SWNOVELS Chapter Magic was real. And it was his to grab.
The dragon in his guts twisted and urged him to bolt. He didn’t feel good about school anymore, and that classroom promised the kind of strict, regimented learning he hated.
As he made his way to one of the only remaining open desks – which were, of course, front and center – he shot a reproachful look at Poppina. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes when she spotted Maddox next to him.
Just as he took his seat, a short, middle-aged Asian man shot like a bullet to the front of the class from a dark corner of the room he hadn’t yet noticed.
“Welcome to your first Knowledge class,” the man announced in a high-pitched voice, as he marched toward his desk.
He sat with an elegant economy of motion, straightened the sleeves of his dark cardigan, adjusted his red-dotted bow tie, and stroked over his thin mustache, all the while locking eyes with each teenager. A heavy silence fell upon the room.
“Thank you for your attention. You may address me as Mr. Zhou. I am the Head of Knowledge. Most of you will allege that you are knowledgeable, even educated. I declare here and now: That is most certainly not the case,” he said in a disdainful tone.
Oh goody, this Knowledge thing will be a barrel of fun.
His dismay must have shown on his face because the teacher pushed his chair back and leaned forward on his desk, fixing his dark gaze on him.
“Would you like to add something, Rafael?”
The intensity of Mr. Zhou’s stare made him quiver inside. But while he was tempted to shake his head to avert a crisis, the dragon in his guts rebelled. Still incensed at Mrs. Zadi’s unjust conduct back on Earth, and now confronted with Mr. Zhou’s glaring rebuke, the dragon decided it was time to fight back, and Rafael agreed. He was sick of retreating to keep the peace; besides, he hadn’t volunteered for this jig.
He rose, cleared his voice, made fists with his trembling hands and, with as much aplomb as he could muster, said, “My mum says, without wisdom, knowledge amounts to nothing.”
His classmates’ nervous chatter hit his back. He inhaled through his clenched teeth as Mr. Zhou stared him down with the look of someone who had just been told their baby was ugly. The way his zippered lips aligned with the deep crease of his nose wings reminded him of Mrs. Zadi.
After a beat, Mr. Zhou’s face smoothed, and Rafael exhaled a shaky breath. The teacher straightened and assumed a haughty tone. “Very well, Rafael. Your mother seems to be a wise person. We shall discover how much of her wisdom you’ve inherited.”
A glare at the class brought the chatter to a quick halt, and Rafael slid back on his chair. Maddox’s horrified expression confirmed his suspicion: He had just made a bad situation worse in the span of a short sentence. On the bright side, he was used to it; on the other hand, well, he was used to it.
“I strongly recommend you take notes,” Mr. Zhou warned, clasping his hands together, “as I won’t be repeating myself.”
At that, a notebook and a pencil case materialized in front of Rafael, and Mr. Zhou launched into a dry diatribe, taking extra care to rub his version of wisdom in Rafael’s face.
Rafael was heartened to see Maddox wince on his behalf every time the teacher referred to wisdom in a biting tone. As he listened to Mr. Zhou’s monologue about the harvesting, storing, and distribution of Knowledge, he wondered what kind of degree could ever come from Centisom’s education.
“Sucks to be you!”
Rafael looked up at Maddox.
After Mr. Zhou’s nerve-wracking performance, he had stayed with Rafael. They were sitting adjacent from each other on the kitchen’s comfy chairs, attacking heaping plates of sausage and mashed potatoes – accompanied by an unwanted side of veggies, thanks to Centisom’s strict health policy – as though they hadn’t eaten for weeks.
“I dunno. Felt like I needed to stand my ground.”
Maddox grimaced and shook his hand. “I’ve got writer’s cramp. That lesson with Mr. Zhou was intense.”
“Yeah. But I think it would have been the same whether I piped up or not. People like him thrive on power.”
“But doesn’t talking back make it even worse?”
