The Other Side: A Second Chance

Chapter 137: A Toast

I followed Varis into the kitchen. There, I saw my father rummaging through the cupboard before finally retrieving three glasses, which he placed on the counter. He hummed softly to himself as he whirled around to face the refrigerator and opened it.

Varis was the first to speak, “What’re you doing, Father?”

Father stopped mid-hum and pulled away from the fridge, a bottle of wine visible in his hand. A pershmurgan make I could see, but the rest of the details were covered by his hand.

He glanced down at the bottle, then at us. “Oh, this?” He held up the bottle. “I’m preparing a celebratory toast.”

I arched a brow. “A celebration? For what?”

Varis shook his head. “Pa, neither of us are old enough to drink.”

Our father snorted and shook his head. “Nonsense, boy. It’s not like I’m here asking you to get drunk with me.” He walked back over to the counters and uncorked the bottle. He then began pouring it into the glasses to about halfway. “I’m asking for the two of you to have a toast with me, for your mother’s return.”

Both mine and Varis’s eyes widened. “Mother’s coming home?!” We both exclaimed, and our father jolted, turning to us with a raised hand.

“Excuse me,” He said and cleared his throat. “She’s currently on her way. She isn’t coming home to here.” He pointed to the floor. “Anytime soon. Carry On is still in the process of transporting her.” Carry On is a privatized hospital owned by Terry Rosewall.

Varis gulped. “Is she awake?” He asked.

Father solemnly shook his head as he put the bottle back in the fridge. “I’m afraid not, son. Though soon, she’ll be close enough that we’ll be able to visit her more often and take care of her ourselves.”

I deflated slightly. I’d partly hoped for the best, but knew it would be unlikely that she’d wake up at home.

If only that bastard Venra hadn’t bailed on us. A part of me thought.

We don’t know that for sure; he could still be searching. Another added.

I shook my head. “Where is she now? Do you know?” I asked.

Father nodded. “That I do. They’re currently stopped in a town known as Belpre. At least, I think its a small town, last I was there was some five decades ago.” He shrugged.

That’s a wide margin. I thought as Father took the small glasses of wine and handed one to each of us.

“Come, let’s have a toast… and don’t make that face, boy, a single glass of wine isn’t going to kill you.” He winked and then raised his glass. “To my wife Cailynn, the love my life, and the mother of our adoring children. May she be with us again soon.”

I gripped the cup in both of my hands and smiled slightly at my brother as I raised the cup. “To mother.” We both said, and then we took a drink.

The wine was shockingly good. I hadn’t had alcohol in ages; even in my prior life, I hadn’t gone drinking for at least a few years before I died. It was sweet, thick, and incredibly fruity. If I had to compare it to anything, it tasted like a strawberry with a hint of peaches. I couldn’t even taste the alcohol at all, which is the worst-case scenario with me and alcohol.

I’ll make a mental note to stay away from this drink.

Varis scrunched his face slightly as he swallowed his wine. He then pursed his lips slightly and looked at me, incredulous. “Did you even drink yours?” He asked, nodding to my glass, which, when compared to his, was barely empty.

I smiled. “Yeah,” I then raised the glass to my lips and sipped it. Savoring the taste as I rolled it around my tongue and swallowed. “It’s wine, you’re supposed to sip it.”

My father arched a brow. “And how do you know how to…” He paused, and his eyes widened a bit in acknowledgement, and he nodded.

I blushed faintly. Even after all these years, talk of my past rarely came up among my family. Back then, when I had finally come clean with everyone, I was afraid for some reason that their knowing the truth would somehow have them exiling me as I would suddenly become some stranger, a foreigner. Except, I didn’t.

I would be lying if I said some things hadn’t changed. When I finally came clean to my father, and then to Isa. Their attitude and treatment toward me had shifted somewhat. They began treating me more like an adult, and I found myself included more in their conversations and decision-making. That sorta stuff. Though that hadn’t stopped either of them from occasionally giving me the kid treatment, the slight attitude shift was something I had noticed.

When topics such as my “awakening,” as Isa called it, did come up. Things always got a bit awkward, I’m still, and probably will never be, comfortable talking about it. If I could, I would wipe my memory of my past life. That period, now a distant memory, still finds itself creeping back up into my consciousness now and again.

