The last time I saw that specific spell, I was eight years old. We were spending Christmas on an island in the Pacific—it was searingly hot, there was certainly no snow, and yet my uncle had conjured a blizzard.
"Yes, precious indeed."
I studied him. He hadn't visibly aged; to be fair, he'd looked exactly like this for as long as I could remember. Potions certainly assisted, but his sheer, monumental magical energy also staved off the worst of the aging process.
"The theatrics were utterly superfluous," I remarked.
Turning back to my friends, Pelit was stuck mid-grimace in an especially awkward facial expression, and Rimel looked like he was suspended in the middle of a flamboyant wink.
I reached out to dispel the spell surrounding them.
"Do not," Marcus warned.
I sighed and turned back. By the way, he wasn't merely shy; he was fastidiously eccentric—a man with a carefully crafted public image, so to speak.
"All this pageantry and no hug?" I asked, a teasing edge to my voice.
"I would, but those persistent shields of yours might prove obstructive."
He walked closer and offered his hand instead, which I took.
"It is good to see you, kid."
"Yes... you too... perhaps." I turned, admiring the frozen scenery. "How much of your reserves does this spell siphon?"
"Quite a substantial portion, actually. I am, despite my dashing presentation, growing weary," he replied, tapping his chest.
"A simple reality of life."
He glanced at my hand. "Still traversing the world without a proper wand? How does that endeavor fare?"
"It proceeds."
He chuckled to himself. "You haven't changed much; always with the curt riposte. Just like the time when..."
I raised my hand, preempting his dive into irrelevant personal history.
"If you don't mind, tell me why you came."
He looked momentarily dejected but swiftly recovered, clearing his throat.
"I wish for you to return to our home and enroll at the Lyceeys."
"Thank you for the journey. Goodbye, Uncle."
I couldn't believe he had traveled all this distance for... Wait—I couldn't move.
"Grant me five minutes. If you are still of the same conviction, I will vanish from your life forever."
I nearly refused outright, my own spells prepared to break the magical confinement on both my friends and me... and yet, I let the moment pass.
I felt my body regain autonomy and turned to give him a simple nod of assent.
My hesitation wasn't purely sentimental; engaging my uncle in a head-to-head magical confrontation was... what is worse than a joke? The disparity between our capabilities was too severe. Old age had done nothing to narrow that gap.
He started walking toward the distant hill, and after one final look at my static friends, I quietly followed.
A New Life
"...Perhaps your uncle... Ouch! W-What in the hell? Why does my face throb?"
"Not me... Damn it all, my left eye feels like it is dislodging!"
As my friends were, so to speak, rebooted, they were instantly hit with the after-effects of being suspended in time. They fared better than most, who were now stumbling and falling across the square.
I tapped their shoulders and nodded toward the distant hill. "We need to speak. Come with me."
Though confused by my sudden gravity and their physical discomfort, they followed without question.
We found a seat on the grass, and I took a moment to admire the strange spectacle of two dozen strangers casting suspicious glances at one another. As experienced magic-wielders, they knew a spell had been deployed, but determining the perpetrator was the real mystery.
Rimel was, as usual, the quicker of the two to process the events.
"Don't tell me your uncle has already arrived and departed?" he asked.
"Pfft... Don't be ridiculous, Rimel! Nonsense... R-Right, Ferith?" Pelit turned to me, his uncertainty visible.
I felt the grass beneath my hands. I plucked a small handful and allowed the light breeze to carry most of the blades from my palm.
The only way forward was to be direct.
"Yes. He was here. We spoke. He has requested that I relocate to France and enroll at his school for the next two years."
I let the weight of the words settle, but my friends were not as surprised as I had anticipated.
They both gave me a sympathetic look, followed by a nearly identical nod.
"Yeah, well, you descend from an ancient lineage, so I always presumed you would eventually assume your position," Rimel stated. "After all, there is only you and the Professor remaining... so..." He let the thought trail off.
Pelit tapped my shoulder reassuringly. "Don't feel badly about it, mate. We anticipated this the moment we saw the letter."
I smiled, acknowledging they were far more insightful than I had given them credit for. But...
"Here is the detail: He wants both of you to come as well. To attend the school with me."
That physically took the air from them. For a brief second, they looked truly frozen again, but Rimel quickly gathered himself.
"...Continue," he managed.
Pelit simply nodded slowly, doing his best to maintain his composure.
I gave them credit for this rare display of self-restraint.
"I... for reasons I will not elaborate upon, have agreed to go. But when it comes to your autonomy and..."
"DUDEEEEE!!"
"LET'S GOOOOO!!"
God damn them. Blasted by excitement from both sides. I should have left them suspended.
"Good... that was... well, yes." I attempted to sound coherent, rubbing my throbbing ears. "You understand the ramifications, correct? In six weeks, you will be packing up your entire existence. Uprooting everything and moving to a new country?"
