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All his life Billy had heard tales of magic–fae creatures that stole naughty children who didn't listen to their parents, mischievous imps that played tricks on unsuspecting townsfolk, menacing witches living deep in the woods who would brew potions and cast spells for anyone willing to pay the price. Most of those stories were just that–stories told to keep children in line. Whatever truth there was to them got twisted and exaggerated over time, playing off of people's natural fear of the arcane arts.
Even in Fawcett where magic was much more abundant, much more respected, everyone knew that it was dangerous and best avoided at all costs.
At ten years old Billy was more afraid of the local constables who weren't fans of little orphaned beggars like him and his friends than he was of those old fairytales. He’d never had to run from a faerie trying to lure him into their secret other world, but he had been forced to run from I'll tempered guards that liked to threaten that he wasn't too young to be hanged. He would have liked to blame his bad luck on wicked imps or tricky little sprites, but he doubted anyone would believe him even if it had been true.
That all changed when he met the Wizard.
Deep in the woods, past the city limits, past the neighboring farmlands and wide open fields, was a cave. It was dark, remote, and crumbling, its passageways winding deep into the Earth. It had been many, many years since someone had last ventured inside and even longer since someone had made it out.
Billy had stumbled across it purely on accident. Usually he spent his days in the city, but sometimes when he needed to escape from the less than pleasant circumstances he sometimes found himself in, he let himself wander to wherever his feet took him. He had no house to return to and no parents to worry about him, so he was free to roam the countryside if he so pleased. He had to worry about bandits and ill tempered wildlife, but he had experience with both so he wasn’t afraid.
He'd never wandered so far away from home before though. He usually made sure to keep the city walls within view so he could always find his way back, but the forest had called to him, as it so often did, and he decided to venture inside until the undergrowth grew thick and unruly under his feet, low hanging branches of the trees curling down to form a tunnel of sorts for him to pass through. He could barely see five feet in front of him, the city walls lost behind the lush green landscape.
Just when he was starting to think that he should turn back, that there was no way he could escape the tangled tree roots and vines, he heard a crack of thunder. He froze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and fear shot through him. He pushed his way forward several more feet, cursing his luck and praying he'd find shelter before the rain began. Suddenly the branches gave way to a small clearing barely wider than his own meager wingspan.
In front of him was the mouth of the cave, mostly obscured by hanging branches and moss. A cool, gentle breeze wafted from within, and he could have sworn he heard his name coming from within.
Billy couldn't help but think of all those stories of malevolent magical beings and whether there was any truth to them.
The trickle of fear he felt wasn't enough to squash the urge to go inside. It was like something was calling to him, beckoning him closer. There was a sharpness in the air, like the sky just before a storm.
The light of the sun only Illuminated the first several feet inside the cave, but his eyes adjusted to the darkness quicker than he expected. It was almost as if there was light coming from within the stone walls themselves. He thought that he should probably be scared, but something about this place felt like home.
After several minutes of walking, the cave opened up to a large cavern lit by a series of torches lining the walls. The flames cast eerie shadows over a row of statues, seven in total, each depicting strange looking monsters that almost looked alive in the low light.
“Who goes there?” a voice thundered out.
Billy nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping his head around to search for the source.
Across from him was a throne that seemed to be carved from the walls of the cave itself. The man sitting in it didn't look like he could speak with such volume, such authority but there was no one else there.
“B-Billy.” He kicked himself for answering honestly. His mother's voice floated in his mind warning him of faeries that could steal your name and take your soul if you were foolish enough to give it to them.
But the man across from him didn't look like a faerie. He looked old, older than even the innkeeper that let Billy scrub the floors for a few pieces of copper and a warm meal. As the man drew himself up to his feet, he seemed to grow, towering over Billy as he crossed the space between them in the space of a single breath.
“And what brings you to my home?” he asked, his sharp eyes never leaving Billy’s face.
“I didn't know anyone lived here,” he answered honestly. “I just…felt drawn here.”
“Drawn?” he echoed. He studied Billy for a long moment, taking in his ragged clothes and worn boots, his untidy hair and dirty face. “Son, do you know where you are?”
“No sir.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“No sir,” he repeated.
