The Origin's of Magic

Golden Death… golden destruction

‘You’re quiet Em,’ her mother said, ‘you’re not still hung up on…’

Her knife and fork clattered onto her plate. ‘No!’ 

‘It doesn’t sound like…’

‘Mom please stop.’

‘Can I be excused?’

She was already halfway out of her chair, her dinner lay uneaten. 

‘Emily, it’s over now —

‘Mom!’ Beverly Vase leant back. She didn’t want to get into this. Her mom hadn’t been happy when it had happened. She had been embarrassed, and, it was for such a trivial reason in comparison to what she had seen. The vision threatened to spill over. But, she held it back. Just.

If only her mom knew what she did… if she had seen more than her daughter clinging to an antique stick… but, she wouldn’t understand, she would think it was crazy, nuts… anyone would. She had no one to talk to.

‘Go Em,’ her dad said gently, ‘I’ll bring something up for you.’

Her mom started to argue, but, she was already halfway up the stairs.

She closed her door behind her and sank against it, she managed a dry sob before she succumbed, the vision squirmed through her defences and took control of her mind. She couldn’t fight it. It was there, on the edge of her conscious, every second of every moment. If only she could forget, just for a moment… a second of peace. But, it was not to be.

There was a boy standing in the middle of a room. He was a sight. Golden hair, green-gold eyes, his skin so tanned he seemed to radiate an aura, but, it was tarnished as soon as he touched the sceptre; the same one she had grabbed onto what felt like a lifetime ago. The staff emitted a soft bronze glow and from his feet spread death — pure untainted evil. The tendrils of shadows spread silently from his feet like black veins, everything they touched crumbled to ashes, blood and bone, nothing stood against it, nothing could. Buildings dissolved, forests burnt, the ocean sizzled, people bled, their bones folding in on their own bodies. It was grotesque. It stretched on and on until darkness. Her mind reeled. Her eyes flew open, opaque orbs that reflected the c*****e of what was coming. Until the images reflected in them faded away leaving her with a brief moment of peace.

It was chaos after that. She had clung to the antique artefact like it was a lifeline. Her mother had tried to yank it free. Embarrassed at the attention her daughter was drawing. 

After they had been ushered out of the museum. She had been chastised by her mother, but, she didn’t tell her she had actually fallen, that it hadn’t been on purpose. She couldn’t. What she had seen played over and over and over in her mind, and it had continued since that day. The end of the world, an ending only she could see.

She opened her eyes, she was lying on her side, her face wet with tears. 

‘Emily,’ the concern in her dad’s voice was enough to get her moving.

‘Coming,’ she managed, but, she realised the door was pressed against her back. He had tried to open it and it was wedged against her.

She looked up and saw his grey eyes peering down at her. 

‘Are you alright?’ 

She got to her feet unsteadily. Unsure of what to say. Her thoughts were muddled and Phil hadn’t been the same lately. Ever since the vision, he had become a wall of stone, his normal buoyancy emotions hidden. She normally relied on her dad to support her through some of her mom’s more irate behaviour. But, now he had distanced himself as if he knew something had changed; as if she was contagious.

However, he was her dad. ‘No dad,’ she decided, ‘I’m not.’

She let him in, moving slowly to sit on her bed. Her limbs were locked and her whole body was stiff from tension.

He took a seat on her desk chair, swivelling it to face her. He looked directly into her eyes; mirrors of stormy clouds glistened to and fro, like the waves of a turbulent sea.

‘What did you see Em?’ 

The question was so abrupt. So unexpected that she stumbled for a reply, she blurted out the only thing she could, a rushed jumble of.  ‘Whatdoyoumean, whadditISee?’ 

Her dad inclined his head as if to hear better, then again he had always understood her. ‘You are a Visionary,’ he proclaimed as if that should mean something to her.

‘A what?’ 

Her father blinked rapidly at that, unfairly taken aback that she didn’t know. ‘Its…’ 

He lost thread of what he was saying, and then changed track as of he’d meant to. ‘It’s a type of magic.’

The word magic distracted her from the bizarre response. ‘What do you mean magic?’

‘Em, my knowledge is limited,’ he looked confused for a second before he arranged his thoughts, ‘my memories are vague. In fact if I didn’t get an occasional vision I would think I had just made up my own story and had been telling it for so long that I started to believe it myself.’

‘Ah, getting old Phil,’ she joked attempting to ignore the concern that his words had dredged up. The notion that her dad could help, that she wasn’t alone in this eased her heart in ways she couldn’t describe. 

Her dad barked with laughter. ‘Ah kiddo you got me.’

‘But, what do you mean vision?’ She asked. She had to know more.

Her dad pursed his lips, straining to explain or remember. 

He appeared at a loss, as if he were trying to recall something from a long time ago. ‘It’s difficult to explain, but, when I put my hands on certain things I get pulled away from this reality and into another.’

The idea of magic would’ve enthralled her before she had seen what she had, but, if there was any truth to what she had witnessed, well — it wasn’t all that her books made it out to be…

Still concerned, she turned away so Phil didn’t catch her anxious expression. But, he was her dad, he didn’t miss much. 

‘Emily…’

She knew any mention of what she had seen would make this about as off limits as boys. 

‘That’s why you smile and look so ridiculous when you looking at the antiques?’ She attempted to distract him.

It wasn’t difficult. Her fathers attention span was constantly bemoaned by her mom. 

Phil grinned, happy that he could finally share his secret. ‘Yes, I find it funny that some people are fascinated by a ancient pot, when I can see that it was nothing more than a decorative item for a boring couple…’ 

She laughed at the irony, her father tipped his imaginary hat and went on. ‘That’s not all though. There are different types of magic, of mages. Some can…’ he trailed off as if lost. Something about the look on his face stopped her from pushing him.

‘But I won’t anymore, it seems my power is now your power… it’s been weakening for months, I felt something at the museum, but, I didn’t want you to live a life with the knowledge of something more when I know nothing of it. I would’ve left you to think it was your imagination,’ he smiled at that, ‘but, it has affected you in a way I couldn’t ignore it any longer.’

She nodded but didn’t elaborate on what she had seen and he didn’t press her. 

He got up. ‘Dad, has anything you’ve seen actually happened?’

He looked up as if in thought. ‘No, but, I have only seen what’s happened, not…’ he trailed off looking worried.

She distracted him, worried he would bring it up and she would be forced to relive it.

‘Why will you lose the ability to see what ever it is we see?’

‘Such are the mysteries of iMagic Em, they come and go, but I can tell you one thing. It’s the objects that are the key; they allow us these glimpses, but they also do so much more…’ he seemed to lose thread of his conversation.

‘What more?’

He had a glazed expression, as if he couldn’t recall what was on the tip of his tongue.

She didn’t press him. She might have become a little unhinged if she got the odd glance of what she’d just witnessed. But, she couldn’t be sure what it meant. The only thing for certain was that magic was — real. She had been transported across time and boundaries to witness something… Magic… it should’ve been surreal. Unbelievable, but, she wanted more than anything to find out what it really meant…