Fantasy Maleficus

​

All characters 18+.

******​

Five hundred years have passed since the great coven war that devastated the mystical world. Those that remained after the fog of war lifted set out to ensure that never again would their kind be put on the edge of extinction. Creating the beings that would later become known as gargoyles, created from the elements of air and earth, sworn to protect those that followed the ways of magic and seeking out those that would use their gifts to destroy their delicate balance. As the years passed, and the legends of witches faded into obscurity, so did their protectors. Men of science were over taking the world of the supernatural. All that changed for one teenage boy in the waning months of the year of 2015.

Charles Dickerson wasn't what you would call an average teenage boy. He wasn't part of the 'in' crowd, or the art crowd, or any crowd in particular; Charles enjoyed being a loner. He always had been ever since he could remember. He knew his parents were concerned about his isolation from others his own age. Charles just saw their interference as overprotective parents worried about their only child. He loved them for it, however, if he wanted friends he would seek them out. Charles didn't need his mother constantly butting into his private life. Then again, Charles guessed that's what parents did when they were worried. Shaking the thought from his head as he walked up the steps that led to his family's brownstone. The four stories housed three generations of the Dickerson family. Which he found odd, given that most families he knew chose to live apart from one another. As the steel key neared the key slot to the deadbolt muffled voices caught his attention.

"It's time, Steven, he needs to go forward before the council." Charles heard his grandmother say through the door. "We both know that if he hasn't begun to show it, it won't be long before he does." He had no earthly idea what they were talking about. Sure he loved his family, yet the thought of them talking about him behind his back that was something new. What was this council his grandmother spoke of, and just what was about to show? "The eruption of acne?" he thought sarcastically. Was it the other raging hormones that seemed to torment his bed sheets when he awoke in the morning? If that was the case, he already beat his grandmother to the punch by a few months now.

"Mother," his father sighed. "Charles, doesn't seem to be like us, so why force him to go before them if he isn't?" He heard his father pacing around the living room.

"Because it's better to have them on our side, than having them send their goons after Charles," his grandmother said startling Charles. "Why would anyone send anyone after me?" the thought crossed his mind. Why would anyone pay any special attention to a teenager who had no special qualities? Unnerved by the whole conversation, Charles quietly walked backwards down the stairs opting to avoid the situation all together. Sneaking through the rear door of the brownstone, stopping himself from listening in on their still ongoing conversation. It wasn't as if he didn't want to eavesdrop on them, the whole conversation was just too weird for him to handle. Sneaking through the shadows, heading towards the basement were his new bedroom was located. Charles thought it was a grand idea to move into that disused part of the house. Given how everyone else in his family had taken over the other three floors.

Now, he had the basement all to himself, while he didn't mind the noisy water heater, the thud of the pipes when someone upstairs thought to take a shower, Charles could drown all that out since here was his own private domain. Where no one ever bothered him, unless it was his mother. It took the whole summer to get his mother to stop checking in on him every hour. Always worrying that he would catch something in that damp dark basement. That was the problem living with your extended family, never an ounce of privacy. There was always someone looking over your shoulder. At least not down in the basement; there he had his solitude. Something he coveted, something that his own parents didn't seem to understand. Tossing his bag onto his bed, glad he'd already finished his homework during class, giving him time to delve into his online game. As twilight approached a soft knock echoed in his room, sighing as he paused his game knowing they wouldn't go away until he answered them.

"Charles," his mother's soft words filled his ears as she poked her head through the door. "The family is leaving, are you sure you wouldn't care to join us?" she asked, as she stood in the doorway.

"I'm sure," Charles said, offhandedly. He tried not to see the sour look on his mother's face knowing that was exactly what she wanted him to do.

"It'll be fun, there will be girls your age there." Charles tried his best not to roll his eyes at the comment.

"Mom, you know me, I'm fine on my own," Charles said, eager to get back to his game.

