Reader and the Birch Bird)
You leaned against the open stone door, resting at the threshold between the rocky beach surrounding the lake and the imposing castle, sopping wet from head to toe, a peel of somewhat unhinged cackles ripping from your throat, head tipped back in laughter. You had heard so many stories about the School for Good and Evil, but you’d always felt distanced from them, certain that the eccentricities of the campus would remain a mystery to you forever. Yet, now here you stood, a student of evil. Oh, think of all the fresh villainy you might attend to.
~~~~~
Though your parents attended the School for Evil and each had their own unique powers, you never manifested any magical abilities.
Throughout your childhood you waited (very impatiently) for your magic to emerge. You put yourself into dangerous scenarios to try to force your magic out of you. You traveled to extreme environments to try to coax any nature, climate, or weather related power to the surface. You immersed yourself in large crowds to see if any mental magics might manifest. You even experimented with magics traditionally connected with Evers, like animal connection, healing, household, and beauty spells.
Nothing ever worked. So, impatient as you are, you decided to make peace with your magiclessness and figure out how to gain power through other means. You didn’t need magic to be a badass, damn it, and fuck anyone who told you otherwise!
You mastered multiple forms of combat, learning from experts and exploits alike. You trained with weaponry of all sorts, sharpening your skills and your swords year after year. You learned nature survival, hunting, horseback riding, exploration, navigation… You made political connections, fostered relationships with important players in this world. You drank in as much knowledge as you could, from books, from brief conversations, from experience, from orations… You drank… well, drinks too, and learned how to handle your liquor, how to have fun and let go and not take things so seriously all the time.
And then, on your 18th birthday, you awoke to what felt like a warm, energetic pulsing centered in your heart and radiating throughout your body, and all of the sudden, after you’d long given up hoping, your magic appeared. You stumbled out of the small cabin you’d built for yourself in the woods, fell to your knees in the nearby clearing next to the stream, looked up to the sky and let the summer sunrise bathe you in soft, warm, pink light as you cackled and wept with joy.
Your parents had accepted you before, always impressed by your pursuit of power despite your lack of magical prowess, but now that their daughter had magic they were eager to teach you everything they knew. It quickly became clear, however, that you needed to start from the beginning, so you sent in an enrollment request to the School for Evil, stamped with a trace of your magical signature.
Though most students began schooling at the age of 13, technically there was no age restriction for students, especially given that different creatures aged very differently, making rigid boundaries counterproductive. You had some apprehension about starting a career at the School for Evil so much later than most of the student population, but having had a rich array of life experiences from childhood, you were a very secure, self-assured, confident person (at least most of the time), so it didn’t trouble you too much.
Nothing troubled you too much, really. You were brave, and brash, and bold. You were powerful even before you had magic, and you were thrilled to discover how much more powerful you might become now that magic had settled as your ally.
When autumn began to roll in, you anticipated the huge wooden bird before it came. Usually these beastly transports snatched students up unceremoniously in their claws, flew them to the school, and flung them unceremoniously into the lake at the base of the campus. You knew this from your parents’ stories. You didn’t much fancy being jostled around in such a way, so the morning the bird flew in, you awaited its arrival in the clearing. The bird was much more beautiful than you had expected, at least in the dark way that was so dear to your heart. It’s body and wings were made out of wooden sticks and vines, all intricately woven together into the jagged yet elegant creature. This particular bird was made of birch, giving it a light, near-white color that had camouflaged it in the clouds as it flew in. You were impressed by the adaptation, and wondered if the birds had any control over their appearance. When it landed, you did not run, you did not flinch—you stood your ground and, maintaining a relaxed and confident demeanor, you extended your arm, holding your palm upwards in offering to the bird. Up close, the bird’s white branches gave it a skeletal appearance.
“Hello,” you offered in greeting, along with a smile.
The bird seemed surprised by your manner, and you were, in turn, surprised by the intelligence and awareness you could immediately sense in the animal. The bird squawked and stepped forward tentatively.
“You are beautiful! I’ve never seen a creature quite like you. I like your birch wood.”
The bird perked up at that, seeming to enjoy the compliment, and perhaps being spoken to rather than treated like a beast.
“Your claws look very impressively scary,” you giggled, “but I don’t much fancy being flung around or scratched up if we can avoid it. Is there another way we could go about this?”
The bird nodded and knelt its shoulder to the ground, tossing its head towards its back, signaling you to climb on.
“Ooh, how fun!” you exclaimed at the offer. “Let me know if I’m hurting you or pulling on you too much, ok?”
The bird nodded, and you clambered up onto their back. You were easily able to find hand and foot holds among the branches of their body, and settled securely atop their neck.
“Ok, I’m ready when you are! I’ve never ridden a giant bird before, so don’t drop me please!” You patted the bird affectionately on their neck. The bird let out a huff that almost sounded like a laugh, and took off with two powerful beats of its wings.
The flight was exhilarating. Rocketing through the clear blue sky, navigating the thick, red storm, sailing through the wards protecting the School for Good and Evil… As excited as you were to reach the school, you regretted that the flight had to end so soon.
As you descended toward the lake, you yelled to the bird, “thanks so much for the ride! Come visit me sometime if you can! I don’t know what you eat, but I’ll find you treats or something!” Another happy squawk.
When you were about twenty feet above the lake, the bird slowed to a hover, and you scrambled up to a standing position, and then dove gracefully down into the lake. The water was cold but refreshing, and when you emerged at the surface, you took a long gulp of air and watched the birch bird fly away before swimming to shore.
You strode onto the beach, your bag of essentials, lace-up combat boots, standard, simple hunting outfit, and long, brown hair all completely waterlogged. You hadn’t noticed the crowd before, but a group of several students and the two wolf guards stood, gawking at you, mouths agape. You guessed they’d never seen someone actually ride one of the birds, maybe.
“Hello!” you greeted, cheerfully, then you leaned back against the entrance of the castle and began to cackle uproariously. You already loved it here.