Dad was happy to see me find an interest in something other than sleeping all day. Whether his views on magic were as clear-cut as I once believed, I knew he believed we could live without it, and I did too. However, just because we could live without it didn’t mean we had to. Dad had supported me. He knew good and well what I spent every day working on. I don't think he ever hated magic. He never hated spells. I did for sure, but my father had no aversion. I guess since we couldn’t afford it, and everything mom had done, and what I had done to myself, I always assumed he had a bad take on the art. In reality, I was the one with hate and so much fear.

  Learning to make my own spells, giving magic another shot, gave me a new perspective. Working with Beth, I created spells I was glad to share with my father. I had yet to come up with anything practical or groundbreaking, but it was nice to have good news when we both made it home for once.

  My favorite was the levitation spell I wrote at the theater during my magician's initiation test. We couldn’t use it outside without floating into the stratosphere, but it was fun to weightlessly float around the house. In a few days, I brought home enough spells that we could consider our family book a real grimoire.

  Working with Beth, I discovered new magic every day, and it felt good. Not only did I finally have the same things as kids from school, but I was making my own. I didn’t have to spend a dime to be just as good, and there was the potential to be better.

  Of course, all of my spells were unbound, so they were harder to perform than anything store-bought. I still had time to learn that lesson.

  It was week three of the internship. On that Thursday morning, I had woken up before my alarm. I woke up before Dad again, which was something that had been a rare occurrence only weeks prior. It was a new phenomenon I’d experienced ever since I passed the magician’s hazing ritual test thingy. The internship never ceased to feel like work, but I couldn’t deny my growing interest. I was getting something out of the process. I was changing in the slightest of ways that I could notice, but those changes meant a lot.

  That day, I made it to the theater an hour early. Birds weren’t even chirping as I entered the building. As usual, I went to the main theater and backstage. Typically, Beth would have been in her office working on something had she not been on stage already. The deeper into the building I walked, the more I got an eerie feeling telling me I was alone.

  It was too quiet.

  I could hear my own soft, padded footsteps on the dark hardwood floors. Even the curtains made a sound as they gently swayed in place. Beth wasn’t there.

  Since the beginning of the internship, the only time she hadn’t been around was my off days, but it wasn’t Sunday. Regardless, her office was still there, open and unattended.

  I could sense how alone I was. I could hear it. The world was sleeping while I stood in a place familiar but not my own. I thought about looking for the cure to my curse. Despite everything Beth had taught me and every spell that I wrote, I couldn’t forget the reason I was there. I was tired of being the bad luck rabbit. I was tired of living my life in the body of my shortcomings. And yet, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go through her office.

  That was a lie.

  I tried to go through her office, but I quickly stopped myself before going too far. I walked around the room, picked up a few books, and skimmed them over, but I left before it became a serious invasion of privacy. I was a little annoyed by myself at that moment. If all I wanted was the cure, then it didn’t make sense to keep myself from finding it that morning. It was the perfect opportunity.

  Maybe I wanted to earn it. My dad would have been proud had that been the answer. Maybe I had more motivation than I thought. Perhaps I had ambition.

  As I started to leave the theater, I was finally greeted by another person. It was Beth. She lacked her usual cocktail dress and high heels. In yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she was almost unrecognizable. I stood on the steps as she approached. I expected her to give me my daily assignment.

  “What are we doing today?” I asked.

  I thought she was going to walk past me without stopping, but she didn't.

  “Nothing, go home,” she said.

  “Really?” I questioned.

  “The show is tomorrow night. We need to be well-rested before then.”

  “We’re reading words off sheets of paper in time with music,” I lightly argued.

  She put a halt on her steps to turn around when she made it to the big glass doors.

  “Anything can happen on stage, and in front of a crowd, accidents are more likely to happen than not. We’re dealing with unbound spells,” she said.

  “Then why don’t we bind them?”

  “You’re not ready for something so advanced, and I don’t have the time,” she said before walking inside.

  I followed behind her, but she didn’t slow down. She was much faster in regular shoes.

  “I’m already here. Might as well try, lady.”

