The Faultline Theory (Chapter 1)

Smoke bled from the parchment as Dasriel rewrote spell after spell. Around him, students argued about the only place worth wasting an evening in Knowear.

His ink-stained fingers cramped around his pen. He crossed out a word, replaced it, then crossed it out again. The air reeked faintly of brine and ash from the candles littering the lab around him.

The instructions were simple. The spark provided energy; the ingredients carried the meaning. On tables near him, candles whispered almost too faintly to hear, humming with potential energy like a hidden bass note. Dasriel leaned hard onto his elbows before his arms gave out entirely. He forced what little strength he had into the tip of his finger.

Fire!

He straightened his index toward the glass-covered candle. If only the fire pounding through his head could leap into the world.

Fire. Flame. Spark. Just a single Kelvin— anything.

He was hopeless with elemental spells. Last week’s incantations had ended in failing gestures and harmless sparks that Mochi had cooed over. No luck.

Most his age were finishing classes, refining their magical scopes. Dasriel still sat in introductory labs, collecting makeup assignments for children.

“Hey.” Arlin leaned over his table, not daring to glance at the charred papers. “We’re heading home. Tom and Alyssa want to hang at Bread and Butter. You in?”

Mochi smiled softly, her bracelets chiming as she moved to brush messy hair from her eyes. “Unless you’d rather study. That’s fine too.”

“Study?” Dasriel muttered. “I’m still stuck on the lab assignment, of which I am trying to set on fire. Because it’s been going on forever.”

His siblings had their own specialized courses— meaning they’d gone out of their way to track Dasriel down and invite him to their hangout. It was a meeting with friends— probably to drag him into their circles, to talk about books, music, and Mochi’s new familiar. These things interested other people. They were supposed to interest him. Dasriel hid his paper from his sister.

“Das, we’re only nineteen for a year.” Arlin groaned. “So take your nose out of your textbooks. Tom misses you. Seriously! Alyssa needs your advice. Don’t be such a—“

Dasriel barely heard the rest. Tom wanted to tease him over dinner, while Alyssa needed his academic advisory to keep her perfect GPA. It was like every other hangout of the year; Dasriel fraternized with other students to be of service. His stomach twisted until his fist pressed it still, and his eyes dropped back to the parchment. If he copied the spell enough times, maybe it would click.

What bridged the gap between knowledge and action?

He pulled a lighter from his pocket, small and discreet. Lifted the glass dome. Checking that only his siblings were watching, he flicked it to life and touched the flame to the candle.

Instantly, the candle was ablaze— not with the elemental power but with the ordinary cruelty of fire. The wick blackened. Within the glass dome, an eternal flame sputtered and shook, taunting him with its flicker.

“Cool. Dinner's at six-thirty.” Arlin pulled his hood up and strode away.

Mochi lingered, jewelry catching the light, eyes searching his face. He ignored her, arms wrapped around his trembling body. The lab was freezing, even with blue fire burning inches away. Eventually, she left too, and Dasriel sat alone with his pointless notes.

_____________________________________________________________________

The walk home stretched on for miles. Dasriel’s feet ached for the relief of his bed. With all the books he’d crammed into his backpack, it weighed down his back. The air was wrong. Too hot. Too still. No birds. No insects. Even the blossoms sagged, their sweetness turning sharp in his throat.

That was odd. Dasriel re-checked his phone several times, barely giving any attention to the road in front of him.

It’s only 85 degrees. My skin might melt off.

There was a spicy zing to the air. A presence, not unlike the whispers of the seashells, whispered through the trees. A prickle needled the back of his neck, and he scanned the empty road. His speed increased.

His water had long since been emptied and recycled into sweat. He didn’t even bother apologizing for the noise when he stumbled through the door.

His sister had plans. He heard her keychains rattling before he could reach his room.

“Hiya!” She threw herself around the couch and pointed at her scalp, as if it were possible to glance over the hot pink. This was her new color of the month. “I was wondering when you’d get home. Arlin didn’t have much to say about my hair— what do you think?”

