An ephemeral silence crept into Maliki’s home from the cracks under every window and the nooks nestled in the walls and hung suspended in the dense air. They stood breathing it for a while, neither of them saying a word until finally Reese Kramar stepped out into the flickering light of the living room to give Maliki a better look.
In the blandness of the small room, Reese’s attire seemed wholly superfluous. His long, white robes were trimmed in gold and beneath them he wore some strange combination of armor and bodysuit that glistened mechanically. In his left hand, he held the sandwich that Maliki was saving for dinner. In his right, he held a long, gray staff upon which he leaned that was adorned with a green, crescent-shaped ornament. Coiled tightly around his neck was a thin, silver scarf that didn’t seem to fit what he was wearing.
Reese scanned Maliki with his icy, blue stare before speaking again. “Maliki Mckinley, I presume. Those Banshee genes must be something. You don’t look anything like your father. Really, kid, you can drop the umbrella. It wouldn’t do you any good, and I didn’t come here for a fight.”
“Then what do you want?” Maliki demanded as he allowed the umbrella to clatter to the floor.
“As I said, I’m here to deliver a message.”
“And you couldn’t have done that outside?”
“Perhaps,” Reese began slowly, “But I couldn’t very well have waited on the porch dressed like this. Besides, I couldn’t risk being overheard.”
“How did you get in here?”
Reese broke into a toothy grin. “It’s not difficult to go anywhere in the mortal realm. The real question is why you seem so surprised. Your father was notorious for coming and going as he pleased.”
“My father lived here.” Maliki snapped back.
Reese’s grin grew even wider. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure. It doesn’t look like he’s done very well for himself. The most interesting thing about this entire dwelling is that talking box over there. It’s anyone’s guess why a sorcerer of your father’s caliber would choose such mediocrity. I’ve never understood that man.”
“And you never will!” Maliki shouted as he barreled across the room and took hold of Reese’s robes.
The sorcerer’s eyes widened with mild bemusement as Maliki forced him against the wall. He offered no resistance.
“Damien was right! None of you understand respect. Who do you think you are to just barge into my home and insult my father? Do not say another word about him. Do you understand me?”
Maliki almost didn’t notice the silver scarf winding its way around his own body. He released his grip and froze as one end parted near his throat and slowly coalesced into the scaly head of a shimmering snake. The creature peered at him through the same icy eyes as its master before hissing softly.
“Allow me to introduce you to my familiar,” Reese whispered coolly. “Snowdrift’s transformation must have worn off when she sensed I was in danger.”

Maliki didn’t say a word. He remained deathly still as the scarf continued to morph into the massive serpent and tighten its grip on his body.
“You shouldn’t pay such close attention to that half-mutt, Damien. You’ll forgive the comments I made about your father. I admit that curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see the markings of a banshee. I expected you to be distraught when I arrived, but you seem to hide your emotions well. I had to push you. I can see them now. They’re faint, but they’re there.”
Maliki was not entirely sure what he was talking about. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Reese almost looked as though he longed to touch Maliki’s face.
“It’s incredible,” the sorcerer moaned. He caught himself quickly. “I apologize for my rudeness. You don’t quite understand. I just--”
“Unacceptable!” Someone bellowed from behind Maliki causing him, Reese, and Snowdrift to jump.
Maliki saw the sorcerer’s eyes widen in horror before he sank into an immediate bow. “I-I’m sorry,” Reese stammered. His entire body was trembling.
“Absolutely disgraceful,” the sorcerer behind Maliki barked. “You were sent here to deliver a message, not to embarrass yourself and your family.”
“Y-yes sir.”
Maliki could feel him drawing nearer before the hulking figure stopped directly behind him. A strange, warm sensation washed over Maliki before the serpent released him and slithered down his body to tremble near its master.
“I told them that you were not mature enough for this task, and you chose to prove me right. I will personally see to it that you are severely reprimanded for this. Leave the package and get out of my sight.”
Without another word, Reese withdrew from somewhere in his flowing robes a large, brown parcel and placed it on the floor before him. Not daring to make eye-contact with the figure again, he conjured a dark void beneath himself and vanished into the floor. Maliki watched in stunned silence as the swirling pool of darkness closed, leaving no trace that the man or the snake had ever been there.
Slowly, Maliki turned to face the man behind him. He was massive. Well over six feet tall, the man looked shockingly like the other sorcerer. He wore similar robes as well, but his were black and lined with silver. His light blond hair was tinged with grey and short, stubbly facial hair lined the angry grooves in his face. He glared past Maliki at the spot where Reese vanished for a few moments before turning his icy blue gaze to Maliki.
The sorcerer bowed curtly before introducing himself. “My name is Vincent Kramar,” he said, much more softly than Maliki anticipated. “That fool you just met was my brother. Someone had the bright idea to send him to deliver your message. I’m truly sorry for that. Please forgive his rude and unprofessional manner. As I said, he will receive the highest reprimand possible.” The sorcerer cast his gaze over the television and, to Maliki’s surprise, it shut off. “That boy…” Vincent grumbled under his breath.
