Chapter Text
The sky and ocean meet where the sun first casts its light, a rising red darting across the waves east of Callocast. There’s a chill in the air--there always is this far north--and the wind is more restless than usual, tangling its icy fingers in Isri’s jet-black curls. Kas watches their face, the way their eyebrows furrow--like they’re peering into a world nobody else can see. Looking at Isri should be like looking in a red-tinted mirror--but it’s been a long time since they could fool their parent by switching clothes and hiding their eyes. They’ve grown into different people. Different lines on the same face, different curls of the same mouth. And still, no matter what, the best of friends.
“What are you looking at?” Kas asks softly, voice barely interrupting the stillness of the morning atop the roof of the shack. They come up here to watch the sun rise, to watch it set, whenever the winds align and set it so. It’s a tradition.
“Something’s happening today,” Isri says, tilting their chin up as they stare out at the sea. Just that. Something’s happening. They don’t say anything else.
The silence stretches on, broken only by the tug of the wind, for only a few seconds longer.
Then comes the sound of hoofbeats.
Isri perks up, swiveling around to face the cliffs that surround the village. A cavalcade of horses and riders decked in colors far brighter than any resident of Callocast could ever hope to touch is descending the switchback down the cliffside, standards waving, robes flowing. It’s been years since they were last here, but Kas, following Isri’s gaze, recognizes them immediately.
“They’re back!” they shout, leaping into the tree they climb to get to the rooftop and dropping down to the ground through its branches. “They’re back! Par, Par, the mages! They’re back!”
Tallis, their parent, comes out of the shack, blearily rubbing their eyes. “Don’t you be playin’ tricks on me at this hour…” they mumble, only to stiffen a little when they hear the riders approaching. “Oh…oh, Angel, it’s them…”
Within minutes, the whole village is outside, gathered around the main road to watch the procession enter town. Isri has put up their cloak, hiding their eyes. They cling tight to Kas’s hand.
“What’s that for? Don’t you want them to see you?” Kas asks, elbowing Isri playfully. “This is your chance! You know you’re the one they’re looking for!”
“I don’t want to go if they aren’t taking you,” Isri says sternly. “If they don’t want you, I don’t want them.” They huff, climbing onto a rock to get a better view as the Mages file into town--Kas follows them, peering over their shoulder.
The cavalcade is led by a stately figure in deep blue robes. The horses stop in the center of town, and they dismount first, pulling down their hood to reveal pale white skin and dark brown hair that doesn’t quite fall to their shoulders--though, Kas remarks, it probably would if not for the odd little coiffe at the bottom. The figure climbs up onto the calling-block, looking around at the murmuring crowd. “Attention--attention please ! I am High Mage Mirei. We return on the Red Child Inquiry.”
The crowd hushes as Mirei speaks, and Isri cautiously climbs down from their rock, Kas following them. They push to the front of the crowd, just barely peeking out to watch Mirei’s speech.
“Twelve years ago, as you may know, the Red Mage Ashira was tragically taken from us at the hands of a monster, may their soul rest gently. Only one Red Mage may exist in this world at a time, so since their death, the Order of Mages has been searching for the next. The Red Child.” Mirei pauses, surveying the crowd. Looking for something. “It has been seven years since we last visited this village. In all our searches, the child has not been found. If, by any chance, any of you know a child with red eyes, please bring them forward. The position of Red Mage is a great honor. They will be cared for at the Magescourt in Tenacitas, and trained under the greatest of us. We will set up camp here for tonight, and in that time, I implore you, Red Child, come forward, and you shall be honored as the sun is honored by the sky.” The speech lasts not a minute longer--Mirei steps down from the calling-block, and the other mages dismount from their horses. Whispers ripple through the crowd, and Kas jabs Isri again.
“Hey--I mean it, Kas.” Isri turns to their twin, pulling them into a hug. “You’re special too. I want to go, I really do, so…so you have to show them how special you are too. Because they aren’t taking me without you.”
Kas is quiet for a minute, just holding onto Isri. “Promise?”
