The Birthday Mage

     Neopians bustled through the streets selling a mixture of Darigan, Meridellian, Brightvalian, and other products. Fall was in full swing, with Neopians eagerly buying sweets to hand out to friends and loved ones.

     It was the end of the harvest season when Neopians from all three lands met together to discuss more than just treats… or tricks, for that matter. Surviving the at times harsh winter with pooled resources, both edible and magical, was the primary concern. And so it was that Serian, a Darigan Eyrie almost three heads taller than his yellow Aisha companion and Meridell’s chief librarian, Lisha, found their way to the Tri-Kingdom Community Centre, a place of study, of spirited discussion, of disagreements and emotions laid bare, but also great victories forged between nations once considered bitter enemies. It was built upon the ashes of “The Children of Kass” orphanage, a recruitment centre in the guise of a shelter used by the former Lord. After the second war, it fell into disrepair. For many, it became a daily reminder of darker times. Needless to say most Darigans did not mind the change; rather, they embraced it.

     It was after a particularly thorny talk on combating invasive species that Serian excused himself and sat on a stone bench made from the old orphanage walls. The memorial, situated directly behind the building, had become well-tended to, with volunteers offering their time to remember the children. One Darigani teacher added a free learning library with the stipulation that visitors read the children stories when able. Quite a collection of stories, including many picture books, had come and gone over the months since it was first built. Neopians of the Citadel, Brightvale, and even Meridell, many of them children themselves, read to the silent stones. But not today, not with all of the excitement happening within the community centre walls. It was to the Eyrie’s great relief that it was currently empty, a place of quiet reflection across a solemn graveyard.

     “Please excuse me…” A feminine voice came from behind.

     At first, Serian did not turn around. After years of being a diplomat, the Eyrie had created a facade of practised politeness. Even then, there would be an occasional slip up, the wry comment or two, or the sarcasm—definitely the sarcasm. And when he was tired—and chains and daggers above the clamouring of the Council could bring any Neopian to the brink of insanity—it was that much harder to keep up the act.

     “You’re excused,” he replied with a smirk before looking back, expecting some random Neopian asking for his swift return to the gauntlet of chattering. But instead, the instant their gazes locked, his eyes widened. A Darigan Vandagyre strode beside him wearing a veiled black dress with a wreath of black roses… “Eddie” was written across a silver banner. She laid it upon a small gravestone in silence. This wasn’t some random diplomat, but one of the other orphans. One of the few still breathing orphans, that is.

     Eddie was her older brother... and Serian’s rebellious childhood friend.

     After a few seconds, the Vandagyre brushed her finger across her eyes. “It’s been a while, Setarian.”

     “Julia.” The Eyrie’s ears flattened against his head as he scratched the fabric of the tri-kingdom patrol tunic. Ordinarily, he would correct anyone who referred to him by his old name. But right now, there was something more pressing to address. “I had no idea you were still—”

     “Living off the grid helps with that, as does teaching myself magic to get by. Not that everyone likes my kind of magic… ” She chuckled to herself, although whatever it was hardly seemed funny. “This place sure has changed since I’ve been gone.”

     Kass had called them “deserter scum”, even worse than a Meridellian. And considering his disdain for the other nation… it said a lot about his priorities. When deserters were found, they would be demoted to carrying out the most degrading tasks, like cleaning the outhouses. Some, especially those who were found multiple times, would have belled collars put around their necks to signal their every move. Lieutenant Dorian was one such Neopian. Working with the resistance, escaping from the army, and worst of all… having a half-Darigan child. Something that Kass was quick to remind Serian of whenever he made mistakes.

     “You don’t want to be like your failure of a father, do you?” he would ask before drilling twice as hard as any of the other recruits, “Your diluted blood makes you weaker, and the others think lesser of you for it.”

     Serian pushed those thoughts down for years, tried to pretend they didn’t matter. But they had a habit of bubbling up at the worst times… and in the worst places. His enlisted soldiers hardly cared why he was so harsh or haughty, not that any would have dared to have a heart to heart with their superior officer, and rejoiced when they thought he was gone for good.

