[Can’t Opt Out]

Emilia tried to still her mind. It refused to be stilled. Abstract thoughts and images floated through her head, filling the space that was usually reserved for words running a mile a minute. She could do this, she so totally could. All she had to do was do the exact things she’d trained herself to do a week earlier, just on a much larger scale.

Still your mind. Let the aether just exist within you. Let your thoughts be as they should be: abstract and winding. Imagination is your friend—your guide in making your will reality. No words or numbers or facts. Just let that internal voice turn itself off and—

A laugh rippled through her from the next room, and she growled, the sound ripping out of her mouth and rumbling through the aether. The laugh continued, and Emilia wished the man—her stupid saviour—hadn’t stripped her of her {Blood Armour}. She didn’t think he’d taken it because he was worried she’d blow him up with her magic, but had she had her magic gems or {Blood Needles} at the moment, she might have.

“⸂Shut it!⸃” she yelled, cringing when the words echoed out of her core as well, the words finding shape within the aether. “⸂Fuck!⸃”

She flopped back on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. Stars of the world’s light eating material were scattered over it, glowing faintly in the dim light. The city had fallen into darkness several hours earlier, and her room’s cracked curtains had allowed the city’s own light consuming devices to steal most of her light.

Her legs kicked idly against the bed. Her saviour had offered her food at the time, but she’d refused it—she was still upset with him and his secrets. Now, with her stomach rumbling quietly inside her, she regretted that decision. She also regretted thinking about her stomach when another snicker echoed through the room, her thoughts still escaping from her mind like leaves caught in the wind.

“⸂Annoying,⸃” she muttered, closing her eyes to the reality that her thoughts refused to be contained.

She’d had better control of it during their assault—failed assault, her brain reminded her—but that had largely been thanks to one of the members of their group being a parent. They had used some sort of magic to help reign in her thoughts, because the way things had been going, everyone would have heard her coming. The magic had been overwhelming, itchy, and she’d felt like a baby for needing the help. While it was true she’d been one of the last visitors in their group to attain the power of speech and most of them had taken at least a week to get a hold of containing their thoughts, usually she was a fast learner. Not so much in this case.

⸂You’ll get there,⸃ her saviour said, suddenly appearing beside her bed.

⸂Before I spill every thought I’ve ever had?⸃ Emilia asked him, jaw clenching as she focused on only letting her thoughts be spoken by her aethervoice. At least se could do that, even if it wasn’t particularly difficult.

⸂Probably,⸃ he replied. Something clinked and when Emilia dared open an eye, she found her plate of food sitting on the bedside table. It looked… not terrible, thankfully.

Emilia sighed, pushing herself up and letting her mind wander through thoughts about how this world was totally, completely not meant for someone with a brain as loud as her own.

✮ ✮ ✮ One Week (minus at least one day) Earlier ✮ ✮ ✮

The gems at Emilia’s wrists exploded, again. Technically, the gems themselves didn’t explode, but the energy she had been gathering inside them did. It splattered out across the world, leaving lines of harmless light across the wall the children had pointed her at, just in case. Quickly, the light faded, and Emilia was left staring at a blank, stone wall.

⸂Try again.⸃

⸂Do better.⸃

⸂Not like she can do much worse.⸃

Emilia turned to glower at the Gale and Sawyer. Miira was the only one who was nice. Her, and Astra. Astra wouldn’t—or perhaps couldn’t—speak, however, so it was easy for her to be nice. Gale and Sawyer, on the other hand, were just mean.

“I’m trying my best,” she signed at them, arms moving with more exasperation than they had in years. It had been a long time since she’d used the language of her youth so much that her emotions filtered through the signs. On the rare occasion she’d signed in the last decade, it had only ever been in Baalphorian Sign Language, careful and precise as she translated for some random person she’d come across. Short and sweet. No need for anything other than kindness in her hands.

Most of those times she’d also been speaking, giving voice to someone involved as well. Normally, Censors translated for each party—or they could just message each other outright—but the influx of people from the Free Colonies had created difficulties on that front. There could be a verbal language barrier, and for people from the Free Colonies without permanent Censors that alternative communication through a translation program was impossible.

It wasn’t exactly common that she ran into situations where two people who couldn’t communicate needed help, even less common when one of those people was using BSL, but it had happened. Those few times hadn’t been enough to reignite the spark of confidence and love of signing she had. This—being forced to sign to dozens of people over the last few days—was. Where previously she might have reverted to speaking unhearable words at the children, now, her frustration floated through her signs, the moves growing sloppy as official sign language shifted haphazardly into the signs of her youth and back, slang and anger melding their way into her one-sided conversation, the children having lost what she was trying to say long ago.

Emilia huffed and turned back to the wall. As much as the children were annoying, their teaching styles suspect and mean, they did know what they were talking about. In hindsight, perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised Emilia as much as it had. Zach had led her to believe that magic in this world was fading, more and more of his students coming in with almost no connection to the world’s magic, but he’d never actually quantified that with a number.

Sawyer in particular, despite being the youngest of the three, knew a lot about how magic worked. Some of the older, homeless boys and grannies had taught him, he’d explained. They, in turn, had learned magic from the older homeless population, many of whom seemed to live underground—not just literally, the people often making their homes in the city’s caverns, but in the sense that the Risen Guard didn’t bother them as much as the average person.

⸂They just sort of… forget we exist?⸃ Sawyer had explained, most of the other homeless children nodding along with him. ⸂Not great when we need help.⸃

⸂Like food!⸃

⸂Or health shit! I’ve had a bloody cough for months and no one will help my sorry ass!⸃

A number of the children had burst into giggles, swear words of various seriousness shifting between them. Nearby, the homed children had looked scandalized by the language.

