Though Okimoto thought he was special, he hadn’t fancied himself a character to be enshrined in a book. Before this moment, it was simply too outrageous a thought.

  His heart raced, his hair slick with sweat.

  “Nine hundred generations,” he muttered, breathless not from exhaustion, but astonishment. It took nine hundred generations of selective breeding to make the thing in the palm of his hand, traces of its chrysalis still wet on its wings. He had just hatched the most powerful ether sprite the world would ever see.

  The swirling ether around him became denser and denser. A gust of wind crashed through the dorm room, knocking textbooks from the shelves and shattering vials on the floor as dancing bolts of plasma struck the floorboards and ceiling beams.

  Closing his eyes, he saw the ether on a more intimate level. Seventy, eighty, ninety, one hundred septules!

  The highest ether quality ever achieved through mortal means was thirty-three septules. He had just surpassed it.

  “By the grace of the hundred and thirteen baby!” He sang, “We’ve just made history.”

  He retracted his hand and ran it through his hair. He yawned, then marched across his room to the window where he threw it open.

  The night sent chills to congratulate him.

  The wind took a willow tree for a spin across the canal from his window.

  Running his hands along his trousers, from one pocket he retrieved a leaf, a tiny paper figure of a man from the other. He crushed the leaf, then opened his palm and blew lightly against the remnants until a flame sparked in his hand. The paper man was added to the blaze and devoured by it. It then sprang to life, and from his palm it leapt through the window.

  After landing in the grass, it grew into a dragon, then turned into a dog, a cat, and a house, all comprised of flames.

  He channeled the sprite's power and understood every particle of ether making up the blaze, shaping it to his desire.

  A flaming phoenix came forth; it shot into the sky, sending a wall of hot air into the room as it passed.

  It arced downward and took on the shape of Okimoto’s face. Opening wide, he devoured the willow tree in a bonfire. The entire dorm must’ve woken up from the windows rattling, but already, he could see the joy and envy on their faces, hear the praises of the arch mages, and read his name on the front covers of all the papers. As the stink of scorched earth clawed its way through his nostrils, his eyes twinkled in delight as countless possibilities sprang to life. He broke the fire down and transformed it into Ice, encasing the chard willow tree. He then made it into mist, into glass, into crackling bolts of lightning. The pops and bangs were kicks to the ears; he gritted his teeth.

  The lightning bolts shot out and converged closer to the window, turning into a bicycle, a boat, a locomotive that shrank down into a toy version of itself and flew into his hand and was crushed into sparkling dust.

  A stretched-out, tired breath slithered along his tongue, then laughter came bouncing along behind it.

  After shutting out the cold, he lit a flame in the fireplace and took a deep breath, his eyes traversing the mess that was his room.

  The sprite was still hovering, so he retrieved a vial from his study and willed the sprite to liquify the ether in the air. The resulting blobs were sucked into the open vial that he quickly lidded.

  Extending a finger, he watched as his creation, his adorable child, landed, its six furry legs tickling his skin, its tiny jaws pulling apart a fly it had caught, and who would've guessed it? Who would look at this innocent thing and suppose that it was so powerful? Even Okimoto never could've imagined that spending his free time breeding these creatures could've led to this. All this time, he had pondered over his purpose in this world. For so long, he had not known what his life would look like once he left this place. Now he knew. Tomorrow he'd display this creature to the board of arch mages and be propelled into fame and fortune, into someone and not nothing. Until now, he was nothing, no family, no legacy to inherit, only the idea of the one he’d soon manifest.

  He placed the sprite back into its small enclosure, essentially a wooden box of sand with a bouquet to feed on. Its three siblings, still in caterpillar form, were collected from the flowers and placed in a cup of water.

  After gently placing the enclosure and vial back into his study, he tapped the cup of water on his desk twice with his index finger, freezing the caterpillars.

  He carried the cup to a magnificent new contraption, a refrigerator, ordered for the dorm rooms last year. It was very convenient for his studies.

