The hunt for the demon had not gone as planned. For such a powerful essence, it left very little trail of where it had disappeared to, but that didn't mean anything in the Fade. Malcolm had run into quite a few terror demons in his time, but the variety he was used to was much smaller, parasites, more than anything else, that attached to a dreamer's fears and inflated them until they became debilitating. They were cowards for one. They preferred weak prey that they could immobilize and from what Malcolm could tell, everyone saw something different. They were able to weave their webs on even the most cautious victims, able to blend in to their surroundings when they wanted to, and apparently, to Malcolm's growing frustration, mask their essence trail. He knew that there were some friendly spirits around that could be safe enough to ask, if he could trust what they said.
Still he had not exactly spent the last few years having tea parties with spirits. In fact, wisps had gotten to a point where they fled from his sight. He realized with bitterness that he would need to change that and had spent the last 3 days trying to get close enough to one without spooking it, but it was terribly difficult when your moniker was literally Spirit Slayer.
There was a particularly brave one that was always hovering from the distance and he had spent all night and the better part of the morning snoozing through all his classes in order to coax it closer, though it was frustrating when his teachers kept waking him up. He tried to fake sick but he was examined by a healer to verify, since he used that excuse so often. He was in his Advanced Placement Spellcasting class, which was the period before lunch where he could have a whole hour of peace after a quick snack and finally, finally he was making some headway.
"Trick?" the wisp asked again in its usual simple sentences. Its shining ball of light glowed red, flashing in a sheen of green sky. He had followed up into the stratosphere where the wisp had hoped to lose him.
"No trick. I won't hurt you," Malcolm said for what he felt like the thousandth time, but still this was the longest he'd gotten the creature to stay still. "I just want to find a big, big terror demon. Have you seen-"
At the mention of the terror demon, the wisp blinked away with a gasp.
"Wait, come back," Malcolm flew forward, calling out to the creature.
He reached out and plucked the Fade thread of where it was trying to follow the essence trail, but it had teleported to another dimension altogether. He kept plucking the string, wading through the cacophony of spirit's hushed whispers, trying to either recognize its voice or its scent or anything really. This was a terribly slow process at times that required lots of concentration. Wisps were especially difficult since their voices could easily be lost among water, enjoying its tumble through a river, or a tree drinking up the sunshine or a rock really enjoying its solid form. Everything in the Fade talked so that it was a constant hum of whispers.
Summoning the image of his bedroom door, he grabbed parts of the Fade with his hand and reshaped them like clay, building it piece by piece. When he was done, he pried open the steel bars, still creaking like he remembered. Suddenly he saw a garden where the mushrooms were as big as sacoyas and strange tiger striped purple grass twisted into each other like they were hugging. The various colored and shaped mushrooms swayed like they were dancing in a breeze that wasn't blowing. In the middle of the field was the red glowing wisp slowly floating in a circle and humming, "Shiny."
"Shiny," the grass sang back. Then the mushrooms sang that back, and then the sky echoed back, until it came back to the wisp who repeated the cycle.
That stopped as soon as Malcolm stepped through the portal of his door.
The Fade held its breath, the whispers dying down to listen as Malcolm held up his hands in peace.
"No follow," the wisp shouted, blinking and quivering in fright.
"Yes follow," Malcolm stepped forward. The grass curled away from him, the blades tightening.
The wisp darted away a few feet and hid behind a mushroom that puffed up. "Why follow?"
"Because I need to-" Malcolm paused, about to say 'kill', but thought better of it and said, "get rid of it." He wasn't sure if he should specify who it was, but he didn't want to go chasing it down again.
The wisp paused in consideration, and peeked around the brown spotted mushroom. "Can't…tell."
It seemed the terror demon didn't just scare mortals. So Malcolm tried a different tactic. "What about you take me to someone that can tell me."
It blinked away, and for a moment Malcolm thought that would be the end. Malcolm walked up to where the wisp was and plucked the Fade string to see if it had just gone behind another mushroom, but it had teleported far away again. He was ready to give up and try another wisp when it blinked back with a friend, a familiar not-face eating what looked like a mostly empty bucket of deep-fried nug legs covered in red sauce.