The man stared at him, his intense gaze boring into Billy and making him squirm. Then to Billy's surprise, he chuckled. It was a soft, raspy sound that gave Billy the impression that he didn't do it often, but it was filled with mirth which immediately put Billy at ease.
“It takes a strong affinity for magic to find my abode. And to do so unprompted…why that is very rare indeed.”
Billy shook his head vigorously. “Oh no sir, you must be mistaken. I'm not…there isn't a drop of magic in me.”
The old man began to circle him. “Oh I don't think that's true,” he said. “Though I'm certain that you believe it to be so.”
Billy fidgeted under the old man's scrutinizing gaze. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that he had dirt on his face and leaves in his hair. He probably looked exactly like the lowly beggar he was.
“Tell me Billy, Do you wish to learn the secrets of magic?”
“Me?” he squeaked. “Do you really think I could?”
“That remains to be seen,” the old man said, coming to stand in front of Billy again. “You certainly have the spark for it, and if you’re willing to take the chance that you might be suited to it, I might be able to help.”
“Really?" Billy's face split into a wide grin. Magic was scary, but being able to do magic was another matter entirely. “What do I have to do?”
With a twist of his wrist, the old man produced a wicker basket. “Fetch me red poppies from the fields south of the castle. Fill this basket to the brim. If you can do that and find your way back here, I will take you on as my apprentice.”
“Holy moly,” Billy breathed out. He grabbed the basket from the old man's hands. It was such a simple task he almost laughed. Instead he straightened his back and gave him his best grin. “I won't let you down!”
He scrambled back the way he came, only pausing for a moment before entering the tunnel that would lead back outside.
“Yes my boy?”
“You never told me your name.”
“I am the Wizard Shazam.” The rumble of distant thunder accompanied his words, making them feel so much more powerful.
“Shazam,” he whispered to himself as he made his way back home. The name tasted like lightning on his tongue.
It took Billy three days to return to the cave with the poppies. The basket was heavy and he’d nearly dropped it half a dozen times on the walk, but he was determined to return to the cave and hold the Wizard to his promise. And when he did, he found Shazam right where he had left him.
“Ah Billy my boy,” he said, smiling in the way old men do, with crinkled eyes and a gentle upturn of the mouth. “You've returned and so quickly too. Tell me did you bring what I asked for?”
“Yes sir,” he said, dutifully bringing the basket of poppies to him and setting it at his feet. “Though I can't imagine what you need so many flowers for.”
Shazam smiled even wider at him, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “You'll see soon enough.” He stood, the basket of poppies floating up to his hands without so much as a word. “Now come, there is much to learn.”
He strode across the throne room, passing between two of the terrifying statues and into a passageway that Billy hadn’t noticed before.
Billy trotted after him. “Does that mean we’re starting right now?”
“I see no reason to wait,” Shazam reasoned. “I will warn you now: becoming a Wizard is no easy feat. Training will take many years and require the utmost dedication. Are you prepared for that?”
“Yes sir,” Billy replied instantly. He didn’t know what his training would be like, but he couldn’t imagine it would be worse than the life of a beggar. Besides, all things in life took work, that was hardly news to him.
Shazam glanced curiously over his shoulder, a strange gleam in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that your family will miss you?”
“I don’t have a family sir,” Billy admitted quite easily. Technically he had an uncle, but not even their shared blood was enough for Billy to call him family. Not since he’d taken his inheritance—a modestly sized home just outside the city and a parcel of land around it—and relegated Billy to little more than a serving boy in his own home. When he left, he had taken only a change of clothes and his half of an old locket.
Shazam didn’t press him for details. Perhaps he’d been able to tell that Billy was an orphan, merely seeking confirmation. Maybe he simply knew that such matters were sensitive and best left for another time.
Instead he led Billy into another room, filled with shelves upon shelves of books and a single solid oak table. He set the poppies on the table and with a flick of his wrist summoned a large iron cauldron for somewhere unseen.
Billy crept closer, peering into the cauldron. To his amazement it had filled itself with a shimmering gold liquid.
“Add the poppies to the potion,” Shazam said. “One at a time to make sure they are all correct. Even adding one wrong ingredient could make the whole potion worthless.”