Maliki nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“You’ve suffered a tremendous loss,” Vincent continued. “I don’t intend to make things any harder on you. Now, if you would be so kind as to pick up that package, we can get things over with quickly.”
Maliki did as he was told before turning to find that the sorcerer had already taken a seat on the couch.
“You may want to have a seat for this,” Vincent warned him.
It did not seem to be a suggestion, so Maliki did as he was told and settled upon the couch as well, leaving a single cushion space between them, where he placed the package.

The sorcerer opened it slowly as he began to explain. “Your father lived a bit of double life, traveling between this realm and the Sorcerer’s Republic of Stronghold. I’m sure you were the sole beneficiary here, but he had another standing will for the possession of his magical belongings.”
He handed a worn-looking document to Maliki. The young man turned it over in his frail hands a few times, but did not really look at it.
Vincent withdrew three items from the package before crumpling the paper. The first item he handed to Maliki was a large ring that was adorned with a strange, foggy crystal. Maliki took it and squinted into its murky depths. It looked like a ring he had seen his dad wear a few times, but he was almost certain that his dad’s ring had color, though he couldn’t quite remember what color it was.
As though reading his mind, Vincent held up a perfectly manicured hand to reveal a very similar ring, but inside the strange crystal adorning his, a pale-blue cloud spiraled slowly.
“This is a sorcerer’s ring,” he explained. “It serves the dual purpose of determining the magical aptitude and elemental affinity of an individual. And it acts as a key to the other realms. I’m an ice-user like almost everyone in my family. Most times it’s hereditary, but just about anything is possible. Would you like to try it on and see how it works?”
Maliki stared at it a moment longer before shaking his head and stowing it in his pocket.
“Very well,” Vincent continued, choosing not to press the matter.
The last two items he presented in unison. One was a staff much like the ones that he and his brother carried, but it was much less impressive. It was about one third of the length with a chipped crimson exterior and a cracked sphere-shaped ornament. The other, unless Maliki was mistaken, was alive. A small, cat-like creature was curled up in the sorcerer’s palm. Maliki set the staff aside and took the creature in his hands.
It was very warm and small, almost like holding a child’s heartbeat and as Maliki absent-mindedly stroked the thin, ginger fur he realized that he had never seen his father’s familiar. He wasn’t sure if it was dying or sleeping, but before Maliki could inquire, Vincent continued to explain.
“These also belonged to your father—his staff and his familiar. Michael was a true master. He and Nyla were the greatest pair I had ever seen. I see you’ve taken a liking to her.”
Maliki glanced at him coolly before placing the sleeping creature on the cushion between them. “Will that be everything?” he asked flatly.
“Almost,” Vincent muttered as he climbed to his feet. “That’s everything I have to give you anyway. And here’s the message.” He paused as though searching for words, and Maliki waited for him to continue. “What do you know about the Warlock Council of Twelve?” he asked at last.
Maliki shrugged disconcertedly. “I know there are twelve of them.”
The sorcerer flashed a quaint smile. “Technically, there are thirteen,” he went on, “But I digress. Vargas is the Council’s oldest and most powerful member. As you may already be aware, he was your father’s master, and with the tragedy of Michael’s death, he is looking for an apprentice.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Maliki said without interest.
“Ah, well did you hear that he asked for you by name?”
Maliki’s thin eyebrows rose slightly. “No, I wasn’t told that.”
“He wants you to enter his tournament.”
“And does he know that my father taught me nothing about magic?”
Vincent stared at him blankly. “Nothing?” he repeated incredulously. “I’ll never understand that man. Well, I’m not sure whether Vargas is aware or not, but not much gets past him. The tournament is set to begin in one month time. If Vargas does know, as I suspect he does, he thinks it’s more than enough time for you to be prepared.”
With that, Vincent made his way back across the room and placed his hand to the door. A dark portal, exactly the same as the one Reese sank into, appeared on the wooden surface.
“Before I go, I would like to apologize once more for Reese’s imprudence,” He turned back to face Maliki, a look of unmistakable sincerity in his eyes. He didn’t know your father like I did. We grew up together, trained together. Hell, we fought side-by-side in the last tournament. Michael just ended up as the champion. The whole thing just seems unreal. Anyway, if you do decide to enter, I’ll see you in one month.”
He said nothing more as he waved graciously, stepped into the swirling, black void, and vanished from Maliki’s living room, leaving the young man standing alone once more.
It was some time before Maliki moved. He simply stood there, numb, allowing the day’s events to wash over him time and again. He just wanted everything to be over, but it seemed it was only the beginning. He didn’t know who to trust. Everyone seemed to know more than they were letting on.