Nowhere near as much as it did then, but… dreams from then would come. Thoughts and questions would surface about my time before. A lingering trauma, perhaps. Which is funny, because what happened then, compared to my life in Enora, seems like easy mode. Truth would bully me relentlessly for saying that, but admittedly, it’s true.

Nevertheless, talking about it now won’t make those memories go away. But knowing I don’t have to keep all those thoughts and feelings bottled up anymore is a relief, too. Well, at least I don’t need to keep myself bottled up around my close family. Anne and her family aren’t aware of who I really am, and well… I don’t think I’m ready to tell her.

I don’t think she would be bothered by it; in fact, she would probably think it’s cool. Except, I think I’m comfortable with her not knowing. Just for right now, at least.

When we were finished with the wine, my father had me clean the cups and put them away. Not that I mind it. A quick clean for me was as simple as muttering a quiet incantation and twiddling my fingers, and poof, the glass cups were as clean as could be. Such is the pleasure of knowing simple magic.

My spell repertoire has expanded considerably over the years. The utility that I now possess allowed me to feel, at times, like a true god. I’m being hyperbolic. Compared to my mother or any other mages, I was practically a novice, however, so far, I’ve mostly been self-taught.

Back then, during our voyage to Iona, Erianna was my mentor for a few months. To my surprise, she was actually quite pleasant as a teacher. Despite her pompous “holier than thou” attitude, she was patient, respectful, and informative. Unlike the old geezer Alexander, who was quick to frustrate and constantly tease me, though, to be fair, he was on a strict three-day deadline to teach me.

Erianna had taught me a lot during the couple of months it took to cross the Westriden Ocean. I had always known that magic was somehow tied to our emotions, yet I never knew quite how or why. The Well inside us all, and Ether always seemed like something separate to me. Except now, I know that isn’t the case.

She had explained to me that the Well is us. It's part of our soul, and so is the ether that comes from it. In a way, all magic is unique. I vaguely recall learning parts of that from my mother, but Erianna had gone deeper. She explained to me that magic, while not only coming from us, can also be drawn from nature and those around us.

It’s at this point that incantations come into play. Not only do these help regulate our emotions, but doing so also acts as a barter, or perhaps cozying up to whatever you’re trying to draw power from. Yeah, I was a bit confused here as well. I vaguely recall my mother explaining to me years ago that everything has a well; in theory, everything has a soul and, therefore, magic.

So, based on what Erianna was telling me. The reason why incantations are done is that the “elements,” the term she used, like to hear them. Or the god, in some cases, such as the clergy. Speaking these, “words of power,” as she also called them, is done to appease the beings that then lend you their power alongside your own. In other words, most people who cast magic require an “assist,” and depending on your emotions, tone, stance, whatever, can shift how the spell is cast.

But this called into question myself. Ever since I started being able to use magic, I’ve rarely had to use these “incantations” or power stances, whatever. I just did it. Yeah, my emotions were never in check, and honestly, they really aren’t, still. So the spell's power was always all over the place.

But then you had moments like my fight with Putinov. It was more like a superhero fight than what you’d expect a wizard brawl to be. I never heard them saying incantations, or myself, or any of that traditional wizardry stuff. As a matter of fact, what I remember seeing were a lot of those wispy-like things flying around whenever magic is in play.

That’s when things became interesting. Erianna was curious about all of that, too, and she wasn’t entirely certain about her hypothesis on what all that was when she observed the battle. She theorized that during the battle, we were using Spirimancy. When she told me this, it sparked a memory of that night. After Putinov had been shot and taken down by the soldiers, I had gone to check on my father, who had been horribly injured at the time. When I got to them, I saw Lucien tending to them. It was with his help and a bit of guidance that he showed me that I could communicate with one of those little glowing wisps, which he had called a “Life Soul.”

Over the years, I’ve seen these little motes of light. They appeared around my mother whenever she’d cast spells, as well as me and others. I’ve seen them dancing in the air around large contraptions powered by ether. I had always assumed that they were nothing, a pretty flare that went with magic. I had never thought they were anything important until that night, when Lucien told me to negotiate with the little thing and ask it for its help.

It wasn’t until after the events of that night that I finally began to think about it. Those little wisps, they’re living things. Or, at least, I think they are. When I had asked Erianna about it, she explained to me that she wasn’t too familiar with them as well. As a matter of fact, many arcane scholars aren’t too knowledgeable on the subject of Spirimancy. The art had only been around for a little over a decade.

