Hello again! First off, thank you so much for the support for the first chapter! It was amazing, and I cannot express my happiness at seeing all of you tune in and read Brown Eyes. Seriously, y'all rock!
I'm gonna try to update semi-regularly, but life is life, so I'll settle for just doing my best. Either way, here's chapter two, and I hope you like it!
? ? ?, Present Day I
I sighed as I trudged along the abandoned street. Autumn leaves got crunched under my shoes as we meandered across the roads, looking for… Honestly, I don't know what I was looking for. Ebenezar said that I'd know it when I saw it, but all I saw was urban americana.
I wasn't quite sure what the inside of my mind looked like, but I hadn't expected it to be a city I didn't even recognize. Tall, brick and stone houses lined the street, with iron gates protecting their tiny lawns. I was surprised by the amount of trees here and there, but my perception might've been skewed by the lack of cars on the road.
The street—no, the entire city—was empty. We'd been walking around for a while now, and I hadn't seen a single person. Or cat, or dog, or wandering flock of pigeons. It wasn't even like the place had been sacked. The roads were clean, the air was surprisingly fresh, and every tree—save for a single green maple—greeted us with the bright oranges and browns of autumn. It was nice, in a perfect, tingling-in-the-back-of-your-neck kind of way.
"Is this really what's inside my head?" I asked Ebenzar as we turned another corner.
"What did you expect?" my mentor huffed as he looked over each of the houses we walked past. "A raging inferno? Not to disappoint you, Hoss, but only the real-bad minds get something like that."
I shrugged. "It's more that I expected a place that I actually know."
To be fair, I don't know a lot of places. I used to travel around the country a lot when my dad was alive, but since he died when I was six, most of my memories from back then are pretty foggy. Still, I remember long stretches of empty highways, tiny towns with only one laundromat, and lots of wilderness for overnight camping trips. My early childhood was rural—this place is completely urban.
After my dad died, it was off to the orphanage, and they didn't exactly take us foster kids out so much. That just left the time I was with DuMorne, but all of this was too urban for the tiny town where he raised Elaine and me for a good chunk of our lives.
The thought of Elaine made tears spring to my eyes. I rubbed them away and forced myself to focus on the world around me.
I didn't know where I was, but it was definitely somewhere in the USA. We'd passed by American flags, bright red stop signs, and the street we were on was called Michigan Avenue. I also don't think it's a town. We've passed too many streets for it to be one, and the buildings got more packed together the further we walked. The deeper we got into this place, the more convinced I was that this might be a city.
"Maybe this place is another thing I've forgotten," I said. "Maybe I have been here before."
"No," Ebenezar said, just a tad too quickly. "Not as far as I know…"
Ebenezar carefully looked between me and the surrounding houses, and I was surprised by the level of intensity in his gaze. "Um… is there something I should be doing, sir?"
"It's something you have been doing." Ebenezar stopped and turned to me, craning his neck upward so he could meet my eyes. "How many houses have we entered so far?"
"Entered?" I furrowed my eyebrows and turned to the closest building, a two-story house surrounded by a tall iron fence. "None. But maybe we should! I'll go check this one—"
"You already have," Ebenezar said. "Half an hour ago."
I slowly, very slowly, turned around.
"I don't remember that…" I said it quietly, to the point where I was hoping Ebenezar couldn't hear the fear that had trickled into my voice.
"You didn't remember the fifty other houses, either," Ebenezar said.
"What?! Fifty?! What do you mean fifty?!"
My mentor sighed and readjusted his grip on his staff. "Stop your yelling or I'll leave you here and go take a nap."
"You're in here with me, sir."
"I'm not." Ebenezar stalked forward, and maybe it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but it looked like he was leaning on his staff. More than usual, I mean.
I groaned and rushed to catch up to him. "Wanna explain to me what's going on?"
"I'm not here with you. Not completely," my mentor said gruffly. "I'm just projecting a portion of my consciousness into your head. I can see everything in here, clearer than you can, but I can't interact with it in the same way."
"What?"
"Take a good look at me, Hoss. A really good look."
I did. It was just Ebenezar, in the same overalls he'd worn when he entered my room, with the same wooden staff, and the same enormous white beard. There wasn't anything different about him. Even his shadow—
Wait.
"You don't have a shadow."
The day was cloudy, but not cloudy enough to block out the sun. There was enough light to make me cast a shadow on the pavement, but my mentor was left without his. And when he or his staff stepped on an autumn leaf, the leaf didn't break. It didn't even crack. It was like I was walking alongside a ghost.