Slowly, he picked up the staff and the small, slumbering creature and made his way into his room. He placed Nyla on the bed before slipping out of his dress clothes and into a pair of plain, blue pajamas, and sprawled out next to her. Worried that he may crush the kitten, Maliki scooped it onto his chest and stared up at the ceiling. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. He already knew this. There was far too much on his mind.
He was scared that that scarf was somewhere in his room, slinking around, trying to get at him. He couldn’t get Reese’s face out of his mind either; the smug expression, the cold eyes, the lust in them when he made Maliki angry, and worst of all, the way he slipped silently in and out of his home without a trace.
Maliki closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, but the only other thoughts in his head were of his father. He wondered if it was normal to attempt to avoid his dad’s funeral while in the same room. He wondered if it was normal not to have fully accepted his dad’s death, to still think that any day he would be returning from Stronghold. His eyes snapped open to prevent his mind from wandering too much, but it was too late; he had already thought back to the last day they had spent together.
“You can’t be dead,” he whispered, holding Nyla closer as tears welled in his eyes once again.
Maliki could still see his dad sitting across from him at the diner down the street scooping globs of honey into his tea and winking at him over his newspaper. He struggled to remember what they were talking about. It had seemed so mundane then, but now, in the dimness of his room and the silence of his own sorrow, it was the most important thing in the world. He wished he had clung to every word, but he didn’t. He couldn’t remember.
Maliki sat up suddenly, a new thought gripping him. Whether his father was alive or not, he was in Stronghold and that, Maliki decided, was where he should be as well. He got dressed quietly, slipping into a pair of dark jeans and tossing a grey hoodie over his shoulders. Slowly, he removed his dad’s ring from the deep pocket of his dress pants and deposited it into his hoodie before tucking the short staff under one arm and the still-sleeping Nyla under the other. Reassuring himself that neither snake nor scarf was stalking him, Maliki made his way out of the apartment.

The cold brace of wind that awaited Maliki on the porch was swift and sudden. It crept up on him like a whisper before howling like the remnant of a distant storm and nearly taking him off his feet. It almost seemed like it was left there for him. And after what he had experienced that day, nothing seemed too farfetched. Maliki did not let the notion die as he crossed Warren; stopping on the Median to adjust his hoodie and to make sure that Nyla was in no danger of falling out. It was nice to have a piece of his dad with him, he decided, even if it was so fragile.
He tucked the kitten under his hoodie and held it close to his heart as he rested his head against the glass shelter of the bus stop. The sun was already beginning to set and the orange glow it cast over the horizon caused Maliki to squint slightly. There weren’t many cars out at this hour, but the few that sailed by made him nervous. Each time, the windows were tinted and the headlights were too bright to see a thing. Maliki was just about to give into his paranoia when he heard the bus rattling toward him. It creaked to a stop about a foot from the curb and the glass doors split open.
“Good evening, son,” the driver said cheerily. She was a stout, dark-skinned woman with pronounced frown lines and eerie, hazel eyes that almost reminded him of Damien’s.
Maliki nodded to her, but didn’t say anything. He deposited his bus fare in quarters before making his way to the back and taking an empty seat near the window. He was careful not to make eye contact with anyone and even moved to draw his hood to deter conversation.
His thoughts returned to Damien. He was going to see him after all. Maliki wasn’t sure how much he could trust from what the young man had told him, but he didn’t seem to have much of a choice. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about Damien still considering him a friend. They did used to be close, but life seemed to drag them apart. Some part of Maliki--perhaps whatever compelled him to hold Nyla close and catch this bus—still wanted to be able to trust Damien, to confide in him and accept his help. He was tired of doing things alone.
When he saw that they were coming up on Damien’s street, he reached up and gently tugged the cable. It wasn’t until Maliki had thanked the driver and staggered out into the darkening night that he realized that though he knew the street, he had forgotten Damien’s address.
Maliki cursed quietly, hugged Nyla tighter, and started down the sidewalk. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder every few steps to make sure that he wasn’t being followed. He scanned the houses quietly on both sides of the street before stopping in front of one that caught his eye. All of the houses on this block were enormous, but something about the way the roof swooped down to meet the brick façade was familiar. He approached the door slowly, rang the doorbell, and stepped back.
The door opened a crack and someone peered out before swinging it open completely and causing Maliki to recoil from the brightness. Damien Silverfang yawned and stretched before smiling broadly, his large, crooked teeth glinting in the harsh light.


“You know, Maliki,” he began slowly, “when I told you to think about my offer, I meant you could have the night.”
Maliki slid off his hood and stared at Damien seriously. “You were right. My father didn’t kill himself,” he said resolutely.
“Well, you don’t have to convince me. Come inside. Don’t be such a stranger.”
Maliki hesitated. “Are you sure your parents won’t have a problem with it?”
Damien chuckled loudly. “Yeah, I’m sure they won’t mind. Just get in here, would you, scrawny. You’re gonna catch your death out there.”
Maliki followed him into the house and Damien closed the door behind them.