I hadn't intended for them to agree without proper consideration, but even now, they weren't truly listening. They were drunk on the sheer happiness of the moment.
"I can't believe we get to join so late! I know most people start at fourteen, unless you are preternaturally talented, and then it is earlier, and..." Rimel was already droning on with his policy esoterica.
"I get to leave the woods! I honestly thought he had simply abandoned us. Now we get to start an entirely new life with GIRLS...GIRLS!" Pelit's excitement was focused solely on the female population.
They were looking at each other, yet neither noticed they were engaged in two completely different conversations.
I supposed it was pointless to expect them to refuse. They were hardly the type of young men who had a plethora of promising prospects to anticipate.
I walked away a short distance, then turned and took out the picture my uncle had left me.
"What is that?"
Suddenly, my friends' heads appeared, one positioned on each of my shoulders.
"...My family," I said quietly.
They became instantly serious, circling me to view the photograph.
"You strongly resemble your mother, mate," Pelit offered, attempting a thoughtful compliment. "Around the face, you know."
"Hmm, thank you." I managed a small smile.
My greatest mistake had been leaving without even a change of clothes. I hadn't been able to step inside that house, but my uncle had been kind enough to keep everything preserved—and had brought me this tiny piece of emotional manipulation.
"You all look genuinely happy in it."
Rimel grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it lightly.
"We were... anyway." I tucked the picture away.
I grabbed them by the necks. "Thank you for coming with me."
We stood there in a rare silence, appreciating the strength of our bond. It was amusing to consider how such a heartfelt moment would appear to a clueless onlooker.
We quickly started walking, ignoring the curious glances, and resolved to finish the list for our soon-to-be ex-colleagues.
The Farewell Hunt
Informing Captain Roche that we were departing immediately after I had emphatically declared I wasn't going anywhere was, at best, acutely awkward.
But the man was a true paragon. He had never intended to keep us shackled here and only asked that we promise to visit.
"...Can we still participate in the hunt for the Alkonost?" I asked, hoping for one last substantial payday.
Pelit and Rimel both perked up; we were desperately low on liquid funds.
"Certainly. The more the merrier," he waived the request away, rummaging through the bag of snacks we had procured.
We exchanged winning smiles and took his prolonged silence as our cue to depart.
"That was substantially easier than I had imagined," Rimel sounded relieved.
"You didn't expect the man to weep or forbid us to leave, did you?" I asked.
"No, of course not... but still, the man has done a great deal for us. He could have used guilt to compel us to stay, but he didn't even attempt it."
"He's not that kind of man," I said.
"Besides, we all owe him the same debt, and we will repay it... one day," Pelit chimed in, using his own simplistic view of the situation.
I nodded along with Pelit's low-brow assessment.
"The hunt, though. That is perfect timing," I took over. "We will have considerable expenses going forward."
"Is your lineage not ancient? Why would money ever be a concern for you?"
The answer to Rimel's question was painfully simple: I had no idea how to access the family vaults. I knew the money existed, or at least it used to.
"As far as I'm aware, I possess none," I shrugged.
It is always easier to fabricate a lie than to admit an embarrassing failure.
Our final days were not substantially different—perhaps merely tinged with nostalgia.
Even Pelit was uncharacteristically enthusiastic about work and ceased complaining about... well, everything. It was a strange deviation in behavior.
Rimel went into overdrive, gathering every conceivable piece of information about the Lyceeys. He relentlessly consumed every bit of esoterica, in case it might prove useful. He was very much acting within character.
Also...
One night, I woke to use the lavatory, only to notice their beds were empty.
Initially, I assumed they were on night guard duty or taking care of their own needs, so I didn't give it much thought.
Then it occurred again a few nights later.
I had enough. I kept my ears open the next night and followed them when they departed silently.
All of my imaginative theories were more interesting than the reality:
They were engaged in Basic Duelling, in the middle of the night.
I yawned and left them brandishing their wands at each other, flinging colorful beams of magic.
Our days were spent in this manner until we finally received authorization to legally hunt the Alkonost.
The operation was simple: travel through the portal near Tupyi, then use magic to track the creature to its lair, and finally, dismantle it without mercy.
Strategy?
With this group?
Even in its heyday, the Border Control had never possessed society's most talented or useful members. Some people stayed only a week; others simply vanished without warning.
And of course, many... let us just say they were not the sort of people one would willingly rely on during dangerous and high-stakes situations.
Not backstabbers or killers, but rather drunks, neurotics, and generally disturbed individuals.
The three of us, though—we were a team.
I knew what they were going to do before they did it.
They knew me just as well, but without a wand, I was harder to anticipate.
We arrived in the middle of the field late at night.
In the distance, we spotted a few scattered houses, but nothing beyond the nearby farm animals.
"Right, men! Pay attention now, and follow the plan..."
We all turned toward the Captain as he delineated our strategy for the hunt.