"Oh, hello, again," Scholar said with a full mouth. "This wisp tells me you survived Zelophehad somehow." The spirit swallowed the bone and then picked up another greasy nug thigh. "Well, congrats on that," the spirit bit into the leg and chewed loudly. "So did you call to tell me what taste is? You didn't have to send a wisp to do it. You could have called me."
Malcolm wasn't sure if he should be grateful or annoyed to see Scholar, but at least this demon wasn't aggressive…yet. He knew that could change in an instant and it mostly relied on his ability to control his temper. "No," Malcolm took in a calming, steadying breath as he readied his nerves. He had never tried actually talking to a demon before and he was edgy, just waiting for them to ask for a deal. "I came to ask about Zelvilod or whatever."
"Zelophehad," Scholar corrected.
"Gesundheit."
"That wasn't even close," the creature smacked its strange not-mouth loudly.
"Does it really matter? It's a demon that needs to die yesterday. I don't need to know how to pronounce its name," Malcolm snapped.
The wisp gasped and disappeared and Scholar's face twisted into a snarl, that suddenly turned into a burp. "Will you stop with that emotion? You're going to twist me and you're ruining the flavor."
Malcolm wanted so badly to snap again, to tell him that lives were on the line and that he didn't have time to watch him eat, but Malcolm bit his tongue, literally, and capped his anger, though he felt like a shook soda. "Where can I find it?" he said as calmly as he could manage.
"Find it?" the creature cocked its head. "He's right behind you." He pointed with his half-eaten drumstick and Malcolm jumped to find a goat eye the size of baseball floating just behind his head. It blinked and disappeared from sight but Malcolm felt all the hair stand on his neck. He jumped around casting a life detecting spell but all that shimmered back were wisps and the usual denizens of the Fade.
Malcolm turned back around, his heart in his throat. "Where is it now?"
"Don't feed it!" the spirit waved its hand frantically, splattering sauce.
Malcolm took a second to stop tensing, his eyes still darting around for more signs of eyes among the forest of mushrooms, but the grove stayed eerily silent. Malcolm kept clenching and unclenching his fists unsure if it was right behind him again, but a tiny voice inside him told him not to look. He ignored it, flinching as he craned his head and saw nothing, and yet it felt like something was staring, waiting. Biding its time. "That's it," Malcolm muttered as a chill crawled up his neck. "The next time I see that demon I'm poking out every one of its eyeballs."
"Does the fact that you can't even sense it not tell you that you're too young? Shiny told me they had to lead you out of several traps already."
"Shiny?"
Scholar looked exasperated, as if it was so obvious. "The wisp you sent. Though their name is Rocky now."
Malcolm scrunched up his face. "What? Why?"
Scholar stuck his hand in his bucket to find it empty and sighed. "Because they're wisps, of course. They're still deciding who they are. They have to try each name before they find the one that feels just right."
"How do you keep track?" Malcolm found himself asking, but then he shook his head realizing he was getting off track and said, "Never mind, just…how do I kill…Zelfeewad?"
"You don't," Scholar answered, the bucket de-materialized and a plate of chocolate cake came next. The spirit grabbed a handful and before shoving it in his mouth said, "so, what is taste?"
Malcolm felt like he had just gone around in a big winding circle and he was absolutely winded. And then Malcolm said what he thought he would never say to a demon. "How about we make a deal?"
The spirit jumped back and gasped, "No!," which surprised Malcolm. "I'm no demon, and I won't throw myself against one, especially not Zelophehad."
He was expecting to have to clarify, but blood magic was never an option. He had seen too many good mages go down that path and meet their end, not to mention he was not looking for more reasons to be hunted by the Chantry, but as far as he knew, every demon wanted a deal.
"Actually I'm not offering my soul, more my expertise," Malcolm said, finding his shoulders relaxing. "Do you want to know what taste is?"
That's when he felt a smack to his face.
Malcolm jerked awake, groggy with drool dribbling down his mouth and pooling on his desk. It was still dark and he realized his teacher had dropped his test packet on him and he pulled it off, fluorescent lights spotting his vision.
A dark elf with his hair in a dreadlocked ponytail and a shadow of stubble across his jaw glared at Malcolm through his spectacles. "Class is almost over and this is blank, Serah Hawke."