     Looking back, Serian wanted nothing more than to hear his father’s thoughts, to know the true him, not just the stories he was fed as “motivators.” But, of course, that could never be. Not when any scrap of his writing had been burned by Kass or his loyalists.

     “You’re as much of a daydreamer as always, even dressed like that.” She pointed to his white tunic, to the intertwined national crests of Brightvale, Meridell, and the Citadel tied together by green vines. There was wistfulness in her voice. “Good to see some things don’t change.”

     Serian felt a flush come to his face—she did often pick on him, many of the kids did after his special treatment from Kass—but Julia was also one of the few who would play with him as well. “Defeat the knight” was one of their childhood pastimes between morning and afternoon chores.

     “I still think too much,” the Eyrie admitted, patting a corner of the bench. She sat herself down beside him, gaze still upon the wreath and the flowering vines that weaved around the path edge. “But that’s what saved me… and it looks like that’s what saved you, too.”

      “If you call isolation ‘salvation.’” There was hollowness in her voice, a vacancy in her stare. “Today is the anniversary, you know.”

     “The… anniversary?” Serian shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

     It looked as if she wanted to cry, but that no tears would follow. “Today would have been his birthday.”

     Out of the corner of Serian’s eye, he saw it. The 14th day of Storing. Chiseled in stone marking Eddie’s place of rest. It had been so long since then that he had forgotten…

     “I know you’d want to see him again, too. You two were close, all those years ago.”

     “Of course, I would.” Serian dug his claws into his hand, knowing full well that his mood ring eyes would be a portrait into his soul. There were many he would love to see again. Many who he’d love to talk to or find comfort from. But there was no coming back. Not in any way that mattered. Any creature summoned by dark magic was like a hollow shell—Lisha told him stories about what she called “zombies”, husks of beings that did their master’s bidding… apparently, some of Kass’ mages learned that evil art. “But it’s not possible.”

     A trickle of dead leaves danced by their feet as the distant sounds of debate could be heard inside the community centre. When the moon poked through the clouds and onto the grave, she hopped off the bench, her features suddenly focused.

     “Don’t be so certain, Setarian.” From out of her dress she produced a long, gnarled wand, obviously made by hand. It was glowing. “There’s a reason I came back on his birthday. It’s so I can reclaim my world—and your friend. We don’t need to be lonely anymore.”

     “Hey, what are you—“

     A low hum emanated from the wand. Feeling the fur on his neck stand on end, Serian tried to pull her back, but missed her by a few centimeters.

      “Giving my brother a chance to live again,” she replied, before chanting words in a language Serian had only heard for casting spells. Before he could reach her—to try and talk some sense into her—a beam of bright light erupted from the grave and with it, a strong blast of wind. Alarmed noises could be heard from inside. Serian summoned a small magical shield to block his face from the swirling dust.

     From out of the grave reached a single hand—or the facsimile thereof. The bones in each finger hovered with surrounding white light. When Julia offered a hand, the spectre took it eagerly. Julia pulled the glowing Korbat skeleton up about half-way and only stopped when she met force.

     Serian held one hand on her shoulder and the other at the hilt of his blade. “Explain yourself.” He tightened his grip. “Now.”

     “Let go, Setarian!” She tried to yank forward, but he held her firm.

     “Not until you tell me—“

     “I thought you would understand!” Unlike before, there were tears in her eyes—but these were not tears of sadness, but of fury.

     A door burst open, and with it, a band of three mages, one Darigan Ogrin in purple robes, a golden Cybunny in green robes, and Lisha in red and blue tunic and skirt. Swirls of magical energy surrounded them.

      “You’ve got five seconds to tell us what’s going on,” Lisha said to Julia, who again struggled to break away towards the skeletal Korbat. It had since freed all but its legs from the ground. As Lisha spoke, her wand of supernova began to glow, “or we’ll defend the Citadel with everything that we’ve got.”

