Chapter 13
The portal’s glistening light faded, bringing the location where I’d enrolled in the competition gradually into focus. Rather than a milling crowd of the wizards and witches whose presence had previously crowded the spacious clearing with their magic, it was abandoned. This fact alone wasn’t surprising, considering many magic wielders had likely not passed the first challenge, with those who had succeeded in qualifying for the competition completing the second task at various times.
I sensed another difference, a sensation similar to a cloud obscuring the sun, casting everything in grey hues of dimmed light. I tentatively searched the air with my powers; it felt different, unsettling, as if the air was thinning. Not only was my reaction strained, but pain accompanied each magical movement, sharper than before, as if whatever sinister force filling the clearing magnified the invisible force attacking my powers.
I tightened my jaw to mask my wince from my frog’s prodding attention. I didn’t want to worry Mae, but by the creature’s narrowed dark brown eyes, my reaction hadn’t been lost to his keen observation.
The unsettling force lingered like a persistent shadow as I wandered the clearing, making my way towards where I’d registered with my mentor, Enchantress Ivy…only to reach the two maples that had previously sheltered the invisible tent and discover it was no longer there.
I ignored the discomfort brought by summoning enough magic to search the thinning air for the invisible folds guarding the entrance before allowing my hand to drop with a sigh. “Another challenge.” I flexed my hand in an effort to shake off the lingering unpleasant sensation that had haunted me ever since completing my elemental spell.
Mae remained silent, but his heated attention prickled, magnifying my steadily growing sense of unease. I distracted myself from his gaze by taking in the seemingly empty clearing for any hint of the absent judges but found nothing. It made sense that the judging would occur at different locations in order to provide an additional challenge, yet the unsettling sensation choking the air gave me reason to worry.
By my frog’s deepening frown, even when his cursed form suppressed much of his magic, his powers were attuned enough to likewise detect something amiss. “It appears you’ve also noticed it, which means it’s not the paranoid workings of my imagination—something has happened to the magic in this location.”
“Is this part of the competition?” he asked tentatively, his eyes swiveling atop his head as if he thought straining them hard enough would bring answers.
I considered. “Possibly. By your own deductions more is being tested than simply our magical abilities. There have been many recorded instances of magic going awry; with the council’s responsibility for helping restore it, it would seem fitting for them to test us in such an area.”
Yet in truth I doubted the possibility. I gestured the spellbook closer and used the charm to change its contents to information about forces strong enough to suppress power, muttering to myself as I flipped through the contents, none of which seemed to contain the information I needed.
“I doubt you’ll find what you’re searching for in a mere book.”
I startled at the sudden voice, already familiar despite our sole interaction last night. Beneath the shadows of the trees stood King Ciaran with his usual stoicism. He didn’t venture from the shade, as if whatever magic had allowed his presence would dissipate with the light.
By his expression I gained the impression he had been watching us for quite some time, yet I hadn’t felt the heated prickle of his gaze, likely due to his keeping his observation hidden beneath a magical shield until he’d chosen to reveal himself…evidence that despite my own current difficulties in accessing my powers, he remained unaffected.
My shock at his sudden appearance rendered me momentarily silent, but the king didn’t seem to be awaiting a response. “I’m impressed you could tell something was amiss, even when it’s currently subtle; your powers are more attuned than I initially assumed.”
This information was enough to recover my missing voice. “Does that mean you know what’s happened to the magic in this area?”
“I have a hypothesis.” He offered no further insight. Frustration tightened my jaw, but I couldn’t afford to be distracted by my annoyance with the king…or intimidation by his control over his powers. I took a step closer, the frog shifting uncomfortably on my shoulder as I approached.
“It’s almost as if the magic that previously filled the clearing is gradually fading, which is particularly strange considering the power from the vast number of magic wielders should have created an abundance of it, not less.”
King Ciaran offered no comment, much to my disappointment, a frequent emotion that had long outworn its welcome.
I sighed. “I suppose any advantage you give another competitor is a disadvantage to yourself.”
“True…yet even so, I’ve made it a habit to consider others before myself, making it difficult not to extend help when the need arises.” He cast his gaze around the clearing. “It would be too easy if the location used to complete the first task is also used for the second, yet it’s a cruel trick to leave behind such a sinister force to entangle the unsuspecting competitors who failed to realize this.”
If his knowing look was any indication, he’d offered me yet another hint, despite having no motivation to do so. It was as I’d initially suspected: the location of the judging was rotating, though the idea of using the previous location as a trap left me unsettled.
