A Father's Dream (The Dark Prism Book 1)

by V. St. Clair

  So he’d spent countless hours reading countless texts and searching every mastery-level prism he could get his hands on for known white modifier locations, to see what he could use for his research. Clear, amber, blue, rose, orange, green, violet…none of the different tints had proven useful so far, or else he was simply missing the modifiers due to fatigue and frustration.

  What haven’t I tried? was his constant litany during these aggravating hours he spent locked in his workroom. Where haven’t I looked?

  At the back of his mind, always, was the thought that he could—should—ask Asher to come and help him. Asher’s more lackadaisical, carefree method of magic tended to favor him in these instances, where Aleric sometimes failed from trying too hard or caring too much. Asher’s dispassion—and intellect—would be useful in bringing him fresh inspiration.

  Still, he had a few more weeks before his self-made promise to go to his friend for help, and because he was every bit as prideful and arrogant as Asher had recently accused him of being, he was determined to use that time to see if he could get to the next step on his own.

  I suppose I could ask him if he can recall any white modifiers he’s found in the past…he conceded mentally, growing desperate. That wouldn’t really be the same as asking him to do the work for him, it would just be a starting point. Really, once Aleric had a promising-looking modifier, he knew what next steps he needed to take in developing the right sequence to tap into memory. It was entirely possible that Asher had found several white modifiers in his recent discovery alone, since he was looking at light through a higher refractive index underwater.

  Yes, I can at least ask him that much without feeling inferior.

  With that settled, Aleric took a few more minutes to himself in the bathroom, simply relaxing his mind and trying to let go of some of his tension. He needed to climb down the cliffs behind the school soon; the exercise would be good for him, and he always felt calmer and more centered after watching the waves crash against the cliff face for a while.

  He had no idea how long he sat like that, hiding from the world in the ground-floor bathroom at the Crystal Tower, only that his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. He reflexively stood up the moment he heard the noise and tried to look like he had just finished washing his hands and was preparing to leave.

  “Oh, hey Aleric,” it was Reginald Trout. “I wondered where you’d gone off to…your mother is looking for you, I think.”

  “Is she?” Aleric asked with interest. His mother normally didn’t ask after him at these events, trusting him to do his own networking.

  “Well, I assume so,” his friend elaborated. “She hasn’t mentioned you specifically, but she occasionally glances at the main entrance of the Tower and frowns, which I took to mean she’s annoyed that you aren’t outside schmoozing with the rest of us.”

  Aleric glanced at his chrono and grimaced; he had been in here for longer than he thought.

  Mother knows I would never be in here talking to Father for such a long time…we can barely spend ten minutes together without me getting angry and finding an excuse to leave.

  “I’d better go do my duties then,” Aleric nodded resolutely. “Thanks for the warning,” he added to Reggie before walking off.

  Back outside, he was a little surprised to find that the crowd hadn’t thinned at all. Not that everyone was talking to Asher; Aleric couldn’t even see his best friend at the moment. Still, people seemed to be enjoying the change of scenery for their discussions and were milling around on the lawns, not straying too far from the others and occasionally looking baffled by their surroundings. Aleric suddenly saw them all as a flock of sheep, waiting to be fed thoughts by someone smarter than them.

  He shook the image from his head and reminded himself that he was technically part of that herd, moving along with the group and playing his assigned role in the Great Game that was House politics. Still, it had never felt so much like a giant, comical illusion than it did in that moment, which was deeply unsettling.

  “Where is Asher?” he stopped the first person he saw. “Don’t tell me he’s already gone?” Surely not even Asher would pass up on such an opportunity to network with his betters, unless he’d already gotten into another big fight with the Council…

  “I don’t think so,” Henrietta Kliner responded. “Last I saw him, he was talking to one of your Masters…Antwar, I think.” She pointed towards the largest of the stone monuments at the edge of the courtyard. “I think they went behind there for some privacy.”

  “Thank you,” Aleric answered, perplexed as to why Antwar wanted a private word with Asher here, when they normally saw each other every day at school. If the man was just going to congratulate him on his success, he could surely do that in public…and if he was going to chastise him for some perceived character flaw, well…what kind of jerk berated someone at their own award ceremony?

  Those two have been at odds ever since we started school, Aleric conceded mentally, wondering why they couldn’t just bury the hatchet and try to get along.

  He rounded the edge of the monument and was about to announce himself when he heard Asher say, “—me guess, you think the fact that I don’t like Cal and his cronies means I’m definitely going to be a power-hungry egomaniac who brings the world to its knees?” in his most sardonic tone.

  Aleric stopped and took a step backwards, concealing himself from view but still able to see the others. Asher was standing with his arms folded across his chest, looking so out of place with his common clothing and sloppy hair that it was jarring. He appeared less mocking and more like he was trying to hold his defiance and pride close to himself, like a shield of sorts, though perhaps Aleric only saw those things because he knew to look for them.