He felt an annoyed buzzing in his skull as Scholar started pressing through the slip of the thin Veil. He tried to shoo it away but it was steadily getting louder. He also had the attention of his whole class' eyes on him including Taylor, a somewhat friend, somewhat annoyance, who was shaking her head so much disappointment the top of her cloudy hair were almost bouncing against her pointy burnt sienna ears.
"My bad," Malcolm shrugged. Some of his classmates snickered in their sleeves while others rolled their eyes in annoyance. He leaned on his desk, his chin propped on his hand.
The teacher snatched up the test. "Be aware, young man, you will finish this quarter final if I have to staple a pencil to your hand and make you write the words myself."
Malcolm's eyes glazed over as he tuned out the impending lecture that was no doubt coming. It was something about telling him how he was wasting his potential and that he would regret this later in life, the usual spiel. He winced as a familiar buzz came back into his mind. He began to see the impression of the spirit behind Enchanter Jakoby, pressing through the veil to speak with him.
"You say something about a taste deal and then just disappear. That's terribly frustrating."
"Not now," Malcolm responded in his head. He struggled to keep his face under control, the pressing presence on his mind unwelcome and uncomfortable.
"Then when?"
"I'll call you. Now scat before I get in trouble," and he made an audible grunt of frustration.
"What was that?" Enchanter Jakoby snapped, thinking it was Malcolm's usual disrespect.
The spirit blinked out of sight and Malcolm shook his head out of a daze. "I mean, uh, yeah, you're completely right."
The elf's full lips pulled back into a stunning bright smile. "Excellent. I'll see you tonight, then."
Malcolm blinked a few times in confusion. "What?"
The class broke up in laughter, and the Enchanter quickly snapped, "back to your tests!" Then he took off his glasses and massaged his temples. "Were you even listening?"
"Sure," Malcolm scratched his pointed ear sheepishly, "but just in case I wasn't, where am I going?"
Enchanter Jakoby looked up and sighed. "To the ball," he pointed to names on the board where one was crossed out that wasn't before. "Kenny tells me he's feeling stage fright and you just volunteered to perform in his place."
"No, I didn't," Malcolm snorted scooting back in his chair.
"Yes you did," Enchanter Jakoby nodded, encroaching onto Malcolm's desk so they could meet each other's eyes.
"Well tell Kenny to suck it up cause I'm busy tonight," Malcolm unwrinkled his test and finally wrote his name on the paper, avoiding the pile of drool.
"He's throwing up in the healing quarters."
Good old Kenny.
Malcolm ran a frustrated hand through his curls as he snapped back a growl. "C'mon you don't want me there. I'm sure someone else wants to be a Chantry monkey."
"For once, I agree," a handsome nobleman with a straight nose and shapely lips glared at Malcolm. "Not about the Chantry monkey, just about him being there." He stood up like he was the ambassador to the class and put his hand over his heart, his wavy blond shoulder length hair waving in his green eyes as pleaded with the Enchanter. "Hawke hasn't turned in a single thing since the beginning of class and there are many others much more deserving the honor."
Malcolm snorted. "Sure. Make sure to pack bananas."
Arth's eyes flashed in anger and he took a step forward with his mouth open in retort, but the Enchanter raised his hand to silence the impending argument that was bound to explode between the two men.
Arth Elliot was the Circles darling and had seen Malcolm as a rival since he first arrived and lit a flame while the Enchanter was still instructing the class on how to visualize it. Malcolm was practically juggling the flame as his other classmates quickly tried to do the same but the most any could do was a spark. Arth, who was always proud of being top of the class, could not even manage a puff of smoke. When he asked Malcolm how he did that, he said, "I just did," and that was all it took for him to become obsessed.
Malcolm realized he was years ahead of his classmates, and eventually started hiding the full extent of his powers, but his teachers still noticed. He was always snoozing through class so there was no way he had paid attention to the lessons, and yet when his teachers would test his aptitude for magic, he never showed difficulty with any spell of any school, which baffled everyone. His teachers knew Malcolm was bored, jaded, and they couldn't challenge him. Most of his teachers couldn't stand him, either making sure he was unwelcome in class and while most had given up on Malcolm, spending time on more willing students, Enchanter Jakoby was persistent.
