Marquis couldn’t imbue them the way he did a Mage’s wand, couldn’t spell the wood and link a mage to the earth. They weren’t magical beings, but with wish, they could hold a piece of magekind with them, and to each, they would vow to uphold the secrecy of the mages and act as intermediaries in the world. Mages had lost their touch in the new and digital age.
Each wand, lathed appropriately, received lacquering and had the handle drilled out, a cavity inside where a wish crystal would be positioned with sawdust from a mage’s wand as the cushioning, a reminder that they too are linked to magekind, though their magic may not be their own. He could have done the same thing to any number of trinkets, but wands were the best. He knew wands.
There was no ceremony to what he did, only gathering, shaping, and exchange. A wand would match their mage. But, for this, Marquis made it ceremonial, boxing their wands in handmade displays, enchanting them one at a time with the vows of silence, of loyalty, and the spell or two that could fit.
Nelson rather liked his invisibility, and another wished he could fly—but hovering a little was the best Marquis could offer. The human body wasn’t meant to be throttled full force through the upper atmospheres unprotected where any godless man woman or child could see them break natural laws shortly before wrenching themselves asunder. There was a reason mages used brooms at one point. The spell itself tended to settle in the shaft of a broom, or in anything straight and thin—like bones. Humans couldn’t easily come back from having their legs depart at unheard-of speeds ahead of their own bodies through the air. They tended to not survive the process. Usually. Nelson had to reassure the others that Marquis spoke truth. Why else would mages ride motorcycles?
Because brooms tended to crush testicles when straddled.
As the humans worked their way through the embellishments of their wands, Marquis stared at the wrinkled letter that Doris had left behind. He started and stopped reading it so many times, he had the first few lines memorized. But he had little else to do and with Mads pregnant and his life changing, he needed to brave it.
As if sensing something wrong, Nelson approached, sitting beside Marquis as he pulled the letter free. “I’d offer to hold your hand, friend. That letter has troubled you for some time.”
“We all handle grief our own way.”
“Betrayal and grief have entwined, and it’s a unique pain you bear. I’ll just sit by you a bit—moral support and all that.” Nelson smiled and Marquis nodded.
No backing out now.Marquis frowned at the first paragraph. Nelson must have known he might turn tail again.
So, lacking any other reasonable option, he read.
Marquis,
I’ll forgo any affectations. By the time you read this, you will understand what I did. My love for you is not the same sort of love you have for me. I have manipulated you into codependency. You needed me at a time when you had suffered the worst betrayal imaginable. There is no excuse for all I did and did not do. Mads was beneath you, I thought, and I admired you from afar. You knew what I was and treated me no differently. So, when Baron and I shared our common goals, he gave you and Rexford to me. Please know that I do love you, even until the end. The leaves on my wand tree grow gnarled and twisted. I see my demise in the branches.
I owe you my story. And this is it.
For years, I have done research into familiar bonds. Shifter blood mingled with magekind, and the bond between alpha andomega became inundated with our beings. We took the best of the mongrels, selected their strongest bloodlines, and bred them into what we were. All shifters that exist, the incomplete and useless creatures, are nothing more than incomplete and failed familiars. And any mage that would sully themselves with a shifter, lay with one, breed with them, should be put to death as they put down those of their own that bugger common animals.
As an omega, myself, I never developed the traits of a familiar. I should have been born a woman in the first place instead of the flawed male I was. Imbued with magic and unable to channel for a mage as a familiar should. I became the woman you always saw me as. You never saw Doran, the boy I was. You saw the woman I became.
Unfortunately, I got caught up in my dreams and wistfulness. Instead of achieving the unthinkable, proving the origins of magekind, and rooting out the blood that ruined us—I became a mother instead. And I could only do so at your reluctant side. I love you, and I love Rexford more than anything, but I know your heart never warmed to me. You cried out his name in your sleep often.
You have a nephew alive, Damien’s first son they sent back to Wales. His name is Seren Heulwen. He’s a covenmaster of the Haul covens, Machlud. He looks a lot like you. But what you’re likely more concerned about is Midnite. The Greymorning adjunct covenmaster went searching for him years ago, and Baron found him. Our contact reported the boy had no magical talent, but Baron was certain that he had familiar potential, and so we began an experiment…
Marquis read through the rest of the page then another, notes on familiars and omegas, how every omega had potential, but they had to be fostered. That trauma stifled an omega’s magic, which funneled it more into their desires for freedom,their fascinations, which is why familiars often took the forms of animals they loved the most. And by stifling creativity, making an unhappy child, and exposing them to a comfort creature… You got a familiar. Some of the wealthiest families knew it already and guarded the secrets.
A happy omega child blinded byaccident. Warring Stellanova, blinded as a child by a simple star charm for the coven’s annual welcoming of the constellation of their coven. A simple spell that somehow went wrong, with no explanation as to how, or why it only affected one child. Cade Greymorning, a half blood with a human mother, who was blessed by magic and mistreated by an awful stepfather in small but meaningful and constant ways. Leon Oaken, born with an unfortunate birthmark and parents that were given magical incentives to overlook their son. Constant neglect and favoritism of other siblings. Mads of Blue Dawn, who raised himself by all rights, a feral child who had no love of animals, for in his heart, he was one.
And then there were omegas, so few that were cast away, who were sold to mages on whispers of fortunes, promising healing and help to their packs and flocks. Omega dragons that mages have kept harnessed and hidden, siphoning their inherent magic. Perhaps that was why mages feared dragons so much. Their power was similar. A theory as of yet unexplored, the union of human and dragon to see if it could make a mage. To see if mage and dragon… What they could produce.
Marquis shuddered. Mages generations before him had tried to wipe dragons from the earth by destroying their lore, burning their medicines to the ground, causing plants to become extinct as extraordinary measures to drive species to extinction.
As the letter had gone on, the pen left bolder lines, ink soaking the page as the pen left heavy indentations, the writing more frantic and that of a madwoman inundated by a hate and desperation that she’d never shown Marquis. Or that he’dbeen too distracted to notice. Or madness brought about from secret thoughts she harbored, knowing their wrongness but uninhibited by whatever Baron had done to her.
The gist was… They had captive omega shifters. They had manufactured familiars made in terrible circumstances. And Baron had died with nobody knowing where they were hidden.
Marquis folded the papers and took a deep breath. “Nelson. The magi have their first task. As ombudsmen to the human underworld, we must find any and all of the familiars that Baron bartered.”
Nelson nodded. “We have put word out. That’s why they brought Haze.”
Marquis stared at Nelson’s ring, what he’d asked to keep in lieu of a wand. He drummed his fingers and reached over to trace their tips over the letter. Marquis didn’t stop him as he pulled the letter away. “He seemed to take a shine to Tack.”
“Poor lad.” Nelson shook his head with a sigh.
“The omega lost his ability to speak. He went through a lot. A child he didn’t want…” Marquis flinched as Nelson opened the letter.
“Oh, that goes without saying. I spoke of Tack, though. They have this human drug, they say, that makes one’s manhoodstand for the occasion, so to speak. And the warning is that if one were to stay on their feet for more than four hours, they should visit a doctor.” Nelson’s aged eyes crinkled as they lazily traced the words on the page.