“Fantastic.” Dasriel pushed out.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Dasriel escaped through the back sliding door, careful to not make another noise, and glanced over at Arlin’s window. Likely, he wouldn’t wake him up from his afternoon nap. His brother slept with thick headphones and a loud enough volume to break earth’s sound barrier.

Dasriel never slept deeply. It was unsafe. He felt twitchy even lying in a different bed than his own.

The white oak tree towered over all the rest, providing shade in ample amounts. Dasriel paced the wilting, scorched grass and took a deep breath before swinging his leg onto the tree. The backpack made it difficult to follow with the rest of his body.

He panted once he reached his destination: tall enough to disappear from the world, but not high enough to matter.

The first book he cracked open, an alchemy guide, bored him to death. The words ran together in chapter two. This information came easily already. Compared to Mochi and Arlin, he was the smartest of them all. Isn’t that what Tom said, the last time they had hung out?

It must have been ages ago. Dasriel spent his time wisely.

There was a bright flash to his right, and Dasriel rubbed his eyes to disturb anything that might have obstructed his vision. He questioned the light’s existence, but couldn’t ignore the tugging in his chest. Something stirred the coals of magic and he coughed a few times. He wondered what it could be while he parsed through his journal. It could’ve been the Magic Academy’s Cleanup Program, experimenting with the non-physical waste and wreaking havoc across town. That was yet another program of his school Dasriel could only dream of.

Somewhere below, the air warped— like heat shimmer rising from asphalt. He spared another glance at the yard, and the shimmer clung to the grass a heartbeat too long before vanishing. His chest tightened.

It’s just exhaustion, he told himself.

But he lumbered down from his alternate realm within the trees and approached his siblings on the front porch.

Did they sense anything out of the ordinary?

Arlin tapped his watch while Mochi looked expectantly into his eyes, glancing at her feet when she didn’t like what she saw.

“I’m not going,” Dasriel stated, then spun around.

“Hey, HEY!” Dasriel heard his brother shout from behind him.

Arlin rushed to the door and held it shut.

Dasriel collapsed onto the front porch, slithering down in a rocking chair until he felt like a puddle of mud. That’s all he was: a messy, repulsive pile of mud.

Arlin waved his hands in the air, as if they spoke the angry words that rested in all of them. Mochi turned her back toward him, letting the setting sun bathe her in a beautiful, orange light. The life of sunset coaxed the fireflies and cicadas out of their homes. Long, unattended weeds swayed in the light breeze. And the triplets were silent.

Everyone knew what each other was thinking. Dasriel rocked back and forth and decided he owed them something.

“I’m sorry—,” he spit out, only to be interrupted.

“That’s so gay—,” Arlin cut in, and Dasriel flinched before he could stop himself.

Mochi’s words stopped dead in her tracks, “But...”

They all looked at each other.

Dasriel tried again.

“Arlin, I know you’re ready to knock back a few root beers and gossip about schoolmates, but I’m not feeling well. ”

A frown filled Arlin’s face. “You said that last time. They’re your friends.”

“They’re not my friends. They’re barely Mochi’s friends.” Dasriel picked at the wood of the chair, sensing Mochi’s fallen face.

“Yeah, well, not a lot of people in Knowear put up with a trans girl.” Mochi’s voice was thick. “If you’d rather stay home, that’s fine, but don’t speak for me.”

Silence.

“Okay.” Dasriel’s eyes tracked up her bright outfit and into her big eyes. “I’ve just had a bad day. Maybe another time?”

“We all have bad days. Sunny peed on my bedroom floor this morning.”

Right. Mochi’s familiar. How tragic.

“Tom was being a bit annoying today.” Arlin muttered. He wanted to say more, but he shuddered over his next sentence and then shook his head.

Dasriel didn’t press the matter. Those days, Tom really only talked about one thing.