  I argued while trying to appear indifferent.

  “Is it just me, or are you genuinely investing yourself?” She asked, and though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she wore a triumphant smile, if nothing else.

  Beth was always a professional, but there was no mistaking the evolution of our relationship. She tried to uphold the role of strict authority figure guiding me forward, but the more she saw of my potential, the more I saw of her.

  “Offers on the table, take it or leave it,” I pressed.

  She stopped to pull a pin and paper from her purse. It felt abrupt the way she took a moment to write out what seemed to be two pages’ worth of instructions, but she did.

  “I promised you higher education. I’ll allow you to bind one spell. If you can,” she said.

  She gave me the papers.

  “How hard can it be?” I asked as I read over the pages.

  “You’ll need to find ingredients before you start. That is a list of everything necessary. Once you have the elements, perform the ritual written on the back,” she said.

  “That’s it?” I questioned.

  “You’ll find the difficulty soon enough.”

  She left me to my own devices.

  The ritual was less than five lines long, but the list of ingredients was extensive. The problematic part was likely in the gathering of ingredients, but even that felt simple enough. I couldn’t see the issue or a reason why it would take more than an hour or so to do.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  And then I tried to do it.

  I was able to find most of the ingredients at a grocery store. A sour apple, sage, ginger oil, and charcoal were the easy parts. It’s when I got further down the list that I realized I needed a specialty store. I needed a magic shop. They were the only place to buy enchanted paper, magic pets, or odd ass ingredients.

  Daybreak had a single magic shop, The Lancer. I’d never visited the place myself, but I noticed it often with it being on the outskirts of The Dead Woods. It was a glass building with purple archways. Its name was proudly hanging from its facade in big gold cursive letters. The woods being at its back made it seem more secluded than other parts of town. It was a sight.

  I truly believed my day was going to be easy, and then I found myself walking inside. The aisles of miscellaneous stuff were near impossible to navigate, so when I saw a familiar face, I thought I was saved.

  “I didn’t know you worked here,” I said.

  “My family owns the store,” said Lance as he stocked a shelf of canned teardrops.

  I didn't know my elf friend worked at a magic shop or that his family-owned one. Should I have known, considering how long we had known one another? Sure, but I was clueless up until that point. For 6 years, I wanted nothing to do with spells, so I never had reason to visit a magic shop. Besides, most fae lived without human magic.

  Who would have guessed a family of elves would own a place like that? Magic was more than spells, I suppose.

  Seeing Lance in his purple and black work uniform made me feel like an oblivious idiot. Even if we weren’t the closest of friends, I should have known something so basic. I guess I should have assumed because of the name written out in big bright letters, “The Lancer.”

  “That’s great. I need a few things,” I said.

  “So do I. Where are my fish?” He asked with clarity and a lack of humor.

  Maybe we weren’t that close after all.

  “This again?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Do you have any idea how long it took to import Gilded Star Lions from Madagascar?” he added.

  “Lance, if it was that hard for you, then what makes you think I can get new ones?” I debated.

  “I don’t care, but you’re not buying anything here until I have my fish,” he said.

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Get me my fish,” he demanded loudly enough to startle anyone nearby.

  He tried to walk away, but I stayed close behind.

  “Come on, Lance, can’t we leave the past in the past?” I asked with the deepest, most sincere regret I could find within myself.

  He tossed me out. I didn’t realize how strong Lance was, or maybe I was lightweight. Either way, the elf threw me from the building. With no other magic shops in town, I had to gather ingredients from the wild. Sadly, I needed half a list of nonsense.

  The hardest ingredients to deal with were the sweat of a breathless animal, the rot of a burning bush, and the tail of a swallow. Where the hell was I supposed to find any of that? I needed help, and lucky for me, I had a friend whose parents were magicians.