  Over a dozen other caterpillars were frozen inside. The examination was tomorrow, and part of it involved showing the process that led to the result. Unfortunately, he couldn't show them every generation; there were too many, and refrigerators weren't widely available three years ago when he began this pursuit, so most of the specimens had been repurposed as fillings for his sandwiches.

  Still, the ones he had now represented critical stages in the breeding process, and he was sure these would suffice. He could see it now, ‘Okimoto the legendary archmage, maker of the world's most powerful ether sprite and graduate of Toaddor University’.

  “That was a nice sprite you had there; it sure would be a shame if something were to happen to it.”

  “Oh shut up, Christopher,” Okimoto mumbled, closing the refrigerator.

  “How does it feel to make history!” Christopher said, leaning against the door, a cigar burning in his smiling mouth. His rainbow eyes shimmered as he went on to say, “Congratulations, you'll finally be someone.”

  “That's right.” Okimoto agreed, with a pouty huff.

  “So what’s the plan, huh?” He asked. “After getting your fancy little title, what’s next?”

  Holding a finger to his chin in contemplation, Okimoto said, “Next, I solve all the world’s problems.”

  The sprite would trigger an explosion of new, sophisticated spells, giving mages the monopoly on power worldwide. It could end the age-old debate over whether independent or religious ritualism was superior. Ongoing wars could be swiftly ended, too. He’d be at the forefront, his name known by all, his power respected by all.

  Christopher spoke again. “Once word of this gets out, every nation, every magical organisation, every scheming bastard will scramble to get their hands on the sprite. You might not realise it yet, but you’ve opened Pandora's box. Consider what happens if this kind of power, absolute dominance over ether, gets into the wrong hands. There’s a lot of power-hungry people out there.”

  Odorous words like that weren’t needed. Okimoto decided to freshen up the atmosphere with a light-hearted topic. “What do you think I should name this new breed?”

  Christopher stared at him, just smiling.

  The door swung open, and he was gone without a trace, replaced by Okimoto’s classmate and next-door neighbor, Kariggan.

  His black, Orion family hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail.

  “Didn't I tell you to knock before coming inside?” Okimoto grunted.

  Kariggan laughed. “I forgot, okay. Just like how you keep forgetting to lock the door. Also, all that ruckus outside just now, I think some first-year students are playing pranks on us again.”

  The eldest son of the Orion family, tall, but not quite as tall or handsome as Okimoto himself (though Kariggan would beg to differ), was dressed for a night out.

  “That's quite an interesting choice of bed garments,” Okimoto said, “A tailor-made suit and designer tie? I guess it should be expected of a gentleman from such a noble family.”

  Kariggan laughed, “Oh, piss off.”

  Okimoto yawned, then said, “I didn't see anything out the window just now; it must've been your imagination.”

  “Oh, really?” Dolly said, popping up beside him in a fancy little dress, red ringed socks, and high heels. Interlocking braids crowned her head. “I suppose it must be my imagination, too?”

  “Well,” Okimoto replied in a half-joking manner, “The two of you were always such star-crossed lovers, it's about time that your delusions started to synchronize.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We didn't just come here to discuss the noise. We're wondering if you'd be interested in joining us to see Lariate. You can help me keep an eye on this idiot.”

  Adjusting his clothes, Okimoto raised an eyebrow. “Played by Bradley, I presume?”

  “Such an elitist,” Karrigan laughed.

  “Goodness gracious!” Dolly gasped, only now noticing the travesty that was his room. “Should we speak to the faculty and request that they hire a maid for you? You've made quite a mess.”

  “Must be that secret project he's been dabbling in for the exam tomorrow,” Kariggan said.

  After unhooking his coat from the hanger, Okimoto threw it on, not minding his unruly dress shirt beneath. He slipped into a pair of leather boots, tailored to his large feet. It wasn’t the time for them to know. He wouldn’t ruin the surprise of watching your friend become a living legend before the board of arch mages.

