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Colton’s mom always told him to be careful when he was playing by the woods.
It’s his own fault for not listening, really. She told him plenty of stories she heard growing up, monsters in the forest who take kids who don’t listen to their parents, just like, well… him.
He had lost his basketball earlier. Watched it bounce once, twice, before disappearing into the thicket on the edge of his backyard.
His mom would kill him if he lost another one. She already bought him three over the summer.
Colton spent plenty of time sneaking in and out of the trees when he knew his mom wasn’t looking, the paths he wandered were known like a dear friend.
Not once in twelve years of his life had he gotten lost in the forest.
Pushing through the overgrown vegetation was always a fight. He raised one arm, muscle memory protecting his face from a branch that always managed to hit him dead on.
Continuing onward, he managed to get clear of the worst of it. There were less twigs in his hair than normal, and hey, he didn’t get hit in the face this time!
Looking around, he found himself standing in a small clearing. There’s an old, half-rotted stick fort he hasn’t touched in years, a shoe his twin sister stole from him and “lost”, and a half-empty bottle of something called Tito’s one of his older brothers made him promise not to tell their parents about.
“Where did it…” Colton trails off. There’s a steep hill near where he’s standing, far too steep to go down safely, and his basketball is sitting at the bottom of it. “Shit.”
He groans, throwing his head back like it’s the end of the world. There’s a safer way down, but it takes a lot longer, and he’s impatient. The trail is one of his favorites normally, but the way the sun filters through the leaves makes Colton nervous.
It’ll be dark by the time he gets back up.
Colton starts down the trail, leaves and fallen sticks crunching under his shoes. He hasn’t been down here in a while, not since the school year started. The scenery has changed, it’s more overgrown in places where it wasn’t before.
It’s almost the same.
Almost.
Checking his watch, he’s making good time. He’s deep in the trees now, so far that he can’t hear the sounds of the street, full of tourists trying and failing to make their way up the mountain.
He’s lost in thought, staring intently down to avoid catching roots. Every sound the forest makes is hypnotic, the leaves under his feet, the wind in the branches, like the trees themselves are calling out to him to stay.
There’s movement in front of him that startles him out of his own head.
A deer, gaze locked onto his.
Moss and vines and flowers hung from its massive antlers.
They stared at each other for a moment, before the deer turned and walked off, down a path Colton wasn’t familiar with.
Something about it called to him. Like it was saying come with me.
He rushed ahead to follow it, turning down the forgotten path. It was dark, darker than the forest was supposed to be, but the undergrowth seemed to glow a mystifying teal.
Something about the shrouded path beckoned him along. Like a siren’s song only he could hear, its melody was the most enchantingly beautiful thing he’d ever heard.
Like the voice of creation itself was singing to him.
The further he ventured on the unfamiliar trail, the louder the song grew.
He needed to find the source, more than anything.
Eventually the trees gave way to a clearing. Blue and red orbs made of some kind of smoke danced above the ground, lighting up the grass with their glow.
In the center of the clearing, a pedestal of shifting vines held a thick book. Leather bound in red with gold trim, and a golden spiral emblazoned on the front.
Colton stepped closer, cautiously, looking at the book. As he approached, the cover opened itself, flipping to a page full of words in a language he couldn’t make out, and symbols that looked like elements.
A snowflake, a flame, a leaf, a skull–what kind of weird spellbook had he found?
He reached out to touch it.
The moment his fingertips made contact with the edge of the pages, the book reacted, like it was alive.
Its pages flipped frantically, stopping abruptly somewhere in the middle.
The images on the page had variations of the same skull as before, shown in diagrams, an image of someone with the symbol in front of them, almost like a shield.
Colton had never seen anything like this before. He had loved stuff like this, playing wizards and witches with his cousins, pretending to cast spells and raise skeleton warriors.
But it was all make believe.
At least, until he picked up the book and the symbols started glowing.
Colton was entranced by the light, watching as it danced over the page and formed circles within circles, lined with runes and symbols he couldn’t understand.
When the final lines connected, everything in his head told him to touch it.
It felt right, like he needed to do it, like he was always supposed to do it–
Colton’s hand made contact.
Everything went white.
He hears a voice speaking to him. Deep, rumbling, and ancient.
“Wizard,” The voice booms. It echoes in his head, filling his every thought. “Your purpose is far greater than you know.”
He’s about to ask, what does that mean, who are you, when he slowly returns to consciousness.
He’s not in the forest anymore.
He’s not standing, either. His knees gave out.
He’s in a round room, a glowing, rainbow, spiral of smoke floating above his head, little bubbles following the rotation of the magic spiral.
