When work ended, I drove home, keeping my sensory root locked onto all the nearby wisps while also channeling my banishment root. No, I didn’t plan on casting either magic. There weren’t nearly enough wisps to form a fiend-leveled threat. Hell, the cluster of their white light barely created more than an irritating glint like the high beams of an asshole driver. But focusing on my roots did help temper the full force of my active telepathy, which still hunted for Milo in the sea of the city.
My students helped keep my mind and body too busy for my overactive branch to stir too much trouble, but my root casting would have to do the trick once I got home. That and my very needy cats, who immediately barreled toward the front door once I stepped inside.
Charlie meowed his hellos, lifting his front legs and digging his paws and claws into my slacks. I lifted him and pressed his head into the crook of my neck, where he cuddled and purred. It did little to drown out the loud cries of Carlie, famished and demanding her meal this instant. She rubbed against my legs, circling me like a shark and ready to bite me as hard as one, too, if her gentle nudges didn’t drive me toward the kitchen soon.
After contending with the two of them, I was able to finally unwind. Carlie was easy enough. Once she had her food, her fill, and a follow-up treat—because of Milo and his need to buy her love—she mellowed out and slept. Charlie, on the other hand, required a full hour of attention. Pets, brushing, encouragement to go eat and drink water, and lots of affectionate words. After he’d been basked in love, he abandoned me to go sleep on the bed.
“All right,” I said, cracking my neck and grabbing my book. “Time to master this telepathy bullshit once and for all.”
I couldn’t very well spend each day of this semester demanding my homeroom coven to properly control their branches, their magics, when I couldn’t. It was hypocritical, which didn’t bother me nearly as much as the fact it was also incredibly dangerous. I already had the misfortune of experiencing how dangerous it was. What my manifestation wrought onto the world would never happen again. Since the day his memories synced to mine, restoring a full understanding of the capabilities of my magic, I’d made it a priority to research telepathy.
Just as all twelve branches of magic are unique, every magic within a branch held a different skill. My telepathy differed from Milo’s clairvoyance, from Jennifer’s empathy, from Tara’s Banshee’s Wail, but it wasn’t simply how different psychic branches varied from each other, but how the same psychic magic reacted differently for each individual. My telepathy was similar to many of the case studies I read in the archives of research I dug through, but there were components of my branch that didn’t compare. Aspects I’d have to learn to control without guidance.
I read until my eyes blurred. Pages melted together in my head, knocking so much information around I thought it might very well make my head explode. Sinking back into the cushions of the couch, I got as comfortable as I could despite the fact the only part of me that ached came from within my skull.
Finn’s smile washed over my mind as I flipped through the pages of this worn text on The Mythos Behind the Psychic Wall. I didn’t care much about the research on the history of my magic, but I did enjoy the old lore. And it was the oldest of old lore.
Finn gave me this book, told the story to Milo and me, painted imagery I never could when recounting the legends behind the first three psychic witches in recorded history. They weren’t, most likely, but they survived the test of time.
“The Sisters of Fate,” Finn had explained, hazel eyes fluttering as he recounted mysteries even the text of this special edition didn’t hold. “Three goddesses in their own right.”
“Wait, they’re goddesses?” Milo had asked, picking food out of his braces. “I thought they were witches.”
“Well, of course.” Finn smirked. “Lore often answered the mysteries we’ve solved today with the more wonderous. They were witches—some of the most powerful, they say.”
I’d dozed off into a beautiful memory with a beautiful young man.
“Although, some historians believe the actual deities existed, and the witches merely adopted the persona to pose as figures of divine authority.”
“Christ, are you going to give an extra lesson after every single history class?” I scoffed, hiding behind a textbook and pretending not to listen, even if, in truth, I found Finn’s recaps far more entertaining than our history teacher’s droning.
“Aaaaaanyway, the Sisters of Fate,” Finn said, boastful in his lesson. “Or the Moirai actually have ties to more than simply Greek and Roman lore.”
“The Moriarty?” Milo asked, befuddled and unable to hide it on his face or in his thoughts.
“The Moirai,” I said.
“How they’re commonly referred.”
