Sorcery's Hue (A Malion Series Novel)

Sinking

"Good evening, Varitran." Doctor Gale's voice shook me from deep concentration. I glared at him.

"Evening, Doctor." The soft tone drifted from me. I hadn't even heard the door open. Part of me wanted to slip back into that concentrated state and ignore all of his questions. The other knew I needed to listen to him.

"Happy First Anniversary..." he mumbled with a slight smile. He wore this particular curve strangely like he'd practised someone else's grin.

"Already, huh? I'm not sure how I feel about that. I haven't seen my friends in that long?" He nodded, and my gaze flicked away from him. He stepped closer. I'd allowed him to do that a couple of times recently.

"Can I touch your shoulder?" He asked, and I bowed my head forward wordlessly. A short 'are you sure' followed by my continued silence resulted in a soft stroke on my hair.

We'd gotten to know each other decently well. It's good that he'd be assisting me for another ninety-nine years. I'd be thirty LCs old by the time I get out... roughly.

I stood up, allowing him to retract his hand.

"That line just now, the Anniversary phrase... Did you practise that?" I asked him, neglecting to elaborate or include his off smile. He paused for a long while and took his place in the armchair behind the line.

"It's a sad thing that we as employees need to keep up. I don't like reminding people how long they've been by themselves. At least you know you're not alone. It's different for a lot of other people we help here. They don't see my and my colleagues' help as a good thing, so they often need to stay for longer than expected. You don't seem to be one of those cases, though, and I'm grateful for that. I like you a lot, Varitran. I am glad you're healing." He explained softly.

"Doctor Gale? I don't know if I'm healing or not. It doesn't feel like I'm making any sort of progress. I... All I feel is emptiness and the need for control. I..." the rest of my sentence trailed off into silence until he beckoned me.

"What's your biggest fantasy right now? Where do you want to be?" He asked. After a pause, I managed to explain.

"I see myself in a lush field surrounded by flowers of all different types, and I see myself watching and sketching all kinds of insects and tracing butterflies on the condensation of the window when it's raining outside. I want a peaceful life in a small cabin in the middle of a field with my friends living just down the road. We'd have our own little community... we'd just live in a safe place, where I can't hurt them..." I croaked, finding that I'd curled into a ball and tears had begun to roll down my cheeks.

"Then I will help you get to that vision of yours. I promise I'll help you."

That was one of the last conversations I had with Doctor Gale. In hindsight, I can remember his symptoms worsening and an heir of surreal confidence surrounding him when he told me goodbye for the last time. I was sure I'd see him again, but his words did nothing to suggest it.

I'd been referred to a new therapist, and he was much worse than Doctor Gale. He used a very strange form of Osrocan: What I could only describe as a language changed by time. It took me a bit to understand and decode this new form, but I managed, keeping my own speech intentionally unchanged.

In the next forty-nine years after he'd taken over, I found myself spiralling, sinking ever deeper into a familiar mindset. I was being cornered, trapped. I felt like that long gone abuse had crawled up from the depth of my mind to torture me again.

"Varitran Hue," he stated, like he always did, pulling me out of any escapist state of mind that I'd crawled into before his arrival, "I am here to assess your mental state." His typical introduction rang alarm bells in my brain.

"Good evening, Doctor Hief."

"You seem snappy today. Has anything stressful crossed your mind lately?" His grating voice triggered a growl.

"You are that stress, Sir."

He feigned surprise.

"You clearly don't understand the workings of the mind. One needs to break down before one can be rebuilt and reborn." He spoke in a sly tone, like a serpent.

"Sir, I think a good way to fix something already broken is to help it heal, not break it down farther." I snapped, "please. Leave. The room."

He did as I instructed, and I escaped to the bathroom. This had become my only safe space from everyone trying to hurt me. I missed Doctor Gale. I needed him back. I knew I couldn't heal without him, but they wouldn't listen to my pleas on the other side of the door. I stared at myself in the mirror, watching my eyes shift, and the purple glow illuminate my face more than the golden light did. I rested my forehead on the cool glass and breathed. The release manoeuvre would require me to clean up my cell again, and Heif would belittle me for it again. I just needed to breathe and think of that field I'd imagined. I needed to dream of a good place. When I was eventually calmed down, I made sure to look alright before heading back to the main cell. Doctor Heit entered and scowled at me.

"Varitran Hue, if you wish to release your magic, I do not recommend doing it in such an enclosed space." He said.

"Sir, please continue with your session," I responded.

And that he did. He continued to give me advice that I'd followed in the past and what had gotten too many people hurt and too many people killed. I was being told, by this supposedly professional man, that what I had been doing should have worked, but I was not trying hard enough. Because what he was saying was the perfect advice to give to "people like me" and that I was the problem. He told me that it was my fault that I couldn't control my magic.

I wasn't trying hard enough.

I was never trying hard enough.

That's why I'm a murderer.

That's why I am broken.

He was wrong, and I knew it.