5 min read
The Note
May 1, 2020
The past week had been awkward, to say the least. Ever since Ryder had accidentally caught Reuben and Evan having sex on the couch, he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. The incident had been an unwelcome distraction, pulling him away from his usual routine. Unlike Ryder, who was clearly traumatized, Reuben and Evan seemed utterly unaffected, carrying on as though nothing unusual had happened. This made it even harder for Ryder to shake the lingering thoughts.
As a sigel, Ryder understood the concept of human desires, but not experiencing them himself left him puzzled by his reaction. It wasn’t the act itself that consumed his thoughts—but rather, it was the image of Evan, his glistening form, which was etched into Ryder’s mind like a painting he couldn’t unsee. These thoughts left him unfocused, drifting into daydreams that made him feel uncharacteristically unsettled.
Shaking himself from his reverie, Ryder floated toward the gazebo, determined to refocus on his magic. He had been diligently practicing warding spells since Calista introduced him to the craft. It was a delicate but rewarding challenge that required precision and concentration. Thankfully, Renard, his loyal foxfish companion, had been the perfect partner in practice. Being a magical creature himself, Renard had mastered a basic water bolt spell that Calista had taught him, which Ryder used to test the strength of his wards. These daily sessions brought the two even closer — if that was even possible.
“Renard, let us begin,” Ryder called, his voice calm but focused. He floated near the gazebo, holding out his hand, palm facing his target. “Cast a water bolt at me, please.”
Renard wagged his tail fin and bounded forward, eager to assist. Taking a deep breath, the foxfish released a concentrated stream of water directly at Ryder.
Ryder, hand still outstretched, summoned a shimmering blue warding seal in the air before him. As the water bolt struck the barrier, it ricocheted off harmlessly, splashing into the nearby forest. “Again!” Ryder commanded, his voice sharper with determination.
Renard nodded, his eyes bright with focus. He unleashed a rapid succession of water bolts, each striking the ward with a satisfying crackle of magic. The force of the impacts sent water spraying in all directions. One particularly strong bolt hit the ward at an angle, deflecting upward with such force that it pierced straight through the gazebo’s wooden ceiling and tiled roof above.
Ryder’s eyes widened in alarm as sunlight poured through the fresh hole in the roof. “Well,” he said after a moment, floating closer to inspect the damage, “at least we now know your water bolt is powerful, and my ward is equally strong.”
Renard let out a guilty whimper, his ears drooping as he padded over to Ryder’s side.
Ryder sighed, patting the foxfish gently. “It’s alright, Renard. You didn’t mean to. This is what practice is for.” His tone was reassuring, but his mind was already racing. How was he going to explain this to Reuben? The gazebo was one of his guardian’s favorite spots on the estate and the damage was instantly noticeable.
As Ryder examined the damage, something unusual caught his eye. A narrow beam of sunlight filtered through the hole, illuminating the floor below. There, in the center of the light, lay a crumpled, weathered piece of parchment. Ryder furrowed his brow, floating down to retrieve it.
The parchment was damp and fragile, its edges frayed and torn. As Ryder carefully unfolded it, he realized the ink had smeared from the water, obscuring much of the text. However, enough words remained legible to spark his curiosity.
As a sigel, Ryder understood the concept of human desires, but not experiencing them himself left him puzzled by his reaction. It wasn’t the act itself that consumed his thoughts—but rather, it was the image of Evan, his glistening form, which was etched into Ryder’s mind like a painting he couldn’t unsee. These thoughts left him unfocused, drifting into daydreams that made him feel uncharacteristically unsettled.
Shaking himself from his reverie, Ryder floated toward the gazebo, determined to refocus on his magic. He had been diligently practicing warding spells since Calista introduced him to the craft. It was a delicate but rewarding challenge that required precision and concentration. Thankfully, Renard, his loyal foxfish companion, had been the perfect partner in practice. Being a magical creature himself, Renard had mastered a basic water bolt spell that Calista had taught him, which Ryder used to test the strength of his wards. These daily sessions brought the two even closer — if that was even possible.
“Renard, let us begin,” Ryder called, his voice calm but focused. He floated near the gazebo, holding out his hand, palm facing his target. “Cast a water bolt at me, please.”
