Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 16th May 2022
The smell of bacon woke Jim. He blinked his way awake, rubbed some sleep out of his eyes, and looked at his alarm clock, continuing to blink until the numbers made sense.
It actually wasn't that early, he saw, though it felt like it. Only five minutes before his alarm. Jim groaned, flopped his arm over his eyes, and dragged himself out of bed.
The lack of burning, or the smoke alarm going off, was a dead giveaway that it wasn't his mother doing the cooking. Which left...
"Morning," Jim greeted Douxie and Archie as he himself slumped face first across the dining table.
Douxie, he saw as he opened a bleary eye and looked in the kitchen, was wearing a fox-faced smile. Like all the world was made to amuse him. "Good morning, Jim," he said. For all the world he sounded like he was a morning person, which was a terrible lie and suddenly a horrifying thought.
"Ugh, I hate you," Jim said, returning to his communing with the table.
There was a pause before he heard the stove turn off and something being scraped out of a pan. Then footsteps, and a plate being set down on the table in front of him. Jim opened his eyes to discover scrambled eggs and bacon, and Douxie being all waiterly as he somehow managed to carry two more plates beyond Jim's, and a basket of muffins to boot. In the kitchen, as Douxie set all that on the table, there was the rattle of glasses setting themselves down on the counter, the thwump of the refrigerator door opening, and the sound of liquid pouring. Douxie beckoned with his fingers as he sat down in his own chair, and glasses and saucers of milk and juice sailed to the table, settling down on its surface without spilling a drop.
There was something to be said about wizard brothers showing off, but Jim wasn't up to it at the moment. "So," Douxie said, "sleep well?"
Jim's reply wanted to contain four-letter words, but he held himself back. "No," he said shortly, glaring at the plate of eggs and bacon. His stomach gave a rumble. Traitor.
Douxie paused, though, even as Archie leapt up onto his chair and started making inroads on his meal. "Bad dreams?" he asked. "Or nerves?"
Jim raised his head a bare inch. "Nerves," he reported.
"Ah." Douxie looked thoughtful. "To borrow a page from your book: eat. It might make you feel better."
"Unless you're so unnerved that you think you might regurgitate it all," Archie put in.
"Blech, no," Jim said, making a face. He took a strip of bacon off his plate and put it in his mouth without raising his head. Maybe Douxie was right; the salty-fatty-umaminess of it did seem to help.
Douxie kept eating his own breakfast until Jim finished the piece and sat up more properly to grab another. "I could ask what you're afraid of," Douxie said quietly, never looking at him, "but I'm rather sure it's the exact same thing as I am. Though I'll hope your peers are slightly less likely to attempt homicide than mine."
Jim stopped, eyes flicking to Douxie's face. "Homicide?" he asked.
Douxie met his gaze. "Eh, don't worry about it." He reached across the table and skritched Archie between the ears. "They're no match for Arch and me, and Zoe's doing her best to ameliorate things."
Archie sniffed. "Young wizards," he muttered, making it sound like a judgment. "All impetuosity! No discretion."
"Oh, I'm sure they'd be very discreet in the disposition of my corpse," Douxie said cheerfully. "Pity they're none of them going to get a chance."
"Douxie..." Jim said, seriously worried now.
"Jim." His brother tilted his head to the side, regarding him. "Seriously, don't worry about it. I may not have my staff back yet, but I'm centuries older than most other wizards, and that comes with a lot of experience."
"He may not yet have the oomph," Archie agreed, "but he has the breadth and depth that a variety of magics have taught him. As well as the wartime nerves and reflexes, when he actually pays attention."
"So I'm well-rounded, and easily able to defend myself against Beth at the bookshop, and the pissants at HexTech, if it comes down to it," Douxie said cheerfully.
Jim swallowed. "You're making high school feel like a cakewalk."
"As well it should be. No one should be trying to kill you at school."
Jim snorted. "Then why do we have active shooter drills?" he muttered. But that was neither here nor there. "I'm just worried I'm going to end up feeling like I'm a freak."
"Hmm." Douxie pursed his lips. "On one hand, I can guarantee you that you are a freak. As one myself, you understand."
"Thanks. Big help," Jim deadpanned.
"On the other hand, who's going to judge you that way?" Douxie asked. "And, are they really people whose opinions matter to you?"
Jim thought about it. Did Seamus Johnson and the other jerks really matter? He could take them in a fight, probably all of them at once if needs be. They couldn't hurt him physically. Mentally...
