Sunday, September 27, 2015

Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.2 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666
Part: One "Waking Up"
Chapter: Two "Boots"
Authored by: 
Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant
All Rights Reserved.







Chimera: Class of 666
By Hannah Nyland and Jerad Sayler

“We should be able to talk here a while in secret and comfort. Would you like to go for an actual walk while we discuss what is going on with you? Or we could relocate to a safe place? Don't worry, the fam won't even know we are gone. I thought you might want to know what we are and what your options are." He turns to stark walking out of the circle of light, heading down the hill to the first intersection.
I consider for a second. “A walk, please. It’s what I came out here for.” The voice that says that sounds far calmer than it has any right to be. I’m simultaneously proud and disturbed by this. I watch more closely as Sky cast the spell this time; trying to figure out exactly how he did it, and coming up with nothing. But I could learn, apparently. My curiosity has already surpassed my reservations, for better or worse.
He pulls his hood up from my coat and we start walking side by side. He doesn’t talk for a long while. Then his eyes drift skyward and he begins to speak, taking in the vast open sky and speckled stars.
“There are a lot of stories, myths, theories… about what we are and where we come from.  What I can tell you is that since the beginning of recorded history there have been those who show preternatural abilities.  There are a fair number of other special people that have access to supernatural abilities and occult powers.  Were we make the distinction between some psychic and a mage is where our power comes from.  Mages are raw existential will-workers.  We call down the power and truths from higher planes of existence to alter laws of physical reality.  Among occult scholars, we call what we do High Magic… as opposed to more gross abilities which are sometimes referred to as magic with a little ‘m.’”  I listen to my cousin’s words and realize he is more comfortable in this academic tone, it helps me too.
We meander through 11th Street and up a shallow hill. Christmas decorations blink and shimmer on the houses all around us. I am processing what he is saying and with everything else I’ve dealt with tonight I am barely able to suspend disbelief long enough to follow what he is saying.  About all I can offer when he pauses is a curt nod.
“My order cannot provide with any reliability how and why a person becomes lucid and gains the ability to work their will against reality and its masters.  What we can say with confidence is the common themes of such an awakening. The soul of the person begins to resonate with the Supernal Realms and creates a permanent link or channel which the mage can then use sympathetically to call down the Magic.”  For all the precision in his explanation most of this goes right over my head.  Resonate… what does that even mean.  I focus on not having a panic attack and find myself remarkably calm, all things considered.  Jack’s introspective walk is a safe zone and I don’t want to return to the noise.
We reach the top of the slope and near another intersection. “So… I guess that is why I think you awakened to Magic. I can sense your power and I saw the structure of your spells.  I know you have Magic.  When this all started do you remember seeing a tower or a beacon or writing your full name on something before you started noticing these new sights?” He turns to look at me expectantly.

