The small room, usually a haven of quiet solitude for Tyler, now buzzed with the muted hum of impending change. Zach, the prodigy whose hands could conjure storms and mend shattered bones, was meticulously folding Tyler's meager wardrobe, a stark demonstration of his unyielding care. He didn't summon a magically expanding satchel or conjure supplies; instead, he carefully arranged practical sets of sturdy, dark-colored clothes – durable trousers, tunics woven from rough-spun but resilient fabrics, and cloaks designed for warmth rather than elegance. These were not the fine silks and embellished robes of a Mage, but the practical attire of a traveler, chosen with foresight.
Next, Zach produced a small, reinforced wooden chest, surprisingly heavy, despite its modest size. Inside, nestled amongst layers of protective straw, were multiple packets of different seeds for farming. There were hardy grains that could grow in varied soils, root vegetables known for their resilience, and even a few medicinal herbs, their delicate forms carefully preserved. It was a silent testament to Zach's understanding of Tyler's dire situation – a banished non-mage, he would need to sustain himself. Along with the seeds, Zach included a set of farming tools: a compact shovel with a sharpened edge, a small, sturdy hoe, and a pruning knife. These weren't mundane implements; a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer around their metal edges hinted at slight enchantments. "These," Zach explained, his voice low, "have simple enchantments to make the earth a little less stubborn, the weeds a bit more cooperative. Nothing flashy, but it will make your work easier." He didn't use a spell to apply the enchantments, merely ran his fingers over the tools, and a faint, almost silent thrum of magic emanated from his touch.
Tyler watched, a lump forming in his throat. Zach was thinking of everything, anticipating the brutal realities of the Outlands. This wasn't just a farewell; it was an act of profound, desperate provision.Once the chest was packed and secured, Zach turned, his gaze settling on Tyler's beloved skateboard, which sat propped against the wall. Without a word, he reached out, and with a gesture of respect, took the board into his hands. He ran a thumb over the worn grip tape, then along the smooth, scuffed underside, his purple eyes, usually alight with arcane power, now contemplative."Tyler," Zach began, his voice a steady drone, "I know you are not a mage." His tone was devoid of the scorn or disappointment Tyler was accustomed to. "And you are certainly no secret sword master, hacking down foes with a flick of your wrist." A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips suggested a wry smile beneath the perpetual shadow that veiled his face. "But you are also not completely unskilled."Tyler, whose emotional defenses had been gradually eroding under Zach's unexpected kindness, felt a familiar prickle of old wounds. The slight, almost imperceptible tension returned to his shoulders. He couldn't help but retort, a touch of practiced bitterness in his voice, "Oh, wow, geez, thanks, brother. Great reminder. Just what I needed to hear before being tossed into a desolate wasteland." The words were quick, a defensive reflex, a desperate attempt to reassert some control over his spiraling emotions.
He prepared for the usual condescending response, the sigh of impatience.Instead, Zach's hand shot out, not in anger, but with a surprising gentleness. He gave Tyler a soft, almost affectionate flick on the head, the kind of playful gesture they might have shared in a different life, before magic became the defining, divisive force it was. "As I was saying, you overly sensitive brat," Zach said, a hint of genuine affection in his tone, "knowing your strengths, and your… unique mode of travel, I will enchant your skateboard."Tyler's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine surprise cutting through his carefully cultivated cynicism. His skateboard? Enchanted? It was almost too much to process. The Mage family scoffed at his 'wheeled plank,' considered it beneath contempt. Yet Zach, the prodigy, saw its value."I know it's the only tool of travel you've truly mastered," Zach continued, turning the board over in his hands, his fingers tracing the outline of its deck. "And it would be a true shame if you ventured out there, into terrain utterly unlike our manicured city streets, only for your most relied-upon form of locomotion to become useless."Zach's purple eyes closed for a moment, and a faint, ethereal glow began to emanate from his hands, enveloping the skateboard in a soft, ruby-red aura. This wasn't the aggressive, flashing light of elemental magic, but a gentle, resonant hum, like a deep chord being struck. "First," he intoned, his voice taking on a deeper, more ceremonial quality, "I am binding the very essence of the board. The screws to the trucks, the trucks to the deck, and even the wheels themselves—they will be indestructible." Tyler watched, mesmerized, as the faint glow seemed to sink into the materials, making the worn wood and metal seem to solidify, to become impossibly dense.