  I didn’t visit BJ’s house very often. More accurately, I didn’t go to her home very often. Her parents weren’t diabolical, but they practiced magic left and right. Their area of specialization was silent spells or handicap magic. With spells that only needed to be written and touched, their home was otherworldly and dangerous. I felt terrible for the butler’s and wait staff that worked in the big blue house. Despite the rarity of my visit, I knew I was a welcomed guest. That’s why it took me off guard when I arrived, and a speaker box informed me that I was no longer permitted entry. I couldn’t get past the front gates. I tried to ring again, but after the third ring, they stopped answering. I stood confused and in waiting. I couldn’t understand why BJ wouldn’t want to see me. I knew she was home; all the interns had the day off after all.

  Beth wasn’t the only person performing Friday night. All the mentors were scheduled to debut new magic, with their interns acting as their assistants.

  I decided it was best to move on, but by that point, it was too late. Just as I started on my way, I felt a strange sensation come over my body. I looked down, and butterflies were flocking to me. At first, it was cute, but then they kept coming, coming, and coming until I couldn’t see or hear anything more than the fluttering of tiny wings. I was freaked out. I can’t say I was scared.

  No matter how many there were, they were still butterflies.

  I made an effort to move, only to realize I was already in motion. They were carrying me. The flight lasted a short while before they all dispersed, and I was dropped like an egg missing a basket.

  As I focused my eyes, I saw that I was in BJ’s bedroom. She was responsible. I got up to my feet, and she just stood there with her arms crossed, holding her usual spell book. Was she mad at me? It was hard to tell, especially when she wore those ridiculous, mad scientist goggles she called glasses.

  “I’m glad you saw me outside. Your butler said I wasn’t welcome anymore,” I said, dusting myself off.

  “That’s because I told him not to let you through,” she replied.

  “But why?”

  She held a straight face, but I could sense a frown beneath it.

  “You were supposed to help me. You were supposed to be there for me,” she said.

  “If this is about the test thing, I wanted to help, but I had no idea where to find you, and it took forever to free myself,” I said.

  “It took you eight hours. It took me four days!” She exclaimed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, putting my hands up as if she were holding a gun to my head.

  “This isn’t about the test. This is about you humiliating me.”

  “Humiliating you? How?!”

  “I talked you into doing the internship. I should be the one breaking records,” she said.

  I had to pause. I squinted my eyes in disbelief. Was she so petty as to be mad over me doing well? I didn’t want to believe it, but that’s the way it came off.

  “BJ,” I started but stopped.

  “You’re supposed to be helping me,” she said.

  “But not doing better than you?” I questioned.

  She wouldn’t answer for a while. She even looked away.

  “I was thinking since you’re getting the hang of everything, maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing?” She asked meekly.

  “You mean letting you see my notes or something?”

  “There’s a spell my dad is famous for. It’s called a mind transfer,” she suggested.

  “A mind transfer?”

  “There are a hundred different ways to use it, but we could use it to share any experiences or information we have,” she added.

  “Is it safe?” I asked.

  “I said my dad was famous for it. Plenty of people use it for all sorts of reasons.”

  I don’t know why, maybe it’s because the goal was to get inside my head, but I wasn’t convinced.

  “You could just see my notebook,” I suggested.

  “That wouldn’t show me your thoughts,” she pressed.

  “What if I don’t want you to see my thoughts?”

  “Don’t you want to help me, at least so I can keep up?”

  “I do, but I don’t want you inside my head," I said, taking a step back.

  “If you’re talking about porn or seeing you in the shower, then I’m mature enough to look past any of that,” she debated points that I hadn’t even thought of yet.

  I couldn’t take the chance of her finding out I had split myself in half with a spell my mother stole. It was too risky. The prospect of having another person inside my head didn’t feel safe on its own.

  “BJ, no, I’ll help you, but it’ll have to be another way,” I said firmly.

  “You didn’t want to be an intern; now you don’t want to help me,” she exclaimed.

  “It’s not like that. I don’t want you in my head,” I said, keeping a calmer tone.

  “Because you don’t want me to catch up?” she argued in such a rhetorical fashion that I knew the conversation was over.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” she said, opening her spell book.

  Before I could utter another word, her swarm of bugs had returned. I quickly knocked her spell book from her hands to stop them.

  “I can walk,” I yelled.