Rite of Magic

RITE OF MAGIC Suffer a witch to live. Sasha Hope Rite of Magic Copyright © 2023 by Sasha Hope Cover Art by Mika Phillips Copyright © 2023 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact the author. Contents RITE OF MAGIC CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV CHAPTER XV EPILOGUE CHAPTER I The denizens of the Three Isles lived in a world at war with the magical side of itself. By the time Felix di Alavieri was born, the unending conflict between plebs and witches had reached its climax. Even two decades after the peak, when the worst of the war had died down, those without magic and those who’d been gifted were still at odds. Felix’s story was the same as many of his generation who were born with the gift of magic. He never knew his parents. He supposed they were long dead, likely killed in the chaos. He’d never know. At two years old, his mother and father had bundled up their tiny child and shipped him away from their war-torn homeland in the southernmost isle, Alavieri. They, like many other parents of magically gifted children, clearly hadn’t cared where they sent him. They just needed to get him somewhere else, somewhere he could be safe. From the southern docks of the capital, Astu Sol, Felix had floated to the illusory calm of the northern isle, Drioch. The largest of the three isles, Drioch was far from a true escape, but it was a long way away from the utter carnage that had washed over the South. Twenty years on, Felix still found it strange to stare down at the laymen working peacefully on the Downs Bay docks. They toiled over simple jobs, lived simple lives, catching fish from a plentiful sea that had once been a red wash filled with a different kind of flesh. Their sturdy bodies were peppered with salt and brine where once they might have been covered in the blood of battle. Felix read books about the wartimes when there wasn’t much else to do. Escaping into tomes of history, he’d seen the illustrations painted in red and black ink. War. Death. Carnage. Chaos. Always drawn with red and black ink. The present wasn’t so kind, but at least he’d survived the times of red and black ink. Life in Drioch was grim, but Felix always had fun watching the people down below from his high seat atop the city. They bustled about the Downs Bay docks and Redwater's harbor. Even the strongest sailors looked so tiny from up where he was seated. The industry so integral to the city’s survival seemed so insignificant from his point of view. Ant-like, the seafarers unloaded their cargo and sold their wares between the streets and markets. In Downs Bay, good land was scarce so people built where they could. Some homes stretched out into the water while others tottered over the long docks. Alcoves cut into them allowed people to pass beneath. Some shanties floated out on rafts right next to the ships. Most were the homes of the seafarers and their families, however others were oh-so-charmingly disreputable. The virtuous lover of a respected captain living on the docks next to the whores was an unconventional juxtaposition. One of said whores smacked a young sailor upside the head, shouting at him so uproariously Felix could almost make out her cursing even at his distance. Either the sailor had taken some liberties or he was short a few coins. The scene nearly had Felix choking on his lunch as he burst out laughing. With his bare and bandaged feet dangling precariously over the edge of a wooden plank, Felix could howl at the whole world from Downs Bay all the way to the violet flags marking the path to the Queen’s Palace. From his seat high upon his favorite bit of scaffolding on Redwater’s colossus of a lighthouse, he could play the Mad King. The old lighthouse was little more than a towering ruin those days, long since destroyed by the fires of war. Redwater officials had been trying to rebuild it for years since the chaos, but there were always more pressing matters to attend to. Like much of the world, it would not be repaired in Felix’s lifetime. He rested his tanned cheeks in his hands, warming them as the frozen northern wind swept over him and blew his raven-black curls into disarray. Swinging his legs, Felix hummed idly to himself and took another bite of his lunch. He felt younger than he was in that moment, tranquil as he sat safely above the maddening crowds below. He paused in his humming only when a familiar whisper came from behind him. A vacuous void consumed all of the air somewhere to his left before emitting a single feminine figure. “Knew I’d find you here.” She plunked down next to Felix, barefeet swinging next to his over the edge of the scaffolding. Waves of vaporous green flowed from her like water. Magic slipped over the wood and between the cracks before disappearing altogether. “Tyne,” Felix greeted her in a pointedly flat tone. The woman at his side looked at him, an emerald hue fading from her dark eyes as her body settled back into itself. “Felix,” she replied, matching his curt tone. Felix’s deadpan expression gradually broke into the smile he’d been teasingly holding back. He leaned slightly against Tyne’s side, knocking their shoulders