"Alright." He heard her sigh. "If you get hungry there's food in the fridge, and don't stay up all night." Charles didn't miss the disappointment in her eyes as she shut the door behind her. He sat there for a few moments, contemplating on why she would be so disappointed that he chose to stay home. Did it have something to do with what he had overhead earlier that day? Charles nibbled on his lip as he entered the kitchen, his stomach rumbling as he raided the fridge for the leftovers from dinner. As the microwave hummed, walking around the house ensuring that everything was locked up good and tight. He wasn't foolish enough to think that someone hadn't taken notice that the house was nearly empty. Walking back to the kitchen as the buzzing of the microwave rang out, something strange caught his attention in the living room. A statue he never saw before sat on the mantle of the fireplace. There was something odd about the grey stone carving, there was too much detail for a foot high, half a foot wide piece of stone. Charles wondered how the artist could put so much detail into the carving, the way the wings looked so real, thinking at any moment it could take flight. The wrinkles and creases in its skin as it crouched on the mantle ready to pounce on whatever caught its fancy.

Reaching out, thinking to find the artists mark on the bottom of the sculpture. It was one of the best statues of a gargoyle he had ever seen and in New York, he had seen a lot. They were all over the old turn-of-the-century buildings that made up the New York skyline. As his fingers ran over the statue the heat that came off the ornate carving caught him by surprise; it wasn't the warmth the stone would get from the surrounding air, it felt as if the heat came from within the object. Shaking his head at the absurd thought, grunting as he tried to lift the statue off the mantle. It never moved an inch. Charles felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds. Backing away taking a dry swallow as he felt someone's, or something's, eyes on him as he stood alone in his quiet living room. For some reason he could have sworn that it was the statue that gazed at him as he moved towards the doorway to the kitchen. Shaking off the creepy feeling that washed over him, as he looked back to the living room as he got his dish from the microwave. Retreating back down to his room, not overly proud that he wished someone other than himself was there with him.

Turning on his small TV set as his dinner steamed waiting for him to feast on the moist meatloaf, and the gravy covered mashed potatoes. Surfing the cable channels, stopping on a documentary about witches on the Discovery channel that peaked his curiosity. As the opening credits began to roll, the scurrying of tiny feet stilled his heart. Lowering the volume, the flapping of wings filled him with trepidation, he knew it was a bad idea as he set down his fork, however, he was the only one home and who knew what a burglar would do to distract the homeowner. Taking his aluminum bat, silently tiptoeing up the stairs, Charles's heart pounded so furiously in his ears as he neared the kitchen. With baited breath trying to still his trembling nerves as he slowly made his way through the ground floor of the brownstone. Until the only room left was the living room, steeling his quivering limbs as he entered the darkened room. His bat ready to strike at anything and everything that moved. Fear clouding his mind, blending shadows into monsters that never existed. The wood flooring creaking behind him raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Spinning around ready to smash anyone that dared think to sneak into his home.

"Whoa!" His father said catching the bat in his left hand. "Mind telling me why you're running around swinging a bat in the house," he asked, taking the blunt instrument from his son.

"I thought I heard something," Charles said, looking over his shoulder eyeing the statue on the mantle.

"Did you now?" his father said following his son's gaze. "Just what did you hear?" he asked, placing the bat on the lounge chair. Charles bit his lip sure that his father would think he was going crazy.

"Nothing." Charles finally managed to say. Feeling like a fool for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. Taking his son by the arm as the front door began to open watching his mother, aunt, and grandmother file into the living room.

"What did you hear?" his father asked sternly, not allowing his son to escape. Charles eyed his father, then the rest of his family uncertain whether they would really believe him or not.

Taking a dry swallow as his father's stern gaze bored into him. "Footsteps, and wing beats," Charles forced himself to say the words.

"I told you it was time," his grandmother said from behind his mother. "Now he must be taken before the council before it's too late!"