I remember from my teachings with my mother that she had explained to me that Spirimancy was believed to be the art of consuming one's own soul, or another’s, to create power. Base magic, as we know it, requires you to consume ether or appease another element to grant you a bit of their power to perform an art. Spirmancy, on the other hand, as stated, ignores all of that and decides to burn the soul itself.

Again, that’s what scholars think

it is. Erianna was honest with me in that she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on that night between Putinov and me, and admitted that’s why she was so keen on taking me as her student. She was pretty straightforward about making me her little lab rat. Of course, she didn’t word it like that, but that’s essentially what she wanted.And well, being stuck on a boat for nearly ninety, twenty-eight-hour-long days. I was open to spending time with her. During that period, I learned a lot, not only about myself, but a ton about magic as well. What my mother had shown me I wouldn’t even consider elementary; she and I, we barely scratched the surface during the short months I had with her back home.

The memory of home, gods… to think that it’s been almost six years now. It honestly felt more like a decade. Well, if you compared Enora’s time to Earth, it almost would be. Six years on Enora is equal to eight on Earth. Even now, I still have to correct my brain on that. Technically, I’m twelve years old now in Enoran years, but biologically, I look and feel like a sixteen-year-old.

When I moved away from the kitchen cupboard, stood in the doorway to the living room, and looked at my brother, who was speaking with my father. Even he looks far older than his age. He’s only fourteen, yet he looks and acts like he’s about to be twenty. I’ll be honest when I say, I kinda miss the little punk he used to be. Not saying he isn’t a punk anymore, in fact, no, I am. He’s more than a punk; he’s evolved into a pure asshole. A lovable asshole, though.

Compared to how he was when we first moved to Iona, he’s an entirely different person. Like most of us, the war changed him. He matured fast, perhaps a bit too fast, and well, I’m starting to think our ancient pact of me being the brains and him the brawn is no longer valid. The kid, or well, man now I should say, has started to outpace me in our studies. At least, everything but magic, I have his ass stumped on that.

Our relationship hasn’t changed, and for that I’m grateful. In fact, over the years, I think we’ve grown closer. As he matured, I’ve felt more comfortable loosening up around him, and the two of us can barely be seen apart from each other. Sometimes I’d rather he go off and do other stuff as he seems to hover around me a lot, but, eh… I appreciate him when he’s around.

“You hear that, Luna?” Varis’s voice snapped back into focus.

I blinked and glanced about, finding myself standing in the kitchen doorway, and both my father and brother looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Huh?” I said stupidly with a blush.

Varis cocked his head. “We’re talking to Luna, right? Truth didn’t but their way in, did they?” He asked.

I shook my head. “N-no, I’m still here. I was just… thinking about stuff.”

Father pursed his lips. “Anything we should be concerned about?” He asked.

I smiled. “No, I’m just… gods, I sound old saying this, but I’m just wondering about how far we’ve come.”

Father let off a loud snort and laughed. “Luna, you’re not even a century old, yet. You don’t have time to start thinking about how far we’ve come.” He said, but then nodded. “However, I’ll say that we have been through a lot this decade.” His eyes drifted between my brother and me. “You two have grown a lot, honestly, you’ve grown too much. Pretty soon, boy,” he gestured to Varis. “You’re going to be the one looking down at me.”

Varis smiled. “Now that’ll be a day, for sure.”

Father returned his smile and looked to me. “Anway, Luna, what we were talking about is that I plan on taking us on a trip to Belpre to see your mother.”

My eyes widened. “Wait, really?” I asked. “When are we going?”

Father chuckled. “Whenever you’re ready to go, dear. I got time off for the next few days, and the mag-rails in Downway can get us there in just a few hours. We can get Ruby hitched to a wagon and be there within the evening today.”

A smile stretched across my face, and my heart fluttered. “Alright! I-I…” I then remembered what Varis said, my hair. I reached up and patted my frizzy mop and laughed sheepishly. “Uh, lemme go brush up, and I’ll be ready to go!”

Father held up a hand. “You have ten minutes, miss, no longer.”

I nodded and dashed past them toward the stairs, my heart beating with excitement. For the first time this year, I was going to see Mom again.

Therefore, I declare that our partnership is done. I am sorry, old friend, but it seems that our paths toward our shared goal do not align. I hope that in time you shall come to see things as I do, life as I come to learn is precious. It's something that she should be conserved, not conquered.