"I'm not fully accompanying you in your mind," Ebenezar said. "I can walk with you, talk with you, but I can't open doors or windows. I can't directly interact with anything in your mind."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because that would be directly messing with your head, Hoss. And that's the damage DuMorne did." Ebenezar clicked his tongue. "And it lets me see everything with a clear head."
I glanced over to the houses lining the street. "So when you say you 'see everything with a clear head', is that why you know that I've gone into these houses? Even though I don't remember?"
"Exactly."
"And how do I know you're not pulling my leg?"
Ebenezar smirked. "You'll just have to trust me."
"Sir, I'm letting you into my mind. I'm pretty sure that's about as much trust as I can give you."
Ebenezar's smirk grew. "If you trust me that much, then follow me."
I did.
"This thing?" I raised my eyebrows in skeptical disbelief. "You're saying that all the issues we've had so far, it's all tied to a maple tree?"
The tree was tall, at least three times as tall as I am. It's also fully grown, with a large canopy that covers the street corner, shading us from the autumn sun in a sea of healthy green leaves.
"It isn't a maple tree," Ebenezar corrected. "It's the same maple tree that's been stalking us for the last twenty blocks."
Huh?
I took in the giant tree in front of me. Now that Ebenezar's pointed it out, I circled back to my memories of us going through my mind. There were maple trees every now and then, and occasionally, one of them would be green. With a wide canopy and sprawling leaves. Sure, I'd seen a green tree every now and then, but the world of my mind is in autumn. Not spring, not summer. Autumn.
Every single other maple tree was losing its leaves. But not this one. No—this one stayed as bright as an evergreen tree.
"So… now we have to worry about sentient trees?" I said dumbly. "At least I know they're flammable."
"It's not sentient!" Ebenezar shook his head in exasperation. "And it's not a tree. It's a memory."
"Uh…" I said dumbly. "Say that again, sir."
Ebenezar licked his lips and used his staff to point down the street. "Everything we've been through, everything we've seen—all these are your memories, Hoss. Or at least the memories that are locked away."
I groaned. "Are we gonna get into some metaphorical and theoretical shit?"
Ebenezar gave me a very sharp stare.
I cleared my throat. "I mean, are we gonna get into some metaphorical and theoretical stuff. Sir."
"You're mucking the stalls for a week when we're done with this," Ebenezar grumbled. "But yes, we are getting into metaphorical and theoretical parts of magic. The street you see before you, it isn't an actual street. It's a physical representation of your mind. When you think of memories, you think of something ephemeral. Without shape. Like a wind passing through you. But when you bring magic into the mix, you see that the mind organizes those memories into something that's actually quite tangible."
"So you're saying these houses are… memories?" I said slowly. "Like, that house over there is my seventh birthday? That lamppost is the day I started elementary school? That crack in the sidewalk is a day when, I don't know, I broke my leg or something."
Ebenezar nodded. "Potentially. Yes."
I scoffed. "Well, if they're my memories, then why don't I remember them?"
"The same way you don't remember entering those fifty houses," Ebenezar replied patiently. "The same way you don't remember touching the lampposts or tripping over the cracks in the sidewalk."
I gulped just as my hands started shaking. "Is that because of… DuMorne's magic?"
"It is." Ebenezar gave me a kind smile, even as he said the next words. "I took us to one of the areas in your mind most touched by DuMorne's spell. There are a few neighborhoods where you'd remember entering the houses. You'd remember touching the lampposts. You'd relive your old memories. But here… Here you will only wander around aimlessly, wondering why you can't remember a thing."
The weight of it all was starting to hit me. If Ebenezar was telling the truth—and I had a horrible, gut-sinking feeling that he was—then there was an entire part of my mind I can't access. No matter how hard I try. I could go into those houses hundreds of times, but in the end, I wouldn't remember a single thing.
DuMorne had invaded my mind. Tampered with it to the point where I could barely recognize that something was wrong.
It made me sick to my stomach.
"The mind is a powerful thing, Harry," Ebenezar continued. "And it's why psychomancy is so dangerous. Look around you. Your brain has recreated your memories into buildings, houses, streets, and trees. Everything around you is a memory, and if I cast the right spell on you, I could bring in a bulldozer and crush everything to the ground."
"So what do we do?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Because call me crazy, but I kinda like those houses."
Ebenezar gripped my arm and gave it a hard squeeze. "First, you calm down. Breathe, Hoss. Breathe."
I did. I breathed in and out, following Ebenezar's lead as his hand rubbed my arm.
"That's it. Just breathe." Ebenezar smiled calmly, and once I got my bearings, he gave my arm a squeeze before letting it go. "Now, once you're calm, we focus on the source of DuMorne's magic."