Renard wagged his tail fin and bounded forward, eager to assist. Taking a deep breath, the foxfish released a concentrated stream of water directly at Ryder.
Ryder, hand still outstretched, summoned a shimmering blue warding seal in the air before him. As the water bolt struck the barrier, it ricocheted off harmlessly, splashing into the nearby forest. “Again!” Ryder commanded, his voice sharper with determination.
Renard nodded, his eyes bright with focus. He unleashed a rapid succession of water bolts, each striking the ward with a satisfying crackle of magic. The force of the impacts sent water spraying in all directions. One particularly strong bolt hit the ward at an angle, deflecting upward with such force that it pierced straight through the gazebo’s wooden ceiling and tiled roof above.
Ryder’s eyes widened in alarm as sunlight poured through the fresh hole in the roof. “Well,” he said after a moment, floating closer to inspect the damage, “at least we now know your water bolt is powerful, and my ward is equally strong.”
Renard let out a guilty whimper, his ears drooping as he padded over to Ryder’s side.
Ryder sighed, patting the foxfish gently. “It’s alright, Renard. You didn’t mean to. This is what practice is for.” His tone was reassuring, but his mind was already racing. How was he going to explain this to Reuben? The gazebo was one of his guardian’s favorite spots on the estate and the damage was instantly noticeable.
As Ryder examined the damage, something unusual caught his eye. A narrow beam of sunlight filtered through the hole, illuminating the floor below. There, in the center of the light, lay a crumpled, weathered piece of parchment. Ryder furrowed his brow, floating down to retrieve it.
The parchment was damp and fragile, its edges frayed and torn. As Ryder carefully unfolded it, he realized the ink had smeared from the water, obscuring much of the text. However, enough words remained legible to spark his curiosity.
Fo—ow th—e instr———s and you won’t re—et,
The prize at t— end is n-t —e to f—get.
A tre——-e of power, ve—-d in d—-u—e,
Hidd— in sh——s, the t—-h the—-n li-s.
H——n in plain s-—t, my secrets s—y,
Where ref———— —-sper the tr—hs of the d—.
Seek w—-e I lin-—-d, my f—e u-kn—n,
Where the w—-s hold e—oes of w—t I’ve so—n.
E—h cl— is - thr—d in this mys—-al w—ve,
Fo—-w the w———s, let you——f be—-ve.
The p—h w—’t be e—y, the v—l won’t rel—t,
But the arc—a re——-d is wo--h the d—-ent.
The note mentioned something about a secret hidden somewhere. Ryder’s heart quickened. A secret? He had lived on the estate for years and had never seen anything like this. Was this Reuben’s secret? Or perhaps from a previous owner of the estate?
Ryder glanced up at the hole again, his mind spinning with questions. How had the parchment ended up wedged between the ceiling and roof? Was it intentionally hidden there? And most importantly, what secrets did this mysterious note hold?
He folded the note back up carefully, — noticing a smudged character that he could not make out on the back — before tucking it into his satchel. This mystery would have to wait. First, he needed to figure out how to repair the gazebo without alerting Reuben.
Floating back toward the house with Renard trailing behind, Ryder’s thoughts churned. The discovery had sparked a new intrigue, and while the warding practice had been productive, the note promised something far more compelling. Ryder glanced at Renard and gave him a small, knowing smile.
“Looks like we may have stumbled onto something, Ren,” he murmured. “We shall fix the roof, but after that…we have a mystery to solve.”
Ryder glanced up at the hole again, his mind spinning with questions. How had the parchment ended up wedged between the ceiling and roof? Was it intentionally hidden there? And most importantly, what secrets did this mysterious note hold?
He folded the note back up carefully, — noticing a smudged character that he could not make out on the back — before tucking it into his satchel. This mystery would have to wait. First, he needed to figure out how to repair the gazebo without alerting Reuben.
Floating back toward the house with Renard trailing behind, Ryder’s thoughts churned. The discovery had sparked a new intrigue, and while the warding practice had been productive, the note promised something far more compelling. Ryder glanced at Renard and gave him a small, knowing smile.
“Looks like we may have stumbled onto something, Ren,” he murmured. “We shall fix the roof, but after that…we have a mystery to solve.”