"Only I, Zach Mage," Zach continued, his eyes now open, gazing intensely at the board, "would ever be able to disassemble or unbind this board. It is now a single, unbreakable unit."Next, Zach focused on the wheels. The red glow intensified, swirling around the hardened rubber. "These wheels," he explained, "are now enchanted with a powerful spell that will slightly alter the path immediately around them, creating a rideable surface wherever you go." He paused, a small, knowing smirk touching his lips. "Imagine it as a momentary flattening, a brief smoothing of the ground just before your wheels touch it. This means rough terrain, loose rubble, even minor inclines will feel like paved road beneath you." Tyler's breath hitched. No more being limited to smooth surfaces? This changed everything. "However," Zach cautioned, his voice firm, "this enchantment has a crucial limitation. It will only affect solid surfaces. Water, or any other non-solid terrain, remains impassable. Do not try to skate across a lake, little brother. It will not end well."Finally, Zach held the board aloft, the red light bathing his shadowed face. "And lastly," he said, his voice imbued with a rare, profound power, "the board and all its pieces, should it ever be miraculously dismantled, or if it is ever stolen from your possession, will always appear back in your hand." As Zach spoke these final words, focusing his will, Tyler felt a sudden, sharp prick on the back of his right hand, near his wrist. He glanced down, and there, etched into his skin, shimmering with a faint, ephemeral silver light, was a perfectly rendered tattoo of a skateboard with wings, its lines clean and intricate.
The light faded quickly, leaving only the subtle, new mark. Zach lowered the board, its enchantments complete, its red aura dissipating. He handed it back to Tyler, the weight of it in his hands feeling somehow different now, imbued with a strength far beyond its mundane components. It was no longer just a toy; it was a testament to Zach's love, a promise of survival.Tyler stared at the tattoo, then at the board. It was a piece of his identity, transformed by his brother's magic, now an unbreakable extension of himself. The thought brought a strange mixture of awe and fierce determination.The final walk through the Mage family manor was a gauntlet of silent judgment. As Tyler, his new, enchanted skateboard slung across his back, and Zach, his red robe a stark, powerful silhouette, began their journey towards the grand exit, the vast, echoing halls seemed to stretch endlessly before them. The usual opulent decor – tapestries depicting ancient magical victories, pedestals displaying shimmering artifacts, portraits of stern-faced ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow Tyler with silent condemnation – now felt oppressive, their grandeur mocking his simple, non-magical presence.A few butlers and maids, their faces carefully neutral, but their eyes betraying a mixture of curiosity and pity, emerged from various doorways, forming a silent, almost funereal procession behind them.
Their footsteps were barely audible on the polished marble floors, a soft shush that seemed to amplify the tension in the air. Further back, like a gathering storm cloud, came his brothers and sisters, their expressions a mixture of cold satisfaction and morbid curiosity. They didn't speak, but their collective gaze was a weight on Tyler's back, a tangible manifestation of the disdain he had lived under for seventeen years. At the very rear, their presence casting the longest, coldest shadow, were his mother, Santa Mage, and his father, Luis Mage. Their faces were impassive, carved from stone, displaying not a flicker of remorse or farewell, only a chilling relief that the "stain" was finally being excised.Zach, however, walked with an unyielding purpose, his head held high, his shadowed gaze sweeping over the family and staff gathered behind them. He didn't acknowledge their presence until they reached the threshold of the manor's magnificent rear entrance, which opened directly onto the sprawling, meticulously manicured gardens. The scent of enchanted night-blooming jasmine, usually a comforting aroma, now felt cloying, suffocating."Everyone," Zach's voice resonated, calm yet authoritative, cutting through the stifling silence. He gestured with a hand, not using any magic, simply indicating. "Stand here, in the gardens."His family, accustomed to his commands, halted, forming an uneven semicircle on the emerald-green lawn, their finery stark against the vibrant blossoms. Luis and Santa stood front and center, their chins held high, radiating an aura of unwavering conviction.
Zach turned, his shadowed face sweeping over them all, his purple eyes seeming to pierce through their carefully constructed facades. His gaze lingered for a moment on his parents, then on his siblings, before returning to Tyler, who stood beside him, clutching the handle of a small, wooden cart loaded with the meager provisions Zach had packed."I do not trust you," Zach stated, his voice devoid of accusation, simply stating a cold, unvarnished fact. His words hung in the air, shocking in their directness. "I do not trust that any of you," his gaze flickered to his siblings, then back to his parents, "will not have any kinds of assassins or possible hitmen or killers waiting in the city to get rid of Tyler. To silence this… this 'stain,' as you so call him." His voice hardened on the last word, a subtle challenge embedded in the quiet pronouncement.A ripple of low murmurs passed through the assembled family members.
