The Memoir of The Forgotten

Leaving Mr. Kephu’s shop of unextraordinary capes and cloaks by 58th and the gateway wall, I spotted the prints of a shadow trotting atop the marble fence enclosing the District of Magic. Incredibly, the shadow was on the fence. Not off to the side, neither above it nor below it. Quite impossible. It wasn’t often mages were given a chance to ascend the societal ladder, a discovery of magical importance here or there and suddenly, the towering walls separating the Academy of Berryben and yourself shrink. So, I did the only logical thing a mage in my position would do, I followed it, past Gantry, the academy for miscreants and delinquents who believe they ought to learn magic, past the Bunny’s Tavern where most of those academy guttersnipes end up, past Meriyl’s Fruit Stand on 43rd and Havesborough, bless her heart, and down Gray Alley. 

Gray Alley was not ideal. That is, Gray Alley was not suitable for walking, running, living, breathing, and least of all, following. The air gave off a foul stench, droppings of some kind littered and stained the marble below, perhaps human, you’d think it was always drizzling in Gray Alley but the repulsive residence, wherever they were, did not have running water, did not have restrooms, bathrooms. Toilets. An umbrella, perhaps several layers of protective spells and a mask of Spider’s Web were necessary to brave the hideous Gray Alley. But an umbrella would never fit between the cramped walls of makeshift marble homes, a mask would more likely hinder breathing because frankly, there was no good air to breath in Gray Alley. Just a permanent stench. So several protective spells would have to do, however many hundred I would have to cast. All for a shadow that may or may not provide me with a sought after position at Berryben.

On closer inspection, the shadow that trotted precariously close to the damp alley floor was not just that. Feline. Most likely a common house cat, perhaps a very small lynx rufus, unlikely a puma concolor kitten. As it did a moment ago, the shadowed feline existed neither in the district of Magic nor outside of it, that is, it remained firmly planted between the gray world of regular humans and the vivid land of mages, like a water droplet between panes in a window. It was stuck. However it could have gotten lodged between the planes of magic and non-magic was an enigma. It wasn’t possible. And yet here it was, trotting merrily down Gray Alley, as if this ugly backroad led to the Grand Library at Radesway. The further it traveled, the worse the viscous puddles became, black sludge clung to the innermost marble walls of Grey Alley like lichen on wood, the air wasn’t only foul, it was poisonous. Sunlight died this deep in. I would have too if not for the various charms cast in preparation for this grand chase. Eventually, the cat reached its end, the end of Gray Alley, a wall of distorted marble. Or so I would have thought, instead, the cat continued its trotting unperturbed by the obstacle in its path, and vanished through the wall. And so, it was obvious that this particular wall was a false end, an illusion cast by someone with something to hide, perhaps an especially rogue Gantry student. 

Perhaps someone much worse.

Placing a firm hand on the wall, the outstretched fingers broke through the barrier and out onto the other side, following the feline miscreant into a sprawling forest. Red. The leaves, the grass, the trunks and branches and ground were all painted a bloody hue, the sap dripping from the odd tree fell vermillion and the critters who would devour that sap appeared scarlet. Every shape and thing, the rocks and pebbles, the ants and frogs, shared with the forest a red tinge. No longer was this Gray Alley, nor was this Gantry Academy or anywhere near Meriyl’s Fruit Stand on 43rd, this was far away, perhaps not in the same district or if it was, in a corner unexplored. There was no red forest, not to my knowledge, not to the knowledge of any map or professor and yet here it was, an ecosystem buried in red. And a feline shadow. As if waiting, the shadow looked forward and darted off deeper into the bloody forest, hopping over felled apples and ruby rocks. 

I could almost taste it, the discovery of a lifetime, my name would be carved into a list of the great explorers and mages, I would have so much more than just a position at Berryben, I would have fame beyond measure. Without a second thought, I dashed after the shadow, tripping over myself imagining the welcoming ceremony, the handshake from the headmaster, the eyes of my peers writhing in envy. I would have access to the most guarded spells and knowledge the world of mages had never seen. I would have power, forget fame.

Oh, the glory.

The mages of Berryben, an institute of considerable renown, have often speculated on the existence of castaway floating islands which for whatever reason, were never moored or struck to the ground. Like the feline shadow, an impossible existence. Berryben, an institute far outweighing the achievements of Gantry, were of course, correct. A Ruby Spire was dangling precariously off its floating island some thousand feet above a forest clearing this shadow had led me to. Bits and parts fell off every now and again, a shimmering red shard or comet sized chunk. The Ruby Spire had migrated to the edge of the island to avoid the slow disintegration of its footing, at least, that’s what it looked like. How an entire tower would move was a mystery to me but then again, it was on a floating island. It was trapped. Nowhere to go but down.