My younger self rolled his eyes at that. They weren’t more commonly known by that name. They weren’t even commonly known other than the occasional pop culture reference because someone somewhere revamped Greek Mythology for the thousandth time into a movie or book or game.
“Sooooo,” Finn said, stealing my attention. “They’ve found themselves in lots of different cultures, which begs the question of what these three knew, why they traveled the world, and how much of society were they pushing toward embracing our witch destiny.”
Our witch destiny. Ugh. Finn, along with every history buff, studied the gap where magic faded away. Gone from the world for centuries. No one knew why it happened. Not even branches like Finn’s could read the history on the centuries where magic died. His retrocognition required the touch of magic woven into the past to read its story.
All anyone really knew was that many beings for thousands of years were referred to as deities, as monsters, as mythical beasts, and we didn’t have clear-cut answers for all those mysteries. Hell, we didn’t even know why magic fizzled out for a damn near millennium. When magic had finally returned, when it graced society barely more than two centuries ago, everything changed again. We didn’t remain a world that painted pretty lore. Nations embraced the new reality, the new way of life, and many considered that our witch destiny had finally begun.
Our world was divided into two entities. The witches who possessed magic, born of this world, and the demons who tore through the planes of reality, desperate to feed upon our strength and devour everything. All the other mysteries could remain forgotten by time, except by curious souls such as Finn, who sought to unravel the truth of the forgotten past.
Echoed whispers called out, pulling me out of my dozed-off state. I didn’t want to surrender my dream, though. Not yet. I wanted to finish this memory; I wanted to follow it to another, let it lead me down a path of cherished days at the academy with Finn and Milo.
The words stirred more loudly. I snapped my eyes open, feeling the dry air sting as even dim lights lashed out. I squinted, taking in a fuzzy image of my living room as suddenly, violently, my sight whirled through the evening sky of the city. Everything whipped by in a hazy blur, and the thoughts of a thousand nearby strangers clouded my head.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
My telepathy traveled the length of the city in search of Milo once again. Unwilling or unable to accept his absence, my magic searched for him like it had a will of its own. That made my heart skip a beat, a rhythmic terror, a fright that made my chest and throat burn.
“This is just the lack of a manifestation to deal with the bullshit I was too lazy to handle.” That was what this was. But a part of me feared a new manifestation had blossomed in the back of my mind, plotting and preparing. How could I be expected to master the intricacies of my branch when I couldn’t even trust my casting?
My vision barreled through the city until it reached the main building of Cerberus Guild. They’d begun construction on additional buildings neighboring their main headquarters, almost as if they sought to take the entire city block, which seemed absurd. Even their tenacious guild master couldn’t poach that many enchanters. But Campbell did have a way of wrangling every witch she wanted.
It didn’t take long for my magic to fly through the front entrance, up the stairwell, and onto the floor of Milo’s office. Of course, my magic went to Cerberus Guild, searching and hunting for any leads like a bloodhound in pursuit of the one man in the world who calmed my unstable mind.
With no leads on Milo, my telepathy faltered, and I began to slowly reel it back.
“Let me be as clear as possible,” Guild Master Campbell’s voice rang loud but not as loud as her thoughts on Milo.
Campbell stood at a podium in a sleek white suit, addressing her acolytes in a meeting. Her mention of Milo pulled my telepathy toward her, searching her mind for any faint trace.
Her surface thoughts were focused on the rearrangement of her acolytes, moving around hundreds of pieces simultaneously to where I couldn’t keep up or comprehend much of anything beating around her head. Well, one thing stood out. Campbell had pulled all the acolytes off the recent volunteering they’d done at Gemini Academy, where they worked with students, so they could prioritize their casework. I was already aware I wouldn’t have access to Milo’s acolytes this semester, which was fine. Their additional lessons did add some insight into helping my homeroom coven improve their skills, but I didn’t have as much energy to wedge in extra learning opportunities with industry pros. Especially since I had to balance getting my homeroom ready for internships while finally controlling my own branch.
