FSE

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"I'm bored."

The words were listless, drifting in the air, directed at no one and only heard by the one who spoke them. A sigh fell to a similar fate, lingering a while before fading into time forgotten. Another minute passed uselessly by. Matters weren't helped at all by the droning volume of the clock mounted on the wall. Every second was a resonant tick, tick, tick, drilling into her brain. A groan joined the expressions lacking due audience as the solitary being fell back against her bed. The springs creaked, a familiar er-kreek, er-kreek as they supported her weight.

Serre was a timid little waif of a girl. It wasn't to say she was afraid of her own shadow. She had interest in a great many things. Most of them, however, were safely tucked away in neat little books with titles like, "Cryptids and Where to Find Them," "Sword and Sorcery," and "Of Myths and Men." Fantasy was where she felt safe. Reading about gallant knights slaying fearsome dragons with towering hoards of gold and jewels, or of far off places with sand-swept dunes guarded by mysterious djinn and wind spirits alike; that was where she felt at home. Unfortunately for the 20-something girl, she'd devoured most everything in current literature.

Bored out of her mind Serre stared at the popcorn ceiling of her childhood room that wasn't her home. It hadn't been for a number of years after she'd gone away to college. Serre had graduated, near the top of her class, ready to teach young minds about the usefulness of history, and why it really is the most interesting field of study. She wanted to prove her peers from her days in high school wrong; History was the best, full of intrigue and scandal. More importantly, she always thought it was good to know your roots in order from repeating the errors of the past. Middle schoolers, however, were children of the devil, deserving of exorcism, and she never taught after that past year. Now, jobless, living in her childhood room, she felt as if the world was large, daunting and largely unbearable.

It wasn't the kids, she mused, although they had been absolutely rotten. Then again, that was middle school. All middle schoolers are rotten as a quantifiable rule. It's genetic pre-destiny. With all those hormones unleashed in their tiny little bodies, it was an inevitability. The parents, though, were the faulty party.

"Oh, Davey is special. He needs a better teacher to better cater to his unique needs." 'No," she mused, gritting her teeth at the memory. 'Little Davey wasn't special. Davey was an asshole who thought he didn't need to study because his parents always told him he was better than everyone else.' His words, too.

Another sigh roused her up to sitting as she tangled a hand through her auburn hair. It hung to her shoulders in loose, unkempt waves, barely dried from her earlier shower. She looked to her wrist, at the elastic snugged just too tightly against, biting into soft, freckled flesh. She'd had that hair-tie forever; a cheap gift from an old carnival fortune teller. 'Remember where you come from." What a stupid fortune. It wasn't even a proper fortune. Both hands gradually moved to taming her hair with a short braid, tying it off with the old band. Eyes, a misty sort of sage-green, scanned the room before resting on her favorite books, stacked up on her bedside table. Living in them would be far better. Far away from idiotic parents and their spoiled little children, free to do as she wanted, to meet all sorts of mystical beasts.

They had all been read a hundred-thousand times over. Favorite sections were dog-eared for easy relocation, though the bent spine was usually enough of an indication. Serre thumbed through each of them, musing how nice it would be if any of their stories were possible in her place in time. She wanted magic. She wanted majesty. She wanted fantasy; for dragons to soar overhead, gryphons high in their aeries, serpents in the storm tossed sea. Closing her eyes, she could almost see it. Serre laid back again, holding an anthology of fantastic beasts to her chest. Someday, somehow, it could be real. Maybe. Maybe if she believed hard enough, wished for it again and again. The wish went through her thoughts around and around in circles until she dreamed of many wonderful things that put her at peace.

---

Upon waking some time later, a thought had grown in her mind. She wasn't sure what possessed her, but an idea was gnawing at her as sudden inspiration often does. Serre sat at her desk and drummed her fingers on her keyboard before pulling up an old code format. It hadn't been touched in years. Thumbing through her anthology for reference, to get things right, she filled up the source pool. Questions and answers poured from her fingertips. It took until the dim light of the morning and a missed dinner, but it was finished. She stared at the cliche title a moment before snorting one short laugh.

'What Mythical Beast Are You?'