"I know," his father sighed. "Charles go put your shoes on and a jacket," he said, patting Charles shoulder. "Hurry, we don't have time to waste." Charles didn't know what was more frightening, the look in his father's eyes, or this mysterious council he was about to be taken to. Grumbling as he climbed the basement stairs, wondering why him of all people, all he ever wanted was to be left alone nothing more, nothing less. As he closed the basement door shock played across his face as his family stood around the kitchen table. Wearing different colored robes that dragged along the kitchen floor. His mother was dressed in a vibrant forest green robe Charles thought she smelled of lilac and roses, however, that wasn't possible in the dead of winter. His aunt's robe shimmered in the multiple colors of a flame burning in the hearth, while his grandmother's was as pale as the newly fallen snow. The black robes that his father wore filled him with dread as faces moved across its surface. "Before we leave, I want you to meet someone," Steven said, moving away from the kitchen table. Sitting in the center of the table sat the statue that he thought was too heavy to move.

Jumping backwards as the gargoyle began to move, Charles's back pressed against the cabinets as the small creature yawned. Watching as stone flecks crumbled onto the table before disintegrating back into the ether. Its glowing yellow eyes looked around the room before falling on him, never leaving him as Charles tried to escape its gaze. As the creature moved towards him, something deep within him stirred, wanting to reach out to the tiny thing and claim it as his own.

"Charles meet George, your protector," his mother said with pride.

"You named a gargoyle George?" Charles said, through bursts of laughter.

"That's my name, you got a problem with it?" George asked, its gravelly voice reverberated throughout the room. Puffing out its chest as it stalked towards the edge of the table, obviously hurt that anyone would mock a gargoyle's name.

"No, no," Charles stuttered looking to his family for support.

"Good." George smiled before his body turned into a blazing beacon of light. Shielding his eyes as the gargoyle's body turned into bits of light, as the black dots faded from his eyes Charles felt the warmth of the metal band that encircled his right ring finger. The platinum band felt snug to his skin, the two lemon jade stones reminded him of eyes of George. "Well of course they should, they are my eyes." George's voice ripped across Charles mind.

"Finally, a part of the family," his aunt teased, her right earring catching the light. His mother's necklace, the brooch his grandmother loved to wear, and his father's own ring; oddly, Charles could tell instantly they were not normal pieces of jewelry.

"Well, let's get going, the sooner he is presented, the sooner he can start his studies," his grandmother said, marching towards the front door. His mother and father on each side of him as they walked the snow covered sidewalks as they made their way to the park. Why? Charles had no clue, yet as he watched his grandmother she seemed so alive in the cold night air. His aunt didn't seem to notice the chill wearing far too revealing clothes during the middle of winter. It seemed to him he was the only one that was freezing in the dark of night.

Stopping before the snowed covered sandbox Charles was all but ready to return to the warmth of his room. With a wave of his grandmother's hand the snow responded to her call, flinging itself off the frozen sand. Stepping aside as his mother approached cupping her hand's to her mouth, breathing out a warm green light, placing her hands on the frozen ground. Charles was in awe as the light spread across the sand before sinking into its depths. Once his mother was sure that the sand was free of the frost, looking back to his father who simply smiled, patting his shoulder before taking her spot.

Bowing his head placing his palms skyward, muttering under his breath, Charles watched as the air began to shimmer; a long ebony pole began to materialize into his outstretched hands, a pale wicked skull sat attached to the head of the staff. Jewels and bones jingled against the wood as he stamped the staff into the ground. Charles thought they were going to great lengths to put on this little show of theirs. Granted it was a very detailed vivid dream, it was still a dream; Charles was sure he was about to wake up at any moment. Nonetheless, he watched as his father drew a solid straight line taking up three fourths of the sand box. Drawing a sideways 'V' where its ends connecting at the quarter and three fourths mark along the solid line. Charles couldn't hear his father clearly as he stretched out his arms, his staff in his right hand, the jewels began to glow faintly as his magic arced down the ebony pole as the butt end struck the rune. His mother wrapping her arm around him as the ground began to shake, the granules of sand were pulled from their resting places as a sold archway was formed.

