Magical: The Sacred Book- Book One

Chapter I: Sweet and Sour Morning

 Leon Gresham had never felt like a typical boy. Not even once. Never, ever. Years ago, when he was only six years old, his mother told him, "You're a woodland fairy." Leon wondered if his mother was telling the truth. He appeared as other boys... walked and talked like them. In retrospect, no one would guess Leon Gresham grew up in a magical family. The Gresham's live just three miles outside of town, on Grey Burrow, a dark, winding path. Leon's parents were among the kingdom's wealthiest. Beatrice, his mother, wore formal tunics and silk pants and lived a lavish lifestyle. Magnus, Leon's father, preferred a more casual and everyday look comprising slacks and a silk shirt. He imitated the poor for two reasons: he wanted Leon to understand that all citizens of Ravenhurst, regardless of their station, are to be valued. In addition, he preferred to oversee the family's apple orchard. It would be a disgrace to stain his formalwear with dirt and grass.

Beatrice, Leon's mother, had another job, one that Leon was unaware of. Magnus was aware of her responsibilities, and it pricked his heart to learn the truth. Leon was mindful of his mother's sinister nature, despite his naivety to reality. Wherever her assignments took her, it was always in an awful place.

Despite their differences, Leon's parents agreed he was not human. They both frequently swore to him he was a woodland fairy. If Leon's father agreed with his mother, the boy assumed it was true. Leon noticed nothing unusual about his appearance at first. At least not at six. He saw changes as he grew older, becoming a spirited eight-year-old. His long strands of hair turned black as night, and his delicate white skin turned gray. Two pin-sized horns sprouted from his forehead. For the terrified boy, he noticed two strange limbs covered in spikes and scales creeping up behind him in his full-length mirror one night. And his blue eyes turned into ember colors. He shrieked as he turned away from the mirror to discover two tiny wings sprouting from his shoulders. His mother and father both assured him that this was normal for a young woodland fairy.

So, there he was, Leon, a woodland fairy living in a mortal kingdom. Leon grew to appreciate his heritage and accept his quirks as time passed. Being born with magical abilities had its benefits and could be amusing. Reaching his favorite parlor game or a jar of cookies raised far beyond the boy's reach was never a problem. Leon only had to spread his wings and flutter to his heart's content. Leon had a lot of fun shrinking himself to the size of a bug. He would sneak up behind people and tickle their ears. Leon soon discovered additional abilities. In the palm of his hand, he could conjure a blue fire. Even though it took effort, and his aim was clumsy. In the house, his father forbade him from using magic. Leon, a rebel, was unfazed.

Leon would practice conjuring fire under the table many nights as he sat down to dinner. Leon took off after dinner and flew to the ceiling's highest point. He would often perch himself on the rafters to gaze out the pane of glass windows at the stars. Leon pondered life there, above the din and away from his family. There were a few things the youngster did not grasp. For example, the trinket he had to wear around his neck whenever he left the manor. His parents explained that the silver chain with the large sun shape, the size of Leon's fist, was their family crest and that he should proudly wear it. Leon despised having to wear it. The trinket was tight and heavy.

The sun was shining through an open window when Leon Gresham awoke. As he struggled to keep his eyes closed, the golden light touched his pale skin. The raven-haired teen could not ignore the nagging call of the morning. Leon, a svelte young underling of ten years, rolled out of bed. Like a drunk, his half-naked body staggered. He squinted as he met the harsh light and felt the venomous sting. When Leon heard a slight rapping on the door, his hands were outstretched, and his feet were moving towards his oversized wardrobe. Then came a soft voice.

"Leon, dear, it is time for you to wake up." Irene, the house fairy, had a gentle tone, which he recognized. He answered with a voice between a chirp and a grunt, and the door opened. Irene was short and lean, with pale pink skin, and she had the demeanor that house fairies are to have. Leon enjoyed her company, even though he did not show it. Irene's fluttering soft voice is his favorite feature. It makes morning greetings a little less unpleasant.