Serre laughed again before shrugging, saving again and exporting the file for upload. Delirious from lack of sleep, she crawled back to bed. She'd find someplace to upload it in the morning. Or maybe she already had. She couldn't remember as darkness took over and she fell once more into a deep and peaceful sleep.

---

When she woke, a few things seemed off. One, the quiz was definitely launched, though she wasn't sure she remembered posting in on her blog or not the night - or early morning - before. Two, the responses were odd. A lot of positive feedback. A lot of comments along the lines of 'wow. great aesthetic.' 'not sure how i got 'harpy' but lol.' 'So accurate!! Too true!' At least the feedback was good, she mused. The comments following up others were the odd ones though. 'Took the quiz; got chills. Now I feel weird. :/' 'Feeling SUPER confident today after getting 'manticore' as my result. Also weirdly hungry. Lol' One in particular read like this:

'OMG no way! Unicorn! 8D!'

'Uhm. Hm. Feeling weird. Like, super happy but also weirdly... weird.'

'Okay so ever since the test I feel really weird, like, really weird. Thought it was breakfast but that passed okay. Aso weirdly horny? Hah. Unicorn pun. ;P But no, seriously.' :|

'Took the test. Said I was a unicorn. Now I have a dick. What the actual fuck.'

Serre read that one over again, her brow reaching a sharp arch. People were weird. Still, she was curious so she took the test herself, which brings us to the third strange thing; Sorceress. She was almost one-hundred percent certain that hadn't been a possible result. Plus, the graphic representation was oddly spot on to her own worldly appearance and that was more odd to her than her actually achieving it as a result to begin with. The only difference was the taste in clothing; Serre didn't have much of a flare for dressing like a wild's witch with war paint and bones strewn about her like macabre accessories. The graphic looked Pagan, maybe. As if she knew what that really looked like, anyhow. It did look confident, though. Powerful. She found herself wishing she felt that sure about anything. Before she could even lament the fact she didn't, she felt a shift in mood. Her brow furrowed and she chuckled a little to herself. Of course she could feel that confident. She was her own person, after all. A person, by the way, who just made a damn-good personality quiz that was getting a lot of valuable feedback. Not to mention a private message-- That was new. With a bemused quirk of her lips, she clicked open the link and started reading.

'Hi. My name's Romulus Varien. I took your quiz - well done, by the way - and I feel I should preface this statement with the fact that I am not here to critique or complain, but rather to congratulate you. You, mysterious angel, have succeeded in opening a door that has long since been closed. I am however going to insist on two things; one, to take down your quiz immediately and two, meeting you, for your own safety. I'm not here to stalk you. It can be a largely public place. There can be policemen around. I just need to tell you in person what you've done. Please respond to me soon.'

Serre stared at the message, reading it through again. Her amusement turned to a frown the third time through. The phrase, 'what you've done' stood out bolder and bolder each time. At first she was shocked some internet rando had the gall to tell her to take down her quiz. She hadn't done anything. She wasn't hurting anyone. Or had she? The way his words were set made it seem as if she had. Some part of her - the part that had taken a fancy to being called 'mysterious angel' - wondered if the suspicious sender had a point. What did he know? He did seem urgent. What had she done?

Nothing. This was ridiculous. She created a time-waster. That was all. It was a dumb - albeit heavily researched - personality test, nothing more. It just had some weird comments, but those were easy enough to fix. With a brisk shake of her head, she scrolled over to her 'settings' and clicked 'hide comments.'

"There. Nothing to worry about. No more freaks posting random crap," she conceded. A nod of finality emboldened her. Serra rose from her chair with a big arm-over-the-head stretch. "I wonder what mom's making for lunch."

Musings of paninis or avocado toast bounced around her head as she meandered down the stairs. Her thoughts shifted to pizza or pasta as the sharp acidic aroma of tomato sauce reached her nose. She licked her lips, humming softly as she sauntered into the kitchen and sat on a stool in the breakfast nook. Whatever her mother was making smelled wonderful.

"Glad to see you're finally awake."

While the tone was pleasant enough, Serre did her best to ignore the multi-layered undertones suggesting she should have been up earlier. Her mother was a sweet, understanding woman and a personal hero of hers. She was also a champion at passive-aggressive guilt-tripping.

