The Mage's Shackles
1092 Words
“Only the fiercest dogs dare to bite back at their owners.”◎
Four people sat around the table, with young Emily at the center, engaging in a seemingly aimless conversation. Emily, Jack's nine-year-old sister, was the star of the chatter. The doll she clutched was modeled after Alice, and although Alice resisted asking Emily where she got it—desperately wanting one for her collection—she admired the likeness in silence.
The topics circled around Alice’s past adventures: her first experience with high-level magic, her standings in the mage competitions, the first labyrinth she navigated. Tales Alice herself had nearly forgotten, yet the little girl recited every single one with zeal. Alice was deeply moved, listening to her young admirer even as Jack wore an increasingly pained expression. Finally, after the fifth tale of Alice's heroics, Jack left the table, unable to withstand any more.
The young man at the table, Mark, mirrored Emily’s enthusiasm. Alice caught Mark's nods and confirmations as if he were absorbing every detail. She found his interest puzzling; sure, Emily was a genuine fan, but did Mark seek her approval to become her apprentice? Only then did she remember she hadn't formally told him yet; although the Magic Tower would surely deliver the official announcement.
Awakening from this contemplation, Alice found Mark also observing her. His glance was polite, reflecting just enough interest to acknowledge her as he awaited her to speak. But what could she say in Jack's home about his pending apprenticeship? Fortunately, when Mark looked her way, so too did Emily, eager to absorb every word from her esteemed professor.
Two sets of eager, youthful eyes implored Alice to share more stories. Yet, try as she might, Alice could not conjure up any tales more enticing than Emily’s. Her life felt rather bland through this reflection, no wonder whispers about her often spiraled back to Lucas—her past was his to share, whether she acknowledged it or not.
Opting not to mention Lucas, Alice improvised, recounting mundane snippets involving Dean back in the day. The simplicity unexpectedly garnered thunderous applause from her audience. Embarrassed, Alice hastened to make an excuse and departed from this unforeseen “story sharing” event.
She had come with a purpose: to speak privately with Jack.
–
Jack seemed to be waiting for her. "Here you are," he muttered, his back still turned to her.
"Are you sure you won't reconsider?"
"You're persistent."
"I always have been."
Alice thought Jack would explode with another tirade, but instead, he turned and gestured for her to sit beside him. He wore a jacket over his clothes, hiding the subtle glimpse of muscle she had sneakily admired earlier. She shook her head, mildly disappointed.
Jack noticed the gesture, frowned slightly, but let it pass. Instead, his thoughts drifted into memories. “My parents were mages. Have you seen the Phantom Flower outside?”
“Indeed, my creation.”
“Think what you like,” Jack didn’t pursue that argument. “They brought it from Anderson City fifteen years ago.”
Alice froze a moment, digesting his words. “So, your parents were senior mages?”
Only senior mages above Rank I could access Anderson City. Jack nodded, "After their visit, something changed. They announced they were done being mages. They brought me here, opened this flower shop, and after a few years, Emily was born. It was the year she was born that I came back one day to find them gone.”
“Any clues?” Alice probed.
“You think life’s a detective story, Madam? Nothing. And when people want to disappear, it’s as easy as squashing bugs.”
“Are you insinuating?” Alice pressed.
“Who else but them could make two senior mages vanish?” He referred to the Magic Tower. A dangerous insinuation, considering what such speculation implied.
Alice felt a chill hearing such accusations, though she tried to maintain calm. “Couldn’t it be enemies?”
Jack shook his head, “I’m not hiring you as a detective; I have no intention of tracing their paths. They're supposedly dead—they themselves informed me through their bracelets.”
Bracelets, wands, necklaces... all magical tools registered with the Magic Tower. They track spellwork, locations, life or death—it's widely understood.
Alice knew this, yet why did she shiver hearing it?
Jack concluded, “I won't join the magical community.”
“Then why compete as an apprentice?” Alice asked.
“Emily’s idea. She idolizes you.”
Alice, touched by the child’s admiration, found his reasoning insufficient. “Your talents rival your parents’, evidenced in your competitive passion."
Unable to fabricate excuses, Jack lowered his gaze, and Alice forebore to let him fumble for one.
“Let me guess. You disdain the contestants, viewing them as eager pets to the Magic Tower’s leash. Winning to expose them as fools appeals, knowing you hold the choice of declining apprenticeship.”
Teeth clenching, Jack confessed, “Exactly. And if I became an apprentice, I plan to perform so poorly you’d have to terminate me.”
“You loathe me that much?” Alice asked.
Silent, Jack’s eyes spoke volumes; he scorned what she represented, perhaps believing whispers that pinned her success on Lucas.
Alice laughed, deriding the critics' lack of creativity. Puzzled, Jack watched as she grabbed his hand, feeling the metal bracelet's texture with a firm grip beyond his expectation.
“You despise me but fail to escape your own shackles, venting your ire on me. Do you even grasp why?” Her eyes, typically brimming with humor, now projected an icy resolve. “Only the fiercest dogs dare to bite back at their owners.”
Her words left a stillness, as if enveloped by a silencing charm. Before Jack could retaliate, Alice released his hand, softness returning to her smile.
“Jack, I could exhibit my power to convince you, but that’s immature. How about this; accept my offer, work for me, earn money, observe me. Then, and only then, you may judge me someday.”
–
As Alice departed, Mark followed. Emily bid them farewell, noticing Mark’s mischievous grin as he glanced back, interpreting it as a provocation.
Emily stomped inside to demand justice from her brother but found herself distracted by a talking tulip. Yes, a tulip that spoke!
Not just tulips—roses, sunflowers, lavender, lilies—all exuding a single voice: “Alice! Alice! Alice!”
"Childish," Jack muttered, although the tone suggested more amusement than disdain.
- Writer