“Can I get you anything? I just put on some tea to help me get to sleep.”
“No, I’m fine,” Maliki answered as he stepped into the living room.
Damien’s house reminded Maliki of his old home. On the outside, it appeared large and luxurious, but the rooms were small and cozy and every inch of the floor was covered in lush carpet.
“I’ll get you some anyway,” Damien announced as he vanished into the kitchen. “You look like death. No offense. Just make yourself at home.”
Maliki sank into a plush, dark chair beside him before slipping off his hoodie and placing Nyla in his lap. The frail creature did not stir. Damien appeared moments later carrying two large, steaming mugs. He placed them on the coffee table and slid one over to Maliki before sinking into the couch across from him.
“You remember the last time you came over my house?” he asked Maliki suddenly.
“Not really,” Maliki lied, taking a sip of the tea. It was too hot for him to really taste it, but it felt nice as it slid down his throat. In truth, he remembered everything about the first, last, and only other time he came to visit Damien. It was five years ago, in midsummer when his mother and father had told him that he was going to meet some friends of theirs. Damien’s mom, like Maliki’s dad, was a sorcerer, but she too had chosen a life outside of Stronghold. He met Damien and a few other children of various sorcerers for the first time.
He remembered the day quite clearly. The sun was high in the sky and it seemed that there were no shadows to be found. It was the hottest day that year, the hottest day that he could ever remember if he was ever tempted to try. The adults sat around talking about things that he would never understand, and the kids played outside, getting to know each other as only kids could. That was the day he met the spiky haired boy with the crooked teeth and bushy eyebrows whom everyone referred to as Wolf. His father, as Damien came to find, was indeed a werewolf.
Damien’s voice broke Maliki from his thoughts. “Well, you made it over here in one piece. That’s good. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember everything about that day either.”
Maliki didn’t say anything, so he continued. “I do remember giving you the nickname Ghost though. You were so pale, as white as the moon. My dad used to tell me to be careful; a pale little round face like yours might make me transform. You always had the coolest eyes too. They’re so light it doesn’t even look like you have pupils. You and I used to be inseparable. What happened to us, man?” He looked at Maliki sincerely.
Maliki simply shrugged. “My family moved, I guess.”
Damien laughed so hard he snorted. “Yeah, worst excuse ever. You guys moved closer to Detroit. Really, I wonder what happened to us.”
“We just grew up,” Maliki said quickly, instinctively moving to detach himself. “It happens.”
“Yeah, right,” Damien chuckled. “Don’t give me that. You of all people. You may not smile as much, Maliki, but you’re the same cynical kid I met five years ago. Didn’t even get any taller.”
Maliki stared at him blankly for a moment before some barrier that he erected months ago came crashing down and he found himself laughing with Damien. Just like that, the years melted away and the two boys were twelve again, grinning at each other over their steaming mugs.
“Man, I thought you’d never smile again,” Damien coughed as the hot tea burned his tongue.
“Me too,” Maliki admitted, grinning at his pain. “It feels good, but at the same time, I feel a little guilty.”
“What do you mean?” Damien asked him.
“I mean to just laugh on the day of my dad’s funeral like this. It kind of feels wrong.”
Damien nodded. “I know what you mean. When my mom died, I felt the same way. Figured I wouldn’t crack a smile again. But then I just thought to myself; it’s not like she would have wanted me to--”
“Your mom died?” Maliki cut him off. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” A wave of guilt swept over him again as he realized that he wasn’t the only one who had to grow up. “When did that happen?”
“Not long after your mom went,” he said, suppressing a yawn. “What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do it.”
“What happened?” Maliki asked, leaning in close.
“My dad,” he answered flatly. “He didn’t do it on purpose,” he continued after a moment. He sat back and closed his eyes. “She was working on a spell to help him control his transformations and things just got out of hand. I’ve tried to forgive him, you know? I just can’t.”
“Oh,” Maliki said quietly, completely forgetting about his own parents for a moment. “Where is he now?”
“Hell if I know,” he said, snapping open his eyes. “I get a check from him once a month, and that’s about all I need.”
Maliki moved to change the subject. “Have you…” he began, trailing off.
“Have I what? Have I transformed? Not fully. Not yet. Most people born with the Wolf gene don’t fully lose control until around their eighteenth birthday.” He flashed Maliki a frightening grin. “It should happen pretty soon.”
It was just then that Damien noticed the creature curled up in Maliki’s lap. “I thought I smelled something strange,” he said suddenly. “You taking in strays now, Maliki?”
“You can call me Ghost,” Maliki said quietly.
“Okay, Ghost” Damien grinned. “Seriously, where’d you get that thing?”
“Actually, that’s what I came here to talk to you about,” Damien answered, beginning to stroke Nyla’s fur again. “When I got home, this sorcerer was waiting for me. Some messenger from Stronghold. He gave me these.” He showed Damien the short, flaking staff and the sleeping kitten.