Mentally, they were nothing compared to all the shit he'd had to go through, the first time around. Comparing high school to Gunmar's torture ring in the Darklands was laughable.
Looking at it that way, Jim thought he could handle a few high school bullies and all the gossips. He had his team, expanded now as it was; they made up practically half of his classmates. Strickler was certainly on his side, and would help keep order. Miss Janeth and Coach Lawrence had been wide-eyed at yesterday's revelations, but not in a bad way, so that was most of his teachers in on things.
Even Principal Levit, if it came down to it, didn't really matter. What was he going to do, expel Jim? For what? He didn't even have a criminal record this time around. They'd been able to avoid the police lockup entirely so far.
"I guess... the only people who really matter, are the ones who already know," Jim said slowly. "Well, them and Señor Uhl, maybe."
"There you go, then," said Douxie. His index finger pinged at the crown invisibly circling Jim's head. "Have some faith in yourself, Jim. You're not Nimue's chosen for no reason. People will follow you."
"Yeah, if I make them," Jim said sourly.
"No, lackwit." Douxie smiled. "Because you're a good man, and a natural leader. I won't say it's always easy, and, yes, sometimes it takes time. But you have no idea how good you are at these things, do you? I could never get a group of people arrayed around me and all working together for the greater good the way you have. Witness the wizards of Arcadia," he said softly.
"Draal wanted to kill me, the first time around," Jim told him. "Not to mention Strickler and Nomura."
"And look at them now," Douxie rejoined.
"Yeah." Jim contemplated his eggs. Then he looked up at Douxie, who had returned to eating his breakfast. "Time for you to man up, Doux."
Douxie choked on his scrambled eggs and reached for his glass of milk, taking a sip to clear his windpipe. "Excuse me?"
"If I have to get all of Arcadia Oaks High behind me, you have to get Arcadia's wizards working in tandem with you."
"Excuse me, I never said-"
Jim drew a breath and set his shoulders. "Doux, you have to do it. You're the only one who can. They won't listen to Claire or Mary, and the rest of us aren't even wizards. They might listen to you. And we're going to need them."
"What, I have to not only get the whole world to accept magic, I have to get all its wizards in line too?" Douxie asked incredulously. "Jim, wizards are like cats, all of us! Pigheaded independent gits who secretly think we're better, smarter, and more talented than anyone else. Even Merlin couldn't get a hundred thousand cats all herded in the same direction."
"I'm not saying every wizard on the planet," Jim said implacably. "I'm saying, the ones in Arcadia."
"You've already got three or four standing with you," Archie pointed out.
"Wait, four?" Douxie asked. "Who's the- oh, Jack."
"Yes, him." The dragon's tail lashed in swift distaste.
"Four, out of a couple dozen!" Douxie crossed his arms and sulked. "That's flatly impossible. When Merlin said that to take the easy way out was simply to exist, I'm pretty sure herding wizards wasn't what he had in mind."
"It will build character," Archie informed him.
Douxie rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll try."
"Don't try," Jim told him, paraphrasing Blinky. "Do/"
After Jim left for school, Douxie washed the dishes by hand and put them away. He went up to his room and tidied it.
"You're stalling," Archie said.
"Darn right I am," Douxie shot back. He looked around his room. "Maybe I should get some plants for in here, what do you think?"
"I think you're still stalling," Archie said.
Douxie's eyes narrowed. "I'm thinking catnip."
Archie paused and shuddered. "Please, no. It reeks."
"Maybe some dragon grass," Douxie added on.
Archie's pupils dilated at the mere mention. But, "No, please," he said.
Douxie nodded.
A moment of silence.
"You still need to go out," Archie pointed out.
Douxie sighed and slumped, sitting down on his bed. "I know. And I'm trying to nerve myself up to not take the tunnels to Trollmarket. But."
Archie settled next to him. "You really think they'll come gunning for you, don't you?"
Douxie shrugged. "Zoe says so, and she's the one who actually gets on with them."
Archie sniffed. "They're fools if they try."
"Whoever said being a wizard made you immune to idiocy?" Douxie asked his familiar.
"Rather the other way around," grumbled the dragon.
"Oh!" Douxie gaffed in offense, his hand held dramatically to his chest. "You wound me, Arch! To the quick!"
"You have gotten most of your idiocy out of the way," Archie informed him. "The young fools around here, however, still mostly need a century or two of seasoning before they're tolerable company."
"And yet you stuck with me through the centuries of idiocy," Douxie pointed out.