Billy nodded determinedly, carefully and cautiously plucking the first flower from the basket. He held it up for a moment so Shazam could see it and stop him if he’d somehow collected the wrong flowers. When he didn’t say anything, just looked at the potion expectantly, Billy dropped the flower inside. The red of its petal leeched out into the rest of the potion, turning the spot where it had touched the surface a soft pinkish red.
Billy plucked another flower from the basket and got to work.
Shazam watched him carefully as he mixed the potion. “Tell me Billy, can you read?”
Billy flushed. He knew it was nothing to be ashamed of–most people he knew couldn't read or write even when they were adults. But his parents had been literate–something they had been very proud of and something he's sure they would have wanted for him and his sister–and so his own ignorance after their deaths always hit him hard.
“I know most of my letters,” he hedged. “But no I can't read or write.”
Shazam hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I'll have to teach you then.”
Billy' swung around to look at him with wide, startled eyes. “What? Really?”
“Of course,” he said easily. “How else are you to read my spellbooks? Or make grimoire of your own some day?”
Billy's head was spinning with the possibilities. Learning to read and write had always been a dream of his. But the idea of making a book of his own, of having knowledge worth putting down on paper was even more fascinating than the potion he was currently brewing.
“It won't be easy,” Shazam warned. “Language can be tricky, but it is vitally important to most spells. It won’t just be in English either. Latin is traditional, Greek will also be useful. Languages even older than that too–though that will be for more advanced lessons.”
Billy’s grew round with delight. His fingers automatically adding each flower in a slow methodical way.
“But first, you should take this,” Shazam said, he reached into the now ruby red potion. To his amazement, the liquid turned into fabric in his hands. As he unfurled it, Billy realized it was a cloak—as red as a poppy, with golden trim and a pure white lining. It was beautiful, more rich than anything Billy had ever laid his eyes on, let alone his hands.
Shazam held it out to him.
“Are you sure?” Billy asked, hesitant to touch something so beautiful.
“Of course,” Shazam said. “You made it, did you not? That means that it's yours.”
Billy grinned brightly and took hold of it. He couldn’t wait to start his lessons.
“Look! I'm doing it!” Billy called out, a peal of hearty laughter escaping him at the sheer joy of his progress.
A little ball of golden white light danced in his hand, crackling and popping like a well stoked fire. It flickered and wobbled, but didn’t wink out like all his other attempts had. it had taken weeks of failed attempts for him to do this and it was exhilarating.
“Don’t lose your focus,” Shazam chided, though he too was smiling. “Let’s see how long you can hold it.”
Billy nodded dutifully, turning his full attention back to the light. It grew stronger as he watched and he just knew it was going to last.
Several long minutes later, when sweat was beading up on Billy’s brow and his arm ached from holding the light aloft, the light dimmed and went out.
“Good,” Shazam called out. “Now again.”
Billy slammed a wooden bucket down, trapping a lowly little devil beneath it. He sat down on top of the bucket to keep it in place while he caught his breath and considered the best way to bring it back to the portal it has escaped from.
Shazam was going to be so proud of him for taking care of his demonic pest problem for him. And all by himself too!
It had been getting into the potions ingredients, gobbling up their stores of herbs and salves, breaking jars of strange smelling liquids, and all around being a nuisance. Shazam said that this happened sometimes, that little creatures from other worlds came to feast on the magic in his home.
He hadn’t explicitly told Billy to take care of it, but there had been a twinkle in his eye that Billy had come to know to mean he wanted something done, but wanted to see how Billy would do it before he taught him the proper way to do so.
It was a test of sorts. Billy wasn’t sure he was passing the test since he hadn’t used any magic to do it, but he hoped he’d get special consideration for thinking outside the box.
The bucket jerked underneath him as the imp tried to escape. Billy clutched at it tighter, determined not to lose his grip. He took a deep breath and focused his magic in his hands, just as Shazam had taught him to. He muttered a spell under his breath, one he’d been working to perfect for weeks.
There was a soft thud from beneath him and Billy grinned. He climbed off the bucket and slowly peeked inside. The imp was still there, laying limp on the stone floor. Billy removed the bucket and carefully scooped the imp back up and placed him gently inside it, happy to confirm that it was sound asleep.