  He assessed the clock on the wall

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  Coming late was also a desirable aesthetic. If he were to be considered a true legend, he shouldn't have to look like he had tried hard. He'd show that this had been a casual feat, that he had carelessly revolutionized magic and made history—a nonchalant prodigy, an image of himself he had been playing into the past three years. He had been very meticulous with this. Unlike others, he wasn't burdened by presumptions resulting from a family history. This was a place where they believed a person was no more than the sum of their parts, family was a key element of a person’s perception. He was a lone Necrovangelist in an institution run by traditional mages. Their family structure set standards to live up to, established precedents to maintain, and handed over legacies to be passed on; what option did he who was without these things have but to make himself from nothing? With no family, an already eccentric reputation, and a spectacular secret soon to be revealed, he was clay left unmolded by a past, being shaped by the present, to be embellished in the future.

  The high mages told him they found him naked and unconscious on the side of a railway near the northern border. He was at least fourteen years old then, an age they had to approximate, as Okimoto had no memory of his past.

  He could speak, strangely. He knew basic mathematics and other things necessary to function in this world, but he had no memories of people, none of experiences. He had a talent for magic, the ability to see ether in its raw state; when he closed his eyes, it was like opening them in a world of ether. Others saw it only in the form of rituals. When this was shared with the high mages, they took him to the government, and then they sent him to Aunt Yohanna, then here, funding his studies with great expectations. Now, two years of Ritualistic Philosophy and two years of Magical Innovation later, he was about to get his second associate’s degree.

  Downstairs in the lounge, they were joined by Zeppe. The place was immaculate as usual; the ungifted staff had outdone themselves again, and you could see your reflection in the floorboards.

  Okimoto gave Aunt Leanda, who was waiting by the door for the Dormmaster to send her home, a thirty-shingle tip. He said, “Go buy your daughter something nice.”

  She said back, adorably, gentle face glowing. “Thank you, Okimoto, kind lad.”

  Okimoto smiled at her as he left with the rest, quick to get out before the Dormmaster came to whine about them going out so late.

  “You should stop doing that.” Zeppe said, “Your sponsors will rip you a new one if you keep throwing away their money. The poor old hag won’t know what to do with it anyway.”

  Okimoto lampooned.

  Zeppe’s family, the Gozzles, was not of noteworthy origin; his father, the patriarch, was the only example of a magically gifted besides Zeppe. His father had managed to fail upwards through mage society, achieving the rank of high mage after delivering the final blow to an already dying enemy general that had battled an arch mage moments prior. Through some odd circumstances, likely involving bribery or poor judgment on the part of the mage council, his son was enrolled at Toaddor. Now the idiot fancied himself among society's betters. Just look at every unflattering inch of him. He was short; not even his bones had what it took to rise above mediocrity: short brown hair, bland green eyes, and skin riddled with imperfections.

  It must have been pity that inspired Kariggan to bring him along.

  The lamps along the roundabout were flickering on and off, and moths were orbiting them. Cars were parked before the dormitory, and the place was void of people at this hour. The main campus glowed in the distance, the memory of an imperial fortress still spearing the night with its many towers, the lit streets of Toaddor city brightening up the palm of the valley far beneath and beyond, its shine rivaling the stars.

  “Dammit, hurry up and find the key.” Dolly moaned while shivering, lingering at the front passenger door of Kariggan’s car as he fidgeted around in his pocket, breathing out clouds.

  “Crap, I forgot it in my room.” Kerrigan gasped and ran back.

  The imperial theatre was clogged with fellow taboo play enthusiasts when they arrived. Mainly upper-class youths from around the city. They wore meat bouquets of every colour, and some were smoking pipes and others swaying around with wine bottles all ready half empty in hand. Lariate was a play known for its raunchy sequence; the plot, a retelling of Gganimon’s adventures in Boochai’s red light district during his twenties. Not able to be performed in theatres at day, the many fans prowled the theatres at night. The licentious atmosphere attracted rambunctious bachelors and bachelorettes seeking casual affairs; most came for this reason. Already, pairs of strangers were forming, girls giggling, boys smiling and squinting their lustful eyes, all beaming from the thrill of what the night may bring.

