7 min read
The Power of Imagination - Part 3
November 1, 2018
12:37 AM
Calista slumped drunkenly on the Rothmore estate’s couch, her laughter punctuated by soft hiccups as she ran her fingers through Darian’s long hair. Darian snored away, his head in Calista’s lap. The Halloween gathering that Reuben had thrown had long since ended, but the atmosphere lingered like a haze. Evan was already in bed, needing to open the café in the morning, while Reuben stood in the kitchen, uncorking yet another bottle of wine. The group had spent the night drinking, listening to old songs, and chatting while handing out candy to the handful of trick-or-treaters brave enough to venture up to the house. But really, the event was just an excuse for them all to get together.
Ryder sat on the opposite couch, wide awake, scrolling through an eBook in silence. He didn’t mind the company, even if Calista and Reuben had long since stopped including him in their conversation. The two of them, lost in the fog of wine, forgot themselves around Ryder, letting their thoughts wander unchecked while Darian dreamt. For Ryder, that meant he could feed on their imaginings with ease.
“Y’gotta—hic—keep practicin’ yer magic every day, kid,” Calista slurred suddenly, breaking her silence. The words came out unprompted, directed towards Ryder, almost as if she’d been holding them in all evening.
Ryder glanced up, mildly annoyed. There were three versions of Aunt Calista. When sober, she was sharp, witty, and surprisingly insightful. When buzzed, she was lively and sassy, the life of the party who could lighten any mood with a simple flick of her magic. But when drunk, Calista was a different creature altogether—blunt to the point of rudeness and prone to letting her words cut like knives. Tonight, she had tipped past the threshold of being entertaining and was drifting further into her darker, less thoughtful side.
“Oh yeah, I brought ma spell book,” Calista continued, rising unsteadily to her feet, placing Darian’s head on a couch pillow. “I forgot t’ show ya. C’mon, I’ll show ya somethin’ real special,” she added, her voice thick with the weight of alcohol.
Intrigued despite his irritation, Ryder followed her down the hall, half-dreading whatever drunken spell-casting idea might follow. Calista rummaged through her duffel bag and pulled out a lavender-colored spell book with intricately painted lavender flowers on its cover. She handed it to him, the weight of the book falling heavily into his hands.
Calista slumped drunkenly on the Rothmore estate’s couch, her laughter punctuated by soft hiccups as she ran her fingers through Darian’s long hair. Darian snored away, his head in Calista’s lap. The Halloween gathering that Reuben had thrown had long since ended, but the atmosphere lingered like a haze. Evan was already in bed, needing to open the café in the morning, while Reuben stood in the kitchen, uncorking yet another bottle of wine. The group had spent the night drinking, listening to old songs, and chatting while handing out candy to the handful of trick-or-treaters brave enough to venture up to the house. But really, the event was just an excuse for them all to get together.
Ryder sat on the opposite couch, wide awake, scrolling through an eBook in silence. He didn’t mind the company, even if Calista and Reuben had long since stopped including him in their conversation. The two of them, lost in the fog of wine, forgot themselves around Ryder, letting their thoughts wander unchecked while Darian dreamt. For Ryder, that meant he could feed on their imaginings with ease.
“Y’gotta—hic—keep practicin’ yer magic every day, kid,” Calista slurred suddenly, breaking her silence. The words came out unprompted, directed towards Ryder, almost as if she’d been holding them in all evening.
Ryder glanced up, mildly annoyed. There were three versions of Aunt Calista. When sober, she was sharp, witty, and surprisingly insightful. When buzzed, she was lively and sassy, the life of the party who could lighten any mood with a simple flick of her magic. But when drunk, Calista was a different creature altogether—blunt to the point of rudeness and prone to letting her words cut like knives. Tonight, she had tipped past the threshold of being entertaining and was drifting further into her darker, less thoughtful side.
“Oh yeah, I brought ma spell book,” Calista continued, rising unsteadily to her feet, placing Darian’s head on a couch pillow. “I forgot t’ show ya. C’mon, I’ll show ya somethin’ real special,” she added, her voice thick with the weight of alcohol.
Intrigued despite his irritation, Ryder followed her down the hall, half-dreading whatever drunken spell-casting idea might follow. Calista rummaged through her duffel bag and pulled out a lavender-colored spell book with intricately painted lavender flowers on its cover. She handed it to him, the weight of the book falling heavily into his hands.
“Lookit this,” she said, her words slurred but earnest. “Ten years of secrets in there, kid.”
Ryder’s eyes widened at the sight of the book. A spell book was personal — an extension of its owner’s very soul. He knew full well that a sober Calista would never part with it so carelessly, but tonight, she was in no state to recognize that fact. This was a rare opportunity, and he knew he couldn’t let it slip by.
Before Ryder could even respond, Reuben’s voice echoed from the living room. “Caliii~! I’ve got the wiiiine~!”
“Oh Reuuu~! I’m on my waaay~!” Calista called back, abandoning the book in Ryder’s grasp as she stumbled out of the room without a second thought.
Ryder floated there, holding the weight of ten years worth of knowledge in his hands. His mind raced. If there was ever a chance to figure out his magic — figure out what was wrong with him — this was it. He drifted quietly back to his room, locking the door behind him.
He set the book down on his desk and flipped it open, reverently running his fingers over the delicate handwriting that claimed the first page. Calista Anne Khova. Ryder flipped through the book, finding rough sketches of spells and scrawled notes on levitation and hexes from years past. Then, something caught his eye — a page titled “Energy Sapping.”
