just get your parent or guardian to sign and date this letter for me, sign it yourself and then come back here and give it to me, okay? Then we can begin."

I may have to lie to Sage Ó Sé, after all. I didn't want to, but now I have no choice. I can falsify a signature that's different enough from my own. It'll need to be something not too simple to look fake, and not too complicated to look like I tried too hard. It isn't like my mother will ever meet Sage Ó Sé, anyhow. As for a phone number, I could always just use the one on my old phone I haven't touched in years.

"Of course, Sage Ó Sé. I will be back as soon as possible." 

I'm close - so, so close. Just a piece of paper away from a new life!