“Maybe another time,” Mochi brushed off. “Tom and Alyssa are just unsure of where you stand in the friend group. You’re the academic weapon– I’m sure everyone feels a little small around you.”

Dasriel’s head nearly turned a full circle. Had his sister had something alcoholic to drink at the cafe? Even Arlin snorted, but he tried to cover it up with a cough.

“Feel small? Around me?” He sat up like a rod in his seat.

“Oh, please!” Arlin protested while his sister frowned.

Shame bubbled in his gut at the confession, but there was only one way to get the weight of today’s failure off his back.

“Today was our exam day!” He persisted. “I couldn’t do a single spell.”

Arlin and Mochi shared a look.

He sighed. Dasriel wouldn’t find consolation in his siblings. They just couldn’t relate. So instead of dignifying his woes with a retort, Mochi sat down on the rotting plywood of the porch and kicked a few ants off her shoe. Arlin leaned in toward her. Even if he threw the biggest pity-party, Mochi’s biggest problems were animal cruelty and global warming. Arlin found Dasriel’s inadequacies just as amusing as anyone else did.

He shook his head and pushed the conversation away. Silence swallowed them all, until Mochi pointed at a particular set of pink clouds.

“I remember a day like this,” Mochi put a finger to her lips. “Where the sun was setting and we all found time to watch it together. That doesn’t happen anymore.”

The porch looked the same as it did ten years ago.

“I miss him sometimes,” Arlin admitted. Mochi nodded. Dasriel looked back and forth between his knees and the sunset.

_____________________________________________________________________

He sought better comfort in his room: a soft quilt, a beautiful constellation tapestry, and a friendliness that eased his pains. His books and telescope and colorful walls all reached around him for a big hug at the end of the day. He spent most of his life curled up on his bed, popping breath mints into his mouth and holding a book open on his lap. So when people fell short, Dasriel fell into the arms of his safe space. He kicked his shoes off into the rack in the hallway and pushed open his door. He waited for the smell of hazelnuts and vanilla.

He wasn’t ready for what greeted him.

The stench from his room nearly choked him. His eyes struggled to stay open.

Scattered around his room there were globs of indescribable colors and substances. Something foreign was splattered across his bookshelves and carpet. The fumes wafted up, instantly giving him a piercing headache.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and rushed into his room, careful not to touch any of the residue.

His journals were pulled apart on his bed and rifled through.

Dasriel’s magic was flip-flopping within him. He knelt over, nausea creeping up his throat. He tried to focus on calming his breathing, but the acceleration of his heart wouldn’t surrender.

What the hell happened to my room?

When he straightened up to investigate the substance, there was a sharp crack behind him. The door slammed shut and the sound was absorbed into the magic ruins with a disturbing, sucking noise.

This was not his safe space.

“What the hell?” He cried out, but something hot smacked over his mouth and gripped his jaw. The room drowned in orange light.

He whined and tried to squirm away from the temperature, but it wouldn’t let up. After a few more kicks, his body was propelled into the bed.

His eyes snaked up a pair of legs, then across eyes lit like embers, and lingered on the black, glowing horns atop the creature’s head.

He was sure he had peed himself.

His bladder burned with shame. His lungs forgot their job. His hands wouldn’t unclench.

The only thing that emerged was a hoarse whisper.

“Who are you?” He choked out.

The creature in front of him laughed, sharp teeth glinting in the lamp’s light. The room looked stitched together incorrectly. Dasriel tried to swallow but found no saliva in his mouth.

The creature’s next words were cheery for a death sentence. Magical waste poured off his tongue until Dasriel was swooning and clawing for purchase in the air.

“The name’s Astrid.”

The hard floor was rough against his tailbone as he slammed down into it. The strange material burned his palm. He used the last of his strength to cradle it against his chest.

What was happening? Astrid who?

Pain continued to gnaw until he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Well,” Astrid said lightly. “You’re not who I expected.”