The spell was a technique for drawing energy from surrounding life to fuel one’s magic. Ryder’s heart raced as he read the details. It wasn’t like the illusion spells Calista had shown him before; this was something different, something that might help him restore his own magic. Driven by determination, he grabbed his own spell book and copied the notes, refining them as he went. He worked through the night, absorbing every word.
5:03 AM
When Ryder finally finished copying the last notes, he sat back, feeling a glimmer of hope. The guilt of taking something so private was overshadowed by the excitement of discovery. Could this really be the key to breaking his magical block? He didn’t know, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
He carefully closed Calista’s book and slipped out of his room, peeking down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. The house was silent. Ryder floated towards the guest room and creaked open the door. Darian was curled up under the covers while Calista lay sprawled on top of them, their snoring rumbling through the room. Ryder held his breath as he silently returned the book to her duffel bag, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he left the room and gently closed the door.
Just as he turned and began to float down the hall towards his bedroom, Evan emerged from his own, startling Ryder. “Hey, Ryder. What are you doing up so early?” Evan asked, rubbing his eyes.
Ryder’s mind raced, but he quickly found an excuse. “Oh, uh, just finished cleaning up,” he lied. “Spilled some ink on my desk.”
“Well, good job,” Evan replied, smiling warmly. “I’ve got to head to work. You take care, alright?”
Ryder nodded, watching Evan grab his keys and leave before letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He floated back to his room, grabbed his spell book, and set off to practice what he had learned.
11:43 AM
Ryder spent the entire morning in his forest clearing, the familiar spot he had come to consider his oasis. He practiced the new spell, feeling a rush of excitement as his magic began to work. But something was different. When he finally stepped back to admire his creation — a statue of the girl from his dreams, made entirely of twisted vines and plant matter — he noticed the cost.
Ryder’s eyes widened at the sight of the book. A spell book was personal — an extension of its owner’s very soul. He knew full well that a sober Calista would never part with it so carelessly, but tonight, she was in no state to recognize that fact. This was a rare opportunity, and he knew he couldn’t let it slip by.
Before Ryder could even respond, Reuben’s voice echoed from the living room. “Caliii~! I’ve got the wiiiine~!”
“Oh Reuuu~! I’m on my waaay~!” Calista called back, abandoning the book in Ryder’s grasp as she stumbled out of the room without a second thought.
Ryder floated there, holding the weight of ten years worth of knowledge in his hands. His mind raced. If there was ever a chance to figure out his magic — figure out what was wrong with him — this was it. He drifted quietly back to his room, locking the door behind him.
He set the book down on his desk and flipped it open, reverently running his fingers over the delicate handwriting that claimed the first page. Calista Anne Khova. Ryder flipped through the book, finding rough sketches of spells and scrawled notes on levitation and hexes from years past. Then, something caught his eye — a page titled “Energy Sapping.”
The spell was a technique for drawing energy from surrounding life to fuel one’s magic. Ryder’s heart raced as he read the details. It wasn’t like the illusion spells Calista had shown him before; this was something different, something that might help him restore his own magic. Driven by determination, he grabbed his own spell book and copied the notes, refining them as he went. He worked through the night, absorbing every word.
5:03 AM
When Ryder finally finished copying the last notes, he sat back, feeling a glimmer of hope. The guilt of taking something so private was overshadowed by the excitement of discovery. Could this really be the key to breaking his magical block? He didn’t know, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
He carefully closed Calista’s book and slipped out of his room, peeking down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. The house was silent. Ryder floated towards the guest room and creaked open the door. Darian was curled up under the covers while Calista lay sprawled on top of them, their snoring rumbling through the room. Ryder held his breath as he silently returned the book to her duffel bag, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he left the room and gently closed the door.
Just as he turned and began to float down the hall towards his bedroom, Evan emerged from his own, startling Ryder. “Hey, Ryder. What are you doing up so early?” Evan asked, rubbing his eyes.
Ryder’s mind raced, but he quickly found an excuse. “Oh, uh, just finished cleaning up,” he lied. “Spilled some ink on my desk.”
“Well, good job,” Evan replied, smiling warmly. “I’ve got to head to work. You take care, alright?”
Ryder nodded, watching Evan grab his keys and leave before letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He floated back to his room, grabbed his spell book, and set off to practice what he had learned.
11:43 AM
Ryder spent the entire morning in his forest clearing, the familiar spot he had come to consider his oasis. He practiced the new spell, feeling a rush of excitement as his magic began to work. But something was different. When he finally stepped back to admire his creation — a statue of the girl from his dreams, made entirely of twisted vines and plant matter — he noticed the cost.
The once-thriving clearing was now a dried, shriveled patch of dead grass. Every blade of greenery had withered away, sacrificed to fuel his imagination. Ryder’s emotions churned within him — a mix of pride and guilt, triumph and sorrow. It wasn’t what he had intended, but it was the first real magic he had been able to conjure in months.
He recorded his findings in his spell book, noting the changes and the consequences. As he made his way home, he passed by The Mystic Herb and saw Reuben already busy restocking shelves. Calista’s car was gone — she had left without a word.
Ryder locked himself in his room, reread his notes, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he drifted off to sleep feeling accomplished, even if it came with a heavy price.
He recorded his findings in his spell book, noting the changes and the consequences. As he made his way home, he passed by The Mystic Herb and saw Reuben already busy restocking shelves. Calista’s car was gone — she had left without a word.
Ryder locked himself in his room, reread his notes, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he drifted off to sleep feeling accomplished, even if it came with a heavy price.