From Mars' Journal - Aethon's 24th Cycle - Year 396

  My grandmother was never an arch mage. That one little lie is what has defined my life. Every mistake I’ve ever made was based around that lie. It takes a miracle to become an archmage. Just one. One spell that changes the world on a fundamental level. Few people manage it. It’s what I thought I’d done when I brought a man back from death. It’s what I thought Camilla had done when she’d created food for the whole city during the famine. And it’s what I believed my grandmother had done, when she showed the face of Aethon himself to the city. I didn’t see this the first time. I hadn’t even been born. But she does it once every ten years or so. People travel from all over the country to see it. To see a god, not just as he is in the sky, but in a form like ours. Hovering over the city like raining fire. ‘Aethon’s Grace’ is what she called the spell. Like she was granting life itself.

  The ones I’ve seen still burn in my memory, like the first sunrise you ever see. It’s the type of magic I wanted to cast someday. Magic people would whisper about across the world. But it wasn’t real. Grandma has always called herself a sun mage. Like me, the only known mage with her focus. This is how she could call on Aethon, if only rarely. With her inherent connection to him.

  Of these three miracles in our family, two are universally remembered as reckless and selfish lies. Camilla was remembered as a monster. I am reviled as pathetic and manipulative. Neither of us is an official archmage, because my grandmother made sure everyone knew we were nothing more than charlatans and disappointments. For a while, I tried to convince my grandmother that I wasn’t lying. I tried to show her how ‘Undone’ works. I even tried to save the dead a few more times, but I was always driven off. Even blamed for their deaths, sometimes. Grandma said she was protecting me from that. But I did realize eventually. When it was time for Grandma to share her ‘Aethon’s Grace’ spell again. When I found the strange, ivory stone she used to cast it.

  She’d been talking down to me for a long time, I realized. More since I saved Crus’ life, but even for years before that. I always thought I just needed to improve. That she had high standards. But I understand now. That stone… I could feel the aura inside it. More than I’d ever know what to do with, if I had it. It felt like holding the stars. And the rage she wore when she caught me holding it felt like walking into fire. She called me worthless. She called me foul, and evil. She told me I’d never had any hope of being worth anything at all. She didn’t tell me why she was so angry. I don’t know how I put the pieces together. I just… I saw her eyes, and I knew.

  My grandmother was never a sun mage. Her spells were all far too similar to a basic light mage. All about heat and illusion. But she had that stone. Light magic could look a lot like something entirely new, with that much aura to spare. I don’t know how she got it. But I know the truth. ‘Aethon’s Grace’ is a lie. At least, the spell my grandmother gave its name to. It’s just a beautiful light spell. A work of art, certainly. But not beyond any light mage with access to so much aura. I don’t know where she got it. But I know she is no archmage.

  It took months after that before I fully realized the truth. The truth that still chills my blood. All her little comments about my failures. About how I was a liar, and a cheat, and I could never reach her with tricks and manipulation. I was so slow to realize. And I had no one to talk to. She wouldn’t believe me, and no one else would either. It wasn’t until she tried to marry me off the same way she’d done with Cammie that I realized. She knew I had no interest in marriage. Especially not to a house that only cared about my magic. She was trying to get rid of me. And if it failed… she’d move onto the next step. The same way she had with Cammie. The same way I had.

  Because my grandmother believed me. That’s why she hated me so much. She never thought I was lying. She’d known from the start that I had actually cast a miraculous spell. Because I had done something beautiful and impossible. All on my own. And it turned out she hadn’t. When she saw in my eyes that I thought I’d nearly reached her level, she read it as the belief that I had surpassed her. That I was better than her. More genuine. It never would have occurred to me. But that didn’t matter. Because what I’d done was real. And what she was loved for was not. Even if no one knew. Even if I had never known. She couldn’t live with that. She had to reject the idea at its root, and that was me. I’d worked my whole life to impress her. To be good enough. And that was what sealed my fate.

  And I am a monster. I am just as disgusting, and cruel, and violent as my grandmother. Because I’ve seen her do this before. Dismantle a reputation brick by brick. Drive a woman into the dirt. Try to sell her off and, eventually, try to have her killed. It was exactly what she’d done to my older sister. I convinced myself to hate Camilla. I believed every word my grandmother said about her. But I understand now. She was guilty of the same crime I am. She was more guilty of it, even. She changed the world with her spell. Or she could have. And she’d made my grandmother feel small by doing it, so she needed to be erased.

  And I’d tried to have her killed.

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  I’m leaving this city. I don’t know why Cammie stayed for so long. She was so much more confident than I was. I don’t know why she stayed until the very last minute. But I won’t. There is nothing for me here. I am hated. I am despised. No one believes in any of my magic anymore. Not even the simplest of spells. Even if they see it themselves. My grandmother has turned everyone and everything against me. If I die here, I will be dying alone. If I die here, I will get no headstone. No visitors. No mourners and no funeral. I will be an abandoned corpse in the dirt.