"Finally had a good night's sleep," was her reply, sitting at the open breakfast nook bar.

"Well, that's good."

Any further dialogue was turned out thusly. Serre knew the words by heart; it was a reiteration on the same theme that it was any morning or early afternoon in the audience of her mother. Wishes and empty dreams she would do something more productive with her time, get out of the house more, find a boyfriend, have kids; normal restlessness for mother of a twenty-something female.

As her mother droned on, setting a modest - some might say meager - portion of short whole grain pasta in red sauce on her plate, Serre found her attention focused on the television mounted on the wall across from her. It was showing the news. Nothing new there. The news was usually always on at her parents house. What piqued her interest today was the story. Reports of 'unusual activity' in the southern seas were relayed by a too-blonde news anchor: Ships were being capsized, careening off course, or outright disappearing. Her interest grew as a man, who could only be described as a sailor, was interviewed on a rainy dock.

"We were sailin', see? Out for a bit of a jaunt. Might have done a spot of fishing, might have done a lot of things." The leather-skinned man shifted a little, looking away from the camera lens. "We, the crew felt something bump the boat. Fig'red it was a whale or something. Not unusual. Then outa' nowhere comes this wave. I've tackled big waves before; no skin off my back. But there was something' IN the wave!"

The story went on. Most of it sounded ludicrous, in that there were no fine details. It could have been interpreted as that the wave itself was seemingly sentient. Hard water crashed over the metal deck of the ship. The feeling they were under attack was palpable, but it seemed like he was trying to say something, something specific. The interviewer was content, complacent, even, holding the microphone in place as the sailor regaled the camera - and those watching at home - with a fantastical tale.

Serre's mother flipped the television off with a blip of the remote, fixing her adult daughter with a disbelieving look.

"They'll really let anyone on tv nowadays, don't they?" the older huffed, going back to the stove. Leftover pasta was put into a container, the plastic lid sealing with a satisfying snap. "I miss the days when 'the news' was just facts. Eye-witness accounts are one thing, but that poor man made it sound like the Kraken itself was trying to take down the ship."

"Haha, yeah. Something like that," Serre replied, scooting her plate away. She agreed - it was an interesting account. It should be dismissed, gleaned for the hidden truths, though something about it was almost audibly ringing in her core. Sliding back on her stool, she audibly chuckled, trying to dismiss the growing weight in her chest. Why she felt nervous or anxious was beyond her, but the feeling was starting to settle in hard.

"I'm just.. Going up to my room- to apply for jobs." A wave of auburn hair fanned over her shoulders as she turned, taking the unsettling feeling in stride with a half-baked excuse for her leaving. It served in place of an offering for thanks, and seemed enough to placate the maternal figure who paid her little mind. There was a smile, a wish for luck, and a breath of relief as the young adult made her way back upstairs.

Job-hunting was far from her mind. Settling in again at her computer, Serre's fingered flexed, almost anxious. Her heel bounced, the block-colored sole of her otherwise striped socks dancing in place as she reopened her blog. She was startled to see another private message, from the same sender as the other read message, the one she thought to ignore - mostly. 'I took the comment feature off, at least,' she mused. 'That had to count for something. What do you want?'

The message therein was a simple one:

'Not to pry, I know messaging twice in less than the passing of a day can be seen as neediness, but I do hope you'll respond soon. I don't know if you have a television - or cable to one, rather than relying on streaming services for your entertainment - or if you check the news feed from your phone, but there have been... ahn, developments? that I would very much like to discuss. Also, you've left the test up. I don't fault you for it. My request to remove it was outlandish at best. Please message me back so we can talk.'

Serre stared at the words mutely, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. A low, keening sound built up in her chest as she moused over the little arrow indicating 'reply.' Before she could think against it, she clicked. A chat box opened, a digital letter for returning words, and she hovered above the keys.

'I saw something on tv about ships being attacked. I don't know if that's what you mean. I don't know about meeting up irl, but you can chat with me on Chatterly, maybe? My username's SerenityLux there. I'm taking the quiz down.'

The anxious bouncing had traveled up to her knee. Her modest thigh flexed, the lithe muscle doing well to stop the involuntary behavior, as she finally hit 'reply.' Sending the message through the ether(net) seemed to help, too, though she wasn't sure what to expect, or what it would achieve. Regardless, it was done.