“That’s Nyla!” Damien exclaimed. “May I?” he asked, reaching for them.
Maliki relinquished them without question and watched as Damien lifted them to his nose and inhaled deeply.
“Yeah, there’s no mistaking it,” he said somberly. “These are your dad’s, all right.”
“So, what, I’m supposed to use his familiar to practice magic?”
“No,” Damien answered quickly. “That’s not even possible. At least, I don’t think it is. Everyone’s familiar is unique to them. It’s the physical embodiment of one half of their magical energy. Your dad’s familiar, or what’s left of it, is fading.”
“What do you mean?” Maliki asked. “Nyla’s dying?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said sadly. “You saw her before, didn’t you? The poor thing used to be huge. She was like a giant, flaming jaguar. One of the strongest familiars I’d seen in a while. Anyway, I’ve seen this before. Usually, when sorcerers die, they’re familiars are killed with them or even before to weaken them. A sorcerer and his familiar share a special bond; they’re linked by the same soul. If the master is dead, the familiar has no spirit, so it withers and dies as well.”
Maliki’s eyes widened slightly as he took Nyla back into his hands. “Yeah, Damien went on. The same thing happened to my mom’s familiar. It’s tough to watch, but there’s really nothing to be done. I actually heard that it might be good for one last spell, but that’s just hearsay. It’s taxing to draw from someone else’s familiar. Without proper training, it might even kill you.”
“I never saw Nyla in her prime,” Maliki said quietly.
“Really?” Damien asked, sounding befuddled. “Well, that’s a pity. It really was a beautiful thing. Your dad really kept you in the dark, didn’t he? Didn’t want you to know anything.”
“I guess not,” Maliki muttered under his breath.
“Hey, don’t worry” Damien said cheerfully. “It’ll be all right. I said I would teach you everything I know, didn’t I. From this moment until the tournament begins, you’ll be my apprentice.” He beamed at Maliki as he climbed to his feet. “I’m going to need you to trust me.” He extended his hand for Maliki to shake.
Maliki stood as well and closed his thin fingers around Damien’s massive palm. “It’s settled then,” Damien said with a wide, crooked grin. “We’re partners now.”
Maliki nodded as he moved to slip back into his hoodie.
“Whoa,” Damien said suddenly. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home,” Maliki answered uncertainly.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he continued softly. “Until we figure out who killed Michael, we might not want to risk having you walk around this late. Those sorcerers could crop up anywhere, and they know where you live.”
“They could easily come here too,” Maliki reminded him.
“Yeah,” Damien answered quickly, “But a couple of mages like us could take them out with no problem.”
“Mages?” Maliki repeated slowly.
Damien laughed at him again. “Man, you really have a lot to learn. All right, your lessons start tomorrow because I’m beat. I’m going to need to know a little more about that visit they paid you tonight too. Oh, and one more thing.”
“What’s up?” Maliki asked, tossing his hoodie back on the chair.
“Sasha’s coming over tomorrow too. She the third member of our team.”
“Who?”
“Sasha, you know,” Damien explained. “Long, curly blond hair. You met her the same day you met me. The three of us used to hang out all the time until you moved. We used to call her spud because…” he paused. “Well, I can’t remember why we used to call her spud. Anyway, she’s already awakened her familiar, and she knows a lot more about magic than I do. Her dad takes her back and forth to Stronghold regularly. She’ll probably be teaching you a lot more than I will. Still my apprentice though,” he added. “I called it.”
“I remember her,” Maliki said, a faint smile creeping across his face.
“Yeah, there it is,” Damien teased him. “I thought you used to like her. Anyway, if you need me I’ll be right down the hall. I’d let you sleep in my dad’s bed, but it smells like dog, and I doubt you’d even want to sleep in my mom’s with all those spell books everywhere. The couch is pretty comfortable though. Trust me.”
“Wolf,” Maliki called as Damien turned to leave.
“What do you need?” he asked kindly.
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it, man. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and really try to get some rest. There’s a big day ahead of us. We’ll be taking a while off school in case you were wondering. Doesn’t matter; we’ll be graduating soon anyway, and I don’t think we have much of a future here in the mortal world.”
With that, Damien turned and vanished down the long hallway. “Good night, Ghost,” he called over his shoulder.
“Good night,” Maliki called back. He scooped up Nyla and made his way over to the large, soft black couch. He slipped off his sneakers, lied down on his back, placed the kitten on his chest and stared up at the stark white ceiling. All he could think of now was Sasha. He conjured a picture of the slender young girl with long, beautiful golden hair that seemed to dance whenever she laughed. He couldn’t quite picture her face, but he could recall her voice perfectly. It was sweet and small, as if millions of tiny bells jingled in her throat every time she spoke. Every word she uttered was a song. Maliki smiled widely and before he knew it, he had drifted off into a deep and much-deserved sleep.