"Venefizas Haven awaits," his father said bowing, gesturing them to enter the gateway. Charles's jaw dropped once he exited the portal; dark evergreen forest lined the lone dirt path on each side. So thick the sun's rays couldn't penetrate through their thick branches. His eyes following the path to its eventual end, there on top of a lonely hill, dirt turned into a stone stairway leading to a forty foot standalone tower to its left. Leading on to the main structure, reaching heights he couldn't fathom with two spires jutting from the sides.

It seemed like hours before they reached the base of the stairs that led to where Charles could only guess. His mother taking him by the arm, dragging him reluctantly up the stairs, wondering just what was about to happen to his life. Nearing the forty foot tower, his aunt pulling on the long rope that hung from the second story. Charles heard the sound of musical bells ringing in the distance. The smell of roasting meats, baked sweets, pulled at his ravenous stomach, he berated himself for not finishing his dinner.

"Here, eat," his grandmother said, handing him what appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary brownie. "Well go on, we can't have you starving when meeting the council," she said, making shooing motion with her hand. Not wishing to be told twice, inhaling the brownie, it didn't taste like a brownie should; in all actuality it was hard to define how it tasted, if Charles had to guess it was like a full course turkey dinner.

"Don't worry Charles, once we're done here we'll get you something from the town over the ridge," his mother said, smiling down at him.

"What were you thinking Darla?" his father asked, ignoring that he was even there. "The Hangman is quite nice this time of day," he said, recounting the delicious turkey legs they served.

"Steven, that's no place for a child," Darla said, not hearing her son's sigh. Charles started his silent trek backwards down the steps as the door to the tower cracked open.

"Who seeks the audience of the coven council?" asked the speaker behind the door.

"The family of Dickerson has come to present the newest heir to the line before the council!" His grandmother's voice echoed in the warm air, announcing to all that a new witch was about to join their ranks.

"Then enter and rejoice in the knowledge that we are stronger as one," the voice said disappearing as the two inch thick door swung open. With a gentle push from his mother, propelling him forward there was no turning back for Charles. His mother and father never leaving his side so that his frightened mind couldn't urge his legs to flee from that place. Walking through the corridors of the tower, eyeing those that huddled in small groups, whispering behind their hands as they passed. Charles felt small as their eyes lingered on him far too long for his own liking. This was why he didn't like people, always talking about him as if he was some kind of freak.

Slowing as they neared the council chamber doors; ornate carvings dominated the cherry wood depicting events he scarcely knew anything about. His heart fell into his stomach as those doors swung open on a whisper, revealing a horseshoe shaped table resting on a raised platform, overlooking the dais that sat in the center of the room, multicolored lights flew overhead zig zagging across the ceiling of the chamber. Charles could have sworn he heard the lights speaking with one another, thinking that was impossible until they flew lower flying around him; tugging at his clothes, his hair, anything they could get their tiny hands on examining the new oddity in their realm. Shaking them off, he wasn't one to be made into anyone's examination doll.

"You shouldn't do that. Fairies tend to get angry very quickly and have long memories," George said, into his mind.

"Fairies?!" Charles said, aghast at the thought of little angry flying women. The thought alone made him chuckle that something so small could be any threat to him. Until a red pulsating light flew down grabbing Charles by the nose, lifting him of the floor before releasing her hold on his sore nose.

"Mind what you say Charles," his grandmother swatted his shoulder. "Would you care to be laughed at young man?" Feeling his cheeks heat when he felt ridiculed just moments before. Tilting his head to the ceiling as those lights darted around exploring every inch of the chamber.

"Sorry," Charles said, hoping they understood he meant no harm by his words. The same red light flew down hovering before him studying his face to determine his truthfulness, arching an eyebrow thinking he caught her smiling at him before fluttering over to his left shoulder, where she sat happily, her small hand holding on to a strand of his sandy brown hair.

"Well, you don't see that every day," his aunt said from behind him. A puzzled look flashed across his brown eyes curious to what she meant.

"Fairies don't generally take to humans, let alone become a familiar to a witch," Darla said, her eyes sparkling at the sight. Charles was about to ask his mother what she meant, however, the rear door to the council chamber opened causing the room to become silent. A chill ran down his spine as the council members took their seats around the table.

