The Last Catalyst

By H.B. Catherine

Anastasia has never really fit in here with her off-standish attitude, strange looks, and awkward demeanor, being brought here as an infant to escape the decades long civil war raging in Magiahortus between the Catalyst and Spongos Clans. Not that her social ineptness was entirely her fault; she was trained, as all Magieks are, to control her em

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bookish Dreams LLC
• Release date: Dec 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781734349610

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The Last Catalyst

H.B. Catherine

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

The Last Catalyst. Copyright © 2019 by Hannah Reuter.

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be produced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Publication by Bookish Dreams LLC

bookishdreamsllc.com

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request

ISBN 978-1-7343496-0-3 (Hard Cover)

ISBN 978-1-7343496-2-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-7343496-1-0 (eBook)

First Edition

The Last Catalyst

H.B. Catherine

Bookish Dreams LLC

Michigan

This book is dedicated to my amazing husband who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

I’d also like to thank my aunt candy and uncle mark for rooting for me every step of the way.

Never give up on your dreams.

Chapter One

Walking home from school is my favorite part of the day. It is the only time where no one is bothering me, no one is talking to me; I can simply put my headphones in and forget about my abysmal life here for a bit.

Magiahortus is where I am from, and unlike this World of Science, everyone and everything there is born with an internal magick source gifted to them by the creator of our realm, The Trees. I try not to, but occasionally my mind can’t help but wander to how different my life would have been if I had not been taken here as an infant – if I had grown up with others like me. I think back to when I was younger, full of questions on my heritage.

I had asked my guardian (the only Magiek I’ve ever known, besides myself), Vivian, why we could not just go back. She told me that there was a civil war raging back home, so we were safer here for now and in addition, the rift that allowed us through, only opened enough to let someone in every two decades or so, depending on the level of atmospheric essence present during the time period. She then went into an elaborate discussion with me on the difference between science and magick, how both require knowledge and balance, or chaos ensues. Vivian tried to get me to embrace the wonders of science here, but of course, I was only interested in magick.

I hope to someday go back to the Realm of Magick, but until then, all I have are the few books that Vivian brought with us and the descriptions she gives me. One of my favorite pictures is from a children’s textbook; it depicts the two moons glowing against the blue-white sky, one a deep purple and the other a vibrant red, in the backdrop is a great pearlescent structure with spiraling towers and walkways dangling overhead, hanging down as if on their own. In front of that at the focal point, an iridescent tree similar to that of a great Oak stands, the branches seemingly reaching out to touch the moons on either side.

The thought of its beauty makes me smile. Yawning, I stretch my arms above my head, continuing my walk down the weed-infested, cracked pavement of the faded grey sidewalk. I kick a rock and send it skidding down the walkway, looking up just in time to see a crimson car slow down next to me.

*HONK*

Looking good… for a ginger! The vehicle is full of football players from my school, the type that haven’t joined the #MeToo Movement of this Millennia. One of them winks at me and whistles, I glare at him in disgust while they laugh boisterously, revving their engine at me prior to driving away.

Life in this stupid little Michigan suburb is difficult when boys and men always ogle me like an alien – which in a way, I guess I kind of am. My features are distinct; with iris eyes and hair displaying every varying shade of orange, it also doesn’t help that my skin is exceptionally pale, even for a redhead, which only makes me stand out more. I used to wear contacts when my eyes were closer to the color of lilac as a child, but over time, they darkened and matched closer to those of the humans here. These physical traits are typical characteristics of the clan I was born from, The Catalysts, but here, not so much.

If I was back in Magiahortus, everyone would respect me as a Catalyst Magiek and not be treating me like a social pariah; and I would have manifested more than just one weak Ability by now. Most Magieks accumulate up to three Abilities – a band-like marking manifests on the left bicep for each one that forms, the blackness of the band deepening and expanding as the magick accrues over time.