      “Typical.” The hackles of Julia’s neck rose as she let out a raptor-like screech. “Necromancers aren’t welcome in any kingdom, lest I be reminded of why I haven’t returned. And why I’ve always been ALONE!”

     Everything happened at once, as if in slow motion. Dark energy zapped from Julia’s wing, forcing Serian back. A containment spell from Lisha and the Darigan mage fired in tandem towards the necromancer. The Korbat skeleton leapt forward, taking the brunt of the spell. On contact, the spell ricocheted, nearly hitting the golden Cybunny in its wake.

     As the dust cleared, a glowing silhouette cut through the dimming light. The skeleton cradled his sister like one might a child before gently helping her to her feet.

     All three mages readied a spell, and Serian, who had since drawn his blade, summoned a small magical shield in his left hand.

     Before anyone else could attack, there came a voice—a young man’s voice—from Julia’s mouth. The moment Serian heard it, his heart fell into his stomach. “Why are these Neopians attacking you, little sis?”

     “Eddie?” he whispered. But no, no, such was a trick of dark magic, an illusion, a cruel trick.

     The glowing subsided only briefly as Julia replied in her own voice, “they’re trying to ruin our reunion. But don’t worry,” she tightened her grip on her brother’s ghostly hand, “I won’t let them.”

     There came a volley of magical blasts, those purple and black from Julia and a rainbow of elemental colours from the tri-kingdom mages. Lisha thwarted any that would have hit Serian, calling him over with increasing desperation. But Serian was determined. Blocking what he could with his shield and hoping Velm wouldn’t scold him too harshly over the stinging in his right leg, he charged, using his wings to propel forward.

     Their connection—that is what he needed to cut—and Julia knew it all too well. Mere centimetres from their linked hands, Serian hit an invisible magical wall with enough force to make the world spin. Between the swirling rainbow colours, muffled shouts, and hazy sky, there was light. It was fast approaching. Serian took a stumbling step back as the light reached for him.

     Then, there was darkness.

     A pair of voices cut through the black.

      “Come on, you gotta see this! I found a secret passage up!”

     “But what if the Matron finds out?”

     “Then we’ll just have to tell a convincing story!” The Korbat winked. “So, are you with me, Setarian?”

     He reached out his hand and gripped Eddie’s tightly. “Okay, I’m in.”

     Suddenly, they were on the rooftop of the orphanage together while a thousand little diamonds lit up the night. Their secret spot.

     Images sped by in a blink—the misadventures of their childhood spent exploring the Citadel secret passages together, pranking unsuspecting Neopians, swiping a hunk of meat from a miserly salesman, dressing up like high class Neopians with whatever props they could find while mocking their haughty accents, or sparring with his kid sister between their daily chores…

     The world slowly returned. Either his ears were still ringing or there was a lull in the fighting, and a bright, glowing skeleton was inches from his face—

     He jolted up, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

     Was this all a dream? The thought had crossed his mind, but given the throbbing headache and the ghostly hand on his shoulder… maybe not.

     Serian’s beak opened and shut like a hand puppet as a familiar voice came out of his mouth. “Setarian? That you, Icy Blue?” Taken aback, Serian couldn’t help but blink a few times, as only his orphanage family called him by that nickname. “Spires above, you always did tower over the rest of us.”

     “Blame my giant of a father,” replied Serian, still nursing his stinging forehead.

      It felt immeasurably strange to be having a conversation with himself, but then again, stranger magic had graced him before.

     “Hey, Setarian,” if a skeleton could look concerned, this one’s body language sure looked the part, “do you think you and the others could maybe… chill out? I really don’t want my sister joining me here yet. The food stinks—dirt pies and worm dogs everyday—hardly any variety. And you know how picky of an eater she is.”

     The Eyrie couldn’t help but snort. Eddie was always good at making light of everything when there was hardly a speck of light to be found. A few times, he even managed to get the Matron to crack a smile, a feat few could brag about.