"Yes, well." Archie looked abashed. "You're my wizard, and I've done my best to raise you right. And even when you were small, your good heart was in evidence."
Douxie paused, unexpectedly touched. "I love you too, Arch." His hand found its way into soft black fur.
"Yes, I know." But the testy words were spoken in a soft tone.
Just a moment longer, Douxie thought. Just a minute, and then we'll go...
Jim locked his bike in the school's racks and turned, huffing a breath.
"Worried, Jimbo?" asked Toby, also looking at the school.
"You're not?" Claire asked, coming to stand on Jim's other side.
"Well, I mean, what's the worst they could do to us?" Toby asked. "Tar and feathering? Social ostracism? Been there, done that."
"You've done that," Claire retorted. "I haven't."
"Guys, relax," Jim said. "It'll be fine." He started walking toward the school, and they walked with him. He was aware of some of the other students looking at them. Mostly sophomores; most of the other grades didn't seem to have gotten the message yet. "If worse comes to worst, we close ranks. We've got Steve and Eli, Mary and Darci, both the Tarrons-"
"Do I hear my name?" Aja popped up next to Toby. "Lively. What are we talking about?"
"Oh, nothing, just a little social ostracism and the possibility of being pariahs the rest of our school lives," Toby told her.
Aja's face knotted in confusion for a moment before clearing. "Well, I have never been a par-eye-uh before," she said. "Perhaps it will be interesting?"
"He means nobody being willing to talk to us," Krel informed his sister.
"Oh." That dimmed Aja's bubbliness. "I do not think I would like that."
"Not everybody," Jim said. "Just the people outside our little circle. Anyway, it's not guaranteed to happen."
"Hmm." The princess clearly turned the idea over in her mind. "Well, as long as our friends are still speaking with us, I do not see any problems with the rest of the school ignoring us," she said.
"Yeah," Eli piped up, joining their group by Claire's side. "But the problem's not when they ignore you, it's when they do stuff to you."
"Battle? Lively!" Interest sparked in Aja's eyes.
Eli adjusted his glasses. "More like, pouring stuff in your locker, stealing your clothes during gym class, spray-painting slurs with your name mentioned..."
"Hey, I never did any of that!" Steve protested.
"Making you a touch better than most of the other bullies," Jim pointed out.
"Hey, guys!" Mary popped into their group, followed by Darci. "You want to know what the breakdown of our hits are for yesterday's vids?"
"Good?" Claire asked her.
"Astronomically good," Mary said, smug. "And I'm supposed to be filming more with Douxie this afternoon!" She clenched her fists close to her chest and gloated. "I am going to rule social media with a benevolent fist!"
"Hey, Darce," Toby said. "How's it going?"
"Oh, you know." She waved her hand. "My dad tried to ground me because you guys have weapons."
"WHAT?!"
"Don't worry, TP, my mom put her foot down. We're golden."
"Your dad seriously tried to stop you from hanging out with us?" Claire asked.
"Oh yeah." Darci nodded. "I guess he doesn't like guys with swords and, you know, me being in real danger and stuff."
"Boy is he in for a rude awakening," Toby muttered.
Darci shrugged. "Unless he handcuffs me to my bed, which is totally illegal, he can't stop me from helping to save the world."
"Excellent," Krel told her. "Welcome to the resistance."
Strickler gave them a nod as they entered his classroom and took their usual set of seats. He waited a few more minutes, the last of his students squeaking in before the bell, then stood and clapped, demanding attention. "Good morning, class," he began. "Now, I understand there was something of an upset at the school science fair yesterday, and that several of you will undoubtedly have questions." He wandered as he talked, and fiddled with the blinds, twisting the wands so that the bright morning sunlight was blocked out, the room dimming. "So rather than having you whispering and passing notes back and forth all class, and thus paying absolutely no attention to my lesson on the rise of the shogunate in Japan, I have arranged for some guest speakers."
Returning to the front of the room, Strickler opened the classroom door, beckoning to someone waiting in the hall outside. "Allow me to introduce-"
"Blinky?" Jim asked dumbly. "Aaarrrgghh?"
Taking a breath, Douxie opened the hall closet, reaching for his safety gear. Helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, wrist guards. Safety gear wasn't exactly punk, he thought with a twist of his mouth as he put it on, but then neither was having your brains splattered on the pavement. And he had a mother now, who worried about her sons.
Not that Archie had never worried about him, he thought as he put all the gear on. But Archie trusted more in Douxie's wizardry to keep him whole, and probably knew less about what traumatic injury did to the human body than Barbara Lake did. So for Barbara's sake, he wore safety gear.
