Beneath the surface

Loneliness was once a familiar garden where I spent my formative years.

However, the past eight years have been a transformative journey, filled with love and connection.

I'm deeply grateful for the incredible people who surrounded me, including Amaeree, Uncle Wilfred, my dad, the inspiring couple, Aunty Gloria, and Uncle Matthew.

Although I didn't have peers of the same age or traditional school experiences, Aunty Gloria's presence was a blessing, making up for what I thought I lacked.

I had the time to read books - not the magic ones, though; those required special access.

My dad could've gotten them if needed, but Aunty Gloria advised against it. She knew the allure of enticement magic could be intoxicating, even toxic.

Instead, she made sure I had books on various subjects: earth sciences, rock formation, weather and climate, agriculture, calculation, and lifestyle arts - both artificial and natural.

I also learned skills like fashion, beauty, traditional and apothecary practices, culinary arts, and music.

Aunty Gloria ensured I had a broad range of interests and skills, minus the risk of magical enticement.

As I reminisced about the simple joys of my erstwhile mundane life, a faint, wistful smile flickered on my countenance, beset by the turmoil of conflicting emotions.

The impending prospect of a new dawn, mere hours away, threatened to disrupt the comforting familiarity of my existence, leaving me uncertain about relinquishing the only life I had ever known.

Aunty Gloria's sage counsel echoed in my mind: 'Girl, don't burden yourself with undue pressure; it changes little.'

Yet, I remained mute, ensconced in her embrace, torn asunder by the dichotomy of surrendering my all-consuming passion and the trepidation that success might estrange me from those I held dear.

That outcome was far more terrifying than I had ever anticipated. I found myself pondering, torn between two desires that seemed worlds apart: the limitless power and mystique of magic, or the simple, unassuming joys of everyday life.

And yet, it hadn't crossed my mind that I might have the privilege of embracing both – a luxury few others enjoy, a rare convergence of two disparate paths.

"Do you think it'd all go away if you had magic?"

Aunty Gloria's sober voice sliced through my reverie, her question piercing the silence.

Caught off guard, I shifted uncomfortably in her embrace, and she gently released me, her arms unfolding to allow distance between us.

Though we were no longer entwined, her hands still cradled mine, her thumbs tracing soft, reassuring circles on my skin.

"Sam, consider the grand tapestry of the world. Being a mage or a mundane is merely a thread, insignificant in the larger weave.

We indulge in fantasies, thinking that acquiring power – magical or financial – will bring solace.

But the truth remains: problems persist, and with greater power comes greater turmoil. The bigger the head, indeed, the bigger the headache.

Think of the Mundanes as ants, and us as special ants, tasked with protecting the vulnerable.

Yet, it pains me to see things unfolding in the opposite direction. As mages, we project an illustrious facade to the world, but beneath the surface, our smiles often mask the weight of responsibility.

The genuine concerns of a farmer, the creases on their brow, hold more depth than our polished countenances.

I've lost count of the quests where we've ventured forth with comrades, only to return with lesser shoulders to bear the burden.

Their bodies claimed by the very beasts we slew, now stored in the cold, dark recesses of our own spatial pouches, but forever etched in the memories we carry, their sacrifices never forgotten.

We're not as free as we seem. Contracts with affiliated organisations or the weight of independence impose stringent constraints.

Trust me, Sam, our existence is far from a bed of roses. Even the trees and rocks possess an unencumbered freedom we can only envy.

The world may perceive us as mighty, but I've witnessed the fragility of our existence, the crushing weight of our duties, and the unyielding grip of our responsibilities."

As I listened with rapt attention, Aunty Gloria's words dispelled the fog of my uncertainty, revealing a reality far more complex than the glamorised narrative of mages perpetuated by the mundane.

I began to grasp the magnitude of the challenges that lay beyond the surface-level allure of power, wealth, and excitement.

And in that moment, a startling realisation dawned on me: perhaps my father's frequent absences and hours spent in his study room were not just about business, but a testament to his own clandestine struggles with the magical realm.

A torrent of remorse and guilt surged within me as I reflected on the years of resentment I had harboured towards him, blaming him for his perceived shortcomings as a parent.

I had succumbed to self-doubt and depression, oblivious to the possibility that he might have been grappling with his own issues.

Meanwhile, his efforts to balance his responsibilities and passions had been so subtle that my teenage mind couldn't acknowledge.

However, the epiphany struck me with unyielding force, prompting an introspective examination of my own actions.

As a result, as I pondered the magnitude of his sacrifice, a tender flutter in the depths of my abdomen betrayed the profound impact of his devotion, revealing the extraordinary value he placed on our bond.

Yet, a discordant pang of guilt resonated within my core, threatening to upend the serenity of this moment.

Had I, in my selfish desire for companionship, inadvertently coerced him into relinquishing a lifelong passion or duty that once fueled his absence, leaving him bereft of the very purpose that drove him?

The unsettling thought lingered, its presence a haunting reminder that I might have exploited his unwavering love for selfish gain.

As tears began to well up, borne of these insecurities and the weight of my emotions, I lifted my gaze to meet Aunty Gloria's, seeking solace in her empathetic understanding.

I was silently wondering if she, too, harboured hidden struggles and unspoken sorrows.

And with no further words needed to be spoken, a veil lifted, revealing a side of her she had masterfully concealed for years.

In that moment, I beheld the depths of her heart, where pains, fatigue, anguish, bitterness, and resignation lingered, a testament to the turbulent waters she had navigated.

There and then, a profound realisation dawned on me… She had endured episodes, still grappling with the residual shadows of those struggles, fighting an ongoing battle, even as she had worn a mask of serenity for years.

Beneath the surface, she still wrestled with demons, her wry smile a poignant reminder of the battles she had won and lost, and those still being fought.