Sadly, I have only developed one, although most Magieks have all three by the time they are adults… And, being from the powerful Catalysts, eventually I will be able to copy three more from other Magieks: a rare trait specific to that of our Clan called Transference, like the aspect of mutualism here – we receive a new Ability, while the host is strengthened in return. Unfortunately, without all three of my Abilities developed, I am unable to do that.

I want to ask Vivian more about it, but I doubt she will answer. She believes that I need to adjust to the reality that we are not just refugees here, but inhabitants, never to return back to that which we came. I have not yet given up on my dream though, especially now that the timeframe for the rift is nearing, my hopes are high that we can find it. Vivian has never been much of a talker though anyway and she is gone more often than not – especially lately, so I have not had the chance to ask her. Mostly we just train or study, alternating techniques on different days in combat, magick, and science. Today is combat infused with magick: something I am not looking forward to since she always kicks my ass.

I sigh and lower my head to avoid other passersby; scrolling through the music on my phone and shaking my head of all these jumbled thoughts that I tend to dwell on when I have the chance. No use in wishing for a past that never happened or a future that may or may not be, living in the present and controlling my emotions is key to learning how to focus my magick properly Vivian tells me – which is something I need to work on. I skip through the songs until I find Enya with her perfect, soothing voice that calms me even on the worst of days. I prefer being alone and embrace my loner status, which is why I usually walk home instead of taking the rowdy bus. I take another turn down a side street to lengthen the walk, only a couple more blocks to my house.

Up ahead, I see a man in hole-infested blue jeans and a dingy black t-shirt leaning against a streetlamp smoking a joint; the skunk smelling plumes of smoke clouding around him. I frown and cross the road to the other side to avoid him, knowing he cannot yet see me due to the fact that I am still a block from him. My developed Ability being that of Foresight, so I am able to see a couple minutes into the future (as of right now) but that timeframe should extend as I grow further into my own.

Hopefully…

I think of the faded line circling my bicep resembling a badly done tattoo, hidden underneath the sleeve of my shirt. We are unsure if I can even become stronger in this weak world considering it has no external magick to boost my own, and before us, there was little known about this place, so who knows what kind of side-effects can occur for Magieks raised here. My doubts tell me that I may just lose my magick altogether, but I hold strong onto my hope, considering it is all I have. Vivian being an adult when we arrived, has her power intact, though the amount of magick she is able to use has dwindled.

These thoughts are keeping me so occupied that I do not even notice as I approach the area of the stoner and before I can dart away, he waves and crosses the road towards me. He must be someone from school, although I do not recognize him: I speed up my pace, pretending I don’t see him. Undeterred, he runs up behind me and taps my shoulder, so I have no choice but to take out my headphones and talk to him, being the lady that I am.

I turn around while he is attempting to insert himself in front of me and end up tripping over his foot that is now entwined with my own. My own wandering mind will be my downfall, I swear, as I feel myself losing my balance.

Woah there! He grabs my waist with his free hand before I can plunge face-first into the pavement, as I was expecting to and as I was expecting him to as well: I amaze at his quick reflexes.

He drops his hand quickly once my balance is confirmed, at least he isn’t a lingerer. I proudly straighten myself from the almost horrifying moment – how embarrassing, I can’t even use my Foresight well enough to keep from incidents like this.

I take a moment to adjust myself, urging the blood to stop rushing to my face, knowing how much I could resemble the shade of a tomato.

What the hell was that? I angrily ask, brushing the hair from my eyes to finally get a good look at the guy.

He is attractive; emerald eyes with hazelnut skin and dark brown hair with chunks of red flashing in the sunlight. He cocks his head at me and lifts up his shoe to put the joint out on the bottom of it, tossing it into the garbage next to him. My blush begins creeping up my neck once more and I look down at the sidewalk, awaiting his response. He spins on the ball of his foot to face me and runs his hand through his hair self-consciously.

I’m so sorry! I just meant to grab your attention. I didn’t realize that the curse of these large feet could’ve been your downfall. He chuckles at his own bad joke and grins at me, awaiting the expected polite laugh back, the usual social protocol for women here when men make bad jokes.