"Sit down, Serah Elliot, and wait quietly for class to finish," the teacher said as if he was speaking to a child, and like a child, Arth jutted out his pink bottom lip in a pout and slunk back down into his seat like a whipped puppy. Enchanter Jakoby winced, holding his forehead for a second crinkling with stress wrinkles.
"Malcolm, I know you've been put into an unfair position. We all have, but you have to realize that you can either work with the system or the system works you. You can take this for the opportunity that it is, or squander it, like every chance you've ever been given and fall into further disciplinary action. It's up to you."
Malcolm rolled his eyes, his dark curls brushing over his forehead. "Oh, no," Malcolm drawled sarcastically. "However will I survive being under lock and key?"
The thinning of the other elf's full lips told Malcolm that he was successfully getting under his skin, but he softened them into a smile and said, "Don't worry. I'm sure Ser Carver would agree to watch your manners tonight."
At the mention of his friend, Malcolm huffed collapsing back in his chair so forcefully it gave a screeching scoot. "Playing dirty I see."
"I've been at this a lot longer than you, Junior Enchanter," the elf's coconut brown eyes gleamed as he triumphantly smirked.
The shrill bell rang and through the speakers and everyone scrambled to take off towards the Enchanter's desk to drop off their tests. Malcolm grabbed his unopened backpack and was about to leave when the Enchanter grabbed him by the shoulder and sat him back down. "Where do you think you're going?"
Malcolm shot an annoyed glare up at him. "Uuuuh, to lunch?"
"You will spend your lunch here with me where you will finish your quarter final."
"Aw, c'mon teach, I'm starving," Malcolm whined.
"You should have thought about that before you used today's class as a nap session," the teacher nodded resolutely and marched back to his desk to start correcting papers.
Taylor frowned sympathetically. "Malcolm, do you want me to pick up your lunch?"
"Sure, Mom," Malcolm snarked, his hands flying across the questions with renewed determination.
Taylor rolled her eyes and slung her book bag over her shoulder, Arth hovering behind her with a rather annoyed look on his face. "If you're going to be a dick, you can get it yourself."
"Let's go, Taylor," Arth offered his arm in a gesture. "You don't need to associate with filth."
Taylor looked at the arm and decided to move on ahead without taking it, not even bothering to address him. He flashed an icy green glare when Malcolm snorted. Then he stuck his chin in the air and squared his shoulders, marching out of the room as if nothing happened.
Malcolm finished the test in record time. The grin on Enchanter's Jakoby's face at Malcolm's short but correct answers was awfully irritating, but Malcolm hid his smirk until his back was turned, knowing that he was in for another lecture when the Enchanter would inevitably get to the last question that was answered, "Templars suck Chantry dick."
Malcolm wandered through the quarters of the Circle hall winding down the stairs to the cafeteria passing mages, who would avoid him like he was diseased, and templars, who watched his every movement like he was ready to attack. Malcolm had only assaulted a templar once and he quickly learned that this was suicide. They had too many tools, too much training, and a whole team to rely on while Malcolm only had himself. No, the only way to survive in the Circle was to find some way to make peace with it, and the only thought that gave Malcolm peace is that one day he would escape for good.
He cut the line to the front of the cafeteria, but other than getting a few nasty glares, no one made any comment, at least in his direction. Dragging his tray across the table he picked up a wilted salad for good energy, the same stale piece of bread he had every day, and what he hoped was a mix of meat and mashed potatoes but it could be another experiment of the chef. For desert, to his surprise, were some rather nice strawberries. He hadn't thought about the kiss all day, though it did intrude his mind like an annoying gnat buzzing in his ear. That kiss was just fantasy.
Chances are the mysterious Leandra had already forgotten him in the dream fog and moved on with her perfect life while he was stuck like a scratched record skipping on the same beat. He found himself resisting the urge to touch his lips again, to close his eyes and just imagine that perfect moment but he was very aware he was in public. So instead he piled a bunch of strawberries on his plate, much more than was considered polite and eyed his best friend Charlie waving at him from the corner table with Taylor, who was eating a small salad and doing homework she was assigned for another class.