“Forever, Kas. I promise.”
They break away a moment later at the sound of a commotion--Kas turns to watch a mage decked in green tumble from their horse, which has run off, spooked by Fisher Mannecky’s cat. Their arm cracks against a jagged stone on the road, bending in a way arms definitely aren’t supposed to bend. They let out a harsh, pained breath, trying to push themself up--Kas runs over on instinct. “Hey--hey, don’t move it, you’ll make it worse.”
“It’s all right, child, no need to worry,” the green-robed mage says, trying to push them away. But Kas won’t budge.
“I can fix it. Promise,” they say, taking the mage’s arm in their hands. They push the sleeve back, careful not to tug at the mage’s injured arm too much. “It’s nothing special and…and it’s probably going to hurt a little, but I think it’ll help.”
Few people in Callocast have magic. Those that do have the simple kind--Fisher Mannecky’s lines never break, and Tascko down the street stands so still when they’re hunting they could snatch a rabbit from right in front of them without so much as an arrow. Kas’s magic has won them quite a bit of appreciation from the townsfolk, but they know it’s nothing special. Nothing like what a High Mage could do--and certainly nothing like Isri’s. But they hold tight to it anyway. It’s their gift. They close their eyes, filled with the warmth of sun-dapples filtering through trees, the black stones of the beach in summer, the fire in their parent’s shack after a cold winter day. It pours out of them, trailing through their fingers into the green-robed mage’s snapped arm, winding and weaving flesh and bone back together again. They feel the mage’s arm slowly slide back into place, and move their hands away, waiting for the last of the warmth to dissipate before they open their eyes again. A scatter of green light dances across the mage’s skin, before sparkling out into the cold fall air. “I’m sorry--I should’ve waited for you to say yes.”
The green-robed mage looks down at their arm, and then up at Kas. Kas flinches at their gaze, quickly turning their head away, an apology on the tip of their tongue. They don’t get the chance to say it, though.
“You have a gift,” the green-robed mage says softly, rubbing their once-injured arm. “Who taught you how to use your magic like this?”
“Nobody, your--your honor?” They don’t exactly know how you’re supposed to address a Mage. “I just…I’ve been doing it since I was little. Healing up scrapes and stuff. It’s nothing much.”
“ Your honor. Please. My name is Hadling,” the green mage says, rising to their feet. They have black, braided hair and freckled brown skin, and the brilliant, radiant green of their eyes is the same as Kas’s. They turn to Mirei and the other mages, who have all flocked over to check on them. “It’s rare to see a mage so gifted with no formal training. Imagine what they could do at the Magescourt.”
“Well…green mages are in short supply,” Mirei says. “Child, where are your parents?”
“I just have one, but--but you can’t take me. I’m sorry. You can’t take me without my sibling Isri. They’re my best friend.” Kas steps back, looking for Isri in the crowd. “And…and when you see what they can do you won’t want me anyway.”
“Nonsense. There’s no rule saying we can’t have the both of you,” Hadling says with a little laugh. “Now, what can they do?”
“I…I think they better show you themself.” Kas darts off to grab Isri, pulling them over to the crowd of gathered mages. “Isri…they said they want me so…so you can show them, now, and we can go together, right?”
Isri half-nods, sizing up the mages with their hood still casting their face in shadow. Looking up at Mirei, they reach up, finally pulling the hood down and shaking their curly hair out of their face. They blink, then hold their eyes wide, two pinpricks of brilliant ruby shining out from their speckled brown face.
Mirei brings a hand up to their face, eyes widening in turn. “You…you’re the Red Child,” they whisper, voice soft, reverent. Kas can tell just from Isri’s stance how much this moment means to them. They’ve wanted this since they were five years old. Since the mages first rode into town. When they left, all those years ago, Tallin stopped hiding them from everyone. If the mages wanted them, then those red eyes didn’t belong to a demon after all.
Isri nods. “But I have to show you first. Is there anything you’re looking for? Anything you’ve lost?” Kas has to stop themself from jumping up and down. They know what Isri’s going to do. They know how their magic works. And it’s so, so cool.