A door on the other side of the room opens, and a man peeks in. He’s old, really, really old. He looks like a wizard from some old cartoon, but with some kind of glass eye.
When the man sees him, he panics.
“I- I’m sorry, I don’t- I was just-”
The old man raises his bushy eyebrows at him, raising a hand to silence his babbling. He says something, in words he can’t understand.
He’s leaning on a staff as he approaches, holding a wrinkled hand out, a peace offering and assistance off the floor.
Taking it, he feels a rush of energy go up his arm, making the skin tingle. It makes him jump, but the old man’s grip on his hand is too tight to pull away.
He pulls himself to his feet, hesitantly.
“Much better, finally off of the floor,” The old man clears his throat, still not speaking English, but now he could understand him. How could he…? “I am Merle Ambrose. And you are?”
He pauses.
His name, what was his name? Why can’t he remember his name? It’s his name, of all things, why can’t he remember?
“I… I don’t know. I can’t… Why can’t I…”
Merle looks at him with pity.
“Oh, my dear child, it’s alright. You can use a different one, if you like.” Merle waves his hand, and the same book from the forest reappears, gliding through the air into his waiting hand.
“There’s plenty of options in here, take a look.” He taps the cover with his staff, the book once again flying open.
Hundreds of names lined the pages, some he’d never seen before.
He wondered if his name was on the list in the massive tome in his hands.
He wondered if he’d even recognize it.
One stuck out to him.
Just the same as everything else, in the stark black ink, but this one looked different.
Like it wanted to be picked, like it was meant to be his.
Cowan.
He could work with that.
“...Cowan. My name’s Cowan.”
“Wonderful, dear boy. A wonderful choice!” Merle smiled at him, knowingly, and beckoned Cowan to follow.
The office he found himself in was massive. Half the walls were lined with towers of books, stacked in the expertly precarious way that only someone with far, far too many books could master.
A brown-haired girl, around his age, in pink and yellow robes looked at him and gasped, before she grinned so wide Cowan’s cheeks hurt in sympathy, waving at him excitedly.
He waved back, smiling at the way her face lit up.
“You were brought here for a purpose, young one.” Merle pulls a small chunk of paper from a leaning stack of papers on his desk.
“Welcome to Ravenwood, School of Magical Arts, and home of the Grandfather Tree, Bartleby. Here, we can teach you the secrets of magic and mana, and hone your skills to fulfill that purpose.”
Cowan takes the papers from Merle, reading over them.
There’s so many questions on the papers. Age, species, amount of eyes? Experience with vampirism? Was this some kind of prank?
He really should be more nervous about this. A purpose? In some place he’s never heard of, a man he’s never met telling him he can learn magic?
…That actually sounds awesome. Like, genuinely awesome.
“So… I can learn magic? Like… real magic? Like turning people into frogs?”
Merle laughs, warm and joyful. “Yes, my boy, something like that. You’ll be able to learn at a later point, but for now, we must get you enrolled.” He waves his hand again, and the spiral book comes rushing back in.
He opens the tome, holding it out to Cowan. “Place your hand on the book, young one. Don’t be shy.”
Cowan hesitates, before setting his palm down on the page. The same tingling feeling crawls back up his arm, spreading across his whole body. It feels euphoric, like it’s binding itself to the very fabric of his being.
Merle hums in acknowledgement. “Ah, yes… You’re most attuned to the School of Death.” He notices the anxiety and confusion in Cowan’s eyes. “Worry not, child, necromancy is nothing to be worried about, when done correctly.”
He motions for Cowan to pull his hand away. “This,” Merle gestures to the energetic brunette from earlier. “Is Miss Abby K. Doodle, one of our resident advisors. She’ll be giving you the tour and should be able to answer any questions you may have. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you, as I have urgent matters to attend to.”
Merle hands him a small box and what Cowan guesses is a wand. It looks like a unicorn horn, with a handle carved at the base.
Were unicorns real too? …Did they take its horn?
He tries to suppress a shudder at the thought of that poor unicorn.
Abby grabbed his arm and started pulling him outside before he could protest.
It’s gorgeous, wherever they are. The sky is a perfect blue, dotted by a few cotton candy clouds swirling in spirals.
What’s with all the spirals…?
“Welcome to The Commons! This is the main hangout for Ravenwood students, you’ll probably be here a lot too.” Abby leads him out of Merle’s gate, gesturing at the shallow pond at the center of the space.
There’s students doing all sorts of things. Some studying, a pair tossing things back and forth, there’s even a small handful by the small dock who seem to be locked in a heated discussion.
She drags him next to the pond, rattling off a list of various things he could do with his free time–he thinks she mentions fishing, pointing out a few students, but he doesn’t see any fishing poles, just weirdly colored orbs floating on the surface.