I want to smile back instinctively, but I was not ingrained with the same defense mechanism as the women here, so I just stare back at him uncomfortably before making my retort.

So…. Punny. I reply dryly, replacing his pun for a worse one – feeling quite satisfied with myself.

Unlike most people here, he does not look away or mention the strange color of my eyes, he meets my gaze head on and busts up laughing.

Oh, that was the perfect response. I feel like I should apologize again for making you stoop so low, I mean puns, of all the things. He dusts his ashy hands off on his pants and extends one out towards me. The name is Damon.

I eye it wearily and debate on not taking it. Physical contact is also not something I am accustomed to, besides sparring of course, and the occasional form of affection from Vivian. Her staunch stance on having emotional disassociation stemming from the fact that our Abilities are formed from Probability, a concept similar to the Nature vs. Nurture of Science: our Abilities manifesting based on our genetic and environmental backgrounds, swaying towards lighter or darker based on our views of the situation.

It is all quite analytical: none of that magick is magick that they believe here, calling the ones they have met of us magicians or witches because they cannot understand that science is just a different type of magick, and vice versa. It is all very precise, just like biology teaches us, it is a delicate balance of numbers that can’t be tipped.

Anastasia. I awkwardly grasp his hand and shake it back decidedly.

His palm is cool, unlike my sweaty one, unused to touching another human in such a simple but intimate gesture. It feels strange, so I drop it quickly.

It is nice to meet you, Anastasia. He replies, unfazed by my standoffish demeanor. I understand Vivian’s point of view, especially while my Abilities are yet undecided, but I still want to stay to talk, maybe make a new friend. I think of the only friend I have made here in 17 years and my urge to brush off this loneliness conflicts me, but I know the rules and the path that is set for me here.

Well, did you need something?

Huh, what? He is taken aback by my continued serious demeanor after the potential I showed seconds ago.

You waved and ran at me?

Oh, duh. Sorry, threw me off when we almost plunged to our deaths. He tries to joke again before continuing. No, I just wanted to say hello. You are in my English class, third period, right? I am new here.

Aah, I see. Now I remember you, you got here a few weeks ago. I think of the teacher introducing him to the class before I had bent my head back down to continue on the paper that we had to write. I had also been hearing a lot of talk from the girls at the school, crooning over the new guy and I may have heard Marion mention him as well. Not many people move here so close to the end of the year, especially their senior year.

Yeah, I know – I was homeschooled up until a few weeks ago, had to transfer in just to get the degree. Most of my credits are already done, just here for those finals. Have you gone here long? He wants to continue the conversation, but Vivian will be waiting for me when I get home.

Just for high school, I was homeschooled for a while too – but I have got to get going, I am running late. It was nice to meet you though, maybe I will see you around sometime. I wave him off and continue walking.

Wait! He shouts, but I do not look back this time and he does not run after me again. I do not need any more distractions in my life, and something tells me that this emerald-eyed man would definitely be one.

I make my way to Vivian and I’s cottage, set apart from the normal cookie-cutter houses surrounding it with its fuchsia paint, thatched-roof, and bungalow style décor; marigolds, sunflowers, daisies, and petunias dance all around the outskirts of our sidewalk and vines crawl up past our bright blue window shutters lined by oak and hazel trees.

Our neighbors avoid us, like the rest of the town. We are the outsiders, with our odd ways and bright home, it did not take me long to realize that this world does not like the different. I clamber up the steps to our oversized door: digging into my backpack to find my key, knowing that Vivian will not be home until late again if she is not already here.

I find the skeleton key look-alike and insert it into the lock, as soon as I hear the click I utter the welcome chant that was taught to me, Eros Entrant Nu and the door spits open, the warmth welcoming me into my home.