"Approach Mora and state why you have come before us?" asked the old wrinkled man seated at the center of the table. Charles watched as his grandmother approached the dais, her head held high, her frost blue staff appearing in her left hand; snowflakes drifting off the head of the staff as the butt end of the staff clicked along the floor.

"We have come before you this day to present my grandson, Charles Dickerson, before this council. To have his name inscribed into the codices of magic," Mora said, proudly.

"Then have him come before us," said the woman to Mora's left. Charles didn't want to do this, yet he didn't see a way out of this as his family pushed him forward. "Are you Charles Dickerson?" asked the woman before summoning the codex from thin air. Charles tried to keep the shock from his face as the three foot tome appeared before her.

"Yes," Charles said tentatively.

"Why now, a boy of what, sixteen shows himself before us?" asked another woman to his right.

"It wasn't my idea," Charles answered wishing just to return home.

"Are you saying you don't wish to be here, or that you have no interest in magic?"

"Both I suppose," Charles admitted. Rolling his eyes at the gasps that came behind him, his family just couldn't or didn't understand he just wanted to live his normal dull life. Impatience rose within him as he stood there before these strange people who knew nothing about him.

"We hereby recognize the son of Steve and Darla Dickerson, Charles Dickerson into the coven of the eternal flame," the leader said after a few moments of whispered bickering. "This might not be what you want young man, though your magic is surging forth and it needs to be taught. If not it, would be harmful to you and those around you that you call friend. We have no wish to have another witch hunt on our hands, when it can easily be remedied to have you trained," the old man said before filing out of the chamber.

"Here, you'll be needing this," Steven said, pulling out an old fashioned key from the folds of his robe. "Insert it into any door lock on this side it will open to any room in our home, you just have to think where you want to go. It works in reverse as well, so you don't have to go through the gateway anymore if you don't want to," he said, placing the key in his son's hand. "Now, you don't have to choose what school to study under, but you need to understand what you are and how to control the magic that flows through you," Steven said, placing a hand on Charles shoulder.

"Your father is right Charles; this place is better for you than that high school. Who knows? You might enjoy it here, plus that fairy wouldn't have chosen you if she didn't think you belonged here," Darla said, with a hint of jealousy.

Months had passed since he was brought to this pocket dimension that was created after the Salem witchcraft trails. Where people like him could practice their art without the persecution that had dogged them since the fall of Rome. Charles sat quietly against the balcony's stone wall that overlooked the village across the hills from the tower. His new friends Larry, Moe, and Curly as he called them, rested in their stone forms, their shadows playing across the textbook he was currently reading.

He couldn't wrap his head around elemental magic, nor could he control the dead which ended with his own minion chasing him around the summoning circle before his instructor sent it back to the ether. Which only made him even more of an outcast, given he had yet to pick a school of magic to study. Sighing, knowing these people had been here for years studying just what they wanted to be. He on the other hand felt the pressure on him every time he went home. His parents always wanting to know how his studies were going, offering to teach him as their own parents did for them. That too ended in failure when he accidentally killed his mother's prized rose bush.

While a part of him was glad that he didn't have the magical powers that everyone displayed in various fashions. However, the more he poured through the libraries tomes it just made him envious as he alone was the abomination that didn't belong. However, he had come to enjoy the company of his two companions, George always watching out for him when he slept. Though Charles had the suspicion he just wanted to raid the fridge when he wasn't looking, noting the numerous times his favorite pudding packs had gone missing. Then there was Selene. It took him two months just to understand the fairy language, his mother and aunt always cooing to her to make a nest on the upper floors of the home. From what he could gather, once a fairy made a nest it wouldn't be long before others followed suit.

He had seen Selene making something that resembled a cottage on his wall. He just didn't have the heart to tell his family about it, knowing his room would be turned into a fairy resort. His parents already barged into to his room enough these days Charles didn't need them making a shrine for Selene and her friends. That would just invite every sprite, brownie, gnome, and fae in the area to his home. Tossing the current elemental text aside, blowing out a frustrated sigh, knowing it would do him no good.