  “Actually, quite the opposite,” the Prism Master answered evenly, surprising Asher and Aleric both. “I had worried that you would be so eager to insert yourself amongst them and leave your old associations behind, that you would bend over backwards to please them and lose yourself completely. Seeing you fight with Calahan, seeing you maintain who you are and refuse to bend your obnoxious neck even for the highest-ranking mages on the continent…it was strangely refreshing,” he admitted. “More than anything else could, it assured me that your damnable will is too dominant to be crushed or absorbed by anyone else.”

  Asher raised a skeptical eyebrow and said, “Thanks…I think. Glad to know that my being an arrogant, obnoxious little snip—as you like to call me—is finally paying off for me.”

  “So am I, or it would be an entirely worthless personality trait for you to possess,” Antwar pointed out without sarcasm.

  Aleric was fascinated by the dynamics of their discussion, how they spoke freely to one another. None of the Masters, including Antwar, addressed Aleric that way when they were speaking privately. It was always understood that he was the intellectual lesser of the two, and that he respected their authority. Antwar was treating Asher like an equal.

  While he was still mulling over the ramifications of this, Asher said, “Was there anything else you wanted, or can I go back to kissing babies and shaking hands and all that good stuff?”

  The Prism Master gave him a flat stare and said, “Actually, there is one more thing I want to discuss before Aleric finishes his business inside with his father.”

  Hyper-focused on the mention of his name, and on what secret business the two of them may have that they were excluding him from, Aleric leaned forward a little to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

  “Normally when you people want to talk about my friend, you set up elaborate light-mazes for me to follow in the dead of night, and threaten me with dragons at the end of it,” Asher explained mockingly. “What’s the matter, Bonk didn’t want to help you out this time?”

  What in the world is he talking about? Aleric thought at the exact same moment that Antwar asked, “What are you talking about?”

  The question seemed to answer something for Asher, bec
ause his expression cleared and he said, “Nothing, just joking around as usual. Anyway, what did you want to say about Aleric?”

  The Prism Master didn’t look entirely pleased with the diversion from his question, but he nonetheless allowed the change of subject and said, “I don’t want to talk about him, but I did want to tell you that I am going to have you all duel each other again in class tomorrow.”

  “So?” Asher echoed Aleric’s thoughts out loud, the skeptical eyebrow raised once more. “We duel each other all the time in your class; why is this something you couldn’t say to me in front of him, unless pigs have suddenly learned to take flight and you’re trying to give me an unfair advantage over him for a change?”

  “Hardly,” Antwar answered flatly. “I’m telling you this right now because I want you to know that I expect this to be a proper duel, not the sham you’ve been putting on so far.”

  Aleric’s heart began beating faster, as though preparing to hear devastating news and trying to ready his body for the shock in advance. He expected to see his friend look confused, or angry, or ask, “What are you talking about?”

  Asher did look annoyed, but all he said was, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” with a bite of unpleasant emphasis on the ‘sir.’ “I always do my best during our lessons.”

  “You haven’t fought a proper duel against Aleric in years, and you know it,” Antwar argued, face taut with frustration. “You think none of us can see it? You think we don’t all know by now that you are the more capable of the two? I know why you’re throwing your fights, and it’s all very noble and makes you an excellent friend to him, but I want to see what you two are actually able to do in a fight against each other.”

  Aleric’s heart, which had been hammering away so hard only moments ago, seemed to stop entirely. It was every horrible nightmare he’d ever had, every moment of doubt, every inadequacy hitting him like a wall of bricks.

  It isn’t true…Asher told me he would never throw a fight…

  To his utter horror, Asher responded with, “You’ve already seen what I can do in a fight, when I dueled Willow and nearly got obliterated by the surprisingly-agile old man. If memory serves me correctly, you yourself had a chance to fight me and chickened out.”

  Asher’s been dueling the Masters behind my back?

  He wasn’t aware of sitting down, but suddenly he was slumped in the grass on the side of the monument, clinging to the stone leg of Gwendolyn the Great as though she was the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

  The Prism Master was scowling and said, “I’ve seen what you’re capable of several times by now, but I want to see you fight properly against Aleric, partly because I don’t know what he is truly capable of until he is pushed to his limits by you.”

  Asher didn’t seem able to come up with a good retort to this, though he still appeared to be trying to think of one.

  “And if I don’t wage all-out war with my best friend for your amusement tomorrow?” he asked, voice pitched dangerously low.

  The Prism Master said, “I don’t intend to let you two leave my class tomorrow until you have dueled properly. If I have to explain to Aleric why I am keeping you both behind…”

  Asher actually leaned forward and grabbed the front of Antwar’s metallic red robes, bringing their faces close together.

  “If you so much as open your mouth to cough during tomorrow’s lesson, I will make you reconsider your evaluation about me not being dangerous to you.”

  Unfazed, the Master said, “Then you’ll want to do your best.”