It smells of lavender and radiates eccentricity. The vivid colors encompassing our house, finding their way into it as well; the neon green hallway leads me to our den where a warm red couch sits, surrounded by Victorian style chairs and (thankfully) a 21st century television on an oak table that engulfs the majority of the room. I bypass all these, ignoring the sunflower yellow kitchen to my right and Vivian’s closed bedroom door further down the hall, making my way up the winding stairs in our den to my room.

My room: my area of peace and salvation, like it is to most teenagers. The winding stairs lead to a dull golden door, locked, but unlocked with the same method as the front door.

"Eros Entrant Nu." I whisper, and it swings open, welcoming me to my little slice of heaven. Unlike the rest of our house, my room is not bright or cheerful; the walls are plain white with book infested shelves sticking out from them and an old white dresser that Vivian purchased for me a few years ago from a rummage sale sits against one side; a desk littered with writing, sketches, and homework sits across from it, along with my notes of Magiahortus.

I smile with the relief of being home and fling my knapsack onto the mattress on the floor, collapsing next to it. I flip over onto my back and look at my favorite part of the room, the loft ceiling with a skylight in the center. I have always loved staring out this window at night, at the stars of other galaxies so far away, just like mine. Vivian tells me that you cannot see the stars in our realm, but legends say it is because Magiahortus was made after WOS (what I affectionately call The World of Science or Earth) and there were no stars left for us. Though, the humans only have one moon that comes at night and we have two that always shine in our sky – so each was given its own characteristics of amazement I suppose.

I begin concentrating on the sky, trying to use my Foresight to see what lies before me. If only it worked like that.

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

I jolt up from my bed. Just as I was beginning to relax, of course, but who could that be? No one ever visits and Vivian would never knock. I check my phone: no texts. The only friend I have here is Marion and she always lets me know before she comes over, especially knowing Vivian. Perhaps if I just ignore them, they will go away.

*KNOCK-KNOCK*

They rap on the door once more. Or maybe they won’t. Ugh, I guess I will have to go check. I slide my phone into my pocket and jump up from my bed, heading towards the stairs. It is probably just a girl scout selling cookies, I could go for some of those coconut ones. I reassure myself once more that no one of any value is knocking at my door and soon I will have a few spare minutes to read before Vivian arrives.

She did teach me a spell to see who was outside before I open the door, but I can never seem get the hang of it. Not enough magickal essence I guess, it is still worth a try though.

Cinae Mon! I recite and wait, but I don’t feel that burning sensation of my magick building. Ugh – with all the spells riddling this place, it is easy to forget which ones are which, and my magick depletes fairly quickly around them all, which doesn’t help, what a nuisance. I attempt to use my Foresight to see the person, but it fades out blurrily from its earlier use. At least she got a door with a peephole.

Man, I don’t even have enough power to see someone on the other side of a door… I allow myself to wallow in my self-pity a little, something I really need to stop doing. I shake off my despair and stand up on my tiptoes to peer into the peephole. To my surprise and small relief, it is no one of any danger, but it is not a girl scout either: it is that boy Damon I bumped into earlier. I don’t really want to answer the door, but he must have followed me here, so he knows that I am home. Maybe my pervert radar was off, bracing myself I open the door for him.

Umm hey, sorry to bother you… again, but you seemed to have dropped your notebook back there. He proffers the notebook towards me.

Oh, thank you. I say, taking the notebook and seeing that it is the one with notes on Magiahortus. How could I have dropped my magick book? I turn it over to double-check, but there is no doubt that it is mine. I am lucky that Vivian cast a spell on it so that it looks only like an ordinary notebook filled with doodles. In my embarrassment, I must not even have felt it slip from my knapsack.

You’re welcome. I tried to catch you before you got here, but it kinda seemed like you were ignoring me. He replies, leaning against the doorframe.

What, no! I just didn’t hear you after I put my headphones back in. I lie and my stomach twinges at it.

Okay, just checking. He continues his stare, as if wanting something further.