  But… Somewhere out there. Somewhere in the world, I have a big sister. Someone who understands. I hurt her. I know I hurt her. I did everything to her that I am fleeing now. But… she is so kind. She has always been so kind. I need to find her. I need to apologize. I need to tell her I know she is true, and honest, and genuine. And maybe. Maybe if I am extremely blessed. Maybe she will still love me, and I can accept what I deserve in peace. I’ve almost done what I need to do already. So many times, in the last few months. But Cammie deserves my apology. And I’m too afraid. I’m too afraid of dying in a place where I’ll be forgotten, or reviled. So I have to find Cammie. Only then can I accept Luna’s gift, and maybe Cammie will be the one person who will visit my grave.

  Aethon's 24th Cycle - Year 398 - The Second Day

  ‘Lamentations’, the spell which saved Margaret and killed her at the same time, cast the room into darkness. I was growing familiar with it by this point. The way it washed the world away, then flooded it with ancient colors of grief. Margaret and I found ourselves in a new home. A quaint one. With two beds in one room. I recognized it, I think. One of the houses near the old temple, but I couldn’t be certain. I hadn’t been inside, but the windows somehow looked… familiar. Luke was there, as was his mother. Vitinia. Both looked younger, but only by a few years. At least… physically. They looked considerably younger in a less defineable way. Or rather, they’d aged the same way I have the last few years.

  The most obvious change, however, was in Luke’s demeanor. Every time I’d seen him, he’d had a casual disregard for his mother. She was always near, but he rarely acknowledged her. In this vision, however… he adored her. Not in the affectionate or even habitual way that can sometimes be seen in such relationships, but with true admiration. It made me feel sick to my stomach.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Vitinia asked. Luke nodded easily. Vitinia gave him a suspicious look. “You’re certain? You can’t mess this up, or it will only make things worse for us, not better.” Luke beamed.

  “I know. I won’t let you down. I swear, I won’t let you down. This will change everything for us, I’ll make certain,” Luke reassured. Vitinia continued to watch him with trepidation, but finally nodded.

  “Providing for this family hasn’t been easy, since your father died. I know you do your best, sweetheart, but it hasn’t been easy. Your uncle won’t help us, and I am getting too old for this work. And you are getting far too old to rely on me. We need the temple to take us seriously. It’s either that, or we will lose even this house, eventually,” she pressed.

  Luke grimaced, but nodded. “I understand. And I’m sorry. I do try to bring as much in as I can. I’m sorry. But I do understand. I don’t feel… good about it, but I understand. I have been practicing, and I’ll do it right. We’ll get dad’s debt paid off, and we won’t have to worry about money ever again. I promise, Mom. I know how hard you work. And I’m ashamed that you still have to. But I promise. I promise. I will not let you down. And I’ll take over all the work afterwards,” Luke responded.

  Still, Vitinia watched him with suspicion. Still, Luke regarded her with admiration.

  “I hope so. I am tired of being disappointed, and I am tired of paying for your father’s mistakes,” she said. Luke winced, but nodded in agreement.

  “I hate that you ever had to, Mom. I hate it,” he said. He walked across the kitchen where she chopped vegetables, and interrupted her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s my turn to take care of you. I know I’ll never be half as good to you as you are to me, but I want to be. I desperately want to be. And I’ll throw everything into trying.”

  “You seemed pretty hesitant when I had the idea. Are you sure you won’t change your mind again?” Vitinia pressed. Luke nodded, his arms still wrapped around his mother.

  “I was just confused. It felt dishonest. But you were right. It is worth it. And it is only right. The entire temple should have treated you with more honor this entire time. More reverence. It’s this new generation, forgetting how you laid the stones of that temple. If a few tricks are what it takes to find justice for the forgotten… I can do that. I think Aethon would smile on me for it, even,” Luke reassured.

  Finally, at these words, Vitinia sighed and lifted her arms to return the hug. “I’m happy to hear that, Luke. I’m… I’m looking forward to the pride I’ll feel—when all this is over. I trust you,” she said. And as soon as she did, the room began to melt away again, like a house made of mud. It twisted and turned, the colors changing and growing brighter as a new scene formed. This time, we found ourselves on the beach, just outside of town. It was the middle of the day, and there were a dozen panicked people on the beach. Margaret and I stood in the middle of them all, and I recognized several. I’d killed some of them. I’d been hunted by others. They were largely Luke’s cultists, or those he’d forced me to punish. Vitinia was on her knees in front of me, and in front of her was a tattered and drowned body.

  In front of her, Luke was dead.