Lexine Meiriona as Alinix, The Fantasy Writer

What Sorcerer's Stone?

Summertime. If there were any other time people looked forward to every year, besides their birthdays and, well, Christmas, it would be this. With the scorching sun tempting every single human being to immerse themselves in the ocean, it wouldn't be unlikely to find every family booked in beach resorts. To those who loved land more than water, one would find them setting up their tents in the mountains.

But definitely not Cath. The teenage girl couldn't recall the last time she had a birthday party nor had she celebrated Christmas. Her pink lips would unconsciously sneer every time she'd see a family walking past the street. She hated occasions when families gathered. She hated holidays.

Despite the heat steaming from the cemented ground, Cath still ambled her way to her favorite coffee shop. She made it a habit to pass her time at the café across the bookstore, several blocks away from her house every afternoon at twenty past five. Pushing the glass door open with her pale hand, a familiar sound of chimes hanging above the door – so that when someone entered, her friend would be informed – welcomed her.

From the counter, she saw her friend, a middle-aged woman and owner of the shop, crow's feet showing while smiling at her. She was brewing coffee when Cath started walking toward her favorite spot in the coffee shop. Like what she expected, the coffee shop was nearly empty if not for a couple of businessmen sitting for a cup of their morning coffee.

Few minutes after Cath sat on a couch, her friend approached. "New book, eh?" she asked. She placed a cup of caramel macchiato atop Cath's table for it was always the girl's order.

Cath answered with a shrug, "A friend insisted that I read this." She held the book up, front cover facing her friend, enough to make the latter sit on the couch opposite hers. "Have you read this, René?"

"Yeah. Interesting read, indeed," René paused, then smiled. "Although some accounts are mere speculations to fill in the mystery." She used two of her fingers on each hand to quote the last word.

The book they were talking about was Magnus Opus: Nicholas Flamel Through The Years—a renowned book from the 17th century about the alchemist, and his frequent showings after his death.

"How so?" Cath was always intrigued by different accounts of historical events, especially when they were in contradiction with each other. It fascinated her how historical accounts were always biased. She believed that when she read all those accounts pertaining to one and the same event, she would see clear and know what truly happened in between the lines.

"It's true Nicholas Flamel was an alchemist, but his association with the Sorcerer's Stone is a misnomer. It wasn't his at all. The stone belonged to his wife, Perenelle."

Cath took a sip of her coffee, listening intently.

"There are a lot of them claiming Flamel found the elixir of life and all those rubbish. But what he was, was a simple bookseller."

Three years ago, Cath moved to this side of the state. It was the same year she discovered Le M.A.L.F. Café with an interesting logo—gem stone inside a circle and a bigger triangle with spirals on its outside.

She asked the café owner about what those initials in the signage outside the store meant. René replied with a tone which implied her being usually asked about it, "Make A Lovely Friend. Just that. Nothing special."

René let out a deep breath, sapping Cath out of her recollection. "It's Perenelle all along. She... She's a sorceress. She's cursed. She's banished by her own kind."

Cath felt her eyebrows pull together. There was something in her friend's tone that made her ask, "How'd you know all this?" She even noticed her usage of present tense when describing Perenelle Flamel.

"Because I am she who's cursed. But oh, you need not fear, my friend," she added when

Cath froze in her seat. "This," René brought out something from her apron's pocket, "is the Sorcerer's stone, yes." She placed the red violet gem-looking stone on the table. "What they got wrong is what it does."

Cath, interested at the subject matter, remained silent. This silence revealed much truth she could never have had thought before or read in any fancy-looking leather bound book. The café's name wasn't "nothing special". And the stone. It was in the café's logo!

"It doesn't give me immortality. Immortality is the curse I bear for as long as I keep them there. They were able to cast the spell before they got trapped, you know." There was sadness in her tone. René's eyes focused on the stone resting on the table.

"Keep who where?"

"My kind. Here." She pointed the stone. The witch saw Cath's perplexed reaction so, she

continued, "I was banished by my kind because they feared me. They believe I'm destruction itself because of my powers. But before my exile, I managed to create this stone, and store them all in here."

Her smile, Cath thought, was wicked. The girl's curiosity got the better of her. "But how?"

"How did they all fit there?" René laughed as though it was the stupidest question she was asked. "I can spend the rest of my life explaining, but it's too complex you might not comprehend much. To put it simply, though, it's like I made a whole new world for them. They live and die like they were here; the difference is they're trapped. Basically, I carry with me a whole tribe for like, half a millennium now." She smiled like she was amused, but her eyes showed longing, pain for something long gone.

"And when you freed them?"

René chuckled."Oh, dear. I don't think it'd work to my advantage. They sure would keep me alive and not a second would pass that I'd not be tortured. Don't wanna risk it." She smiled, a lonely one. "I don't understand why people want immortality. I've long wished to die, but I can't. I've done a lot suicidal attempts. Obviously, the spell makes me invincible."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

René smiled. "Because you experience this curse for a fact. You think I don't know you, S? You're no human. You're thousands of years old. You have more interesting stories to tell than I."

"All right." Cath took a sip from her macchiato. "You got me there." She smiled. "Where do I start?"