“There was a tower. Made of some sort of metal, I think. It looked different at first though; I couldn’t see what it really was. Other things kept getting in the way. Illusions. Dreams. . .” I abruptly fall silent, a distant look in my eyes. As though I have betrayed too much.
Black boots drag heavily through the snow, as though I’m barely lifting my feet as I trudge beside him. My pace has been slowing for the last few minutes, but I hadn’t noticed it until now. I’m too far away; half mesmerized by the glow of Christmas lights from the buildings nearby, reeling from all of the new information spinning through my head. It’s a lot to take in. My hands are tucked into my pockets, but from force of habit rather than cold. On second thought, the walk isn’t helping nearly as much as I expected it to.
I realize that I haven’t said anything for far longer than is polite. I continue quietly, “I did end up signing my name. I was sitting at a table inside the tower, and I wrote it down on a piece of paper. Which was also my math final.” My lips quirk up in a faint smile. “I passed, by the way.”
I stop abruptly, turn to face Jack. Something has just occurred to me. “Look, all of this . . . do you think you think you could help me explain to my parents? They’re worried about me.” A hideous understatement. “There must be something that would help. . .” I trail off.
“Something that would help?” He asks, incredulity leaking into his voice.  His face seems suddenly very open and sad, a hopeless smile sets grimly into his features.
“I forgot to mention the thing about sleepers, that is what we call people unaware of the Supernal. Your parents, as open and awesome as John and Marion are, they cannot believe you.  They literally are incapable to believing.  They subconsciously reject High Magic because the Sleeping Curse remains upon them and suppresses any stimuli from that source. Casting magic in front of sleepers is quickly disbelieved and that, combined with the spiritual entropy of the phemoral world, frays Magic apart. Through observation alone they counter your will with their sleeping will and reality asserts itself.  It’s not that reality is completely subjective and based on belief, it might be, it’s that the status quo is being unwittingly reinforced…”
Jack pinches the bridge of my nose with a black leather gloved hand as if he were trying to squeeze the answers out of his brain. “Kiddo, I wish we could tell your parents or even my parents. I wish I could tell you that this is going to be like Harry Potter or the X-Men.  That you are going to a school for the gifted with your parent’s blessing. But this is the real world (kinda) and it only gets more complicated from there.  When you tell people, even your closest, most trusted friend about Magic, the nature of reality, and you’re mystical secrets you open them up to it. There are bad mages and horrible creatures that would love to eat you. There are more things out there then I could even list for you. You have magic and can have powerful allies but your friend, as someone who is still sleeping has virtually no defense against those supernatural powers. Your parents become something that someone or something could leverage against you. Plus the more people you tell the secret to the more there exists greater potential for these secrets to spread.”
He sighs loudly, “I know it sounds like a cop-out… but the best way to protect them is to leave them out of it. If you want help and need a support group you have family.”  I realize he is talking about himself.
“I see,” I manage to get out, keeping my face composed. Barely. But inside… I’m a mess. Everything that I’ve been repressing for the last few weeks suddenly comes rushing up. Before I realize that it’s happening, my legs buckle and I find myself sitting down hard on the cold curb.  When I collapse Jack lunges forward to make sure I don’t hit my head on the ground.  He squats next to me and places a gentle hand on my back. 
It was bad enough when I was just scaring my family half to death. Now I’m also potentially putting them in danger just by being around me. And they’ll never know the reason for any of it. Guilt does not adequately describe what I’m feeling right now. My eyes are wet. Damn it. Just what I need right now.
I make a conscious effort to look up and ask, “So. What do I need do to protect myself against all these things you mentioned?” My casual tone sounds incredibly forced, even to me. 
His face is stern and carries worry but doesn’t convey much sympathy.  He sighs, taking in a deep breath. He hesitates and then slowly reaches to the back of his neck with both hands and takes off a black leather corded necklace. On the cord is a flat, shovel shaped piece of tarnished metal. As he removes it I feel a startling burst of energy raced across my skin like a wave. The ground waivers around me. Power radiates from him and even without The Sights I can feel it.
Jack circles the necklace around my neck and clasps it at the back. Written on the amulet are ten spherical shapes and lines connecting them. Words I don’t recognize in English and symbols in some kind of Hebrew alongside Astrological symbols.
“I want you to keep this for now, just for a little while until I can make another charm with the right stuff to mask you from conventional preternatural detections. I made this so that if given freely by my hand it would share its protection with the wearer. It will shield you from detection and as long as you don’t use any magic in front of any supernatural entities you should blend in as a sleeper. It won’t work if you give it to someone else to use.  So I suggest you leave it on as much as possible, even when you sleep.”
As soon as the necklace encircles my neck I feel immense strength fill your limbs and understanding burst through my neurons.  I was so lucid, so calm, so confident.  Was this Magic?  Thoughts and ideas came so freely and filed away, I wasn’t tired anymore, I felt like I was floating on the air.  Every move, twitch, and thought was effortless.  I can feel the heat of its power against the line of my neck and where the amulet touches my skin, so intense that it practically burns itself into my throat. For a split second, everything is sped up – thought, sound, motion, perception- everything. It’s dizzying. I reflexively start to raise my hand to tear it off, but the sensation is gone as quickly as it appeared.
“What is it doing to me?”  I ask quickly.
Finally he smirks, “just a few enhancements.  It augments the physical and mental capacity of the wearer as well.”
It all clicks into place, and I am left feeling different than before, as though energy is quietly pulsing through my entire body, heat without tangibility. At this point I do feel slightly better, although the entire situation is still deeply disorienting. Jack’s explanation does make logical sense to me (well, as much sense as anything else right now), but it doesn’t do much to assuage my feelings of guilt. Deciding that it would probably be better not to try to stand up right now, I remain seated on the curb.

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