Well thank you again. I guess I will see you in class tomorrow – byyye. I go to close the door on him, but he inserts his arm into the frame before I can, putting his face inside it and grinning sheepishly at me.

Wait, umm, want to grab a coffee or something? He asks me, his bright smile making my hardened heart flutter. I want to, I want to have a normal coffee date, but that just isn’t me. I have a lot to do in the next coming months.

I can’t right now. I try to shut him down, ending the conversation once more, ignoring my frivolous emotions as I was taught so well.

How about tomorrow? He asks again, keeping his foot in the door. You can’t be busy all the time, can you? He smirks at me. Vivian will be home soon, and I can’t risk her meeting this stranger.

Well no, I suppose not. Tomorrow, and will you let me close the door? I continue with my distant persona I have worked so hard too perfect even though my heart is telling me otherwise. Vivian would be proud.

It works, he releases the door from his arm. Okay, tomorrow, after school, meet at the coffee shop around 4:00?

Yes, that sounds good. The one by the school?

Yep, that is the one – I didn’t know there was more than one coffee shop here.

Well, there is one, but it is on the other side of town.

Gotcha, I will have to try that one out sometime. Alright, it’s a date.

Uh, sure. I reply, slamming the door in his quickly retreating face. Crap, I forgot he was leaning in the doorframe, hopefully I did not get any of his fingers. I put my ear up to the door, but no cries of pain, only a shuffled retreat. Putting my eye back up to the peephole I watch him walk down the stairs, he turns around for a last glance before making his way down the sidewalk.

I slide down the door and try to still my beating heart, I get so anxious with social interactions. I was raised to be a loner and so I have followed the solo path dutifully, except for Marion of course. Marion and I met four years ago when Vivian finally allowed me to go to traditional school so I could gain some much-needed people skills. She was the president of our class and an active member of after-school activities, people flocked to her, and her lunch table was always packed.

I kept to myself when I arrived, just happy to be around other people. This was also my first attempt at truly coexisting with humans, so I was exceptionally nervous and could barely formulate words when introduced to the school. This with my strange appearance made me a target for bullies I found out and shortly after, I was eating my lunch in the library and debating on dropping out to continue my studies at home once more.

I would have given up right then and there if Marion hadn’t approached me in the library one afternoon. She put her tray down and sat next to me, not saying a word. She did this for weeks until I had the courage to talk to her, and after that, we were eating lunch everyday together. I found out that we were similar in the ways we felt, and she gave me my first chance at happiness.

She is who I want to call right now to discuss this meeting, but she will be at softball practice for another hour. Her parents allow her to do normal activities, like any regular high-school girl. Vivian does not allow me any extracurricular activities; I am a shut-in given small doses of interaction with the outside world to appease me. I am lucky that I am even allowed to attend high school, I had to beg Vivian and insisted that homeschooling did not protect me, it only sheltered me from having a life here.

Vivian is still wary of Marion, and she would be even more suspicious of Damon. Bringing a boy home? Ha! How do I even go about discussing that with someone so against attachment? Perhaps, I will discuss with Marion how to go about it tomorrow at school. I stand up and trot back up to my room, thinking of all the possibilities that could come with having another friend.

Anastasia! About an hour later, Vivian’s strong voice cuts through my thoughts – the woman who raised and brought me here. She told me my parents had been murdered by the Spongos leader, Stefan, when we all tried to escape; her and I were the only ones to make it through. She promised them then that she would raise me, and so she did. For that alone, despite her harshness, I am eternally grateful.

I am here, Vivian. I whisper, since I do not have to use my full volume for her to hear me; one of her Abilities giving her heightened senses, Heron: a trait specific to her clan, like Transference is with mine. This also makes her the perfect caretaker, as she was able to hear my every move as a child.

She materializes into focus in the corner of my room; her black hair gleaming an ethereal blue, her eyes azure, skin like ebony. She has a better time fitting in with her almost human physicality’s, but there is still discrimination here and her skin color deters some from her. This is something I am not