Monday, July 16, 2012

Fifteen - Revelations

What began as a flash fiction piece turned into something longer and it's too late to start something new, so I'm going to do something I've always wanted to do.  This begins my first serial, Fifteen.  (Don't worry, the subsequent parts should be longer [and better])

The flames, set evenly apart like marble columns, flickered and died.  It was dark.  Even the hearth was out.  All was silent.
A golden spark flickered above the smoking candles.  A blue spark followed, then red, green, and purple.  Amelia squealed.
“I did it,” she said, smiling madly.  “I have the Strength.”
An elderly woman nodded above her.  “I didn’t think I’d live to see the next Olivier with the Strength.  I’m very proud of you, dear.”
Amelia threw her arms around the woman and shed a tear.  “I’ll make you even prouder, grandmother.  I’m going to be the first Olivier to pass the Teaching and become a professional sage.”
“I don’t doubt it, dearie.”
Her mother, chestnut hair illuminated now by a pewter-cased lamp, stroked Amelia’s braided locks.  “I guess I should fetch your thrice-great-grandmother’s staff.”
Amelia gaped.  “You still have it!”
Her mother nodded, maintaining gentle composure.  “A mage’s staff is special.  You cannot go casting one away.”
Amelia rose from her seat.  “Where is it?”
        They walked past the other relations—a lot of them, as is usual for a fifteenth birthday party—all of which were slowly recovering from the shock.  The hearth-room bled into a long hallway with brown, undecorated walls.  Amelia found herself stopped at a small door of warped wood.
“You said that I’m never to enter this room,” she remarked.
Her mother laughed softly.  “You needn’t mind that now.  It’s quite for you alone, in truth.”
Amelia gasped and blundered through the door into a tiny alcove.  “A Strongroom,” she whispered.  A gnarled staff sat in one corner against a lone chair.  Another corner housed a desk with a dusty tome upon it.  The only light came from a lone torch.
“Who will teach me to wield the Strength?” Amelia asked her mother.
A voice, void of any expected flourishes, stated, “I will.”
Amelia scrambled, looking for the source.  The staff was missing from its corner.  In its place sat a misty-eyed man of thick mustache.
“I am both your teacher and your greatest asset, child.  We begin now, before dusk.”

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