Rafael stopped chewing. Maddox was speaking like someone who never experienced the painful reality of harassment. Given enough attacks, all those tiny arrows got under your skin, even if you tried to ignore them. To Rafael, it wasn’t “talking back”; it was standing up for yourself, setting boundaries, and maintaining your self-respect.
He had tried to ignore Mrs. Zadi, as well as Leon and his crew, and look where it got him. Maddox just didn’t get it.
Rafael sighed. “Anyway. How long is the training here?”
Maddox paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Nobody told you?”
“No. I landed here only yesterday. Plenty to catch up on yet...”
“That’s not right. Come on, let’s go somewhere more private,” Maddox said as he grabbed his empty plate and stood. He smacked his lips together. “Hey, do you think you could charm some sweets out of Centisom for me?”
“Sure. But tell me, are we even eating real food?”
Rafael was a few paces behind Maddox as they headed to the nook to drop off their plates and order ice cream when he found himself airborne. Gravity kicked in and sent him crashing down on a nearby table. The air rushed out of his lungs when his back slammed on the hard surface.
As he struggled to take a breath, he watched his plate arc through the air and plummet to the floor with a loud crash that reverberated across the room. He saw Bobby’s silhouette in his peripheral vision, and a slim form hurtling into it. The impact wasn’t enough to move Bobby’s massive frame, but there must have been sharp body parts involved because his smug grin turned into a grimace.
Rafael peeled himself from the table and pushed to his feet. Maddox was asking him if he was okay, but it was Poppina who grabbed his attention. After slamming into Bobby, she had planted herself in front of him and was berating him. “What’s your deal, Bobby? Your ego’s so big you can’t see your feet anymore?”
“Don’t blame me,” he huffed, looking around the room with a glint of challenge in his eyes, “it’s not my fault your little moron friend can’t watch where he’s walking.”
A few kids nodded in agreement. A few looked down. No one spoke up.
Rafael reached for the little tornado’s arm, interrupting her retort. “It’s okay, Poppina,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “He can’t change what he is.”
“Hey, watch your mouth!” Bobby raged, clenching his fists.
“Watch your feet!” Poppina and Rafael fired back in unison.
Rafael turned his back to Bobby and nodded to Poppina. “Thanks, but he’s not worth our time.”
He strolled out of the kitchen, holding his head high despite the throbbing pain in his back.
The room erupted in chatter behind him.
Rafael hurried through the maze of corridors to the safety of his room. His back was aching, and his legs were unsteady, but it was his heart that hurt the most. Only one day had passed and Dreamland was turning into a nightmare.
Upon reaching his room, he rested his forehead on the door and breathed through his nose to keep the food down. He knew what came next. Once someone targets you for harassment, the other sheep join in for the fun of it, and before long, you’re an outcast. That’s how life worked – at least in his experience.
His mum and his therapist had told him the opinions of others were neither his fault nor his responsibility. But their words, though comforting, did little to ease the heartache.
He threw himself on his bed and tried to ignore the painful whirlwind of feelings that swirled in his heart. If he gave in to these feelings, he would go to that dark place in his mind again. But they persisted, demanding his attention.
He was so alone in Centisom, cut off from his family’s love and support. How was he supposed to make it through this so-called “training” on his own?
Training. His eyes narrowed in cynicism. Why should he care? This place, the people, their mission – all were alien and unimportant to him. He had plans for his life, and no one had the right to steal them away.
The whirlwind stilled. His fingers traced the disk in his pocket as he pushed through the grief.
No prison was foolproof. Ever.
If Centisom had an entrance, it had to have an exit or some other weakness he could exploit to escape.
Until then, he would have to go along with the program and fake it.
The whirlwind stirred again. Hope? No, it felt darker than hope. Then the swirling feelings solidified into a knot, a promise, a vow.
All he needed was his resolve and intellect. His path was his to decide. It was settled: He would escape.
The dragon inside purred in approval.
Feeling calmer, he unfolded from his bed to answer the tentative knock on his door.
“What now?” He aimed a hard look at Maddox and Poppina, who stood in the doorway like awkward puppies.
