Treason

"I think I want to focus on visualisation magic first." The words spill out of me with an unnerving conviction.

I watch as a flicker of disappointment, fleeting but undeniable, crosses Clovis's face. Her ears twitch as if I just stabbed her in the back. She clearly expected a different answer. Yet, to her credit, she masks it quickly.

"An excellent choice!" she declares, but I can detect a vague, hollow ache beneath her voice.

She bustles over to a sparsely populated bookshelf in the study, her willowy fingers dance over a small collection of books and pieces of rustic looking paper. She plucks one of the books from the shelf, it’s thinner than I anticipated but still more grand than any book I’ve seen before.

She places the book in my hands with reverence. "This is 'The Mind's Eye: An exploration of Visualisation Magic' please be careful with it, it’s difficult to get books into the village. It contains a series of exercises and meditations designed to strengthen your mental focus and clarity."

"But theory is not enough." Clovis continues, as an austerity takes precedent in her voice. "Magic is not just an academic pursuit; it should be a part of everyday life. The people here in the village don’t see the real application of magic outside of the occasional spark used to light their fire."

She leans in closer to me. "Therefore, I want you to talk to the people here in the village. See how magic could be woven into the fabric of their daily lives. And try to understand their needs as it will give you a purpose beyond self-improvement."

"That’s a great idea Clovis, I accept! I just met a few people in the village the other day with the Chief" I exclaim, with a newfound, unforced enthusiasm.

Observation and interaction, I think I can manage that especially because everyone has been so nice so far.

"I’m glad you’re excited about it! From now on we’ll meet twice a week, once for a lesson and once to see how you’re getting on in the village." she says, her tone brisk and business-like.

For all her eccentricities, for all her manic energy and academic zeal, Clovis has offered me a gift beyond measure: a chance to learn, to grow, to become something more than the sum of my past failures.

"Thank you, Clovis. For everything." The words feel insufficient. "I-I hope that, in time, we can be friends rather than just student and teacher!" My Admission feels raw and vulnerable as the words circle the room around us.

Clovis doesn't smile, or offer a warm, reassuring reply. She looks… lost. A flash of something unreadable crosses her face before she looks away, busying herself by straightening a stack of papers that are already perfectly aligned.

The silence stretches, taut and heavy.

Have I overstepped? Have I misread her completely?

“Friendship… complicates things. Let’s just focus on the magic for now.” she says, her voice quiet and distant.

It's not a rejection, but it's not acceptance either.

I am her student, her project, a fascinating anomaly to be studied and dissected. My name however will not appear on her ‘Call Sheet’ for friendship.

“Yes of course, you’re right, I need to be focusing on my studies at the moment!” I retreat into the familiar comfort of the diligent and eager apprentice in an attempt to hide from the subtle rejection I just faced.

I open the book, the scent of old paper and ink fills my nostrils. The first page is dense with text, but thankfully it’s in a language I can understand.

As I begin to read, the world outside the small cottage, with all its complexities and uncertainties, fades away.

There is only the book, the words, and the unwavering image of a single flickering flame beginning to form in the still recesses of my mind.