Complying, making an early promise and eager to see it through, she did go through to her blog and remove the post with her quiz. A smaller message was posted after the fact, a little 'Haha, glad ya'll enjoyed it. Found some errors so I took it down!' That was that. The history buff sighed a low breath of relief before reclining back in her chair. Sage-green eyes stared at the screen mutely for a second before blinking. As her lids rested, she heard the familiar 'chime!' of her chat bot.

"That was quick." she mused, sitting up again. She didn't have many friends online, so she assumed the new unread invitation could only be from one person. Pressing the indicator, bearing a nonplussed grimace, she opened a new record. 'Friend Request from Rom Varian.' Bold, she thought, to use their name - if it was their name at all. Accepting the request granted her the chat screen where, already, the dancing ellipses began.

'Rom' was writing a message.

Rom: Hi there. Sorry to be bold, but I know introductions can be tricky. Hopefully this is seen as 'breaking the ice' versus being pushy.

SerenityLux: It's all good. It is a little invasive. What did you want to talk to be about?

Rom: Suppose it's easier via chat to explain. Least the words can get out. A face-to-face would have lended itself more credibility, but at least you'll have the words to read and digest.

SerenityLux: ... So...?

Rom: Oh! Right!

Rom: Uh.. Okay, so here's the thing. TL;DR version? I'm not sure how you managed it, but you unlocked magic.

SerenityLux: ... I what?

Rom: I know.

Rom: Look. It might just have been a grand-scale coincidence, the planets may have aligned - I don't know the exact 'how,' per say. I'm still researching it. But you did, as I said, unlock magic.

SerenityLux: Uuuh... Sure. Okay.

There was a substantial pause, as Serre blinked mutely at her screen. Thin, pleasant lips were parted slightly. Her dark brows were raised in a twisted slant of confusion - the fault laid within many broken, unfinished questions drifting through the static of her brain. The ellipses from Rom danced again.

Rom: Okay, look. Maybe it wasn't /you/ that unlocked magic in this day and age. It might have happened on its own. Like I said, I'm still looking into it, but it's exhausting. A part of me was hoping that you, you beautiful, mysterious creature, did have a part in it, as you could stop playing coy and fill in the gaps. However, it's clear that you don't know, and only know about as much as I do - possibly less.

SerenityLux: I'm not an idiot. You don't have to talk down to me.

Rom: Hhh... I'm not trying. I just don't like posting paragraphs at a time. Let me finish.

Lips now pursed, slightly bristled at the veiled offense, Serre removed herself from the keys. She reclined, her computer chair creaking just slightly as she crossed her arms, watching the screen as his message formed on the other end.

Rom: Thank you.

Rom: I get that it's 2021, that we live and thrive off technology now, but magic did used to exist. Technically, it never went away, but it's a far cry from what it used to be. I'm talking about High Sorcery stuff, like what you find and read about in shitty YA novels. Spell casting, runes, seals, invocations - all of it.

Rom: To preface; I'm a witch. Hi. I have a little coven, and we normally just do little stuff. Purification rituals, crystals, tarot readings - you know. Normal stuff. The last little ritual we did? Not our usual grade. It took off. Nothing bad - we're not like... sacrificing cats in my aunt's basement or anything. But, uh.. There was a spark to it that just.. Wasn't there before.

Rom: Anyways.

Rom: In regards to /you/, your little quiz? It uh.. Had an effect.

This time, there was a pause. Rom stopped typing. Serre sat up. Painted nails - a lovely dusty green already chipped at the tips - scratched at her brow. Both hands ran peevishly through her hair as she digested the rest before leaning forward in her seat. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, making her whole body vibrate. A part of her dreaded, filled with an almost-sense of knowing as she set her hands to the keys again.

SerenityLux: What... kind of effect?

Rom: Like I said, did you see the news?

Rom: I don't know exactly what happened, but, last night? A lot of things... happened. I don't think you're directly at fault. If we met in person, I'd be able to read your expressions better. You seem innocent in all this, so I'm sorry for being so direct.

SerenityLux: Innocent of what, though?

Rom: Right. Okay. So...