“Look, Rafael,” Poppina said, elbowing Maddox to push her way in, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Bobby’s behavior. Are you okay?”
Rafael retreated a few steps, just out of range of her outstretched arms – and pointy elbows.
“I’m okay, Poppina. Nothing serious,” he said with a sigh. “Thanks for standing up for me, but it wasn’t necessary. I was already where he wanted me. He wouldn’t have made another move. Too many witnesses.”
“He’s an asshat. I saw how he pushed you. It wasn’t an accident,” she ranted as she waltzed around the room.
“You’re right, but you made it worse.”
Poppina’s outraged expression turned to one of confusion.
Maddox jumped in. “What he’s saying is that it was bad enough to be humiliated by Bobby, but even worse to be defended by a girl. You prevented him from fighting for himself. Now he looks weak.”
“That’s not true!” she shot back. Her arms sliced the air as she spoke. “Everyone knows he’s powerful. They know about the ice cream, the diver suit...”
Maddox leaned closer to her face, his eyes narrowing to slits. “It’s not about power, Poppina. It’s about perception.”
Her mouth opened in a big O shape. “Oh, no! What have I done?” She sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands.
“Nothing,” Rafael said, lowering himself next to her. “You did nothing wrong. You’re a great person who tried to help while everyone else just looked away.”
He sent a beseeching look to Maddox, who joined them on the ground with a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t beat yourself up, Poppina. You did better than me. It happened so fast that I froze like an idiot.” He scowled at her. “How did you react that quick anyway? Were you spying on us?”
She straightened her back. “Yes. No. Why does it matter?” she answered with a guarded expression. Turning to Rafael, she continued, “I regretted abandoning you earlier, and I wanted to apologize.”
Maddox seemed to relax at her explanation.
“No harm. That’s life,” Rafael said and shifted on the uncomfortable floor. “Hey, I have an idea,” he said, motioning toward his bed, “how about we all sit somewhere more comfortable, and you guys tell me everything I need to know about this place?”
Both smiled, relieved to move on.
“Sure.”
“Great idea.”
Poppina bounced on the mattress, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. She wasn’t finished with Rafael yet. “Well, Mr. Wisdom,” she said, mimicking Mr. Zhou’s haughty speech, “how do you intend to deal with Bobby’s attitude?”
All three exploded into laughter. When Rafael sobered, he considered her question. Neutralizing Bobby seemed like too much trouble for the brief time he planned to be in Centisom. He settled for a middle ground instead: avoid and ignore. “He’s a bully, but I won’t let him force me to retaliate. Bullies move on when they get bored.”
“I see your logic, Rafael, but Bobby attacked you. How can you just let it go?”
Rafael stretched his smarting back. “Maddox, all he wants is a fight. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Besides, violence makes me sick.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Show indifference, use words.” Maddox snickered. “It makes a bigger impact if you get the last word.”
“Well, if you want, we’ll help you steer clear of him.”
“Thanks, Poppina. But no more jumping in front of me, okay?”
She pressed her lips together. “Okay, no saving you. Can I at least make Bobby pay a little?”
“What you do in your free time is up to you, Ms. Avenger,” Maddox concluded with a wink.
She winked right back at him.
Oh, joy, Rafael thought with a mental eye roll, now he had self-appointed babysitters. But deep inside, he felt something new and unsettling stirring.
The afternoon went by in a flash, as Poppina and Maddox made good on their promise to bring him up to date. He soaked up their knowledge of Centisom and Dreamland for later review.
That their so-called “magical gifts” were hereditary didn’t seem relevant to him, aside from explaining Bobby’s prideful demeanor.
“Some of your ancestors must have been Guardians,” Maddox tried to convince him, “adults don’t always tell us everything.”
“Nope. I swear my parents never breathed a word about Dreamland.”
“Me neither,” Poppina added.
Maddox’s pensive frown cleared. “Maybe that’s because they sometimes skip a generation or two.”
Rafael shrugged. “No big deal.”