Maliki awoke with a start, the sound of sizzling bacon like the serpent’s hiss in his ear. It wasn’t until he smelled whatever Damien was preparing that Maliki realized just how hungry he was. What was left of Nyla was still curled motionlessly on his chest. He cradled her gently as he sat up, and smiled when Damien stuck his head in from the kitchen.
“Hey, sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to wake you,” he said apologetically. “I’m not too used to having house guests. I usually just eat meat right out the package.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Maliki returned calmly.
“Yeah, it’s probably better we get an early start anyway. You hungry?”
“Yeah, starving.” Maliki placed a hand to his stomach.
“Well, that’s good. I made some of everything. Bathroom’s down the hall and to the right. Breakfast should be ready by the time you get out. That’s assuming you wash up thoroughly,” he added, glancing over his shoulder and hurrying back into the kitchen.
“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Maliki yawned as he climbed to his feet.
“Oh yeah, about that.” He peeked back around the corner. “I asked Sasha to stop by your place and pick up something for you”
“You did what!?” Maliki shouted, his face beginning to flush.
“Is that a problem?” Damien asked, looking confused. He squinted at Maliki as a sly smile crept across his face. “They’re just underwear, man” he said causally. “Don’t be such a girl.”
“I just don’t want people barging into my home,” he lied as he started down the hall. “I’d like a little bit of privacy, at least.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Damien snickered as Maliki passed. “The home of every sorcerer in the mortal world is usually equipped with a portal to and from Stronghold. Unless you know how to turn it off, privacy is a joke. If it makes you feel any better, I think she’ll be slipping into your window.”
“It doesn’t,” Maliki mumbled, closing the bathroom door.
A brand new toothbrush was laid out on a nightstand beside the sink, delicately perched atop a folded washcloth and towel. A crumpled sticky note affixed to the toothbrush read Ghost in choppy, uneven letters.
Maliki turned on the warm water and peered into the oval-shaped mirror. It was the happiest he had seen himself in a while. The faint remnants of his last smile were still etched into the corners of his lips. He leaned in close and ran his fingers down the dark lines under his eyes. He had seen them only a few times before, but was never quite sure what they were. He had never seen them on his mother’s face, but Reese had said that they were the markings of a banshee. He forced the smug, young sorcerer from his thoughts, washed up quickly, and turned to leave. As he swung open the door, he found himself staring into the placid face of a girl he hadn’t seen in nearly five years.
Sasha Carmichael, her fist still poised to knock, stared at him through the same transparent emerald gaze that hadn’t changed at all. Her face was slim and angular and perfectly framed by the long, golden curls that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore tight blue jeans that hugged her thin legs and a bright pink jacket. She was tall and slender, and though she was a few months younger than Maliki, she was easily a head taller than he was. The moment she saw him, her thin lips split into a broad and toothy grin that was bursting with recognition.
“Ghost!” she exclaimed, sweeping Maliki into a warm and perfume-laced embrace that sent a relaxing wave through his body. She let him go quickly and stepped back, looking concerned. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You probably don’t go by that anymore. And it must be insensitive after what happened to your father. I’m really sorry.” She truly did look it.
“No,” he began, accepting the pile of clothes that she presented him. “Ghost is fine.”
“All right,” she said, beaming at him once more. “I guess these nicknames Wolf forced on us are really going to stick.”
“He still calls you spud?”
“Yeah,” she giggled. “There’s something wrong with that boy. Okay, I’ll give you a minute to get dressed. It really is nice seeing you again, Maliki. I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it to your dad’s funeral. I wanted to be there for you, but I was in Stronghold.”
“It’s ok,” he said weakly. He still hadn’t completely recovered from the hug. “He wasn’t there anyway.”
“Yeah, Damien and I pieced everything together. We’re going to find out what really happened, and we’re going to kill whoever had anything to do with it.” She smiled when she said it, but the ruthlessness in her voice was quite clear. “We all have our own reasons for entering this tournament, but we’re going to stick together.”
“Thanks,” he whispered, not really sure how to respond.
She winked at him and closed the door, leaving Maliki staring at it. He ran his palm into his forehead several times. He knew he had botched that reunion. He got dressed quickly, slipping into the pair of black jeans, a navy-blue tank top and finally a black sweater that clung to him snugly before making his way back down the hall, through the kitchen and into the broad dining room.
A long, polished, oak table cut the room in half. Six chairs were situated around it, three on either side, but all were amassed near the center. High above them, a glass chandelier twinkled dully, casting strange shadows on the cream-colored walls. Sasha was on the other side of the table, smiling at Maliki brightly before returning to her argument with Damien.
“Don’t you have anything besides meat?” she asked indignantly.
“Oh, it’s so nice to see you too, Spud,” he returned sarcastically. “And you’re very welcome for the breakfast I worked so hard to prepare.”
Maliki smiled and slid in next to Damien.
“Maybe Ghost will appreciate my cooking a little more,” Damien said as he slid a plate in front of Maliki. “Bacon, turkey bacon, sausage, steak, pork chops, and chicken strips,” he said proudly. He took a slice of bread from a loaf on the table and placed it on top before tossing one to Sasha. “And some toast. Happy?”