He turned to the maple tree with bright green leaves. I'd almost forgotten it was there.
"This is the source?" I asked.
Ebenezar walked up to the tree and tapped his staff against it. "It's been reappearing, again and again. We're in your mind, Hoss, so that can only mean one thing. This is a memory that's important to you, and it's one your subconscious desperately wants you to remember."
I stepped forward until I was under the tree's canopy. "But… it doesn't feel right. I mean, it looks like we're in autumn, but this looks like a tree you'd put on a biology book. Does that mean we should set it on fire? I'm pretty good at that!"
"No!" Ebenezar bellowed, loud enough to the point where I took a step away from him out of fear. My mentor pinched his nose and sighed. "My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you. But you are not, under any circumstances, allowed to harm this memory. Even if it was affected by DuMorne."
"…Why not?" I said hesitantly.
"Because this is your first memory of magic."
I blinked. "It's… what?"
Ebenezar placed his free hand on the tree's massive trunk. "There's a reason I'm keeping a distance from your mind. You can't see it, but I can. This tree has two forms. One has green leaves, just as you are seeing it now, and the other has autumn leaves. Yellow, red, brown. And I can see how it holds your memory."
"What…" I cleared my throat. "What does my memory look like?"
"Like a sphere of light," Ebenezar said, a touch of wonder in his voice. "I saw it at the entryway of every house you went into. A sphere of light, calling you to it. But the moment you'd touch it, you'd close the door and walk back to me, and keep on walking like you'd never seen it."
My mentor pointed his staff upward. "I see your memory. Right up there, at the top of the trunk. Where the branches sprout. I can't see the content of the memory, but I can feel its power. Bright and brand new. And that means that this is the memory of your very first use of magic."
I looked up. I didn't see a sphere. Or a light. Or… anything. Just a tree with green leaves when they should've been brown.
Just like my eyes.
"But why's it following us?" I asked. "Why this?"
"I think I know," Ebenezar said. "The spell DuMorne cast, it had to have had an anchor. A single point, a single memory, that was the center of the spell. DuMorne didn't just want to erase your life—he wanted to erase this. This memory. The moment of your very first magic. He wanted to replace it, fill it with another memory that better suited his purposes. Everything DuMorne did, every bit of his spell, it was all to create this false moment in your life."
I know the memory. I know it well. "The memory of me winning the blue ribbon."
It was accidental—as all first uses of magic are, apparently. I'd wanted to win the long jump event at school, and without knowing why, I was suddenly several feet in the air.
That was the moment that changed my life. Because soon after, DuMorne found me and adopted me.
"He even changed that…" I forced down the bile in my throat and made myself take in a long, deep breath. "Ok, so even the most important moment of my life is fake. Great! If that's the case, why can't I make myself see my actual memory?"
"Because DuMorne didn't want you to," Ebenezar snarled with such force I briefly wondered if it was directed at me. "Because this moment in your past, for whatever reason, was something he needed you to forget. And that makes this memory the gateway. As long as you're barred from seeing the true memory that's at the top of this tree, you will continue to forget everything else."
I walked up and pressed my palm to the trunk. It felt solid beneath my hand. Rough. Alive. "So you're saying that, no matter how many times I look into my real memories, my mind's just gonna block it out? All because it contradicts the memory of me winning the blue ribbon?"
"I don't know what your actual first magic was, but it must have been so powerful, so fundamental to you, that DuMorne had to seal it away at any cost. That's why this is at the center of it all. If this memory of you winning the ribbon is false, then the life DuMorne placed in your mind falls apart."
"But I remember that day." I wrenched my hand away from the trunk and paced around the base of the tree. "I remember jumping. I remember getting that ribbon. I remember how badly I wanted it."
"Why did you want it?" Ebenezar asked calmly. "Think about it, Harry. Why did you want to win?"
I stopped pacing. "I… I don't know. I-I just…"
Was it because I wanted to prove myself? Show the world I was good at something? Do something amazing, so amazing that someone would want me? Or did I just want it because I wanted a win? Or was it because some classmate had said something to me, and I wanted to prove them wrong? I might've been that. It could've been that. But the more I think of it, the more…
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know."
Ebenezar put his hand on my arm. He told me to breathe again, and I did. In, out. Over and over until my hands stop shaking.
"What do we do, sir?" I asked. "Because you got us all the way here, so you better have a plan before I lose my mind over a tree."
Ebenezar pursed his lips. "There is… one option. But it's not an easy one."
"But if it's our only option, then it's the easiest by default!"
"Unfortunately," Ebenezar sighed. "I think there's a way to untangle the spell. If we can get you to look at the memory of the first time you actually used magic, then your mind may start to retain your real memories."