Skipping into the air, the feline shadow transformed itself into a nightingale, its figure blurry as it dashed into the sky, presumably after the island and presumably expecting me to follow. Flight was a tricky thing for humans, birds of steel were the closest we’ve ever come but for a thousand years before the Wright brothers thought of a winged machine, mages had learned to travel light. “Itealaich!” A crude flight spell, but the only one I knew.

The island was much higher than I previously guessed, with every thousand feet climbed, the tower seemed to distance itself another thousand. Through several recastings of Itealaich and a few dreadful freefalls, I eventually clawed by way onto the rocky surface of the island above. Flight was the first spell form many fledgling mages learn. Unfortunately, I was never adept. With a drenched cloak given to me by Mr. Kephu himself, I wiped away the residual sweat on my forehead and neck. I might as well have swam to the island and if it wasn't floating, I would have much preferred it.

This flying rock was much like its forest counterpart, red, but unlike it, the island carried no trees, no flowers or grass, red as it may be. Just rocks. A boulder here, a stone or pebble there, all tinged a dark burgundy and at the end of the quarry of red stood a final monument twisting and piercing the sky. A single door. Bars for windows. Besides the frugal outer decor, the Ruby Spire sported one abnormal attribute, two chains attached to the front of the spire, as if meant to keep it from falling. 

Or from escaping. 

The individual links were as wide as I was tall, who knew how deep into the stone they were embedded but they showed no signs of deterioration or breaking despite the islands soon to be demise. 

Waiting for me on the front porch of the spire was a cat veiled in shadow, except for me, it was the only thing not dyed a shade of red. Like it did to the marble wall in Gray Alley, the cat walked through the door of the spire and vanished. A trap. In truth, I considered the possibility but if I’ve made it this far, past a red land no man has set before, past the festering Gray Alley, up beyond the clouds, then this spire would just be the cherry on top, the final checkpoint, the discovery that would not only cement my name at the beginning of textbooks and stone monuments but for all of time. Perhaps, I wouldn’t dare dream, but even becoming headmaster wouldn’t be impossible. This was immortality, forget power. With a shaky hand, I phased through the lone door.

The Grand Library at Radesway is considered by many to be the most extensive collection of physical knowledge in the form of books, scrolls, and tablets the world of magic and non-magic has ever seen or will ever see. I’ve seen it once. I think I was seven at the time, it’s been years since but the interior of the library has been long burned into my memory. It was an exact copy, books and scrolls were thrown haphazardly onto the alabaster floor and some pages were ripped from their seams but besides that, everything was the same. The faint vanilla smell of newly inked books, the old earthen scent of fading manuscripts, the collection of dust on scrolls no one has seen in years buried deep in the archives of the multi-story library, The Rosetta stone carved to be a perfect replica of the original set on pedestals in the seldom clearing of shelves, rare literature encased in reinforced glass for onlookers to view from a distance, a skylight illuminating the innermost parts of circular balconies and the entirety of the ground floor. And so much more. The red tinge of the outer world had failed to invade this sanctum of knowledge. I was seven all over again. 

It was heaven. But I wasn’t dead just yet.

Forgetting about the shadow, I began my trip down memory lane, visiting the first shelf that greeted me and plucking a book from it. ‘The Memoir of Ivanov Parcelus.’ An alchemist, he attained minor fame for the transmutation of lesser mammals into bezoar stones. Although, he was struck from the lists of great alchemists for attempting his experiments on unwilling, more intelligent mammals. But he did make good minerals. Another book to the left of the memoir was titled, ‘The Great Mage.’ A reference to the one man who's ever lived to acquire the title. 

“Those Gantry’s, always creating troublesome mages.” A grating voice resounded from behind me.

“Who’s there?” The book dropped to the floor and a healthy amount of dust sprung from its fall.

“Ah, what a mess.” The voice erupted again from everywhere at once, the wand hidden under my cloak suddenly felt small. “What.” It spoke once more.

“Who are you!” I twirled around to gaze at the hidden entity, looking past the shelves and up at the balconies.

“What. Again, you ask the wrong question, a slow learner. Lucky you, we’re in a library.” From the shadows lurking deeper between the shelves on the second floor of the Ruby Spire came the cat, my guide. As it leaped from the balcony, its shape molded into that of a nightingale before landing on the ground with two solid legs and the appearance of a man.