Maliki had only just taken a bite of sausage when Sasha clapped her hands together and moved to make an announcement.
“Why don’t you tell us a little more about the sorcerer that visited you yesterday, and then we can discuss this tournament.”
“Geez, let the guy finish eating at least,” Damien said as he ripped into his steak.
“No, it’s fine.” Maliki finished chewing before he started to tell them everything that happened after he got home. When he finished, Damien was grinning and Sasha’s mouth had dropped open.
“I knew we should have gone inside to talk,” Damien said out the corner of his mouth. “I would have torn him a new one, and had him make you another sandwich. And I would have--”

“Reese, that rat-sucking little coward,” Sasha blurted, cutting him off. “He’s just jealous because he didn’t get a personal invite like we did.”

“I didn’t get an invite.” Damien said dejectedly.
“Not many sorcerers did,” she responded quickly. “And very few mages,” she added with a wink at Maliki. “Considering you two haven’t really been to Stronghold and have yet to awaken your familiars, you can’t have really expected one.”
“I guess.” Damien still sounded disappointed.
“What’s the difference between a mage and a sorcerer?” Maliki asked, embarrassed.
Sasha squinted at him for a moment before her face settled on compassion. “Don’t feel bad about asking questions. There’s probably a lot you don’t know. We’re all together in this, so part of our job is to get you up to speed.” She cut her emerald eyes at Damien fiercely. “And if this clown laughed at you, just ignore him. There’s so much he doesn’t even know.”
Damien crunched into his bacon. “Just answer the man’s question,” he said lazily.
Sasha scowled at him a moment before turning back to Maliki. “Sorcerers are individuals with magical abilities. They stand apart from other magical creatures in that they’re pretty much human. In fact, I think the first sorcerers were just humans with an unnaturally high spiritual energy.”
“You’re putting him to sleep,” Damien interrupted. “Get to the point, will you?”
“Shut up, Wolf,” she said without even glancing at him. “As I was saying, the earliest sorcerers banded together and formed the crossways between the realms. They must have been pretty sloppy about it because that’s when clans of wolves and fairies and vampires and succubae and demons started coming through to earth and you ended up with people like that.” She turned her gaze back to Damien.
Damien exhaled loudly and rested his chin on his palm. “Why don’t you just read him the history book?”
Sasha shrugged. “I didn’t bring that one.”
Damien turned to Maliki. “Do you really want to hear this, Ghost?”
Maliki nodded. “It could be important.” Mostly he just enjoyed listening to her voice.
“Sure, eat my breakfast and then side with her,” Damien complained as he rose to clear the table.
“Those sorcerers founded and inhabited a realm that came to be known as Stronghold. Technically, it’s known as the Sorcerer’s Republic of Stronghold, but if you ask me, the Warlock Council of Twelve has more sway than they want anyone to know. Have you ever been?”
Maliki shook his head.
“It’s the most beautiful thing you’d ever want to see.” Damien almost went misty-eyed as he took his seat next to Maliki. “I’m telling you, Ghost, it’s nothing like it is here. There’s magic everywhere you look. The whole realm is like one, giant enchanted city.”
“I’m not going to lie,” Sasha began, looking at Damien pleasantly for the first time since they sat down together. “It is pretty amazing. Wolf’s only been once and he hasn’t shut up about it since.”
“Just wait until you see it,” Damien continued. “We win this tournament and we’ll get to live there. We won’t have to be afraid of whom we are anymore, and we’ll be able to show everyone what we’re capable of.”
“That’s just part of it,” Sasha said compassionately, her radiant eyes returning to Maliki. “We still have to figure out the truth about your dad. That’s the most important thing about entering this tournament.”
“I’m confused,” Maliki said, reaching into his pocket and placing his father’s ring on the table. “Vincent told me that every sorcerer has a ring that acts as a key to different realms. What’s stopping you from just living there?”
“Well, I guess that brings us to the difference between sorcerers and mages,” Sasha said after a brief pause. “Now that you have an idea of what sorcerers are, just know that all of the ones alive today are direct descendants of the original settlers of Stronghold. Sometimes they would come back to the mortal realm and decide to make a life here. If they were to have children with humans while they were here, those children were labeled as mages. That’s what my dad did.” She paused for a moment and shook her head. “I swear; sorcerers need a label for everything. Mages are usually half sorcerer and half human, and in order for them to live in Stronghold, the parents have to go through a long and complicated naturalization process. My dad tried, but after five years of gathering the correct forms, my mother and I still haven’t been admitted. Still, I’ve visited practically every summer since our parents got together to discuss how involved we should be with Stronghold.”
“Is that what they were talking about?” Damien asked stupidly. “I guess our parents didn’t want us to know much of anything. Especially yours.” He nudged Maliki.
