The Wailing Woman

49. The Human Flaw

TW: Violence and death. 

I hastily wiped my stained cheek. "I could have gone with you," I muttered. "You could have taught me magic and I know how to control the spirits in my head." I never liked running but if it meant I could stay by my father's side, I would have run across the world for him.

"No." He said sternly. "If you came with me and if they found you, they would have killed you. And I would have—I would have—" He shakes his head as if he is trying to get rid of a nightmare.

A silence passes over us until I finally say, "Teach me magic." It feels as though I'm a little girl asking how to ride a bike.

My father looks surprised but he recovers quickly. "You said your first word before you could crawl but the moment you crawled, you wanted to walk. You have always been eager. Always wanting to take the world by a reckoning force. You're a lot like your mother in that way." His eyes brimmed. "You're a fast learner. I could teach you."

I brushed off the comment about Mom because I could never grasp the world or anything revolving inside of it. "My magic is..." My mind scattered as I tried to settle for the right word to describe it. "Erratic?" I said full of doubt.

I know how magic is supposed to look. Whenever Dilara performs her magic, it's like a river flowing. Calm and natural. She moves her hands and her fingers in perfect strokes of a brush. The world is her canvas and she is painting it. She has control. But whenever I use my magic and cast a spell it works fine until it decides it feels like I'm being threatened. It surges like suffocating armor but it fits my body. I'm struggling for control.

My father's smile widens. The old man's look crumbles a bit as the weight on his shoulders eases. His eyes shimmer but I can't tell if they're threatening tears or a hopeful gleam. "Your magic is not erratic but I'm partly to blame for your magic. My tia Elvira cloaked your magic and made it dormant. Magic such as yours should never be put to sleep for so long. It only festers inside, growing but it's not as strong because you haven't used it. All witches and warlocks, their magic is tied to their being. It is like another part of you that needs to breathe." Is that why it's so hard to breathe? "True magic, real magic should never be controlled. Magic should be grown even with its rotten parts. But what courses through your veins is all dark magic and that is untethered power. You're limitless."

I frowned. "I don't feel limitless—"

"No, you're limitless. When I perform dark magic I feel limitless like a drug I can't get enough of but imagine yourself born with the drug in your system." Still, I asked, "But how? How is that possible? Shouldn't dark magic corrupt my soul? How is your soul not corrupted?"

He nods his head, agreeing. "Dark magic does have its consequences but they're subgenres in the dark arts that do not completely poison your soul. Demonology is one of them. Evil spirits invade human souls and to counter it, you must use dark magic. Abomination versus abomination has an equal footing. The basics of magic when performing a spell is all about intent. Even the simplest ones can cause disasters and harm. Dark magic is stronger because the intent of it is set. When dealing with evil spirits in the human body it's about separation. Detach the intent of hurting the human, banish the evil."

I guess it sort of made sense but he didn't mention the consequence of using this art form. "What's the price you paid for using dark magic?" I asked.

"The moon can't shine without the dark. But I need her light to keep me from succumbing into the darkness." 

He then explained. "I'm sure you know the significance of what a quinceanera means in our culture but my family had a different approach to this tradition. We call it 'La Noche del Quince'. It is a night celebration and ritual for a warlock or witch who is turning fifteen. We usually do it on a full moon as the warlock or witch prepares themselves to be merged with the Moon. It's an oath that needs to be bound from the moment we are born. In the ritual, our magic becomes tied to the Moon. It's how we can travel through the night without fear. My vow to the Moon sometimes protects me from the full viciousness of dark magic."