  For tonight at least, he had come for a different reason: this was a part of his beginnings. Many great people indulged in peculiar interests during their youth. It was only natural for Okimoto to be like that, too, if he were to be one of them. In other words, he had tagged along for the aesthetic.

  The front doors swung open, and the golden bells on the knobs rang across the street. The smell of cigars and alcohol came from inside, amid a pink mist, pouring like a river over the attendees.

  He sat with them near the back and enjoyed the soft leather seats. Bradley, playing Gganimon, stormed around the stage, poetically cursing.

  “I’m pregnant!” Miara, the actress who played Dimini, screamed, sobbing into her hands.

  They kissed and immediately had sex.

  Women in the audience began to blush and fan themselves, giggling like children. Dolly and Kariggan were too busy arguing to watch, and Zeppe recoiled in disgust.

  Okimoto was indifferent, lampooning to himself again.

  He thought about himself, about how he was a sprout with no roots. They’d see an immediate use for his sprites in battle, no doubting that. Toaddor was partnered with Zoria, the most powerful mage guild in the country, where they monopolized war. Countries offered up millions for Zoria’s mages to devastate their enemies.

  Okimoto laughed at himself. His ideas weren’t very realistic, but with such amazing things in his possession, he couldn’t help but dream.

  “Hurry up and get in the damn car,” Dolly yelled, now in the driver’s seat.

  Kariggan was dancing among the people, all raving through the streets. He was drunk.

  “Get in the fucking car!” Dolly screamed. “I swear on the one hundred and thirteen, if you slap another woman’s bum, it’s over between us.”

  He stumbled drunkenly into the passenger’s seat after slipping and falling in someone’s vomit, completely defiling his suit.

  “Don’t be mad at me, okay, I’m really sorry.” Kariggan whimpered.

  “Say that to your bloody dad,” she replied, “He’ll have a go at you for this. I’ll make sure of it.”

  One of the greatest magical puppeteers, Francisco Orion, was his great-grandfather; his great-granduncle was a railway pioneer; and his mother founded the Noble Maiden sorority, the most popular sorority at Toaddor. Kariggan was heir of this renowned family, but scarcely acted accordingly. Pride was expected of him, diligence was demanded of him, but all expectations were disregarded by him. He was a shameless joking jester, the humour at his own expense. Just now, he deliberately crossed the slop on the street, knowing he’d slip. He gained a strange pleasure from making a fool of himself.

  “I can’t believe you people made me attend something so inglorious,” Zeppe complained, as they rode beside the tramway.

  “Well, that’s what you’re in for if you wish to be my friend.” Kariggan laughed.

  “It’s unbecoming of your high station,” Zeppe shouted. “These aren’t things a true mage prodigy should be doing.”

  Karrigan’s brows suddenly tensed. “Watch your tone, you're speaking to an Orion, Zeppe.”

  Zeppe croaked. “I’m sorry for speaking out of line.”

  Dolly rolled her eyes.

  Okimoto scoffed.

  Kariggan snorted. “Don’t be so serious, I’m just screwing with you. Gosh, try defending yourself as much as you defend what society thinks. If you had more of a spine, then Odiggan wouldn’t treat you like a flipping dickhead all th-“

  Dolly punched his shoulder, then sneered. “Don’t just run your mouth like that.”

  Odiggan, perfect son of the Orion family. The boy who was what everyone wished Kariggan to be: a model student, exceptionally talented, and a prideful wretch.

  Okimoto wondered why Dolly didn’t want certain things about that boy said. They never seemed to be friendly with each other.

  He diverted his attention to the lamps that dyed the city streets amber, to the grand imperial buildings dipped in the night sky, each edge punctuated by gargoyles, each corner embellished with patterns, each entrance enshrined by pillars and topped by statues. They were different and also the same, different colours, different heights, different functions, all built with the same vanity; That plague of the imperial minds of old.