"See you guy's tomorrow," Charles said to his stony friends, as he pulled his key out of his pocket. He could never get used to how he could so easily transverse between the two realms with a simple key. Crossing the threshold into his room and tossing his bag onto his bed as Selene zipped off to continue working on her tiny home. Morphing back into his original form, George flew to his favorite perch on the shelf above his bed.

"I knew it," Darla said, bursting into his room. Charles groaned as she eyed Selene's growing structure pulling out evergreen twigs from her pocket. Offering them to Selene, their red berries shining in the light as Selene buzzed around her opened hand before snatching up her gifts. Charles listened as Selene hummed as she went to work adding the twigs to the main structure of her small home. "You should have told me she was building a nest," his mother said sternly.

"And have you and everyone else barging into my room at all hours of the day," Charles said curtly, "where it would be cluttered with any and every assortment of thing's to please Selene?"

"You can understand her," Darla said in shock. Her mind raced with possibilities, wondering if this was the reason her son couldn't use normal magic.

"Yes and she said bring more," Charles said reluctantly. Rolling his eyes at her wide smile, exiting his room, leaving his door open as she went to gather more offerings for Selene. Over the next few hours as his family came and went leaving items for Selene to add to her new home. His grandmother leaving neat rows of moss Selene would use to cover the roof of her home. His aunt leaving strings of phosphorescent fire berries to hang in and out of her home. His father left boards split from the thin twigs that could be bent while not splintering as Selene weaved her gifts through the branches his mother had left for her. By the time dinner was ready her small home was set, anchored to the wall by nothing more than webbing from abandoned spiderwebs. As Charles ate silently at the dinner table he could feel their eyes on him as Selene sat on his head. Weaving small braids in his hair as he inhaled his food, knowing they would want to talk about how Selene's home was coming along.

"So how is her home coming along?" Darla asked, numerous choice words ran though his mind knowing he had almost got away.

"It's finished," Charles sighed. Knowing they would just raid his room if he didn't tell them. They had done that enough for one day, and Charles was getting chafed that they couldn't see they were intruding on his solitude.

"Then we'll make a shrine for the fae underneath..." His aunt began to say before Charles cut her off.

"No, my room is already crowded as it is, I don't want it filled to the brim by sprites, gnomes, and the other fae. So if you want to do that fine, just not in my room," Charles said, annoyed that they wouldn't bother speaking to him first.

"But don't you know how much of a blessing it is to have a fae in the home?" she asked, perplexed by his actions.

"Well, they won't be cluttering up your room now will they?" Charles said, hastily getting up from the table. Slamming the basement door behind him knowing they would never listen to him. Pulling out his key wondering if he should just move into the tower like his teacher had suggested months ago. Storming into his room taking his bag from his bed, calling to George holding out his hand as he took his place on his ring finger. Slinging his bag over his shoulder as he heard the basement door beginning to open. Charles had no wish to speak with them when they wouldn't listen to him, therefore he saw no point in continuing the same conversation. Inserting the key into the lock he had no real destination in mind, only one thought he needed a teacher as he turned the doorknob.

Crickets chirped from beneath the fallen leaves that littered the ground, owls hooted from the branch's over head as Charles exited from the broad trunk of a yew tree. Spinning around, trying to catch the door before he was trapped in the dark forest of Venefizas Haven. His fingers tried desperately to pry the door open, still it seemed futile as he watched the seam of the door fade into the trunk. Leaving Charles stranded deep within that unexplored forest, fear began to well in his heart as the warnings his teacher's gave him rang in the back of his mind. Sending Selene and George to see just how far he was from the tower, watching their forms disappearing through the thick branches. His nerves were on edge as he stood alone as Selene's light faded from view. Pressing his back against the tree as the seconds passed, his mind creating monsters as his fear rose. Shaking his head he couldn't allow his fear to rule his mind, he needed to have a clear head if he was going to make it out of the forest. Charles blew out a sigh of relief as he saw Selene's light in the distance.