Emilia didn’t have to hear Sawyer tell her what else that forgetfulness meant: that when the homeless and forgotten broke laws, the Risen Guard was similarly uninterested or unaware.

⸂Some of the grannies are really, really old,⸃ Caro had piped up. They had a home, parents and siblings, but they were apparently quite a troublemaker, constantly showing up in the areas of town frequented by the homeless folk and asking questions. Eventually, their father would show up to drag them home, offering bits of support to those he could. Caro’s family wasn’t particularly well off, from what Emilia understood, and what their father could offer was limited but appreciated.

⸂You aren’t supposed to talk to them!⸃ one of the homed children had hissed at Caro, Emilia’s brain flitting back to Gale telling Sawyer the same thing about this Carne person.

The conversation about whoever Carne was and how Emilia had reminded the children of them had derailed, following Gale and Sawyer’s argument over the cool factor, but from what had been said, they weren’t one of the homeless elders the kids were currently talking about. From the bits she had been able to make out—the children having all been talking over one another in their excitement to talk about Carne—Carne were an older teenager, maybe even a young adult. They weren’t completely homeless, bouncing between the homes of friends, but they were associated with the city’s homeless population.

They were also a bad influence, if Gale was to be believed. Honestly, as much as the teenager was, well, a teenager, Emilia was inclined to trust her. Teenagers generally didn’t say someone wasn’t good news unless they really weren’t.

Caro had shrugged, telling the homed child that their parents didn’t care, so they could talk to them if they wanted.

“Kids aren’t supposed to learn what these… old grannies know?” Emilia had guessed, scribbling the question out for Gale and Miira.

Sawyer had peeked at the note as well, his eyebrows pulling together in a way that told Emilia that if he knew anything about reading, it wasn’t enough to read what her note. As much as Gale didn’t like the boy, she was also an extremely observant and kind child under her angst, her aethervoice answering Emilia’s question in a way that made it clear to everyone around what her question had been without being so blunt as to read it aloud for the group.

⸂Those old grannies,⸃ the teenager had said, ⸂learned magic before it stopped being taught. Our parents know a bit of magic, but they mostly learned from their parents. The Risen Guard shut down the magic schools a long time ago because they were too dangerous. Our parents and grandparents follow their laws, only teaching us what we need to live. Those old homeless people… don’t. So, most of our parents don’t let us near them. Some even have really, really strict punishments if they catch you talking to them. They just don’t want us to get hurt, and what those grannies know is dangerous.⸃

⸂Magic isn’t dangerous!⸃ Sawyer had piped up, tone sounding so much like a teacher’s that Emilia was sure he was mimicking one of the people who had taught him. ⸂It isn’t any more dangerous than other things. What matters is how you use it—what your intention is!⸃

That was how Sawyer had ended up their teacher. Emilia and all the homeless children had gathered around him to hear what he had to say. Most of the outlier children, including Gale, Miira, Caro and Kelly, had stayed as well. The majority of homed children, on the other hand, had sneered at them before moving themselves as far from their group as possible.

Magic wasn’t to be spoken of outside of official lessons with their parents, or rarely, with proper teachers or the Risen Guard itself. While the homeless children had no qualms about breaking that rule, and the outliers, while still nervous, were curious and confident, the homed children wanted no part of any illegal magic talk.

At least, most of them didn’t. Emilia had seen a few glancing back their way, the only reason they had followed the rest of their group being peer pressure and fear of being excluded from the group if they stayed. A couple had wandered closer as Sawyer spoke, pretending to examine this or that in the cave as they listened. Eventually, one of the other children would stomp over to drag them back to the main group.

⸂Magic,⸃ Sawyer reminded Emilia as she began to focus on her gems again, ⸂is all about focus and intention.⸃

She had pointed out that locals also had access to the system, but both Sawyer and Gale had brushed her off, telling her that even without access to it, she should be able to use the gems.

⸂If they were empty, without engravings, then sure, you’d need the system to write magic into them or the world. They have magic in them already. You just have to activate it, and all you need for that is a core.⸃

Gale had made it sound so easy, despite the fact that she couldn’t consistently activate Emilia’s magic gems either. In theory, all anyone had to do was empty their mind and focus on the gems, let abstract belief that they would activate flow through them and into the gems. Magic required no words. Magic was the world, and the world had no language, only intention and belief.

Emilia was pretty damn sure this world was made of ones and zeros, but pointing that out seemed cold. Plus, she was supposed to be focusing. Empty her mind of words. Turn off her internal voice because, as the children had cheerfully pointed out, using magic when you were speaking was extremely difficult, and for them, all words led to their aethervoice forming. Using magic while having a voice was impossible, according to some, only for the most skilled users, according to others.

Baby magic user that she was, Emilia needed her brain to shut up. Such things were, unfortunately, practically impossible for her. Even in the moments where she’d managed to focus on her core, working to let her energy fill her meridians with power and life, her brain hadn't been quiet. Words were something she couldn’t turn off. Her brain was always running, internal monologue filling the silent void of existence. She was fine with that—she liked her thoughts, as long as they weren’t running down the trauma road, anyways. To have to shut them off…

The energy that had been gathering inside the gem at her wrist shuddered away from her again. Instead of getting better, she swore she was getting worse. Each new attempt, her brain seemed to be rebelling, filling what little silence she could manage faster and more violently than during the last attempt. “I will not be silenced!” it seemed to be saying, but unless it shut the fuck up, she wasn’t going to be capable of using this world’s magic. Maybe system access would make it easier, but according to the kids, it would only make it a bit easier.

⸂I think… we should take you to the grannies,⸃ Sawyer said when she turned back.

Yet another reason to hope they popped out of this place in the same city they’d left, Emilia supposed.