Chapter 1 - Magic & pets

Magic and pets are the two most important things in the world I live in.

There are four types of magic a person can have: Water, Wind, Earth, and Fire. Each person can only bond with one element.

It's extremely rare to have an affinity for more than one. Signs of magic usually show themselves when we're still children. 

Then, at eighteen, everyone in my village undergoes the Ceremony: a ritual that confirms, once and for all, whether we carry magic or not.

It takes place on an old stone platform, worn round and smooth by generations of feet before mine. 

When a power is detected, the section of the platform tied to that element lights up, blue for Water, grey for Wind, red for Fire, green for Earth, for the whole village to see.

To conclude the Ceremony, custom dictates that every eighteen-year-old receives a pet, whether they have magic or not. It's considered a great honor. 

Not everyone can afford one, though, pets are expensive, and having one is as much a mark of status as it is a companion. They are also sensitive to magic and can support an owner who has it.

I am Amaria. Long brown hair, plain brown eyes, nothing about me that stands out, not the way magic does. I'm seventeen, and in exactly two months I'll turn eighteen. 

Like everyone else in my village, I'll go through the Ceremony to find out if I have an affinity for magic.

The problem is, I never showed a single sign of it growing up, while both of my sisters displayed theirs clearly, long before their own Ceremonies even began.

I live with my parents and my two older sisters. My parents, Mel and Gilbert, care about little beyond magic and pets, and what they mean for the family's reputation. 

That's why They never paid much attention to me. Since I'd never shown any affinity for magic.

My oldest sister, Aleya, is twenty-four, with pink hair and the same emerald-green eyes as our mother, striking enough on their own to set her apart from anyone in a room. Her affinity is Wind, and a royal eagle became her pet. 

My other sister, Mayna, is twenty-one, with long red hair and emerald eyes as well. Her affinity is Water, and she was given a red fox. My parents were so proud of them both.

Having an affinity for magic is considered a privilege, not everyone gets the chance to have magic and a pet. Since I have neither, my place in the family has always been complicated.

My parents ignore me almost as if I don't exist, and my sisters, following their lead, aren't much warmer. They often blame me for bringing shame to the family, as if not having magic were something I'd chosen.

Sometimes I wondered, if it wasn’t normal after all. Maybe we don’t like people who are useless and who don’t contribute anything.

The only person I've ever truly been close to is my grandmother.

My grandmother, Simone, has lived alone in a small apartment downtown ever since my grandfather passed away, while the rest of us live out in the countryside.

I have visited her often for as long as I can remember. She's an herbalist, the third most respected profession in this world, after magic-users and pet-bonded families. 

Being able to heal animals is a highly regarded skill, especially since we no longer have proper magical healers, they existed once, long ago, but haven't in years.

That scarcity is exactly why herbalists like her are so in demand. She's taught me pieces of her craft over the years.

Today I decided to visit her again. She's my only source of air in this house, the one person in my family who doesn't look through me for lacking magic.

My parents wouldn't let me go, of course. They refused to let me take a carriage, as I usually would. So I left in secret, on foot. Fortunately, my grandmother's place is only about a twenty-minute walk.

— "Grandma, it's me. How are you doing today?"

— "Oya, Amaria, it's you? I'm so glad to see you. I'm well, busy, as always. Good thing you're here, you can help me."

— "Of course, Grandma. What do you need ?"

— "Please sort through the requests I left on the table."

— "All right, I'll take care of it."

— "Thank you, my dear." She paused, studying me. "Now tell me about you, Amaria. How's life been? How are your insufferable parents and sisters treating you?"

— "The same as always. Nothing has changed. I still don't exist for them without magic. I'm used to it by now, though." I hesitated, then smiled despite myself. "But you know, Grandma, I'm counting down the days until my Ceremony. I can't wait to finally have a pet. I won't be alone anymore. It'll be my friend."

— "When you have your new friend, Amaria, you'll have to introduce them to me first."

— "Of course, Grandma. You'll be the first to meet them."

I stayed a while longer, then reluctantly said my goodbyes, if I lingered too long, my parents would notice I was gone.

— "Take care, Amaria. And take these cookies I made, eat them on your way home."

— "Thank you, Grandma. See you soon."

Walking back, eating her cookies one by one, a sudden wave of sadness settled over me. I tried to remember the last time I'd received a gift from my parents, and I couldn't. It had probably been when I was a baby.

The path home cut through a forest I've always loved. It's the one place I can count on seeing wild animals, squirrels, foxes, birds slipping between the branches. 

I've never been good at connecting with people. But animals are different. Being around them lets me set down the thoughts I can never quite say out loud to anyone else.

I've felt more at ease with them than with humans for as long as I can remember. They don't judge. They don't betray.

Still, my grandmother once told me I lack self-confidence, that I struggle to say no to anyone, and easily overwhelmed by my emotions. Maybe that's true.

Maybe part of why I linger in this forest, coaxing a fox close enough to touch, is that it's easier than facing people who'll never really see me.

By the time I reached home, I was worn out, more from the ache of the day than the walk itself. I told myself it was just excitement for the Ceremony keeping me up, the thought of finally having a pet of my own.

But as I lay down to rest before dinner, eyes heavy, I swore I felt something brush against my thoughts, faint, and warm, and entirely unfamiliar.

It was gone before I could be sure it had been there at all.

***