This story coincides with
The Call of Magic, Book One of The Fool’s Journey,
a Paranormal Romance / Urban Fantasy for New Adults, available now on Kindle Unlimited.
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June 7, 2020
A young man sits in an airport, headed in many directions.
London is busy in the vacation months. Men and women of the island nation flit to and fro, content to be traveling for summer holiday.
He smiles, understanding life at such a young age.
The two Brazilians he travels with are both beautiful, so beautiful as to have the attention of all who sit around them. They love it, thrive on it, but he keeps his head down. It is their job. He is only there to assist.
As a legacy, he opted for early recruitment, volunteering under the hopeful gaze of his father to pitch in wherever necessary, to ease the transition between Metentis Class and his own yet-to-be named generation. He is happy, his place in the world found, and everything he had ever wanted now at his fingertips.
They will all leave later that day. He and Murilo will take a flight to Boston. From there, the Fool Murilo will continue onward, heading west to California. In a month’s time, if all goes well, the two will meet in the middle of the continent, having moved under strained speed. Just a month until the first Calling.
The woman is heading to the Middle East and then to Africa. Wearing a maxi dress and yellow-tinted sunglasses, Andressa is kind enough not to flirt with him. It is done out of respect for his father, she told him. But he understands enough to know it was a consideration made for Murilo, who is new to the post, and a first-time recruiter.
Given to a Spanish temperament, Murilo likes to be macho, tending towards arrogance. The boy hopes that there won’t be too much friction between them. They are very different.
He wonders, then, what the world has in store for him, who he is to meet, and what kinds of friends he will make.
Filled with these dreams, he boards his flight. Within hours, waves of nerves have gotten the better of him.
He stands in the bathroom, staring into the mirror, unsure of what will happen, but intent on being as prepared as possible.
He recites his speech.
It’s been delivered to the silvered glass twice already. He hopes that it will be a deciding factor for those he will speak with.
He cannot be sure, though, and so he runs through the words again. Language can be full of nuance, and it is not his mother tongue.
“You think you might go. So, go. Listen. There are people who will try to talk you out of this decision for their own good, or people who will try to talk you out of this decision for what they think is your own good. I can only give you my advice, and that is to go. Nowhere else in this world will you find such an offer. It is worth the journey. I also advise you this. There are a third kind of people. Those that simply say goodbye and good luck. Those last ones are the ones you will want to keep an eye out for when you come home. They’ll be the ones to remember you when you return, and they will be the ones to rejoice because you are different when you do.”
The line feels soft, mushy in his mouth, like an overripe plum. He’s suddenly self-conscious, knowing that it will not sway everyone.
Still, he has hope.
Return to the Timeline
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