The Prophecy

Something about the mortal world was gritty and wet. Klava couldn't quite put her finger on it. Perhaps it was the way the dirt shifted and got in her shoes instead of quietly cushioning her steps. Or that the buildings and roads were made out of dead bits of the world instead of the ever-shifting crystal walls she'd grown used to. Either way, there was something peaceful about the quiet that let her shake off the defensive posture her shoulders took at school.

"You're late," Mortis told her from the patio garden. The table was already set, this time anticipating whatever mess was in her lunch pail. "It's nothing to smile about. I can't do the rest of my chores until whatever this is, is over. I was waiting."

"How kind of you." There were very few people willing to wait for her. She laid out what she had, this time providing multiple tea bags so he would have something to do other than watch her eat. "I made these in herbal remedies. It's supposed to be good for immunity." There were so few candied orange slices after her classmates had finished, but she wanted him to at least taste one. He seemed to recognize the tea, not batting an eye when she prepared the cups. "What have you been up to? Any more tall tales from your grandfather?"

"In a way. You don't look that cursed." Mortis nodded to himself. "I'm sure anything other than his chair is doomed as far as he's concerned." It never bothered Mortis to be inside the manor when he hadn't tried to leave it. Now he was acutely aware that there were things about him that kept him from leaving, the sort of things that Rook would tease him about. It irritated him that supposed cursed beings had more courage than he had when it came to wandering around places that didn't belong to them.

"Curse? What curse?"

"Magic," Mortis said. "You're not supposed to have it."

"But I was born with it!" As far back as she could remember the world sang a song only she seemed to hear. That was, until she entered magic school. "Everyone is, I'm sure of it. You did magic of your own the other day."

"Did not." Though he didn't know what else to call what happened, he certainly didn't do anything different. "You must have done it yourself, almost believing logic and reason before convincing yourself rocks should float again." He shook his head. "Not everyone has magic. If they did, they wouldn't go eating souls to stay alive. They'd make apples appear or whatever other ridiculous stuff you think should happen instead of starving."

"That sounds scary." She bit her lip. "Do people really do that?"

"Some people, bad people." They tried to talk him into doing it before turning on each other. Laughter over him preferring to starve than eat what was served to him morphed into shrill revelry over carnage. There were no people like that in the safety of his room, that was for sure. "More people do that than whatever you can do. You'll outlive most of them. Old Father said so, comes with the curse. A long life of parlor tricks and bobbles." His expression softened. "It's not all bad. You've got others like you at least."

"I wish that were true." She fished around in her bag and pulled out the lantern she'd turned blue after class was over. "People like me would think this was pretty instead of pointlessly complicated." No extra credit after all that work. Though the chances he'd agree with her were slim to none.

"You can use magic to contain things?" Perhaps it would be a better solution for the basement door. If sheer will power could keep a flame glowing with no air, then surely it could keep a door from aging.

"Yes.” She was taken aback, half expecting him to nag her about the color. "Are fires allowed to be blue then?"

"When they're hot enough," he said.

Hot enough, that was why her teacher had scolded her. It likely looked like something that could shatter glass. She made a note to douse it before going to bed. More experimentation was needed before she could change the color of her bedside lamp.

"I could teach you," Klava said. "They aren't that hard to make. We made four in an hour."

"Maybe…" The sun had begun to touch the tops of the trees. "I have too much to do today. I am interested though." It was something to do if nothing else, something more useful than floating rock and color pens. "Come however early it would take to make one, and let me know beforehand. I don't want to be too off schedule." He despised having to move when he ate due to unplanned visits.

"Tomorrow?" Perhaps she was too eager; he seemed somewhat skittish at her excitement.

"Sure," he said. "Tomorrow."

It wouldn't hurt to leave class early just one day, especially for something akin to studying. Yes, that was it, studying. If he could make the most simplest of potions, then she'd have proof they were wrong about boys not being witches. The more evidence she could gather, the stronger her argument would be.

"I'll write down everything you'll need." She tore a page out of her notebook. "If you have trouble getting any of these, let me know. I'll see what I can bring with me." She'd almost forgotten to eat her lunch during the excitement. While he skimmed over the list, she gobbled up what she could before she had to leave.

Not that she wanted to. This was the most fun she'd had in days, even if Mortis debated her at every turn. At least he talked to her like a fellow student as opposed to what the other girls at school did. He was far more clear about why he disagreed with her too. She appreciated it; it was something to argue against, a goal she could reach. The isolating bubbles in her classes seemed constructed out of something she couldn't comprehend, something entirely unmagical.