  He closed his eyes, the ether of his peers sparking to life before him.

  Odd ether accumulated up ahead, just beside the tramway, in the lane they were going down. As they got closer, Okimoto’s attention was drawn to several figures on a balcony coming up, the street curving to the left before the three-story house. Based on the swirling patterns in their ether, these were mages. One of them had an ether cord connecting them to the accumulation on the road. It was a ritual!

  “Stop,” Okimoto said sharply. “There’s a band of scum mages up ahead; they’ve set up a trap in our path.”

  “Are you serious?” Kariggan asked.

  Okimoto snapped his fingers three times.

  The vehicle came to a halt.

  “Give me a break, there’s no space to turn back.” Dolly hissed, her head spinning around.

  Kariggan stared at the road. “I see some coins, all placed in a line across the lane. I believe this is a pick-pocket ritual. Had we driven across it, we'd have lost a lot of money.”

  “I really hope you’re joking,” Zeppe said, his voice cracking.

  Dolly and Kariggan both started snapping their fingers.

  Kariggan rolled open his window, leaned out, and fired an air bullet, scattering the coins.

  Okimoto saw the ether disperse like a puff of smoke in the wind. He yelled, “Full speed!”

  Dolly slammed the gas pedal, their heads all swinging back.

  Zeppe screamed.

  Okimoto kept his eyes on the three-story house as they drifted around the corner. He glared at the four scum mages watching from the third-floor balcony, dressed in top hats and cartoonishly suspicious long coats, all in black.

  If this band of classless cunts decided to pursue, then a fight would be inevitable.

  Fortunately, they didn’t give chase, and the house sank into the haze as they sped on.

  “I can’t believe this,” Dolly growled. “They're just getting bolder and bolder, aren’t they. Worthless wretches. There are still people walking around, aren’t they afraid of being reported to the police?”

  Kariggan giggled. “The Police? Your sheltered background is showing again. They’ll pay the police off. Hell, they’ve probably already done it.”

  “My dad was right, this city’s going down the shitter and fast.” Zeppe sighed.

  Kariggan giggled. “Going down the shitter? It’s been clogging up the toilet ever since I was a baby. Toaddor has always been a trapnest.”

  Okimoto started laughing too. “Kariggan, these two haven’t got a clue, have they?”

  “Oh shut up!” Dolly ordered, before screaming at a drunk man stumbling onto the road, “Watch out! You fucking idiot!”

  Dolly swerved around him at full speed onto the tram tracks, then she swerved again, dodging a tram coming up on them from behind. They were whisked around like eggs in the car. Okimoto wondered if they'd be an omelet by the time they got back.

  “Calm down!” Kariggan cried, “You’ve almost gotten us squashed.”

  “Watch out, you stupid cow!” The tram driver yelled from the cabin.

  The passengers were all staring at them.

  Upon Okimoto’s return, it was four minutes past the twenty-third hour. He bathed and was about to check up on the sprite before bed.

  “Don’t you think it can be improved?”

  Christopher was half sitting along the windowsill, gazing at the willow tree (or what remained of it).

  Getting closer, Okimoto saw the dorm master outside, examining the burn marks left in the grass along the wall.

  Christopher continued. “Being able to manipulate magical matter is quite something, but I think you can do better. I reckon it’ll only take a few generations to breed a sprite capable of manipulating ordinary matter, too.”

  It was possible, yes, and there was no doubting his greatness if he did it.

  “Good idea,” Okimoto said. “That would further cement my name in history.”

  Christopher laughed at him. “Cement your name in history? Are you serious? In a world like this, is ego the only good reason you have for doing what you do?”

  “I don’t understand you.” Okimoto snickered. “Why bring this up if you’re just going to scrutinise me?”

  After Christopher disappeared, Okimoto went to bed and woke up with only three hours left until he had to show the arch mages his work.

  After labouring through his morning routine, he slid open the doors to his study.

  Time stopped.

  The enclosure and his writings were gone.