  Asher released the Prism Master’s robes with a look of disgust and stalked off to rejoin the party, which unfortunately meant that he was walking right towards where Aleric was sitting and would see him when he rounded the corner. He would know he was spying, would know that he’d heard everything…

  Aleric lowered his prism into place over his right eye and tried to find the alignment pattern for translocation, but he was slow and clumsy, his mind refusing to cooperate with him. For the first time since looking inside a prism, it all just looked like scattered light, with no rhyme or reason to any of it.

  His friend was coming closer. There was no time for his brain to freeze on him now…

  He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus, making sense of the alignments in front of him and twisting the prism rapidly to find the right sequence. He found it in the nick of time and threw all of his dark, horrible thoughts into his casting.

  He was back in his workroom at Mizzenwald. For a moment he was stunned and excited, because he’d never breached the wards around the school well enough to allow him to translocate right into his workroom, especially considering the wards he himself had put up around it. Then he remembered why he had come here in the first place, and instantly became grim once more, collapsing into his chair.

  It was all a lie…all this time.

  Aleric had asked his friend—at least once—if he had ever gone easy on him during duels, and Asher had immediately and vehemently responded that he hadn’t.

  Well, it’s not like you’ve never lied to him before…

  This was different though. Aleric had lied about small things, things that didn’t matter. Asher knew what this would mean to him, knew what his status was costing him and why he had to be the best at everything…

  And isn’t that why he did it? Aleric’s inner voice prodded him. He knows what my family is like, what the price of my failure would be, and he gave up his own glory to put you on top…

  He knew this was true, that Asher’s deception had come from a place of friendship and loyalty, but right now it didn’t matter. Aleric had never felt so betrayed by anyone or anything in his entire life, and he didn’t know how he could ever face his friend again, let alone in battle tomorrow.

  What am I supposed to do? Confess that I overheard them, or play along with the charade and act like nothing is wrong?

  He could fight his best tomorrow and see what happened; there was always a chance he would win, even in an honest fight between them. Like Antwar said, he would never be pushed to his full limits unless Asher stopped going easy on him.

  But even as he thought it, his heart knew the truth: he was already fighting at his full limit. If Asher was holding back on him, then it meant he was the better fighter.

  But it’s supposed to be ME! Aleric slammed a fist against the table in front of him in frustration, scattering his notes onto the floor and for once not caring. The golden-eyed magical entity had come to his father and told Cowen Frost that Aleric, not Asher, was supposed to become the most powerful mage in the world, was supposed to save them from the darkness that was coming to the Nine Lands. Why would it say that if he wasn’t strong enough, if there was someone better out there?

  The magic also came to me in the Forest of Illusions that day…he hadn’t thought of it in a while now, but the eerie golden-eyed being that shifted forms returned to his thoughts now. It said I wasn’t the strongest prism-user, but that someday I would be…

  He was destined to surpass Asher someday, before whatever darkness was coming got here.

  Or maybe Asher dies fighting it and you’re all that’s left…

  No, that was a horrible thought that didn’t bear consideration. No matter how angry, how betrayed he felt right now, he didn’t wish his best friend dead over it. It probably just meant that he would be spurred to greater heights, likely because of this betrayal he just found out about, and would eventually become more powerful than his lackadaisical friend.

  He tried to view this new knowledge as a good thing, as a motivator to perform better, but he had already been giving everything he had to this new research project of his, and he wasn’t getting anywhere with it. Why he was so dedicated to a failing effort, he didn’t know, but something told him that this was the key to everything, that if he could figure this one thing out, everything else would fall into line…

  I have to try harder, he told himself. I have t
o push the boundaries of magic, to discover things that have never been discovered before. When I make this work, I’m going to save my father’s memory, become what I need to be, and blow the Council of Mages away with my game-changing magical discoveries. Asher’s achievement today will look like nothing by comparison, and then I’ll finally be able to admit to him that it was his betrayal that led me to that place of greatness. Asher has never cared about being in the spotlight…we’ll be able to laugh it off by then, and all will be well.

  The sudden conviction and absolute belief in this nearly took his breath away. He picked up the nearest prism and began searching it for alignments, determined to find a white modifier today or he would never leave his workroom again.

  He searched for hours, the constant litany in his head repeating on infinite loop: break the boundaries of normal magic, find something new, go outside the box…

  In effect, he was telling himself to do what Asher would do, because his friend never saw any constraints to his magic, he simply used it as though it were as easy as breathing air. And what had Asher said about the white modifiers?

  “Short of using a broken prism, I don’t see how you’re going to manage it…”

  Aleric stopped with his prism-hand hovering in midair as the full impact of these words hit him. New magic…untested boundaries…

  No, it’s illegal to use imperfect prisms, punishable by Binders.

  But how much research had really been done into the field before they made it illegal? The texts were always sketchy on that part. Maybe one or two people using imperfect prisms with high levels of distortion had gone a little weird, and ruined the entire field for everyone else. Everyone knew—well, everyone had been told—that imperfect prisms yielded a larger array of spells, due to the various ways one could use the skew in their favor. Maybe this was how Aleric was supposed to become powerful, by discovering this new, untapped magical potential that the world had been wrongly afraid of for all these years.