Rom: .... Hn. Okay. Being forward again here. Bear with me.

Rom: That quiz you made had a lovely bit of magic attached to it. Let's start there. Were you trying for magic? Did you... say a prayer? Make a wish?

Serre looked at the message with a shrouded squint. Her brow knit together, then relaxed, then raised as her mouth slipped open. Another little, voiced breath escaped her as the prior night's endeavor reworked itself in her head.

SerenityLux: I.. Sort of? Wishing, I guess. My IRL's been... 'eh?' lately, and I just sorta wanted it to be like it is in my favorite books, I guess?

Rom: Right. Good. Okay. We're getting somewhere. So, wishes and wishing are powerful things, especially if you're magically attuned - which I'm betting you are. So, congratulations on being a bonafide witch!

SerenityLux: S-Sorceress.

Rom: ... Pardon?

SerenityLux: I, uh. I took the test as a ha-ha, and got that as my result. I didn't even put it in as a possibility.

Rom: .... Oh.

Rom: Hm.

Rom: Well, now I feel silly.

SerenityLux: ... Did you hack my blog or something?

Rom: No!

Rom: No, no... That's.. A lot to break down, in and of itself. SO. Ahmmn... Okay. In theory, you were in a certain mindstate when you made the quiz. It fed off you, your wish, your desires, and became a sort of... not a spell per say, but... also yes. That.

Rom: Okay? It only works on those who are... Oh what's the word? Inclined? Predisposed? Open to it? And it creates a sort of catalyst. The title 'What Mythical Beast Are You?' is taken more... literally.

SerenityLux: Literally how?

Rom: As in, 'What are You, literally.'

SerenityLux: So.. That weird comment of someone 'turning into a unicorn,' might... not have been a joke? Is that what you're saying?

Rom: ... More or less. Yes.

Her childhood room was suddenly cant at an awkward angle. It wasn't quite spinning yet, but it was all starting to become too much to bear. It couldn't be real. Right? Serre looked around with sage-green eyes the size of dinner plates. This was absurd. Blood was pounding in her ears. She'd had enough.

With an audible snap, her laptop shut. No more conversations, not today. She needed to take a break, to walk, to do something other than sit here and converse with a stranger saying ludicrous things. On wobbling legs, she got up, only now aware of the fact that she'd been corresponding with the mysterious 'Rom' for well over an hour. No more technology. No more instant messaging. She needed to be outside and disconnect.

Pulling a tawny, oatmeal textured hoodie, she fumbled with the zipper before drawing the hood up around her collar. Toeing her striped feet into her slip on shoes, she grabbed her purse before heading for the door. Rapid footfalls had her quickly down the stairs, down the hall, and off to the front door.

"Serre?" Her mother's voice rang from the kitchen. "Are you heading out?"

"Uuh... yeah. Just for a bit."

"Oh, good. If you're going, could you stop by the store for some milk and eggs? I think I want to make omelettes tomorrow."

Such a benign, earthly request gave Serre pause. Almost transported, her thoughts still a whirlwind of 'what the fuck,' she stopped and blinked, before craning her neck around to look at her mother, illuminated briefly by the light of the refrigerator befor ethe heavy door sealed shut again.

"Sure? I was just going for a walk, but.. Yeah. I could do that."

"You're an angel. Don't be too late. The Berron's are coming over for wine and charades after dinner. You know their son, Ioan? He's visiting for a few days before moving out of state for work." Mother dearest went back to what she was doing - evidently halving hard boiled eggs and depositing the chalky yolks into a bowl.

The former teacher did her best to conceal a grimace and a sigh, though nodded, playing her role as the dutiful daughter. She waved, once, grabbing her keys from their hanging spot on the wall, before heading out into the relative calm of the late afternoon.

As she left it, a million thoughts were tumbling and twisting around in her head. It was difficult to focus. One rant detailed the absurdity of what that news report could have implied. That trailed into Rom and whatever it was they'd been trying to explain to her. Then to her mother, her friends, and essential modern-day arrangement with their son her age, and so on. There were many things to think about, yet no conclusions were ever found. It would take until she was back from her errand, decompressing in her room again, and perhaps after dinner and the set-up game night date, for the realization of the day to come to a close.

• To be continued.