Charlie was probably best described as a brother and not because he looked like a human version of Malcolm, except with wavy hair, slightly lighter skin, and no freckles. Charlie was two years older, but still hadn't passed his Harrowing and, unlike Malcolm, was just about everyone's best friend. He hadn't a lick of talent when it came to spellcasting. He could barely light a candle, but he did have a mind for small tricks, mostly well-timed fart pranks and Malcolm constantly helped him brainstorm new ideas to help him exercise his magic.
He was just about to reach the table when a gauntleted hand squeezed his shoulder. "Let's talk," a gravelly voice growled in his ear, the foul breath making his hair stand and with disciplined strength the templar walked Malcolm to a barred window overlooking the ocean, scattering the mages that were gathered around it. The templar kept hold, squeezing enough to bruise, and his cruel blood-shot grey eyes were as sharp as the stubble of his shaved head. "Where's my order? It's been days," the templar whispered viciously, everyone else quickly looked away and minded their own business to avoid catching the ire.
Malcolm kept his voice just as low, lazily gazing up at the steel-clad man. "I've been busy."
The man squeezed harder and Malcolm coached his face to not show any pain. "I need it, today."
"Maybe," Malcolm placed his hand on the man's and with the little help of an aura, pried off the steel-clad fingers with surprising strength and shoved his hand back at the man. "I have a window tonight, but you better be sure no one comes looking."
The man looked angry, his face reddening like it always did when his intimidation tactics didn't work. "As long as I get what I paid for." The man stalked away, his heavy armor thudding against the stone. The mages all kept their eyes low to not catch his gaze. With a roll of Malcolm's shoulders he stalked back to the corner table, where both Charlie and Taylor were standing, waiting for him.
"Are you alright?" Taylor said in her usually motherly voice.
"Yes, Mom," Malcolm rolled his eyes and collapsed in his seat spilling some food onto his tray.
Taylor mirrored the movement with her eyes, sitting down and returning her gaze back to her homework with a shake of her head.
Charlie looked cautiously at Malcolm. "You know you really should tell Carver about Matthew."
"I don't need Carver fighting my battles for me," Malcolm snorted as he bit into a strawberry. It was blissfully sweet, delicious, he held it on his tongue to savor the flavor as he closed his eyes. He found himself summoning the image of Leandra's perfect face, that gleam in her eye as she gazed up at him through her dark lashes and flashed the top of her perky peach nipples.
Suddenly a voice that was not his murmured in his head, "Delicious."
Malcolm's face burned as he felt his mind plundered, Scholar prying into the memory and snacking up the berry with a smack. "Oooh, can you taste another?" Scholar asked, and Malcolm found himself banging his forehead with his fist as he tried to drive out the voice.
"I swear," Taylor peered up from her homework with a look of mild concern. "Sometimes you go on the strangest face journeys by yourself."
Malcolm just rolled his eyes, letting the comment slide, as he dug into his salad, letting Charlie sneak some strawberries.
"So I can't help you practice tonight," Malcolm looked over at Charlie. "Enchanter Jackass is stuffing me in a suit and making me do parlor tricks for some rich snobs."
Taylor's violet eyes snapped up, flashing in annoyance. "Enchanter Jakoby is giving you a chance to demonstrate your abilities. I'm actually really excited about the ball. I worked really hard to earn the top spot and a lot of other people wanted to go. Do you have to be such an arrogant dick?"
Malcolm flashed a leafy smirk. "It's my best quality."
"Debatable," Taylor shot back in her usual sharp manner.
Charlie leaned in between the elves, always the mediator. "Ladies, ladies," he waved his hands in a calming motion. "Must we fight and not appreciate a good day? I mean the food is fresh-ish," he picked up a glob of soup that defied leaving the spoon with a unappetizing dripping gloop, "we're among friends, mostly," Charlie gestured away at the templars on guard like they were part of the scenery, "and even if you have to go to a party together without me and you two somehow don't kill each other, the least you can do is enjoy it on my behalf and give me a fun story when you get back. Please," he added with an exhausted heaving sigh. "I'm tired of hearing about Murphy and Mandy's on and off again relationship." He then stabbed his spoon in his soup which resisted somehow.