     From out of the corner of Serian’s eye, he could see the light of Lisha’s wand of supernova warming up for a particularly strong blast—surely, she was trying to “free” him from what probably looked like mind control. Given how bright the wand’s colour and the swirls of energy at the tip, she meant to send Eddie’s spectre blasting off into the deep recesses of the citadel… which would do no favours in calming down his enraged sister. The other two mages were doing their best to hold Julia back, but her magic, fuelled by grief and fury, was quickly overpowering them.

     A loud zap fired from the wand as a bright beam of light charged forward. At the last moment, Serian’s shield nicked the corner, sending him and the skeletal Korbat skidding apart, and diverting the beam just enough to whiz into the fall sky. Julia glanced back in panic, looking as if she might rush to her brother’s side at any moment. If nothing was done, everyone in the blast radius would be in danger, including the innocent bystanders huddling back in the community center. Serian grimaced. No pressure, he thought.

     Energy stirred from within Serian’s sternum. Velm, being a world traveller, bard, and a famous healer, would say that it’s better to find peace and mutual understanding than to fight to the last Neopian standing. The old Setarian would have battled like a Neopian possessed, always looking for acceptance, always hoping that strength would force others to respect him. But Serian wanted something more. Something genuine.

     A sword made for a poor magical instrument, and Velm had cautioned that it might not always work, but would have to do.

     “Protective fence!” Serian’s eyes glowed bright as he called forth the magic, using his sword as a magical conduit.

     The thorny vines covering the ground squirmed, twisted, and interlocked, forming a makeshift barrier between the combatants. It was enough to give the entire battlefield pause—long enough for Serian to stand between them with his arms outstretched and palms out.

     “Peace!” Serian cried, watching the living Neopians around him grip their weapons extra tightly—Lisha looked like she was ready to do something foolish to save him—not that he needed saving. “Eddie is not here to harm anyone but to speak with his sister.” He turned to meet Eddie’s eyes… or where his eyes would have been, anyway. “Do I have that right?”

     The skeleton gave a double thumbs-up, an action that baffled all three tri-kingdom mages, but especially the golden Cybunny, whose whiskers had been twitching the entire time he had been fighting.

     “You mean she’s not trying to raise an undead army?” Lisha asked, not fully convinced that Serian wasn’t, in fact, possessed by the manic mage.

     “An army?” Serian couldn’t help but roll his eyes. For the smartest Neopian he had ever met, Lisha’s danger meter had a habit of pinging unnecessarily. “It's a bit hard to have an army with one Neopian, don’t you think?”

     “Well… you know… zombies and all.”

     The long, drawn out sigh that Julia made sounded like a hiss. All three mages, but especially the Darigan Ogrin, looked on-edge and tightened her grip. If not for Julia’s brother waving his arms to signal a stop to the fighting, it would have surely begun anew.

     When Eddie waddled over to offer his sister a hug, her dam broke. Tears, which she had been stubbornly trying to force away, finally crossed her face. Eddie stroked her gently across the back, holding her as she let out emotions that had been stuffed down for Darigan knew how long.

     Everyone else finally lowered their weapons, with Lisha being the last to finally relent.

     “I know how hard it is to not have your brother around,” she said, slowly taking a few steps towards the crying Vandagyre after a period of awkward silence. Sensing the movement, Julia flinched back, only releasing when she saw no weapons drawn. “And…” Lisha sniffled, trying to keep her composure, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost him again…”

     Serian felt a pit in his stomach. Even though Lisha had long “forgiven” him for leaking information to Kass… information that nearly cost Jeran his life… Well, forgetting was another thing entirely.