Now he just needed to figure out which of the many portals he’d come through.
Billy wandered through the streets of Fawcett, making his way to the market. He had a list of things that Shazam had asked him to procure for him—he mostly foraged for the herbs and plants, but occasionally he took a bag of small charms and enchanted items and what little money he had to the market. When he wore the cloak Shazam had given him, everyone knew that he wasn’t just little beggar Billy anymore, he was a courier of magic. He wasn’t even sure if anyone truly recognized him or if the cloak itself was concealing his identity, but it felt nice to be treated so well, like he was special, like he was important.
He’d been unsure at first, but he’d found that many people, even if they avoided magic in public, would happily barter for something that would give them luck or protection or some other small blessing. Honestly the hardest part of bartering had been putting his foot down about not selling love potions no matter how many people asked after them.
He really hoped that the farmer selling fresh strawberries would be interested in a trade.
Before he could make it to the farmer’s stall, a series of shouts rang out. Billy spun around and saw the local constable chasing down a boy about Billy’s age. He was running towards Billy, his face twisted in an all too familiar fear. There was a deep purplish bruise on one side of his face and Billy knew instantly that the man chasing him was the one who had struck him.
Billy stepped out of his way and raised one hand toward the raging constable. With a single word the man went flying backwards, crashing into a cart full of hay and crumpling into an unmoving heap on the ground.
People screamed, dashing away from the scene in a panic. Others abandoned their market stalls, their carts, their bags, running for cover. It was only when Billy turned around to look for the boy he’d saved that he realized they were all afraid of him.
“Stay away from me!” the boy cried out, stumbling backwards as Billy reached out to help him off the ground. “I’d rather be dragged to the dungeon than be indebted to a witch!”
“But I’m not—“
“I said stay back!” he screamed as he stumbled to his feet. He raced away like the devil was on his heels. Because in his eyes, that was what Billy was.
Billy took the long way back to the cave that day, determined to get all his tears out before he returned. He still had his list, still had things he had to collect for the Wizard, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he had that morning.
When he entered the throne room, his pack weighed down with supplies and his heart weighed down with doubt, Shazam was standing there, his body tense. He was so rarely angry with Billy that he almost didn’t recognize the emotion on his face.
“What happened today?” he demanded.
Billy ducked his head, already knowing that there was no point in trying to lie the man. Somehow Shazam always knew.
“I used magic…against the constable.”
“And what in the seven realms possessed you to do that?”
“There was this boy…” Billy's words died in his throat, feeling more ashamed of himself than he had in a long time.
“You need to be more careful Billy,” Shazam said, his voice stern and unyielding. “You've only just begun you're magical education, you can't go around flaunting your fledgling powers in public and expecting not to face consequences for it.”
“I wasn't flaunting them! I was just trying to help!”
Shazam’s glare softened. “Billy you have to learn, most people will never understand the powers we have, let alone trust them. True wizards are a rare thing, and the few of us that are left are scattered to the winds. Most people you meet will have only ever heard of magic in stories. At most they will have seen a magical creature or met a hedgewitch peddling small charms. To see a true display of magic frightens them. And they are right to be frightened. Magic can be dangerous, but the people who fear it even more so." He sighed heavily and looked up to the ceiling as if he could see the heavens from where he stood. "Do you know how many kingdoms outlaw the practice of magic?”
Billy shook his head slowly. He knew there were places like that, but Fawcett wasn't one of them. It was frowned upon in polite company, but you couldn't be arrested for it.
“More than half of them,” Shazam informed him. “The closest one borders this kingdom to the west. You were lucky this time, but if you ever cross the border or if the king decides to change his stance on magic, such recklessness could get you sent to the gallows.”
Billy swallowed harshly against the lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Shazam sighed again, dropping his gaze back down to his young protege. He placed on hand on Billy’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “I know. It is a brave and noble thing you did, trying to help that boy. But magic cannot solve every issue. All I ask is that you be more careful in the future.”
He pulled Billy close for a moment, ignoring the tears in his eyes before sending him back to his room without so much as asking for the ingredients he’d sent Billy to fetch for him.