He slid his hand into his pocket and rubbed the thin disk he had borrowed from his mum a while ago. The plain coin had caught his attention while helping her rummage through her jewel case in search of a lost earring. Halfway stuck in the lining, it had all but begged him to pluck it.
“Funny, I don’t ever recall seeing that coin before,” she had said with a puzzled smile, “it’s all yours if you want it. Your lucky coin.”
As he flipped it through his fingers, he found the lukewarm metal comforting. His fingertip traced the etched letters on its face – a plain “S” on one side, an “I” on the other. He still wondered what they meant.
He pushed the sweet memory aside and refocused on his new friends. “So, how long must we stay here?”
Poppina held up six digits. “Six months in Centisom time – while time is frozen in Dreamland and on Earth. But Centisom shifts back to Earth time when we train in Dreamland. That amounts to thirty days in Earth time.”
“Yes, but Rafael already burned five days of our allotted thirty days due to his lengthy transition,” Maddox added. He stood up with a glint in his eyes and went to a shelf.
Rafael blushed. He didn’t know he had somehow robbed his classmates of training time. No wonder they didn’t like him.
Poppina waved a hand in dismissal, stopping his apology. “It’s not your fault. And I’m sure there will be plenty of time to play in Dreamland.”
Meanwhile, Maddox had plucked Rafael’s boxed soccer card collection from the shelf and wiggled his eyebrows in a silent request to open it.
Rafael gave him an absent nod and returned to Poppina. “So why is practice time thirty days, rather than forty, or fifty?”
“Because coma wears down the body. Centisom has to keep our outings short and make it count.”
Noticing her mien closing off, Rafael decided to change the subject. “I wonder... how do people travel from one plane to another?”
“Well, your astral body travels to Dreamland when you fall asleep,” Maddox said, shuffling through the cards, “then back to your physical body prior to waking up.”
Poppina’s brows creased. “Maybe our astral bodies are always here, hanging around, but invisible to the eye. And when the energy we don’t need for our physical bodies is channeled to our astral bodies, our astral bodies become more powerful.” She gave Rafael a gentle poke in the arm. “Maybe sleep and coma generate maximum energy, allowing our astral bodies to appear solid.”
It was a fascinating theory, but not what Rafael was after. “Interesting, but how exactly do we return to our physical bodies when the training is over?”
Maddox flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know, dude. I guess we’ll see when it’s time.” His lips contorted in a sarcastic smile. “Not to scare you, Rafael, but the study of astral things and planes and stuff is Mr. Zhou’s job. You should ask him.”
Rafael rolled his eyes and toppled over, making an exaggerated choking sound.
Poppina joined him, pretending to faint with actress-like dramatic effect.
“I miss my family,” Rafael said as they unwound. Lennart’s face surfaced in his mind. He never realized how much he depended on his big bro’s steady presence and quiet inner strength... until he was unreachable.
“Yeah, I miss my sister the most,” Maddox lamented. “Although I don’t know why because she’s a pain in my butt most of the time.”
They all laughed.
“I wish I had a sibling,” Poppina said. “I have great parents, but they’re always busy.” She pinched Rafael’s arm and giggled when he yelped. “See, you can be my ersatz brother, lucky you.”
They chatted until Centisom dumped Rafael from the bed and opened the door. The unseen entity was a sneaky, powerful governor. Rafael rubbed his smarting butt. It was time for his first training session with Mr. Dowotski.
Poppina’s dreamy eyes reminded him that she expected a report, while Maddox continued to flip through the soccer card collection. After agreeing to explore Centisom with them after dinner, he departed, leaving them in his room at their insistence.
A tiny smile flitted across his face as he closed the door. He had forgotten how nice it was to have fun with friends.
He followed the ghost arrows to the training area. A heavy wooden door stood between him and his first lesson in what they called Manifestation. Running his fingers on the door’s smooth carvings depicting ninjas in martial poses, he wished he were able to absorb the serenity they exuded.
So far, Mr. Dowotski had been friendly. But the past had taught him that first impressions weren’t always reliable. At least, Mr. Zhou’s disdain was transparent. The jury was still out on Mr. Dowotski.