"So what do we do? Do weed whackers exist here? Maybe we can just cut off all the leaves and make the tree look like it's in the right season."
"Again trying to brute force your way through." Ebenezar tried and failed to hide his chuckle. "I can't bring any real-world machinery in here, but… I can bring something else."
"What?"
My mentor hesitated. "…Memories."
"Uh… aren't we kind of looking for them?"
"Not your memories," Ebenezar said gruffly. "Memories of people who were with you. If I can bring people who knew you around the time you unleashed your magic, your subconscious mind might accept the fact that there are memories DuMorne has blocked off."
"But how will other people's memories help?" I asked.
"They're evidence. It's external evidence that the life you know isn't what you think it is. Think of the sun. For years, people believed that the Earth orbited around the sun. But then what happened?"
"Scientists discovered that it didn't."
"And how did they convince people?"
I realized where he was going with this and let out a single laugh. "With evidence."
"Exactly," Ebenezar said. Well, after they stopped getting labeled as heretics and the general populace started gaining a relative amount of education."
"Yeah, that makes sense." I scratched the back of my neck. "So how would this work? It's not like I'm denying that the Earth goes around the sun. I'm not even denying that DuMorne did something to me! I'm doing all this because I know there's something wrong with my head!"
"The conscious mind and the subconscious mind are different," my mentor explained. "You can tell your conscious brain all you want, but the subconscious one is a different beast. It's why there are still people who believe that the world is flat and the sun spins around us. All your instincts, your impulses, your… your prejudices." Ebenezar paused for a moment. "They're controlled by a part of our minds that is difficult to understand, let alone change."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're saying I want to believe DuMorne's bullshit?"
Ebenezar raised an eyebrow in return.
"I mean, DuMorne's BS. Sir," I said quickly.
Ebenezar shook his head but continued on anyway. "You consciously don't want to believe it. But subconsciously, you've lived this life for a long time. And DuMorne did raise you for five years. Even if you hate him now, there's a part of your subconscious that clings to it. Because even if you logically know that this life is false, your mind still wants to hang on."
"But why?" I asked.
"Because this lie is something you know," Ebenezar said, as gently as a man like him could. "Though it's painful, it's familiar. And the mind will almost always choose a pain it knows rather than a pain it doesn't."
"I guess I'll have to take your word on that," I said. "So… you're saying you'll ask these people about their memories of me, and that might convince my subconscious that the truth is worth remembering?"
"If that were the case…" Ebenezar tightened his grip on his staff. "If that were the case, this would be a lot simpler."
"Yeah." I shrugged my shoulders and stared up at the canopy of green leaves. "I don't even remember who I knew before DuMorne. I mean, my dad died when I was six, and no one cared enough about me afterward. At least not enough for me to remember their names."
"I'll figure something out," Ebenezar said roughly. "I'm going to bring these people to Hog's Hollow. Once they're here, I can send their memories into your head. You'll get some memories from the past, and you'll get some memories from the now. Present day."
I turned away from the tree to furrow my eyebrows at the wizard. "Why do I need memories from the present? Isn't that kind of the opposite of what we're looking for?"
"Not for the subconscious. When I give you memories from the past, your subconscious brain is going to ask how those memories got to you."
"So that it knows it's not just magic making everything up." I nodded, pleased with myself for actually going along with this whole explanation. "So I'm also going to get the memories of you convincing these people to come to Missouri?"
Ebenezar went quiet, and his eyes stared out into the distance. Unfocused. "That's about right," he whispered.
A rolling wave of dread swept through my stomach. I'd only seen my mentor get that look a handful of times, and every time I did, it wasn't good. "What is it you're not telling me, sir?"
"If you're unable to access the true memory of your first magic, or if you reject it, then you will forget every new memory I show you," Ebenezar said without looking at me. "Your subconscious will become rigid, and it'll be even harder to access your true memories. Even if I attempt the spell again."
I nodded slowly. "So this is our big shot? We're at the bottom of the ninth with two strikes and a curveball incoming?"
Ebenezar nodded slowly, and his gaze fell to the floor. "That's a way to phrase it."
I walked until I was directly in front of the man. "Sir… Is everything ok?"
"Listen to me, Hoss," Ebenezar ordered. His voice was back to its clear, strong cadence, though he still refused to look at me. "When I bring you the memories, they probably won't make sense at first. They won't even come in order. You won't know who someone is, what they have to do with your life, or why they're even important to the memory of your first magic. You'll be confused. And you'll probably be in denial."
"Sir?"
"These memories are going to make you question every moment of your life before you met DuMorne. You won't understand. You won't be able to ask me questions. But you have to keep looking through them."