What she was most excited for was her thesis. If she could teach Mortis - someone agitated at the sight of magic - how to do a spell, it could be taught to anyone. More importantly, he alone would prove this strange idea false, that boys naturally hated magic. All arguments against it had come from his grandfather, not him directly. Frog Creek needed to open its doors to boys like that, boys who could do magic but were stuck with families that feared it. It was, by far, her most important experiment to date.

***

Before class, Delphi was always the most nervous. She was a year older than the other girls, and that apparently meant more exams. The three sat at their favorite corner of the library table, offering condolences on what would be the first of many divination tests.

"The first step is proving you can do it. The tricky part is figuring out how to tell it." She had two pens on the table layered one on top of the other. The third sat in her palm. "That's why I prefer sound. I'm best at predicting emotions and that's hard to articulate clearly."

"Hard to prove too, I'm sure," Ariadne said. "I predict you'll be sad in the future. One hundred percent accurate, one hundred percent vague."

"Perhaps if you were asked to predict something specific instead," Klava hummed. "A yes or a no question?"

"I know!" Ariadne leaned forward with a grin. "Are all of us going to be queens together?" When there wasn't unanimous approval, she regained the regal composure she tried to lead with. "Well, isn't it obvious? Delphi practices divination more than anyone else at this school, Klava digs through books for fun, and I'm naturally gifted. You know everyone's already thinking it. That's why they're pre-groveling."

Klava thought of how silence followed her around the school. It didn't seem like groveling. People generally weren't annoyed when they groveled. If they thought her to one day be in charge of their destinies, they had a funny way of showing it.

"I think people just like you, Ariadne," Klava said at last.

They each placed a finger on the pens and waited for Delphi's signal to tap. She acted as the metronome, humming a melancholic tune under her breath. Usually an old queen died for a new one to take over. Klava could see how that would make one sad.

"Ladies, this is a library," Morganna the librarian chided them gently from her desk. "No spells." She clicked her tongue. "I expected more from you, Delphi." A second year should know better, no matter how long they'd been a second year.

Delphi snatched up her pens and hid them. They could act innocent all they wanted, but it had been clear what they'd been doing. The bell was about to ring anyway, so Delphi packed up the rest of her things with a deep-set frown. Who wasn't disappointed in her at this point?

"Well?" Ariadne whispered under the watchful glare of the librarian. "What's the answer?"

"We won't," Delphi said.

"I see." Ariadne laid a hand on her shoulder. It seemed no amount of softness could reach her friend, but she wanted to try. "Well, I'll still be friends with you once I'm queen. I'm sure Klava will do the same. These things happen. It's not like you can change the future." With that she set off in the direction of her first class.

Klava was about to do the same when Delphi caught Klava by her sleeve. A heavy silence hung in the air around them. Unlike Ariadne, Delphi never felt like she belonged. She was older than the other girls, failing enough tests to keep her in the beginner classes even if she could recite the lectures. Unsure when it was appropriate to say something, Klava waited until Delphi let her go.

"I usually like knowing what happens," Delphi said. "Even if it's something bad, I at least feel prepared for when it does, less frightened. Are you one of those sorts of people?"

"No," Klava said. "I don't think Ariadne is right either. The future can't be set in stone because it hasn't happened yet." People could mess up a levitation spell or light spell; the same had to go for divination. "If I knew something bad was going to happen, I would want to do everything I could for it not to happen. Otherwise, what's the point of knowing?"

"I'm sure you would," Delphi said with a sigh. "But people don't work that way. If the future was only in one person's hands, it would change. I just don't like people being angry with me."

"If people get mad at you for saying what you think is true, that's their problem," Klava said. Anyone unprepared to hear an answer they didn't like shouldn't be asking questions in the first place. Or at the very least, they should be content with having their curiosity satiated for a moment. "It's not like you can spend your whole life keeping secrets just to make other people happy." She snapped her fingers. "You can always try riddles. Ancient oracles loved riddles. I'm sure it took the pressure of being right off their shoulders." Not that she could make sense of it, but she loved being right about things. "As for the being queen business: you should consider yourself lucky. If you're not a queen, then you can be anything else instead. I'm sure you'll do fine on your exam, so long as you ask the right questions. That's what's most important to focus on right now, isn't it?"

"I guess so." Delphi let go of her sleeve. Just ask the right questions... She made it sound so easy. "I miss when I loved magic," she said bitterly. "All it's ever good for anymore is passing pointless tests." She shuffled off toward her class.

Grey and silver threads weaved wispy clouds on the horizon. She'd been here so long, the embroidered sky was nothing but a reminder this was a fake plot of land. All of them were trapped in the idea of a school while the outside world raged on without them. At the rate she was going, she'd never get to see it the proper way.