"Do you want the bad news, or the worst news first?" George asked, coming to a rest on his shoulder. Hanging his head berating himself for getting into this situation in the first place.

"Umm... the bad news first," Charles said, pinching his nose.

"A storm is coming, and the tower is over thirty miles away due northwest," George said, pointing the way. Sighing as his shoulders sagged, Charles banged his head against the tree, contemplating on if he should brave the storm or find some place he could take shelter for the night until the storm passed. Looking to his two companions, if he was alone, Charles would try to brave the storm, yet they wouldn't last long before the cold would take hold of their small bodies.

"Alright, who feels like camping for the night?" Charles asked, setting down his bag. "First things first, we need a shelter from the rain." As he finished, Selene flew through the air, producing a loud whistle as she flew in circles around the area, buzzing, scrapping, rapid chatter filled the air. As a swarm of fairies poured from the honeycomb hive, gnomes filed out of the knots in trees, little hammers in hand as they built the frame of the lean-to. While the fairies layered the roof with broad fat leaves, layering them, so not a drop of water would seep through. As the first claps of thunder roared overhead, rushing back to their own homes as the first drops of rain was heard in the canopy. Grabbing his bag, ducking underneath the lean-to as the heavens released its might on the ground below. Selene dove into his shirt as the rain chilled the air around him, George rested against his chest as Charles laid his head on his bag. His eyes growing heavy as the shower pulled at his weary mind, unaware of the shadow lurking in the branches overhead.

Stretching as he woke, the dripping of raindrops echoed in the dense forest, yawning, watching his breath come out in clouds of fog. Shivering in the cool morning air, knowing the sooner he began his trek, the warmer he would be. Dismantling the lean-to scattering the pieces around the area, leaving a small gift for their help. Heading off in the direction George had pointed out last night, hooking his thumbs around the straps of his bag and heading off on the thirty mile long trek. Watching as Selene darted around, returning with enough berries and nuts to fill his empty stomach. Still unaware of the shadow trailing him from high above, him thanking his companion as she rested on his head returning to the braids she had started the night before. As noon rose resting his tired legs Charles leaned against a fur tree, not caring if his clothes became covered in sap. The rustling of the leaves above him got his heart racing as a shadow fell from the canopy. Before he could get to his feet a tall fae elf thrust the head of her staff at the base of his neck.

"Rubrum vis globus." Charles felt the magic stir as her energy arced down the length of her staff. Forming a red energy ball at the head of her staff, raising his hands in surrender as sweat beaded down his brow. Selene flew into her face stretching out her arms as she spoke rapidly. Looking passed Selene as Charles could only guess at what she was telling her about how they got there. Looking down at the ball of energy, feeling his skin begin to bake under its heat. Relief surged from his body as her magic faded, her staff moving away from his throat, yet Charles didn't feel like he was free just yet. "Odd encountering a witch in fae lands who doesn't use magic to defend himself. Tell me man child, why is that?" she asked, her honey blonde hair floating in the air. Leaning on her staff, her green dress doing little to hide her lithe body.

"Because I can't," Charles said, feeling his skin heat underneath her violet gaze.

"I feel the magic in you."

"That may be, however, I'm a poor student of elemental magic and necromancy," Charles said, hanging his head.

"Are there none to teach you art of the arcane?"

"The what now?" Charles asked confused, as he poured over everything that was in the tower's library and had never once heard the word arcane.

"Fae magic," she said matter-of-factly.

"Umm... no," Charles said, scratching his head.

"Surely you have a teacher, you're using it now to speak my language," she said, crossing her arms.

"Wait, I thought you were speaking my language," Charles said, growing quite confused by the whole conversation.

"Come, one such as you cannot go untrained." She sighed shaking her head. Leading him deeper into the forest Selene buzzed overhead energetic to be back within her own land. Zipping to and fro, chatting with friends she hadn't seen in months, before flying back to his shoulder and resting before flying off again. "You're very relaxed with your control over your familiar," she said, over her shoulder.

"Well, it's not like I could do anything to her in the first place, plus I have a suspicion if I did it would be very, very bad for me," Charles said, studying his surroundings as they pushed deeper into fae lands.

