Andrew Ognev - The Chronicles of the Elders Malefisterium. Volume 1. The Ordeal of Freya

“Do we grasp mysteries by doing that?”

“The mystery of a new melody… is the mystery of new knowledge.”

“I see.” Vlad put his mind at ease. “You’ve said there are kinds like me” the boy reminded her. “Where do I come into this?”

“You belong to our world by birth,” Freya said solemnly.

“Your world? What world are you talking about?”

“The magic world.”

Silence hung in the air.

“I don’t think I am allowed,” the boy spoke hesitantly, “to get in touch with the magic world. I was brought up in the Christian faith, which disapproves magic.”

“Why?”

“Magic is a sin!”

“The world is multidimensional,” Freya was not a bit embarrassed. With her answers quick and ready, she seemed to know all the arguments Vlad was going to offer. “It is not split into evil and good, black and white. Looking from above, you will get a full picture.”

“What are you talking about?” Vlad flushed with indignation. “You want to say that the Scripture is a lie?”

“It is a part of the truth,” Freya assured him. “A piece of the jigsaw puzzle.”

“What puzzle?”

“A puzzle called the Universe,” Freya spread her arms, showing its infinity. “Both magic and the Christian faith are just two examples out of many clues to the mystery of Creation. To the knowledge of the meaning of existence and non-existence.

“It means… you are saying that magic is in agreement with religion?”

“More than that,” Freya was happy to see that the boy was interested, “it expands and complements it.”

“But then why does the Scripture argue that magic is evil?”

“The Scripture, which you mention so often, is a book that has been revised and altered many times over the centuries, depending on the education, mindset and needs of those who benefit from it,” Freya explained. “A lot of things that people fail to learn and explain are in no time marked down as evil.”

“But what about magic?” Vlad was confused, but kept questioning.

“Magic is the oldest science that studies the underlying origins of the existence.”

“Even black magic?”

“Depends on what you mean by it.”

“Jinxes, hexes, love spells.”

Freya interrupted him gently.

“It’s a misconception, Vlad. Magic itself is harmless. It doesn’t comprise evil or good. It entirely depends on who practices it and what their intentions are. What you’ve named has a negative effect. But magic goes beyond this list. First of all, it opens up new horizons for understanding the world, both outer and inner.”

Vlad remained silent.

“I can see you still doubt,” the woman gave a wave of her hand to change the setting. “Well… let me give you an example. Imagine that you and your friends are in a thick forest. It is winter, snow is lying all around.”

The wind rose suddenly, and white flakes of snow were dancing in the air.

The boy gave a little shiver at the word “snow.” It brought back unpleasant memories.

“It’s getting dark. You cannot find shelter, and the night is falling fast. There are a few fallen trees around, but you have no matches to make a fire. However, you can use magic instead. But you are a firm supporter of strict dogmas that say: ‘Magic is evil!’ So, all of you will freeze to death before morning. Or you can choose the other option: You start a fire by using magic, and you live through the night. As a result, you will save your life and the lives of your friends with the help of magic.”

Vlad made another feeble attempt to hold the ground.

“But what made you think I belong to you?” the thoughts were whirling around in Vlad’s head. “I am just an ordinary village boy.”

Freya made a gesture with her hand.

Vlad checked himself.

A scene from his past life was brought back to him, the one he had been trying to forget for many years, though with no success.

A forest road, a sledge with firewood, and the three of them: Vlad and Stepa, eight-year-old boys, and bell-ringer Mark as a coachman.

The tired bell-ringer was leading the horse by the bridle, with his head low. Vlad was dragging behind. They had been working hard: Mark chopped firewood, Vlad and Stepa laid it onto the sledge. Once or twice, they had to push the heavy loaded sledge uphill, helping the poor old horse. Stepa seemed to be hit by a giggling fit, he was kidding around, giving Vlad a push or throwing a snowball at him.

“Stepa, stop it!” Vlad asked

“I won’t!” Stepa laughed.

“I’ll get you!”

“Catch me first!”

A deeply rutted narrow road, a stiff slope. And Stepa, running away from Vlad. The feet of the mischievous boy slipped down the ice-covered slope.

Vlad watched his friend fall and slip down under the runners of the firewood sledge; it was all like a slow-motion movie. A cry escaped his lips, and he thrust his arm out as if he wanted to keep the boy from falling.

Something clenched inside of him and then broke forth.

The sledge turned over.

It’s too late.

The boy was lying still, crushed by the heavy sledge.

The sledge burst into silver blue flame, soaring to the sky…

Vlad shook his head, banishing the horrible scene from his mind.

“I was late,” Vlad whispered with tears in his eyes. “Just a second late.”

Vlad and Freya

“You tried to save your friend,” Freya consoled him. “What you did was not black magic, was it? That is why you need the Academy: So that you are not late next time. ” Freya placed an emphasis on the last words.

Vlad failed to find objections. Hating the defeat, he had to admit that Freya made a very compelling argument.

He was overwhelmed by conflicting feelings. Joy and excitement were mixed with anxiety and confusion. What awaits him? Will he like the new place? Is he going to find himself? And what about his friends? His choir? What will they do without him?

“Life is a book,” Freya said as if she was able to read his mind. “It’s time for you to turn the page over and get to a new chapter.”

They both relapsed into silence for a while. The boy was watching the play of the purple energy in the woman’s gown. The chain of events of the day was falling into place little by little: The strange words of Father Konstantin, the tale of old Fedotya. Did they know? Were they preparing him for this? He drew a sigh, closed his eyes, and whispered hollowly:

“When should I get going?”

“Today,” she gave a ruthless reply.

“Today?” Vlad looked around the priest’s house that had become his home, his heart sank. “But I must say goodbye to Father Konstantin.”

“He knows about you,” the master said, preventing further questions. “But you can write him a letter.”

“A farewell letter?” Vlad swallowed hard.

“Yes,” Freya nodded, “a farewell letter.”

She knew how he felt.

“When you leave the village,” Freya was giving him instructions, “find a solitary spot and squeeze this stone hard with your hand,” she pointed at the crystal on the chest of the womanlike hologram. “Don’t be afraid of anything, and don’t be surprised. You will not be alone on your way to the Academy.”

“Who is coming with me?”

“Someone who knows the right way! Good luck and see you soon!”

The lines of her body began to fade and, eventually, the woman disappeared. The remaining shapeless glow flowed into the crystal that slowly landed on the table.

Vlad went to his room. It was small but cozy. The daylight easily came through the only window with no curtains and kept the room light even in the early morning and during the evening hours.