Before I could inquire further, the shadows comprising the king’s form began to gradually disintegrate, bringing him with them…slowing when King Ciaran paused, as if he’d just remembered something.
“My initial warning stands: something is amiss about this competition. I advise you to be on your guard.”
With that he vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. I stared after him, willing him to reappear and clarify the ominous words he’d left behind to fill the empty patches created by the thinning magic.
When he remained absent, my shoulders sagged with a sigh. “Another warning. I don’t understand what could possibly motivate him to help us.”
“It does seem contradictory,” Mae offered. “Yet another mystery to compete for our attention amongst the myriad of others.”
Despite my tendency to do things on my own and doubting Mae’s ability to offer much help in his current form, his support that reminded me I wasn’t alone brought solace nonetheless.
I captured a handful of the unknown force shrouding the air and experimentally toyed with it. “I find the thinning magic unsettling. If time wasn’t so pressing I could better examine it. But as it stands, I’ll have to study it another time.”
I conjured a glass vial to bottle a sample. I wasn’t sure when I’d have time to study the properties of this unnerving force, but if something truly was choking the magic, I’d need all the information I could obtain in order to contribute to stopping it…a duty that would be mine should I succeed in my current quest to earn a position on the council.
The effort in tracing the magical path from my storeroom of enchanted bottles stored back at the castle to my current location required more exertion than my previous smaller spells had; pain shot through my hand, as if I’d burned my skin on an open flame.
“What’s wrong?” Mae demanded, hopping off my shoulder to land on my wrist.
“Nothing.” Despite my hasty assurance, my expression faltered the moment my frog turned his head to peer intently at my hand and I winced.
Mae sighed. “I’m not sure whether your lie was given out of manly pride or sheer stubbornness, but it’s foolish to pretend nothing is wrong instead of facing the problem directly.”
My eyes rounded. “How did you—”
“I witnessed your pain just now; my vision allows me to see my entire surroundings no matter which direction I face, so it’s pointless to hide anything from me. Though independence can be an admirable trait, stubbornly clinging to it is foolish given the circumstances.”
Though I recognized my frog’s sense, it took much inner wrestling to wrangle my resistance into submission before finally relinquishing the fight with a sigh of defeat. “It feels as if something is suppressing my powers, resulting in pain each time I use them. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
My frog’s warty brow creased and he gently nudged my hand, which was still clenched in pain. As I uncurled my fingers, he hopped onto it, exploring my palm with his webbed feet. His warty, slightly slimy touch should have been unsettling, but instead it felt almost…pleasant.
I frowned as I recognized the power caressing mine; the sensation created by each unique wielder acted as a magical fingerprint, a familiarity that confirmed I’d encountered Mae’s magic before, yet there were too many wizards of my acquaintance to narrow down my frog’s identity through this alone. Clearly he was unable to communicate who he was, thanks to the restrictions of the curse, but I would be alert to any clues that could unlock the mystery of this man-turned-frog.
After a bit of investigation as best as Mae could manage with the curse suppressing his powers, my frog looked up. “I became familiar with your magic after you cast the spell of communication on me, and though my powers are likely too underdeveloped for an accurate reading, from what I can tell, they seem slightly different than they did before.” The frog pulled its hand away and with a swift leap returned to its previous place on my shoulder.
I flexed my fingers, as if the gesture could shake off not only the ominous force haunting my skin, but the almost tingly sensation left behind by Mae’s touch. “I first noticed my powers behaving strangely last night after our encounter with the King of Lumeria, but it’s grown worse since arriving in this clearing.”
“Where there seems to be something amiss with the magic.”
Which created two possibilities—either the fading magic was the result of some sort of curse, or one of the competitors had done something. The competition had attracted dozens if not hundreds of magic possessors, which would make it difficult if not impossible to narrow the suspects to a much smaller pool…unless I took into account the only competitor I’d encountered when I first noticed my faltering powers.
Yet even without the dark king’s unprecedented warnings, I was inclined to find him innocent; he seemed too cunning to so easily tip his hand when he had no obligation to make himself known to me.
Our best hope would be to analyze the sample I’d obtained to see if I could uncover the unique pattern used by its caster, its own magical fingerprint…a spell far beyond my current abilities, which only stoked my ever-present inadequacy and need to improve.