“With Enchanter Evergreen’s absence, everyone will be stepping up.” Her thoughts on Milo became clearer as she spoke about him, helping my telepathy delve deeper into the busy buzz of her mind. “No guild is defined by one witch. No city relies on one witch. Make sure the city of Chicago sees that. Each of you is just as capable as Enchanter Evergreen. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t keep you here.”
She hadn’t seen him in days, not since being debriefed on potential difficulties while he was away. Nothing Milo considered threatening but enough for Campbell to assemble her acolytes, schedule meetings all week with her enchanters, and ensure that Chicago ran as smoothly as it did with Enchanter Evergreen on the scene. No. Even better in his absence.
That sparked a sour note in my thoughts. I buried the feeling and reminded myself—and hopefully my magic by extension—that Milo wasn’t here.
Campbell’s phone pinged. She checked it, catching sight of the name, and then stuffed her phone back into her pocket to continue her speech. Milo had messaged her well over an hour past when she instructed him to check in with her. Enchanter Evergreen’s official itinerary danced along Guild Master Campbell’s surface thoughts, and suddenly, everything disappeared.
Campbell’s sullen scowl faded. Cerberus Guild vanished. Chicago’s buildings and busy streets fizzled away. Somehow, someway, my branch took the specific knowledge of Milo’s supposed location and propelled my mind far past the bounds of the city. My heart hitched, terrified as the world whipped by and my thoughts propelled further and further across the country. City lines crossed; state lines crossed. How the hell was this even possible?
Any second, I’d collapse. Break. Crumble to pieces. Still, with Milo in my mind, it came with the slightest tug of his thoughts. Too faint to hear. But he must’ve been close. That meant we had to be in California at this point or near it. As frightening as the idea that my magic carried my mind halfway across the country was, I didn’t feel like a balloon floating through the sky, aimless and toward doom. There was direction and purpose, and maybe, just maybe, if I latched to Milo’s mind, then everything would be fine.
This wasn’t nearly as bad as I anticipated. I mean, sure, my telepathy completely superseded the laws of physics, even by magical standards. But maybe the full extent of my branch didn’t wane by distance. This could be tied to the strength that my deranged manifestation alluded to keeping from me. I’d searched memories for his recollections on what else my telepathy could do. Unfortunately, most of his memories were sordid, hateful thoughts for me, cruel conspiring, calculated manipulations, and callous beliefs.
I supposed, at the very least, this proved an unexpected learning opportunity for the limitations surrounding my branch or lack thereof.
I’d finally caught up to Milo, reached his mind, hovered over his shoulder, and heard his thoughts. It didn’t matter that I sat in my living room thousands of miles away. It didn’t matter that he walked through a crowded airport, bustling with people and noise. Everything except for Milo faded away.
The happiness along the surface hid the tiny glint of frustration that came with a long flight and a long evening ahead. The way he refused to feed the anger had this breathtaking effect on me, stilling my mind and soothing my magic that circled him as he trailed through the airport in search of the representatives meant to meet him for the upcoming mission.
And in this lull of calm illusions, the band that stretched thin, linking Milo and me, snapped. It hit so hard, every bone in my body rattled. My living room burst with a pulse of psychic magic. The walls cracked and crumbled. Or…maybe that was me. My skull. It throbbed and ached, but did it explode? It felt like that until I sank into the shadows of my mind. Deeper than the inner core, away from every single memory and down the tunnel of the subconscious, I traveled.
The endless darkness cooled my aching body. More like the lack of awareness that came with the subconscious disconnected me from my body, a body that lay broken and bruised after the ricochet of magic bouncing back at me from over a thousand miles like a rocket.
“This isn’t so bad.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “All I have to do is find my way back into my conscious core.”
From there, I’d be able to reel my telepathy back. I’d have to. I’d go to the hospital. Maybe get put on some damper meds until I figured out how to properly control my branch. If I lingered in the subconscious, I might never find my way out.
“Everything will be okay. This isn’t so bad,” I repeated to myself.
“Oh, honey,” a hauntingly familiar voice said. “It’s so much worse than you think.”
I knew that voice. It was mine. A lighter lilt, but that gruff undertone came from me. Only not me.
The person who spoke stepped from the shadows. Another version of me. My manifestation.