But as he reached for his skateboard, Douxie hesitated.
His gaze strayed to the household broom leaning against the back corner of the closet.
He loved skateboarding, but it had been so long since he'd ridden on a proper broom.
Begin as you mean to go on, he thought, and grabbed the broom, shutting the closet as he headed for the front door.
Archie's eyes were wide. "Douxie? Are you seriously going to...?"
"No going back," Douxie said, taking a breath and checking himself for feelings of anxiety or panic. Surprisingly, there were few. "If I want this to work, I need to stop hiding, and live as an out and proud wizard."
"And here I thought you accepting yourself as a member of the queer community was the end of that phrase," Archie muttered.
"Asexuality is a perfectly valid queer identity," Douxie argued as they went out the front door and he locked it behind them.
"I never said it wasn't." Archie sniffed. "But are you quite sure about this?"
"No," Douxie said honestly, setting the broom down on the sidewalk. "But I have to start somewhere, and riding a broomstick to Trollmarket seems like a good enough place." He adjusted his backpack, full of tradeable items, then sank into his magic.
The broom wasn't the best. It was a lazy beast, with too much plastic in it. But he'd used it, swept with it, and so it responded to him, however sluggishly, and rose from the pavement.
Douxie stepped up onto it and wobbled. "Whoa!" he said, hands out as he caught his balance. "Been a while," he muttered, remembering how to position his feet just so, how to bend his knees and lower his center of balance. Breathing out, he concentrated and /pushed/ with his magic, sending the broom flying.
He skimmed above the pavement, feeling like he was riding a surfboard. The broom didn't respond as quickly or easily as his skateboard did. He banked down a driveway and onto the street, circling back to the Lake house.
"Got the knack yet?" Archie called out to him as he approached. "Or do you need a few more laps to work out the kinks?"
"Think I've got it," Douxie reported, drawing to a stop in front of his familiar. "Fancy a lift?"
Archie dubiously eyed the broom, hovering a foot off the ground, then his familiar.
"It's inertial like you wouldn't believe," Douxie confessed. "Like steering a lead barge. But we've got to start somewhere, don't we?"
"I hope you still remember how to make a proper broom," Archie tartly rejoined as he leapt up onto the bristles.
"A project for another day," Douxie told him. "For now, hang on, Arch!" And then they were off, heading to Trollmarket, sun shining down, wind warm on their faces, and no cracks or potholes or uneven subduction of the pavement impeding the sheer smooth motion of magical flight.
Oh, I'd missed this.
"You know," Toby muttered, "I'd forgotten how boring Blinky is when he gets lecturing."
"Um," said Jim, feeling like he should defend his father and mentor.
"It's like a teacher superpower," Toby continued. "All of them. They start talking, and the students conk out."
Steve, Jim saw, literally was asleep, head on his desk, mouth wide open and eyes fast shut.
"Toby, pay attention," Claire hissed.
"What? It's not like there's going to be a test on this!"
"Hate to disagree, Tobes, but we're Trollhunters," Jim replied. "Any of this could be on the test. And the test's a practical."
Beyond Claire, Aja's eyes lit up. "Ooh, a battle?"
Jim nodded.
"Lively." Aja returned her attention to Blinky.
"And that brings us to the end of the list of the many, many magical creatures you might encounter here in California," Blinky concluded. "Any questions?"
Eli's hand shot into the air. As did Krel's. After a minute, both Darci and Shannon raised their hands too.
"Yes. You there. Miss Longhannon, wasn't it?"
Shannon pushed her glasses up and tried not to look pleased about being called on first. "So why is all this a secret?" she asked.
"Ah, yes. There are many reasons, you see." Blinky fumbled the question.
"Fear," Aaarrrgghh rumbled from the corner near the door, where he was toying with a blackboard eraser. His green eyes looked up, met Shannon's. "Jealousy. Anger."
"Question: jealousy?" Krel asked, not waiting his turn.
"Ah, yes, the age-old enmity between humans and other species," Blinky lamented. "It is due, in large part, to mankind possessing so little magic and hence, it is believed, the cause of your tragically short lifespans."
"But why do humans not have any magic?" Eli persisted.
"Ah! I did not say none," Blinky corrected, holding a finger up. "Magic is necessary for all life. Even that on other worlds," he said, his gaze resting briefly on Aja and Krel. "But the answer is... no one knows. Troll records state that humans used to live as long as the rest of the sentient beings of this world. However, that changed many generations ago, even by the standards of trollkind. No record I have ever come across has managed to fully explain what happened."