He cracked the door open, on guard, and ready for anything.
“Come in, Rafael.” Mr. Dowotski’s voice boomed from somewhere deep in the cavernous room.
He took a few hesitant steps, and the teacher met him halfway with an outstretched hand and a welcoming countenance.
“Welcome to Manifestation Hall, Rafael. You’ll soon experience how much fun your gift can be.” He lowered his voice. “Between us, Manifestation is, by a long shot, the most amazing of all powers. Your only limit is your imagination.”
Rafael beamed a nervous glance around the empty room. “I don’t know...”
“Don’t doubt yourself before you even start, young man,” the teacher said, steering him to the middle of the room, “just open yourself up to new possibilities.”
Without warning, he waved his hand, and a pair of matching chairs appeared out of thin air, causing Rafael to a gasp in surprise.
“Just like that: It’s not there, then it’s there.” Mr. Dowotski sat in one of the chairs, bounced a few times to prove it sturdy, and motioned for Rafael to sit in the other. “That’s the gist of Manifestation. We are the lucky ones with the power to create any object into this plane of existence.”
Rafael felt the solid fabric under his butt and trailed his finger on the armrest. Unbelievable, yet as real as could be. “You mean I can do this too?”
The teacher chuckled. “Without a doubt, young Padawan. Tell me, how do you think the tales about supernatural powers originated?”
“It’s all only fantasy,” he said, with a roll of his eyes.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Dowotski replied with a smug wink. “As far back as humankind’s history goes, people have recorded stories about magical prowess. First, they invented deities, then they imagined superheroes. How do you think every civilization has come to believe in these supernatural things?”
“Are you saying people know about Dreamland?”
“Of course. Guardians live in both worlds. In the old times, the dream plane was very close to the Earth plane.” He interlocked his fingers to illustrate. “Close proximity allowed powerful Guardians to use their gifts in both worlds. Now you understand how their presence influenced many legends.”
Rafael blinked. “You’re telling me that magic is real, and Dreamland is the source of it?”
The teacher nodded and parted his hands until only his fingertips touched. “Yes, but… unfortunately, the distance between the planes has been increasing for many years, and now only a few Guardians have enough power to reach across the gap.”
Holy snabarca.
Magic was real, and it was his to grab.
Of course, it didn’t work. He couldn’t coax a matching table into existence no matter how hard he concentrated.
“What if I can’t make it work?” he asked, feeling defeated.
The teacher waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “You’re more than up to the task. It’s only a matter of training.”
“But what happens if I never get the hang of it?”
“Centisom never makes mistakes when selecting trainees. But sometimes, circumstances change. In those rare instances, Centisom swipes the trainee’s memory, and he or she wakes up none the wiser. No harm is done.”
That was, of course, a big no-no. As much he wanted to go home, he wasn’t keen on having his mind wiped. Now the stakes were even higher. Failure wasn’t an option.
“Okay, then how do I make it work?”
“How did you conjure up the deep-diving suit?”
He looked down at his feet. “I don’t know?”
“Then go back to that situation in your mind and pay attention to what you were feeling,” Mr. Dowotski suggested.
Rafael didn’t want to go there. But his inner dragon’s mood had lifted, and now it was urging him forward, excited by the prospect of wielding magic powers. Closing his eyes, he replayed the kitchen incident in his mind, fast-forwarding to the sneer on Bobby’s face. He steeled himself to ignore the insults and push past the physical pain. He saw Poppina’s eyes blazing in fury, and there, in the crucible of chaos, he remembered how he had yearned for one thing: safety.
His eyes flew open. “I’ve got it! I wished for a shield to protect me! There is this mental routine with the diving suit I learned when–” He checked himself and took a breath to reset. “It just came to me.”
Mr. Dowotski’s eyes smiled while he pointed to something over Rafael’s shoulder.
Lopsided piles of diving suits filled the room behind him.
“Oops. Sorry?”
