The Magic Of Pride: A Pride Month Anthology

In The Whispering Wood

"Oh, well," the man said conspiratorially, a little smug, which made Winter burn with pride, just a bit. "Their loss."

"What are you working on?" Winter asked. Balthazar smiled.

"Oh, I'm preparing for the Trials," he said, toothy smile transforming his face. "Setting up a few different traps and such. We can't make it easy for you now, can we?"

Winter made a noise that was half laugh, half groan. "I love the Trials, but I'm almost glad these are going to be my last Trials," they said. "Aside from graduation, I mean."

"Hmm, I hope you do well on these, Winter. Your Trials are meant to be a test of how you can apply what you've learned in a practical, real life setting. Graduation Trials are going to be a lot harder than an exam that's half a sporting event. You did just say you enjoyed them."

"I do. Except one of Mistress Meriwether's traps made me think I was being digested by a plant last year. And Nathaniel Morrow actually tried to turn me into a spider. I was coughing up spider silk for a week."

"The Trials do bring out people's competitive sides," Baltazar acknowledged. "But try to have fun, yes? I've got something spectacular planned."

Winter smiled at their mentor. "I'll keep an eye out for it," they told him.

Winter had lived for the last three years in a little house in the woods of Autumn Springs, not far from the town proper. It was intended as accommodation for Institute students, and looked it. The dining room was less of a dining room and more of a alchemy/magic/study/dining room, potion ingredients and books and various magical paraphernalia adorning the walls and taking up space, the actual dining table pushed against one wall. Winter had their books and papers spread out over the smudged remains of pentacle, cross legged on the floor and bent over their work, pen in hand and their wand in their mouth.

"Getting anywhere?" Tessa asked. Winter's best friend and favourite housemate was in the kitchen cooking dinner, visible through the connecting archway.

"Hmm. Somewhere," Winter agreed, flicking a finger in the direction of the bookshelf. A heavy tome picked itself up and floated across the room, and flipped open in midair. Winter flipped through the pages until they found the one they wanted.

"What does Balthazar even study? He's never taught us much as acolytes," Tessa asked. Winter hummed in agreement. Prior to becoming his apprentice, Winter had only had a single class with him.

"He's mainly into his research. His area of interest is history of magic. Reconstructing old practices and such," Winter said, calling another book over. It bobbed happily across the room. "He thinks we could learn a lot from things we've forgotten, better ways of doing things. I agree, actually. Modern practice is so regimented--"

"Of course you agree," Tristan said from behind them. The book Winter was rifling through stopped moving, spine falling flat in midair. "You're so grateful to him you'd agree if he said the earth was flat. He's the only master stupid enough to waste time and effort on an inherently talentless upstart."

"Tristan," Tessa frowned. Winter snarled.

"Fuck the hell off, Saint Valentine," they warned. Tristan Saint Valentine was Winter's other and least favourite housemate, and the feeling was mutual. The Saint Valentines were a wealthy, powerful, and influential old magical family, and they had been among the most vocal (but not the only) voices in opposition to allowing Winter to study at the Institute or stay in Autumn Springs at all. "At least I didn't have to apprentice with my uncle."

"No. Too bad, as well. You might not have had to apprentice with the only person at the Institute who's as big as a disgrace to magic as you are. The only meaningful contribution Balthazar will ever make to magic is when he finally gets himself kicked out."