“Mr. Kephu?” My eyes widened before I reinforced the grip on my wand.

“If you want me to be.” His arms spread wide, as if expecting a hug.

“No. I know the man, you are not him.” I retreated once more, my back nudging against the door to the Ruby Spire.

“That would be true. I am not Mr. Kephu, although, now that I am, it would seem his memories are flooding into me.” His teeth shone through a wide smile. “You want to get into Berryben? No, you want to teach there—ha, a Gantry drop out wants to teach at Berryben? Or, oh. You want that?—”

“Shut up, fiend!” And I withdrew the wand hidden in my sleeve.

He gave a light chuckle before picking up the book I dropped, “The Great Mage. What a bothersome title. You know, there really wasn’t anything particularly special about him.”

“Helliach!” The spell manifested into a steady flame and shot out at the cat or nightingale or Mr. Kephu or whatever the hell it was.

With a finger, he dissipated the flame and opened the book titled, ‘The Great Mage.’

“One of his achievements was this place, you know. They give him the credit, as if he did anything besides coming up with the idea.”

“Ophelo!” A blinding spell this time, the library drowned in light and a moment later, I was hidden behind several rows of shelves.

“He didn’t really build this place,” he continued without a second thought. “That’s my gripe. There were alchemists and architects and engineers and mages and artificers and craftsmen of all sorts that went into the construction of this place, and yet, only his name gets recorded.” Footsteps echoed to replace his voice. “And that’s not the only stolen achievement he's come across, the Hanging Gardens at Kenderstill, The Steel Colossus defending the European Dome, The Retreating Waters of Nevia.”

“Reothadh!” I whipped around from my hiding place and cast the spell at the fiend not five feet from me. A moment later, the wand I held firmly in my grasp ricocheted off the spire wall and fell in splinters some distance from me.

“A slow learner indeed.” We stood face to face. “Reothadh, a good spell to restrict the movement of an opponent, Ophelo, a blinding spell, also decent, but Helliach? In a library? Have some common sense.” He flicked my forehead and I felt a slight burn.

“Who… what in the light are you?”

“And he has learned. I’m the architect. Welcome to my lovely prison.” He turned with open arms, introducing me to the interior of the Ruby Spire once more.

“This… this replica is your—”

“Replica!” The shelves surrounding me shuddered at his booming voice, the cascading avalanche of shelves toppling over one another above me could also be heard, for however many levels there were. “Replica.” He breathed deeply. “I suppose you would think that. No. This is the original, forget that thing in Radesway, this is five—no, ten times better, larger, more brilliant, superior—just superior in every way.” His eyes gleamed and the face he stole began to crumble.

“I, I see.” 

“And I made it! Although, nobody really remembers that part, nobody even remembers what I am. That’s why I much prefer humans like this one.” ‘The Memoir of Ivanov Parcelus’ levitated into his hands, he cradled it as if it was something delicate whilst the face of Mr. Kephu melted off of him. “The men who are willing to be forgotten are the ones you should really be idolizing, forget this slimy backstabber,” he tossed the previous title behind him and it exploded into a ball of fire, his new face forming from its ashes. “Ivanov, now he’s a great mage, was willing to do the difficult things in order to progress his research. He used an ape here or there to do it and there’s nothing wrong with that, or so I would like to say but I don’t make the rules. Not yet.”

My jaw swung ajar before I could mutter a reply. “He transmuted unwilling humans.” My eyes further widened at the new face adorning the architect.

“Not humans.” His brow scrunched. “You mean those bipedal mammals on the other side of the District of Magic? I’m a human, Ivanov’s a human, those Berryben mossbacks are human, you also qualify, if just barely.” He smirked with familiar lips, with teeth only I had known and eyes that matched mine. “But they, those things, can’t use magic. So they can’t be human. They can’t be like me or you, well, maybe a little like you.”

“What are you?” My lips quivered.

“I’m the architect. I’m human. And now, I’m you. You're much like Ivanov, nobody will remember the sacrifice you took in coming here, in freeing me. I idolize you.” He trotted to the spire door. “You have achieved the necessary requirements for being recognized by the Berryben’s, lucky you. You just won’t be going, or teaching or doing anything besides staying here, my beloved replacement.” It had finally dawned on me, of course it was a trap, of course I had to be the fool that fell for it. “I wouldn’t fret too much though, this place is like heaven, is it not?” Placing a firm hand on the door, his outstretched fingers broke through it and out onto the other side, the last thing I ever saw of him was a grotesque grin with a face that was mine.