Taylor's eyebrows knitted together as Malcolm slunk down into the table, feeling more of an ass than usual.
"I'll sneak you back some food," Taylor smiled, reaching out to lightly touch his arm.
Charlie practically bounced. "Ooh, one of those frilly cakes. The more icing the better."
"And I'll make sure to prank some nobles," Malcolm added with a smirk which did brighten his friend's expression. Charlie had a way of making everyone get along by outlining everything in silver and he always thought the best way to solve his problems was to laugh at them and suddenly Malcolm's wheels were turning. "Could use your help thinking of the worst magic show ever."
Charlie's brown eyes gleamed with mischief. "Endless fart stream? That'll get them talking," Charlie offered with a childish grin. Taylor wrinkled her flat nose in a bite.
"Nah, worse," Malcolm scratched his chin, discarding one idea after another.
"You could do one of Darcy's dance routines."
Malcolm laughed at the idea. "Getting warmer, but worse."
Taylor sighed heavily. "Can't you just do something normal like juggle a ball of flame or make some fireworks."
"But that's boring," Charlie and Malcolm said in unison and then broke down in a conspiratorial laugh.
Malcolm chewed on his flavorless salad as he thought, Charlie chatting on until the annoying buzz came back in his mind. "This food tastes sad…and also bad. Can you eat something else?"
"If you keep poking around my head," Malcolm thought at the spirit with a clenched fist over his fork, "I'm going to reach back through the Fade and kick your ass. Understood?"
"How would you kick it? I don't have an ass," the spirit retorted.
"Believe me, I'd find it," Malcolm snapped. "Now go back to where you belong before you get us both in trouble."
Taylor snapped her fingers in his face and suddenly Malcolm was aware that both Charlie and she were waiting on a question, but he had no idea what was asked.
"Uuuuh, I spaced out," Malcolm said like he usually did.
"Maker, can you pay attention for one second?" Taylor rolled her eyes so hard they looked like they'd fall out of her head. "I said, are you going to dance or you going to sulk in canapes all night?"
Malcolm's face twisted as if he was smelling something foul. "The point being?"
Charlie grinned at Malcolm with a teasing smirk. "That's why you're still a virgin, dude."
"I have more important things to do," Malcolm deflected as they both broke down in laughter. He then crossed his arms, scooting back in his chair with a pout.
"I wish I could go," Charlie mentioned glumly. "If it was me, no one could stop me from finding a pretty girl and dancing all night." Charlie looked at Taylor wistfully and then lowered his gaze before Taylor could catch him. Taylor chewed on her bottom lip at the comment, a flash of what almost looked like jealousy before she returned her attention to her homework. Then her violet eyes bugged out of their sockets as Charlie pointed between the two elves with his spoon. "You two could always dance."
Malcolm barked out a surprised laugh. "Nice try, dude, but I think I'll sleep through the whole thing." He did have a demon to catch.
As Charlie's best friend, he saw it as his duty to get Malcolm dating, or at least fucking, but Malcolm's reputation and stubbornness made it difficult and Taylor was the only woman who would tolerate his presence. It didn't help that they were both elves, so somehow that meant they were supposed to be together, but their relationship was nothing like that. They were friendly-ish, but their personalities clashed way too much for attraction to even be on the table. Still, that didn't help Charlie's fixation on the idea.
"I think I'll be busy stuffing myself silly with shrimp puffs. I plan to save room for two tray fulls," Taylor pointed to her own small salad that was already finished and set aside.
"Shrimp puffs?" Malcolm could feel his mouth water with the spirit's impending presence. "What are those? Her memories smell divine."
"Get out of my friend's head," Malcolm warned with a tapping finger. He could see the impression of it hovering near her pointed ear. "You'll have plenty of samples to try at that stupid party tonight."
"Is that when you'll tell me what taste is?" the spirit asked impatiently, snapping back his hand like it was slapped.
"Sure. Whatever." This time he felt the presence fade back into the Veil, the pressure from the Fade lessening.
Taylor and Charlie stared at Malcolm's scowling face softening as he blinked back into attention.
Taylor shook her head again, her hair puff bobbing. "Again. Weirdest face journeys."