Billy glanced up from muddling through his spellbook. He was curled into the warm nest of blankets in his straw bed, squeezing out a few last moments of study in before he went to sleep when Shazam entered the room.
He had never come to Billy’s room before, not since he’d first showed Billy the way to it. He’d insisted that it was Billy’s space to do with as he pleased, so long as he kept it clean.
“Good evening my boy,” he said, hovering at the threshold. “I see you’re hard at work as always.”
“Being a Wizard takes dedication,” Billy parroted. “I haven’t forgotten that.”
“That’s good,” he said softly. “May I come in for a moment?”
“Of course!” Billy rushed to clear a space for him at the small table he used as a desk. Shazam gave him a grateful smile and settled onto the wooden stool. He stared at Billy in silence for a long time. Billy couldn’t bring himself to ask him why he was there, he knew that sometimes he just needed to think and when he was done, Billy would have his answers.
“I never thought I'd take on another apprentice,” he said suddenly. Billy had never heard him sound so gentle before, so…sad.
“Why not?”
“My last one…he used his magic for terrible things. I spent many, many years ashamed that I had given him the tools to hurt so many people.”
“But that's not your fault!” Billy protested. “We can't control what other people do. We all make our own choices and we have to live with the consequences of them.”
Shazam chuckled softly. “You're wise beyond your years young one.”
Billy smiled, but he had a terrible feeling in his gut. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m dying,” Shazam said, delivering the news as if it were a simple fact and not a devastating revelation. “It won’t be long now. I thought…well I thought I should prepare you for it.”
“You can’t be dying! I mean—we can find a spell or brew some sort of potion if you’re sick. I can—“
“There is nothing that can be done. It is simply my time,” he said heartbreakingly soft. “Death will come for me, one way or another.”
“But you can’t—I need you.”
“We both know that’s not true,” he hummed thoughtfully. “You could make your own way in the world long before you met me. And with the skills I’ve taught you, you will never have to struggle like that again. This place will always be your home. And everything in it will always be yours.”
“But what about my training?” Billy asked, clinging to anything that might convince Shazam not to leave him. “I’ll never be a real Wizard without you.”
“Yes you will. You are already much farther down that path than you realize. It’s only a matter of time before you get there. And there is still a little time left for me to get you ready to take on my mantle.”
“It’s not fair. I’m not ready,” Billy admitted. “I don’t want to be alone again.”
He reached out and gently cupped Billy’s face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that rolled down his cheek. “I know, my boy. But you won’t be alone. I will always be with you. I will watch over you each and every day, just I have done these past few years. I promise.”
Billy started to cry in earnest. He threw his arms around Shazam’s neck and held him as tightly as he could on the off chance it could get him to stay. Shazam wrapped his arms around him, quietly shushing him long into the night.
Billy slung the Wizard’s staff across his back, the weight of it settling heavily across his shoulders. He still wasn't used to it, still couldn't believe that it was his now, that old Shazam was gone.
He hadn't been his apprentice long, certainly not long enough to have inherited his title, his responsibilities–but inherit them he did.
Between lessons on spellcasting and potion brewing, chasing down wayward sprites and pesky imps, and all the countless chores the Wizard had given him, Billy had learned a fair bit about magic and how it interacted with the world around him.
Not enough to be an expert–probably not even enough to compare to the other magic users out there–but it was still enough to be proud of. He was proud of himself for all he had learned, all he had accomplished so far.
Emerging from the Wizard’s cave was like waking from a dream. It had been years since he had last ventured out for anything besides his errands for Shazam. He was probably a cautionary tale to the kids in town, a reminder that beings of magic would take hapless children who wandered too far into the woods, changing them, transforming them into something more like them.
But what they didn't tell those kids, what no one had told Billy, was that sometimes that transformation was a good thing, sometimes magic was beautiful, not just dangerous.
The sun shone brightly over the kingdom. Magic pulsed just beneath his skin, urging him onward.
He would show everyone what magic truly was. He would use everything he’d been taught to help make the world a better place, a safer place. He would show them that it deserved not fear, but respect.
And maybe he would make a few stories of his own along the way.