     “Julia wiped a line of tears from across her beak. “I just… I just wanted to see him. Even if it’s for just this night—e-even if I can only talk to him on his birthday… no matter how much of a monster Neopians think I am, I can’t deal with being al—“

     “You won’t be alone, little sis,” Eddie said through his sister’s mouth, “and you’re the furthest thing from being a monster—your magic brought us together.” He paused through Julia’s sob to give her a comforting squeeze. “Even when I can’t be here with you, I’ll always be standing by your side… except to prank some Citadel guards here and there,” he rubbed his hands together, which made a grinding noise, “ghost perks and all.”

     That, at least, caused Serian to snort. Eddie was still Eddie, even undead.

     The other two mages had gone back towards the Community Center to play crowd control and keep the growing group of onlookers at bay. Meanwhile, Lisha was now beside the two of them, trying hard to keep her composure.

     “I think… your magic could be a great comfort to the Neopians here…” as the tears began to sparkle in her eyes, Lisha’s voice cracked. “Your magic is a gift. We—we would be honored to see that gift grow to help heal our lands—that is, if you want to.”

     “You’d help us orphans find peace,” added Serian, noticing that the thicket of thorny vines had once again spread across the dusty graveyard. “We deserve that much after everything we went through.”

     Lisha held her hand out to Julia as Serian looked on expectantly. At first, the dark mage gave her a withering glare. After years of sorrow, years of isolation, misunderstanding and pain, could working with this bespectacled Aisha really be a way forward?

     At first, Julia tightened her free hand and kept it glued to her side, standing stiff as a board. It was only after being nudged by Eddie that she finally began to hesitate forward, then pulled back.

      “We children of Kass…” as Serian said it, a sudden realization hit him. He offered his hand and Eddie took it first, followed by his little sister. “We need to be there for each other.”

     With his free hand, he connected to Lisha.

     “Look at you, Icy Blue, being all mature and not a giant grump!” Lisha seemed alarmed when the Korbat’s voice projected from her. As a matter of fact, everyone but the Korbat seemed a little perturbed. “Maybe we should celebrate on the roof like old times... get some spikefruit to share with the Crokabeks. Or throw a few Darigan dodgeballs off the roof blindfolded. The girls are allowed now, of course.” He paused for a second, suddenly sounding a lot more serious, “I only have tonight, right?”

     “Yes,” Julia’s voice, once a typhoon of rage, was now quiet. It was hard to believe this was the same, fiery Neopian. “At least for this year.”

     “And we’ll make sure your birthday is a special day… for both of you.” Lisha offered a tired smile. “I hope that you can offer even more Neopians the same chance.”

     Julia clacked her beak together. Just as Lisha and Serian were expecting her to decline, she said, “only if Setarian gets to use my magic first.”

     The Eyrie swung his arms in surprise, forgetting that had been attached to three other Neopians. Eddie fell back onto the foot of a recently restored headstone and laughed while Julia and Lisha barely kept their footing. There were all kinds of questions swirling in the Eyrie’s mind, but the most pressing one bubbled up first:

     “How can I revive her—even briefly—if I have no idea when she was born?”

     The look Julia gave spoke volumes. Serian gulped.

     “Then it looks like we’ll be working together a lot from now on,” she said with a wry grin, to which Eddie laughed—although it sounded more like rattling chatter without a Neopian conduit.

     Lisha couldn’t help but laugh along with Eddie, albeit nervously. “Things… are about to get pretty weird around here, aren’t they, Serian?”

      “Aren’t they always weird?” He shrugged. “Oh, and Julia…”

     “Yes, Setarian?”

     “… I go by Serian now—it’s… a long story, but that’s how I’d like to be called.”

     “You accepted me, Serian, when almost nobody else has. The least I can do is to honour your name.” She said it without a moment’s hesitation.

     Meanwhile, Eddie flapped his skeletal wings and landed beside Lisha, hooking his phalanges around her arm. “If it wasn’t weird, it wouldn’t be any fun!”

     And so it was that the “birthday mage” began performing what some Neopians called “wonders” and the 14th day of storing became a holiday to anyone in the know. And before Eddie’s spirit returned to rest, he would always end the night with one simple phrase:

     “I can’t wait until next year!”

     The End.