Cowan makes eye contact with a boy in black and white robes sitting under the massive tree just next to them, knees up, previously focused on his textbook. Abby’s tour must’ve disturbed him. His hood is down, and his locs hang just above his eyebrows.
His eyes are silver. That’s one of the coolest things Cowan’s ever seen.
“The library’s over there,” She points off in the distance. “Mr. Argleston is the head librarian, he’s pretty nice, so long as you bring your books back on time!”
The boy raises an eyebrow at him. A what are you looking at, kind of look.
Cowan waves at him, an awkward smile on his face.
The boy rolls his eyes at him, looking back down at his book.
“-And over here is the shopping district, let’s go see!”
Cowan only half-pays attention, only taking mental note of where everything was.
She leads him to several stores, making him pick between a few styles of black and white robes, hats, and boots, telling the people behind the counters to send the bill to Headmaster Ambrose.
They leave, eventually, Cowan and Abby both carrying a handful of bags.
“So how do you like… do magic?” Cowan asks, as they’re walking through the shopping district tunnel.
“It’s like, you focus your will and pull mana, then kind of push it.” Abby makes a push gesture with her hand. “Some spells have incantations and stuff, big dramatic rituals, but others are so easy you can do ‘em by accident.”
He nods, trying to pretend like this isn’t both totally insane and totally awesome at the same time. “Okay… and what’s mana?”
They’re passing by the tree, and the silver-eyed boy is still there. His head shoots up at the question, turning to him with a look on his face like he’s just asked the stupidest question in history.
“You’re enrolled at an academy for magic and you don’t know what mana is?” He interjects.
Cowan stammers. He flushes, feeling a little bit like an idiot.
How was he supposed to know before this?
Next to him, Abby takes a deep breath.
“Duncan Grimwater,” She seethes, voice full of fake-friendly venom. “It’s Cowan’s first day in the Spiral. Maybe we try to be a little more welcoming to our newest student here at Ravenwood?”
“Maybe try teaching him about the fundamentals of the universe a little sooner next time.” Duncan gathers his things, and looks at Cowan. “Try not to get eaten by a Humungofrog, new kid.”
He leaves without another word, disappearing into a tunnel with a sign that reads Ravenwood.
What the hell was a Humungofrog?
Abby pats his shoulder reassuringly.
“Don’t worry about Duncan, okay? He’s just a little blunt sometimes.”
Cowan snorts. “A little is an understatement.”
She laughs. “Maybe it is.”
Abby glances up at the sky, the sun starting to set over the houses. “Looks like this is the end of our tour. I’ve gotta get a report to Headmaster Ambrose, so I can’t join you any further.”
“The dorms are that way, though,” She points down the same tunnel Duncan went down earlier. “The boys’ dorm is on the right side, right next to the tunnel. Malorn can help you find your room and get you situated, okay?”
Cowan nods. “Thanks, Abby.” He takes the bags of his stuff that she was carrying, starting toward the dorms.
“Have a good first night!” She calls after him.
He hopes he does too.
The boys’ dorm isn’t hard to find. A boy in red and yellow holds the door for him, welcomes him to the school.
Cowan smiles at him. At least everyone’s pretty polite.
There’s another boy inside, maybe sixteen, sitting on a couch and leaning over uncomfortably to a coffee table, where he’s very rapidly taking notes from a textbook that’s definitely seen better days.
There are so many mugs. The whole room smells like coffee.
“Um… I’m looking for Malorn?” Cowan asks.
His head pops up.
“Oh! Hi! You must be the new student!” He stands up and crosses the room quickly. “I’m your man, Malorn Ashthorn. I’m your RA!”
“Your room’s up the stairs there, third door on the left side. You do have a roommate, his name is Duncan. If you need anything I’m normally down here, don’t be afraid to come find me!”
Cowan nods, thanks Malorn, and follows his directions, trying his best to not trip going up the old wooden steps.
He struggles to get the door open at first–it’s practically medieval, and he’s got two armfuls of shopping bags.
Stepping inside and looking around, the dorm itself is nice. A big, octagonal room, with a small kitchen, even some kind of fridge. It’s decorated, there’s two desks, a few couches and a fireplace. Duncan–he wonders if it’s the same boy from earlier–decorates pretty well.
There’s a bathroom to his right, the sounds of presumably Duncan showering filtering through the gap under the door.
He glances at the other two doors. One with white symbols in chalk on its front, and the other, a piece of paper stuck to the front.
Cowan goes up to read it. New kid’s room.
Classy.
His bedroom is also an octagonal room. He’s sensing a theme.