Ebenezar finally raised his head, and a million emotions I couldn't name swam in his eyes. "I don't care if you think they're a lie. Or a practical joke. Or a nightmare DuMorne pushed onto you from beyond the grave. No matter what, you keep accepting those memories. You got that, Hoss?"
I stuttered for a moment, shocked by the intensity of his order. "I-I got it, sir. Promise."
"Good… Good." My mentor turned around, away from the green maple tree. "I'll be back once you've seen all the memories."
I gulped as I realized that he was leaving. Leaving me here, alone in my mind. "How will you know when it's time?"
Ebenezar smirked. "With magic."
My mentor walked down the street. He looked out of place in the city street, with his country overalls and farmer's boots, but he walked with a purpose. Confident steps, a strong hold on his staff, and his shoulders squared like he was about to undertake a long and difficult journey.
This is the man who stopped my execution. Who literally gave me a second chance at life. Who, for some reason, is helping me.
"Sir!" I called out. "Why are you doing this?"
Ebenezar stopped without turning around.
"You said that psychomancy is dangerous," I said. "That you could get in trouble with the Council for even trying this! So why are you doing this for me?"
"Because I made a promise to your mother." Ebenezar bowed his head, but I still heard his voice loud and clear. "Or at least a shadow of her."
Wait…
What?
"My mother?" I croaked. "You… you knew my mom?"
"Hoss," Ebenezar said without turning around. "Remember. Keep looking at those memories. Even if… if they make you hate me."
"But you're helping me fix my mind!" I shouted. "You took me as your apprentice! You're giving me a home! Why would I hate you?"
"Because I know what I've done," my mentor confessed. "And I know I deserve it."
A sudden spiral of light burst from the pavement. It circled Ebenezar, twisting around him in a kaleidoscope of colors until it burst up toward the sky.
"Sir!" I yelled.
But nobody answered. Just like that, Ebenezar was gone, and I was alone on the empty street.
"Great," I muttered to no one. "And just when I was starting to think that he's a cool guy. An old guy, but a cool old guy."
I don't know how long I walked. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. Without Ebenezar, I lost track of time. But no matter how long I walked, I never got tired. I never got thirsty. I never got hungry. And no matter how much time passed, the sky never changed. The sun stayed in the exact position it was who knows how long ago, creating a forever moment in my mind.
So, honestly, I'm starting to wonder if it hasn't been hours. Maybe it's been days. Weeks. I honestly don't know. But for some reason, I haven't gone mad. Maybe it's my mind protecting me. Maybe my mind is creating a forever moment, with the sun right there in the sky, so that I don't feel the weight of time around me.
That's why I kept strolling around the empty city neighborhood, taking in the not-real air while doing my best not to worry. The green maple tree keeps showing up. It doesn't pop out of nowhere, though. It's just there when I turn onto a new street. Sometimes it's on a corner, sometimes in front of one of the many stone houses.
I don't leave the neighborhood. Even though I want to explore further, I'm waiting on Ebenezar. He put me in this part of my mind, and I don't wanna miss him when he gives me my memories.
"I wonder how the memories will show up," I wondered out loud. "Like, my memories take on physical forms in my mind, so I wonder what shape they'll take once they're in here. Cookies, maybe? Oooh, that'd be nice. Haven't had one in ages. Just hope they're not raisin. Ebenezar seems like the kind of guy who'd like raisin cookies."
Ok, so maybe I was starting to lose my mind. But only a teensy tiny bit.
"How long is this gonna take?" I kicked at a pile of fallen. "I don't know who Ebenezar's gonna find, but it sounded like he had a plan, so…" I trailed off.
There was noise. For the first time in who-knows-how-long, there was something other than me making noise on that street. It came from above me. A little, soft, fluttering sound. I looked up and found the source of the noise.
Photographs.
More than a dozen pictures glided down from above. They swirled around each other, being carried toward me by a gentle wind. But they didn't fall to the ground. No, the wind kept them suspended in the air, flying around each other.
I walked closer to them. The photos were swirling in a current of air that was at least fifteen feet above me, right in the middle of the empty street. I kept walking until I was right underneath it, and that's when a new current of wind burst downward and swept through my short hair.
A single picture broke free from the swirling gusts of air. It glided downward, and the photo paper fluttered softly in the wind. I reached my hand out, and the photograph fell onto my palm.
It was of a nightclub, illuminated by an array of gray, blue, and white lights. But before I could take in any more details, I felt myself drawn forward. Like there was an invisible tether pulling me downward. Into a mind that wasn't my own.
I let it take me.