“Why, in fact, there is,” says a mage with thick, straight black hair tucked into a ponytail, robes a sunny yellow. They speak in an odd drawl, and Kas wonders where they’re from--how far away you have to go to find people who speak like that. “I lost my favorite pocket knife the other day. Ripped right out my pocket. I ain’t been right since.”
“What pocket?” Isri asks, following the yellow mage as they direct Isri’s hands to the pocket of their saddlebag. “Okay…just give me a second.” They close their eyes, stiffening the way they always do when they use their magic. Sparks fizzle at their hands, the air warping and glowing an angry red as they focus, channeling a great power through their thin, knobbly fingers. In a flash, the torn fabric on the pocket of the yellow mage’s saddlebag pieces itself together, and Isri pops open the button, pulling out a jewel-hilted pocket knife. “Was this it?”
“An’ to think it’s all like a card trick to you!” the yellow mage says, gleefully taking the pocket knife. “By the Angel. You really are the Red Child.” They drop to one knee, bowing to Isri like they aren’t a High Mage themself. “It’s an honor. Whatever you need is ours to give. What’s your name, kiddo?”
“Isri,” they say. “And this is my sibling Kas.”
“Well…Isri. Kas. I would very much like to see your parents,” Mirei says. “I understand the choice to study at the Magescourt is difficult, but…everyone here will be given fair compensation. Your village will no longer be poor. Your family will be rewarded greatly. I hate to stoop so low, but…please, Red Child, I beg of you. For the sake of the world.”
Kas can tell Isri is barely able to contain their excitement. “Only if Kas comes too,” they say, corners of their mouth twitching as they try to fight off a wide grin.
“Of course. You both will make great mages,” Mirei says, following the two as they lead them to Tallin.
The two adults speak to each other, Tallin bowing to Mirei in honor, and Isri pulls Kas to the side of the house, jumping up and down as soon as they’re out of the mages’ sight. “Oh Angel. Oh Angel it’s actually happening!” Isri says, voice growing high pitched as they pull Kas into an ecstatic little dance. “Think about it, Kas, think about it!”
“Satin bedsheets…” Kas says, the excitement starting to overcome them as well.
“Books that aren’t falling apart!” Isri cheers back. “Marble floors!”
“Escargot! Fountains! Maybe even a gazebo! And the Mages! The actual, real mages!”
“Is this really happening?” Isri pulls Kas into a tight hug, spinning them around before flopping over into the patch of princetsbane at the side of the house. “Is it real?”
“Hey! These flowers make me so itchy! ” Kas complains teasingly, sitting upright so they don’t get blisters on their cheeks from the angry little flowers. “It is real. I think it’s real. It felt real.”
“How can any of this feel real?” Isri sits up too, reaching out to pull Kas into another hug. “And we’re going to do it together. We’re going to be the best mages in the world.”
“Together,” Kas agrees, eventually standing up. They make their way back to the front of the house, Tallin pulling them both into a hug.
“I’m so proud of you two.” Tallin ruffles their hair, messing it up thoroughly the way they always do. “I’m going to miss you. But…we’ve prepared for this, haven’t we?”
“We’ll make you even prouder!” Kas says, hugging Tallin back. “I’m going to miss you too.” They love Tallin, and they always will, but this has always been on the table. Life is hard in Callocast, and Tallin has always told them to jump at the first opportunity to escape. Not to spend the rest of their lives eating salted fish and huddling for warmth in a drafty, dilapidated shack if there’s any other option. They’re ready. As ready as they can be.
“Well…we’ve got the rest of the day together. High Mage Mirei says you won’t be leaving ‘til next morning,” Tallin says. “Come now. We’ll go walk on the beach…have some fish stew. Make it count. And it’s not goodbye, my loves, I promise.”
“Just see you later,” Isri finishes, taking one of Tallin’s hands as Kas takes the other. “We’ll come back, I swear. We really are going to make you proud.”
“There’s no need to worry about that, my loves. You’ve already made me proud enough.”