"Yes, we take care of our own, especially when they are mistreated," she said, darkly reminding him to keep that in mind throughout his years. "We are here," she said, lifting up the branches that hid the entrance to the fae village. Charles contained his shock at the vibrant colors that dominated the village, the wooden huts decorated in glowing mushrooms, and lichens that hung from the rafters of their rooves. Illuminating the pathways that lay between the cluster of homes, looking up Charles marveled at the brightness of the stars. "Wait here and do not move," she said, sternly. Charles wasn't about to wander about, not when he was almost blasted to pieces hours ago. Minutes passed as he sat patiently in the soft grass, wondering if he could get home from here. Watching as Selene raced after the fireflies that darted too closely for her liking, before diving down into the grass returning with freshly cut blades of grass in her arms. Returning to her spot on his head weaving the grass into the braids she had carefully woven together over the past few days. Unaware that he was being watched from the shadows as he interacted with Selene. Rising to his feet as he saw his guide return with an elderly man in tow, Charles's fingers drummed against his legs as they drew near.

"So... this is the one you spoke of?" His purple eyes running down Charles' body taking stock of the boy then to the fairy that was building a nest on his head.

"Yes master," she said, from behind him.

"Altair here says you came to our land accidentally," the elder asked, placing his hands behind him.

"Well, I thought I was heading to the tower like I have been doing all these month's now, somehow I ended up here, if it wasn't for the storm last night I would probably be at the tower now," Charles said, shrugging his shoulders.

"And just how have you been traveling to this realm?"

"My father gave me this key," Charles said, taking the old key from his pocket. Holding it out for the old elf to see the enchanted item before he returned it to his pocket. "He told me as long as I thought about where I wanted to go it would take me to any part of the tower."

"So just what were you thinking at the moment you inserted that key?" the elder asked with a knowing look.

"That I needed a teacher..." Charles stood in silence as it finally dawn on him. The key had taken him to where he needed to go, he just couldn't see it at that time. "You mean the key brought me here for a reason?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head. "It is rare for a human to be able to channel the arcane, it's no wonder you could not find a teacher at that tower of yours. The fact that Selene there," pointing to the top of his head, "has taken to becoming your familiar, is no small stroke of luck, like all fae, we are drawn to the arcane. If she can survive in your world that tells us that you do indeed extrude the arcane magic. To the point that the smaller fae could survive in that world, which could also be very troubling to us given human nature. Altair here has been watching you since your intrusion into our land still we are pleased at what she reported," he said, smiling warmly at the boy. "But your own family must be worried about you storming off like that, and no word has come from you for two days.

Now, if you'll be so kind as to pull out that key once again." Charles didn't hesitate, within seconds the elder rolled the key between his thumb and fore finger. Muttering a spell below Charles hearing it, then watching a blue glow settle over the old brass key before fading away. "Now, you may return home without the dangerous trek through the woods, you are free to return in the morning. We shall see if we can't get you sorted out with the proper teacher," he said, patting Charles shoulder before leaving him stunned and alone in the grove.

Charles staggered into his room as he crossed the threshold of his door, reminding himself never to do that again without some sort of plan. Dumping his bag into his desk chair, Selene dashed off to her cottage adding bits and pieces to her home from their time in the fae lands. Falling haphazardly into his bed and drifting off within seconds as his head touched the soft down pillow. Steam bellowed out from underneath his bathroom door as he washed away his time in those darkened woods. Reaching for his towel that hung inches away, something touched his hand, jerking back, wiping away the water from his eyes a three inch brownie sat comfortably on the towel rack.

Smiling warmly at Charles as his brethren tidied up his disorganized bathroom. Taking the towel from the hanger drying off behind the curtain muttering to himself, then remembering what the fae had warned him about last night. Wrapping the towel around his waist before stepping out of the shower watching his new guest scurry out from under foot. Selene came zooming in as the bathroom door opened chatting happily with the brownies', before whispering in his ear that they wanted milk for their work.​