“Yeah, most of the parents didn’t, but my dad thought it would be important for me know about my sorcerer’s heritage. I was just better at magic than he bargained for.”
Maliki shook his head, still looking confused. It seemed like every time she answered a question, three more took its place. “I still don’t really understand.” He was beginning to get frustrated and the dark lines started to appear under his eyes again.
Sasha reached across the table suddenly and took his hand. Her fingers were soft and warm, and though he appreciated the gesture, he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “It’s okay, Ghost,” she began sweetly. “What don’t you understand?”
“My mom wasn’t human,” he managed after a moment. “And neither was his dad. We’re not mages.” “And this tournament. How can Damien enter if he doesn’t have an invitation?”
“We are mages technically,” Damien moved to explain. “The Sorcerer’s Republic defines us as any half-sorcerer, and the tournament isn’t invitation only. Anyone’s welcome to throw away their life in this tournament if they desire. The invites are a lame scare tactic to isolate those whom the council thinks has an above average chance. If anything, it’ll just put you two on top of the public enemies list.” His face grew uncharacteristically serious. “That’s enough of a history lesson for today. If you have any more questions, just ask them on the run. We’ve got less than a month to prepare for this thing. We don’t have any time to waste. We have to get started.”
Maliki, his face already beginning to flush, slipped his hand out of Sasha’s. “He’s right,” he said quietly. “We don’t have a lot of time, and I’m ready to learn some magic.”
She smiled at him and turned to Damien. “Are you ready?”
“Please,” Damien scoffed. “I’ve been ready for years.”
“Good. Gather as many of your mom’s spell books as you can find. I’m looking for beginner summoning and elemental magic in particular.”
“You didn’t say you’d be bossing me around,” he grumbled as he climbed to his feet.
Maliki grinned at him. “So much for me being your apprentice.”
Damien raised his bushy eyebrows. “What are you talking about, Mckinley?” he said indignantly. “We have an agreement. As a matter of fact, go in my mom’s room and--”
“Now, Wolf.” Sasha commanded sternly.
“Whatever.” Damien turned on his heel and stomped out of the dining room, mumbling as he went. “In my house…eating my food….telling me what to do.”
Sasha snickered and shook her head again, her lustrous curls dancing in the movement. “He hasn’t changed at all.” She turned her affectionate gaze to Maliki. “And you haven’t either. I’m so glad to see that you’re the same guy I met here. It doesn’t even seem like that long ago, does it?”
Maliki shook his head honestly, his eyes widening as she came around the table and knelt by his side.
“I know you must be tired of hearing people apologize to you by now, but I really am sorry about what happened. Wolf and I will do everything we can to get us through this tournament alive and find out the truth about Michael. I wasn’t able to be there for you yesterday, but I’ll be there for you now.” She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. “Do you remember the promise that we all made to each other the day you moved?” she whispered.
The words flooded back into Maliki’s mind for the first time since he’d spoken them. “That we’d stick together through anything,” he whispered back. “That we would stay friends no matter what,” he paused for a moment and drew in breath. Her sweet perfume braced him like the first wind of summer. “A-and that,” he stammered, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “A-and that.”
“And that when we met again,” she prompted him.
“We would make sure that nothing changed between us,” Damien finished as he entered the kitchen again. “We seem pretty good at keeping promises. What do you guys say we make another one?”
“Sounds good to me,” Damien answered, stepping out of the embrace and wiping his eyes coyly. “I promise that I won’t let you two go again.”
“That’s a start,” Damien said reproachfully, “But I think we should add a little. I promise that we’ll see this tournament through to the end and that we’ll work toward happiness and starting our new lives in Stronghold.”
“That’s actually pretty good coming from you,” Sasha said with a grin. “And I promise that we’ll protect each other and that we’ll help Ghost find out what they were hiding about his dad.”
“Looks like the old gang’s back together.” Damien crossed into the dining room and clasped them both on the shoulder before flashing his crooked grin. “All right, let’s get started. We’re already killed plenty of time. We’ll practice in the yard. Less chance of destroying anything valuable and that’s where my mom kept the portal. She never wanted any random sorcerers morphing in and out of her house.”
“I know the feeling.” Maliki brushed his raven-black hair behind his ear exposing the thin, green vein on his temple.
Sasha clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to it. Grab everything Vincent gave you and meet us outside.”
“Side door is right over there,” Damien directed him, gesturing to his left and down a short flight of stairs. “It’s right through the kitchen.”
“Okay.” Maliki smiled at them once more before vanishing back into the living room. He threw his grey hoodie on over his sweater and felt for his dad’s staff on the couch. “What the,” he muttered as he picked it up. It was almost half as long as it was the night before.
Panicking, he turned to Nyla and scooped her up. She too seemed to have shrunk slightly and a few of her thin, ginger hairs fell loose. Maliki clung to them tightly and silently lamented as the last shred of evidence that his dad was one of the greatest sorcerers alive slowly faded into nothing.