The teacher winked at him and laughed. “Well done, Rafael. You felt the emotion, identified the need, and wrapped it into a command. And that is what we call Manifesting. Congratulations, you’ve got it, young Padawan.”
“Holy snabarca! I did it!” Rafael rejoiced, still trying to grasp the enormity of it. The dragon howled in triumph.
Then, another thought hit him. “What if I make a mistake?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “How do I make them go away?”
“The same, but in reverse,” came the deadpan reply. “Focus on the object, feel that it isn’t necessary anymore. Command it to disappear.”
It was a challenge to let go, but eventually, the pile faded from existence.
“Quite good for your first time. You’ve found the throttle and the brake. You’ll be okay.” He clapped his hands and laughed again. “Scratch that. You’ll be awesome.”
Rafael’s head swelled with pride. But the next instruction deflated it again.
“Now, back to the table.”
He squinted in concentration, trying to visualize the table. Okay. Imagine a table. Right now, pretty please.
Nothing.
“How do I feel and command something I don’t need?” he asked as he stood up and stomped around the chairs.
“That’s the key to the mastery of your power, young Padawan. You must tap into your imagination and feel the absence, ever so slightly, to set the process into motion.” He joined Rafael and grabbed his shoulder to stop him from pacing. “Consider the chairs and concentrate on how the table is missing, how the set looks incomplete.”
“Okay.” Rafael took a deep breath, adjusted his stance, and stared at the chairs as though they were flawed. At the same time, he focused on how much more useful they would be with a table.
A miracle happened.
He jumped in triumph and pointed to the matching table in front of them. “There it is! I did it!”
The dragon preened.
Mr. Dowotski’s next challenge consisted of an insane quantity of colored ping-pong balls.
“Blue,” the teacher said.
Rafael manifested the ball according to his teacher’s instruction and grunted in frustration as it – again – bounced on the ground before he could unmanifest it.
He bent to retrieve the runaway ball. He needed to try something different. A net might do the trick. An invisible net, he thought, glancing at Mr. Dowotski, who was relaxing in his chair, feet propped on the table and with his nose in a book.
“Green.”
The next time, he didn’t try to make it vanish right away. Instead, he compacted the air under the ball to form an invisible net. It hovered for an instant, and that was all he needed to catch it with his mind and make it disappear.
“Red.”
The ball fell with a whoosh when he suddenly realized he had been doing the manifestation thing all along, back on Earth. Hadn’t he manipulated the air to steer the soccer ball?
He shook his head. But how could that be if the planes had drifted apart, as Mr. Dowotski had taught him? For that matter, why were the planes moving away from each other in the first place? It sounded like a flawed design.
“Because the raw construct decays over time, young Padawan. Nothing remains untouched by time. The drift is slow, though. Your astral body will survive many travels back and forth.”
Rafael yanked his gaze back to the teacher, surprised he had spoken his thoughts aloud. He rocked on his feet. “Decays?”
Mr. Dowotski took a deep breath and pinched his lips together, as though he was considering how to frame his words. He gave a decisive nod and raised his hands, palm to palm. “Well, the planes are like pieces of fabric that rest loosely on top of each other.” He wiggled the fingers of one hand to illustrate his point. “Therefore, they need to be bound together to facilitate the passage of astral bodies.”
“You mean, the Earth plane and the dream plane must be glued together?”
“Glue is an apt description for the energy field binding the planes together.” His face took on a pained expression. “The energy field erodes over time, and unfortunately, the gift required to repair it has been lost.” He lowered his hands and fell silent for a second. “But enough of this. Time is running away,” he said, tapping a finger against the armrest.
“Go on, young Padawan. Manifest.”
Rafael’s eyes shone in delight as he offered a hasty goodbye and departed Manifestation Hall. Niklas Dowotski felt an unexpected dash of envy at the happy bounce in his steps.
The boy’s power in Manifestation was, without doubt, tremendous. If Rafael’s other power was on par with it, there was hope. But he also felt a twinge of fear. He had done his best to plant the little seed into Rafael’s brain. Only time would tell if it would take root.