With time pressing, it would be best to set aside this issue for now and focus on deciphering where the second task would be judged. The most logical place to conceal such information was within the clue about the challenge itself. I withdrew the parchment I’d retrieved from behind the enchanted lock and held it up to the light. When a quick perusal didn’t reveal any hidden messages, I conducted a few simple concealment spells, made more difficult with the new strain on my powers.
Worry squeezed my chest at the realization that even my ability to perform basic magic had been affected. If whatever force hindering my power didn’t dissipate, I would be at a severe disadvantage. It was one thing to lose due to my own inadequacies, and quite another to be thwarted by an outside force.
“Alden?”
I blinked and my frog’s riveted concern came into focus. By Mae’s narrowed scrutiny, he’d detected my forced smile of reassurance. I normally hesitated in sharing my burdens, but something about the depth of my companion’s worried brown eyes encouraged me to take him into my confidence.
I paused for a moment to marvel at the close relationship we’d built, even without my knowledge of who he actually was. It was a friendship different than any I’d had with other men before, perhaps because I somehow saw him as both a person and an animal.
“With my weakened powers, I’m hesitant to perform my usual experiments to determine which spell could be obscuring the information we need, especially when each cast pulls from a well of power that used to be infinite, but which now feels limited due to my ever shrinking reserve.”
Even if they managed to create a noteworthy spell to fulfill the challenge’s conditions, this alone wouldn’t limit the pool of competitors…causing the fear of potential foul play to once more slither into my mind, robbing me of much of my already faltering confidence.
Though the situation proved unideal, the only other course would be to give up, something I would never do; I would fight until I’d drained every drop of magic I possessed, even as that very outcome which would leave me without purpose caused a swell of hopelessness to cinch my chest.
After exhausting my arsenal of basic concealment charms, I moved onto intermediate spells that were a greater drain on my powers, but thankfully I only needed to try a small handful before finding the one that allowed the contents of the challenge to melt away to be replaced with coordinates. I took extra care in using these to create a portal, double checking my work several times so I wouldn’t be forced to expend my precious powers to redo it. Laying a protective hand over Mae to ensure he was secure on my shoulder, I stepped inside.
The portal opened into a vast, sunlit clearing of willows and pines whose magic brought instant relief, as if I’d been finally granted air after being submerged for too long. Though not entirely back to normal, distance from the magic-parched clearing made my powers easier to summon and control, allowing me to forge a tracking spell that led me to the invisible tent where Enchantress Ivy awaited me.
Upon seeing her I tensed. Her intimate knowledge of my magic would make it impossible for her to miss the weak points in each of my spells that might be too subtle for the other judges to detect, evidence of the secret part of me that would rather achieve my goal via cheating than not at all for fear of the nothing that would be all that awaited me should I fail.
In the end, my fierce need to earn the position via my own merits proved stronger, along with the lingering unease brought by my tampered powers that sought my mentor’s wisdom. She immediately detected the worry harrowing my expression.
“It appears you’ve also fallen victim to the force siphoning the competitors’ magic, as have several competitors who arrived before you.”
Her resigned tone solved at least one uncertainty. “Which means the challenge it created isn’t part of the competition.”
By the sharp straightening of her posture, I appeared to have offended her. “Certainly not. It’s too dangerous to tamper with power in such an irresponsible way. Thankfully for now it doesn’t appear as if the effects are permanent, but I advise you to remain on your guard. There’s already considerable risk for someone of your status to be competing, but with this unknown yet sinister force—” Her gaze darted towards me with an expression I couldn’t quite read—a mixture of concern and some other emotion.
Despite her well-meaning warning, irritation flared. Why should my powers be given greater consideration merely because of the blasted title I’d been born to? It took every ounce of discipline not to offer a snapping retort; I respected her too well to unleash my constantly simmering frustration on my mentor.
Sensing my darkening mood, she silenced the remainder of her words and clasped her fingers together with an expectant look, nodding for me to present what I’d created for the current challenge.
I hesitated. At the time the joy I’d experienced from enjoying my magic again rather than using it as a measuring stick for my worth had made me proud of my spell, but beneath her scrutiny I became entangled within the familiar prison forged by my insecurities. I felt a swell of panic as I wondered why I’d thought my simple creation could possibly be worthy of such a prestigious competition.
“I’m sure whatever you’ve created is more than adequate.”
Her gentle cajoling gave me enough courage to withdraw the scrap of cloth from where it’d been concealed in one of my magical pockets, whose protective charm had thankfully withstood the magical force I’d just escaped.