It’s cozy, with a big fluffy bed, a dresser, a few empty bookshelves, and two big bay windows overlooking the pond. The walls are bare, aside from a sconce on the wall by his door.
Cowan sets the bags down, kicks his shoes off, and jumps face first into the bed.
It’s so comfy. He sinks right in, laying facedown.
It’s hard to not fall asleep right then and there. It’s a fight just to keep his eyes open.
Cowan forces himself up, to go put his new clothes away before he forgets entirely.
He almost whines when he sits up. Almost.
Figuring out how to fold robes was frustrating. Long and baggy and composed of layer after layer, he ends up just throwing a few of them into the drawers.
A lot of the robes make him question exactly how he’s supposed to put them on. It’s worse with the boots–every single pair goes up to his knees. Not a single pair of sneakers but his own. His legs ache just thinking about it.
He fights with a robe with an attached cloak for far longer than he’s willing to admit. Somewhere during the scuffle with his clothes, he hears Duncan get out of the shower, bare feet making soft sounds against the tile.
He remembers Abby mentioned a bazaar on the tour, debating going to see it for himself. Maybe he’d find something a little more his style.
He starts fidgeting with the wand Ambrose gave him. Spinning it between his fingers, flipping it, once, twice, before brandishing it and flicking his wrist at a point across the room.
A burst of sparks shot out of the end, making him yell, his wand slipping out of his hand and clattering on the hardwood floor.
A few errant sparks land on the tasseled end of his curtains, a small flame slowly growing from the frayed fibers.
“Nooo, nononono, shit…” Cowan mutters, trying to pat it out, hoping his room won’t smell too much like smoke.
Great. His first day and he’s already set something on fire.
There’s no way this could get worse.
“So first you don’t know what mana is. Now you’re trying to set your curtains on fire.” Duncan says, monotone and a little judgy, standing in his doorway in his pajamas.
Of course.
“I didn’t mean to,” He says. “I just- I didn’t think it would do that.”
“What were you expecting?” Duncan narrows his eyes at him.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of this stuff.”
Duncan stares at him. “Okay. Alright. Sure.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Please try to not start any more fires tonight.”
Duncan starts to walk away, toward the kitchen, before he stops. “...Did Abby feed you at all?”
Cowan shakes his head. “No, she just made me buy clothes.” He gestures at his dresser.
Duncan groans, like Cowan not starving is his responsibility. “Well, come on, you can find something here.”
The fridge is impressively full, considering Duncan is Cowan’s age. He settles on a sandwich, grabbing a handful of ingredients he somewhat recognizes, putting it together while Duncan makes his own dinner at the stove next to him.
“...My name’s Cowan, by the way.” He mutters, just loud enough to be understood.
Duncan looks at him, a little confused. “I heard from Abby. Duncan. Duncan Grimwater.” He looks back at the pot on the stove he’s been watching. “Did Ambrose make you pick your school yet?”
“I think so? He said I was ‘attuned to the death school,’ I guess I’ll learn what that means eventually.” Cowan takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s weird. Like it’s trying and failing to be something familiar.
Duncan hums in acknowledgement. “Good choice. I’m in the Death school too. You’ll have most classes with Professor Malistaire Drake.”
“...Is he mean?” He asks, causing Duncan to look back at him with a slight glare.
“No, unless you waste his time with stupid questions.”
“...Got it.” Cowan stares down at his sandwich. He’s wondering partly what Duncan’s deal is, and partly if he can befriend him out of spite alone.
Everything about this place was weird. The sky, the food, magic, Duncan and his weird, pretty, silver eyes.
Wait, what?
Nevermind.
He goes back to eating his weird sandwich. Cowan’s just grateful for something to eat after the day he’s had.
They eat together in silence, only broken by the occasional question.
“My wand, is that like… an actual unicorn horn?”
Duncan hums affirmatively. “They shed them every few years.”
“Oh thank god.” He mutters.
“What did you think happened-”
“I don’t know. This morning I didn’t know unicorns were even real.”
Duncan looks at him, sighs, and goes back to eating.
It’s quiet again. Uncomfortably quiet.
They finish dinner in silence. Cowan does the dishes. He’ll at least try to salvage his first day here.
Duncan helps him put them away. He’s got a system, Cowan notices. He’ll learn it eventually.
It’s late when they finish up. Cowan can’t fight the yawns anymore, mumbling a goodnight to Duncan before he shuffles off to his new bedroom.
If getting out of bed earlier was hard, he’s sure it’ll be impossible tomorrow morning. The bed has him trapped like the most comfortable spider web.
He’ll just… rest his eyes for a little bit. That’s all.
Just a few minutes. That’s all, as he slowly drifts off. Just a few.