Some clicked their tongues in annoyance, others shifted uncomfortably, but no one dared to openly defy the prodigy. Luis Mage's jaw tightened, and Santa's elegant hands clenched, but they remained silent. They knew Zach's power, and more importantly, they knew his fierce, quiet will when it came to Tyler."Unfortunately for all of you," Zach continued, his voice maintaining its level, almost chilling calm, "I am a very careful and cautious person, especially when it comes to Tyler." He didn't care how they reacted, how their lips thinned, or how their eyes narrowed in annoyance.
His unwavering focus was on his brother, the only person in this grand, magical kingdom he truly valued.He turned fully to Tyler, his voice softening once more, becoming a private murmur between brothers, though still audible in the stillness of the morning. He stepped forward, taking Tyler's hands, his large, powerful fingers gently squeezing them."Tyler," Zach said, his purple eyes shining with an unshed sorrow that contradicted the perpetual shadows on his face. "The world out there is filled with many unknowns you have yet to see and experience." He paused, taking a slow, deep breath, as if steeling himself.
"I will not send you to the nearest desolate patch of land. Instead, I will send you half across the world, to a place far, far from here, where it would be incredibly hard for these… for our family to chase and hunt you down. A place where their influence is a whisper, not a shout."He pulled Tyler into a tight embrace, a bone-crushing hug that was both a farewell and a silent promise. Tyler stiffened for a moment, then melted into his brother's warmth, clinging to it as if it were the last vestige of comfort he would ever know. He felt Zach's powerful, magically-attuned body tremble slightly."I wish you luck," Zach whispered into Tyler's hair, his voice rough with emotion. "I wish you safety and growth. But most importantly, Tyler," he pulled back slightly, his hands still on Tyler's shoulders, his purple eyes piercing into his very soul.
"I wish you happiness. Find it, little brother. Find a life where you are valued for who you are, not for what magic you can or cannot wield."Zach then stepped back, releasing Tyler. With a deep, resonating hum, a complex magical circle shimmered into existence on the ground before them, its intricate runes glowing with an intense, sapphire light. It pulsed, drawing the very air around it into its arcane embrace. This was no mere parlor trick; this was high-level teleportation magic, capable of traversing continents."Step into the magical circle, Tyler," Zach urged, his voice heavy with finality. "We won't see each other for a very long time." His gaze softened, a final, poignant plea in his powerful eyes. "But know this, little brother, if you ever come back... if you ever choose to return... I will welcome you with open arms. Always."Tyler looked at Zach, his vision blurring. His brother, the only one. He felt the pain of this separation deep in his chest, a raw ache that transcended all the years of neglect. He nodded, a silent promise exchanged between them. "Thank you, Zach," Tyler managed, his voice cracking, barely above a whisper.
"For everything. You... you were the only one." He squeezed his brother's hand one last time, a desperate clasp that sought to convey all the unspoken gratitude and love.Then, his gaze swept over the rest of his family. His brothers and sisters, their faces still a mixture of cold curiosity and silent judgment. And finally, his eyes landed on Santa Mage and Luis Mage, their faces as emotionless as carved marble. All the years of abuse, the mental torment, the scorn, the betrayal of fake friends – it coalesced into a molten ball of pure, unadulterated defiance in Tyler's gut. He would not leave with a whimper. He would not leave broken.
With a sudden, unexpected surge of his long-suppressed rage, Tyler spat. The glob of saliva flew through the air, landing with a wet, disgusting splat directly at Luis Mage's feet, then, with another guttural surge, he aimed, and spat again, this time landing squarely on Santa Mage's pristine, embroidered slippers. His parents' faces contorted, a mixture of shock, outrage, and profound disgust replacing their earlier impassivity. Their eyes, usually calm pools of arcane power, flared with incandescent fury.Ignoring their gasps and indignant cries, Tyler spun on his heel. He tightened his grip on the handle of his small wooden cart, the wheels rumbling slightly on the manicured lawn.
Without a backward glance, with a newfound resolve burning in his gut, he pulled the cart forcefully into the pulsating, sapphire light of the magic circle. The energy enveloped him, a brief, blinding flash, and then, with a sound like tearing silk, the circle pulsed one last time before fading, leaving behind only the stunned, enraged faces of the Mage family and a profound, echoing silence in the Oyucuria gardens. Tyler Mage, the "stain," was gone.