Enchantress Ivy’s eyes sparked with interest as she took in the unassuming fabric. She leaned closer, a promising sign. “What spell does it harbor?”
I took a wavering breath and went through the same demonstration I’d given to Mae. With each step the enchantress’ smile grew, bolstering my feeble confidence, and as she tasted the berry after my last spell, I savored her look of delight. Yet pleasing her tastebuds wasn’t enough to win; my insecurities surged again as I anxiously awaited her response, hoping my spell wouldn’t be viewed as a mere parlor trick but as the lifesaving tool I’d intended.
My tension relaxed at Enchantress Ivy’s nod of approval that confirmed I’d passed. “I’m familiar enough with your habits to be admittedly surprised you went the practical route of creating a simpler spell, but such a course is key to your success. Far too many of the competitors focused on flashy forms of magic that resulted in them not only overextending their abilities, but in creating impractical charms that are far from the focus of the Enchanters’ Council. Well done, Alden.”
It was as Mae had surmised. A swell of gratitude in choosing to humble myself enough to receive advice from a frog filled me as I accepted the next clue and ducked out of the tent, where I nearly collided with a tall, blonde-haired witch.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Her icy tone magnified the force of her cold smirk.
I barely bit back my well chosen curse. “Demetria.”
Her familiarity with my magic made my disguise spell as ineffective against her as it’d been against Enchantress Ivy. I’d been aware of the high probability that my sister would also enter the magical competition. As loathe as I was to admit it, Demetria was more powerful than I was, a fact which seemed particularly unfair and worrisome, considering her growing fascination with darker forms of magic.
What had initially started as suspicions had only been confirmed when she’d stolen my best friend Prince Xander’s feelings and memories of love for his beloved, Princess Taryn, only a few years before, which he had only recovered after much tribulation. I’d been wary of my sister’s hidden sinister nature before, but that act had shattered the last of my fragile trust; things hadn’t been the same between us ever since.
Anyone who would go to such sinister lengths didn’t deserve a place on the Enchanters’ Council…yet with her superior abilities that seemed to grow with each passing day, she’d likely prove successful, leaving only two of the three available positions, making my goal that already felt unachievable as out of reach as the stars. I needed to try all the harder; joining the council was my best hope of thwarting whatever malevolent evil she designed.
Yet with the trying events of the day and my never-ending war against my own doubts, I didn’t have the energy to expend on my sister today. I tried to step around her, but she only blocked my way.
“I should have known you would enter this competition, but to do so without our parents’ permission is unusually irresponsible; you must be quite desperate, dear brother.”
“It’s hypocritical to condemn me for a fault you yourself performed.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “A false assumption. Unlike you, I not only secured their permission, but I don’t have a history of neglecting my duties enough to warrant their concern.”
I gritted my teeth at this other difference between us that constantly fueled my sense of inadequacy; while I struggled to balance these two parts of myself—prince and wizard—she managed to put on a front of an ideal princess even while remaining superior in magic.
A myriad of retorts burned my tongue, but goading her would only worsen her taunting, her favorite pastime to engage in against me and our elder sister, Dahlia, who possessed no magic at all.
When she remained an unmoving obstacle, I performed a silent spell that allowed me to manipulate the space around us in order to slip past. I strode away as quickly as I could manage without being forced to rely on further magic, not even pausing when she called after me.
“I’m familiar enough with your magic to sense something seems to have happened with your powers.”
She was the last person I wanted to explain the recent mysteries to. I slowed just enough to explore the air surrounding her own powers. From what I could tell, she’d been entirely unaffected.
Before her interests had veered so drastically off course from mine, I’d spent many hours of my magical training studying alongside Demetria. These memories of when she’d been filled with light rather than her current air of cold indifference made me want to think the best of my sister, but in truth I couldn’t be certain she wasn’t above casting a spell to siphon her competition’s powers, providing herself with an advantage.
Thankfully she didn’t follow as I took shelter beneath the trees whose cover would shield my portal creation from her view; her heated scrutiny never failed to make me nervous, and though my powers had mostly returned, the strain had left me exhausted.
Mae stared after Demetria. “I never expected to encounter your sister.”
I sighed. “It would have been better for you if you hadn’t. She’s the most unpleasant woman. I curse the relation almost as often as I curse my royal status.”
A title I’d never wanted to escape more than I did now. My brush with my faltering powers had only given me a taste of a life without magic, enough for me to know that a life absent of my greatest purpose wouldn’t be any life at all.
Which meant I had to succeed, no matter the cost.