"So humans hate trolls, and all other magical creatures, because you live for thousands of years, while we're lucky to reach a hundred?" Claire summed up.
Blinky gave her a nod. "Correct, Fair Claire."
"That sucks!" Mary complained.
"Indeed," Blinky agreed.
Darci raised her hand. "So what do the records you have access to say?" she asked. "What do they agree on?"
Blinky sighed and leaned back against the corner of Strickler's desk. "They agree on precious little. Sometime around eight thousand years ago, during the age of Gertha the Gilded, humans began to age more rapidly, and fewer wizards were born among your people. Which anomaly was not noticed for quite a while because the birthrate among humans apparently drastically increased at the same time."
"Drastically increased?" Aja asked, leaning forward. She glanced at Steve, who was still asleep.
"Indeed. Apparently humans used to have one child every thirty to fifty years," Blinky said. "The human tendency to birth multiple offspring within a twenty-year span is, to most other species, most shocking."
"Huh. Interesting." Aja sat back in her seat. With another long, considering glance at Steve.
Trollmarket was less than fifteen minutes (by bike or broom) from the Lake house. Even sticking to surface streets rather than cutting through the woods, it was all quiet suburbs. Which was, Douxie told himself, the only reason he wasn't expecting the attack.
Rust-colored magic exploded the street right in front of him, bucking him and Archie right off the broom. It went one way; they went another. He was inordinately glad of his skateboard safety gear as he hit the asphalt, rolling.
"Douxie!" Archie cried.
Hisirdoux gritted his teeth as he finally slid to a stop. He could tell his fingertips were abraded, and both his jeans and his hoodie had several new tears.
He pushed himself up on hands and knees, teeth gritting as he assessed the personal damage. Road rash on one knee, he realized as he tried to put weight on it to stand. A ringing in his ears.
Looking up, he saw a figure blotting out the sun, magic bubbling thick and slow in his hand.
"This," Douxie said, "was my favorite hoodie." And he lashed out with his own magic, a sky blue whip knocking his attacker off his feet and into the rosebushes of a nearby house. "Pricks for a prick," Douxie said vindictively, forcing himself to stand.
"Behind you!" Archie cried. Douxie spun, instinctively pulling up a runic shield. Barely in time - the magic arrows that had been heading for him splashed against it and dissipated.
Two figures stood there, with another moving in from Douxie's left. There were also curses and yelps behind him as the fourth wizard fought to free himself from his thorny entanglance.
Archie swooped down and hovered by Douxie's shoulder. "Four to one odds," he said. "Not the worst we've ever faced."
"Not very nice, either," Douxie muttered, shield holding steady and plasma sparking and dripping to life in his left hand. "Your mum know you attack people in the streets, Caleb?" he called to the one whose name he knew.
"I'm not the one setting us all up to get cut open by 49-B," Caleb shot back. Red lightning sparked at his fingertips.
"Behind you!" someone called, and white-blue cold went balling past Douxie's ear, nailing Rosebush Guy, who had apparently been sneaking up on him, in the face. Rosebush Guy flailed, and fell back into the bushes.
Douxie's gaze, meanwhile, shot to the roof of the opposing house, where a white-haired boy crouched. He held a crooked wooden staff in one hand, and a unseasonable snowball in the other, tossing it up and down.
"Back off, Overland!" one of Caleb's cronies called. "This isn't your fight, and he's endangered all of us."
The winter mage snorted, and leapt. He landed on the street as light as a feather, sauntering over until he stood between Douxie and the gang of three. "Yeah, and four on one odds is totally fair for a wizard's brawl you're holding in the middle of the street in broad daylight. Great way to keep things secret. Moron."
"This isn't your fight, Jack," Douxie told him.
Jackson Overland flashed a snowy grin over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, Jamie told me you might be running into some trouble."
"He ask you to watch my back?"
"Nah. That's all me." Jack turned back to the other three mages. "So. You want some, babies, or are you going to /think/ for a change?"
Author's Note: Finally, Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians appears on-page! He's been mentioned obliquely before, as the winter mage best friend/partner/roommate of Jamie (Douxie's libriomancer coworker from GDT Arcane Books) but I honestly wasn't expecting him to actually show up in person until he did, snowball in one hand, staff in the other. And Douxie threatening to get a pot of dragon grass for his and Archie's room is totally a HTTYD reference.