Things are so different now.
After my second puberty, I put all of that behind me. Not necessarily because I was over nameless flings but because it’s hard to explain to a random person why my ass is slick even though neither of us pulled out any lube. I didn’t know how I would explain surges of magic that happens when I’m feeling especially good. What if a good lay made me light the sheets on fire? Yeah, that’s not a conversation I’d enjoy so I just stopped sleeping around.
Now that I’ve met these people and seen the way they are with their mates, I’m big enough to admit that’s something I’m looking forward to. Instead of nameless fucks, maybe someday I’ll have someone designed just for me. Someone who’ll click into place. Someone I could have more than one night with.
It might be a pipedream but it’s a dream nonetheless.
Before going inside my house, I stop at my mailbox to bring my mail in. Flipping through, I see an advertisement for a roofing company a couple towns over and something else, something that makes me pause.
The envelope gives off a warm cinnamon scent that makes my stomach flutter. The writing is all swoopy, flowing letters, like a professional calligrapher did the writing. There’s no return address so I don’t have a clue who’s sent this.
“Weird,” I murmur to myself as I step inside my house, locking the door behind me. Going into the kitchen, I toss the ad into the trash and focus on the fancy envelope in my hand.
Carefully, I peel the flap open and see what’s inside. That cinnamon scent hits me a little harder and I bring the paper to my face, breathing it in. It’s really nice. Whoever did this, really pays attention to the details.
“You are cordially invited,” I read to myself. My magic comes to life in my hands, pinging off the cardstock. This paper isn’t just beautiful and fancy, but it’s also enchanted. It’s designed for me and me alone. That begs the question,how?
“Come with a mask and an open heart.”
This invite gives a time and an address. I recognize the place as a recreational hall in Piltunder. I know for a fact that Piltunder has other paranormal beings, just like the doctor who helped me realize I was a mage. Could there be even more? Could this be some sort of supernatural ball?
What the fuck is all this?
I frown at the paper for a long time, trying to process how I feel about this. Ever since I’ve become a mage, there are a few things I really wish someone would organize. The paranormal world really needs some sort of secret network, or blackweb or something. I’d love to be able to go online and ask questions. I wanna be able to reach out to people and see if this is normal or if this is weird, even for the supernatural.
My hand goes to my chest, touching the stone I wear around my neck. The very first thing I learned to do, all on my own, was enchant this stone. If ill intentions are around, it’ll glow, giving me a warning. Right now, it’s black.
I relax. This might be magical but it doesn’t appear to have ulterior motives. Though, how a paper could cause me harm, I’m not sure.
My thoughts swirl. I turn around and get a glass of water. Then I lean against the counter, sipping it as I stare at the invitation.
This is an invite to a ‘life-changing event’ but in all honesty, I think I’ve gone through enough life-changing events in mylifetime. Isn’t becoming a mage enough? I picked up my life and moved to a place where I’d be safe, a place that would allow me to master my magic. I’ve worked with a magical tutor to keep me from sparking lightning from my fingertips every time I stub my toe. I’ve gone through a second puberty and gained a secondary gender. Isn’t that allenough?
I set the glass back in the sink, letting out a long breath. Even as I think about tossing this invite in the garbage, my gut tells me I can’t just ignore it. Whatever this is, I was somehow handpicked. I might be tired of life-changing events but apparently life isn’t done with me yet.
Fuck, I hope Ellie can help me find a suit that fits.
Chapter Three
Duncan
I double check my appearance in my visor mirror in my car. My hair looks good, my tie is on straight. Then I carefully put my mask over my head, settling it against my face. I drew the design myself and had someone make it for me.
My mask is black, covering my eyes. It has a swirling design that raises up all the way to my hairline in the middle, almost like a crown. A string goes around the back of my head, holding it in place. It has raised, golden accents, swirling around, not unlike the invitation for this event. I also took the time to be fitted for a black tux. It’s a very classic cut and fits me just right.
I still have absolutely no clue what the hell this event really is, but as soon as I saw the invitation, I knew I needed to come and see. There’s something incredibly freeing about being behind amask. I can be anyone I want to be. I’m more than my parents’ child.
With this mask, I’m just Duncan. The artist doing his best to pursue his dream. The guy who likes to stay inside with takeout instead of going to fancy restaurants or the bar.
The guy who’s more lonely than he’s willing to admit.
With one last look in my mirror, I pop it closed and get out of my car. The air is chilly, like it might start snowing any moment. We’re a few weeks away from Christmas and it feels like it.
The ground and rooftops are covered in a layer of snow, though the parking lot and sidewalks have been freshly shoveled. The trees look like they belong in a picture with how pretty they are with their white tops. I’ve always loved this time of the year.
Some people might think I loved it because my parents always bought me the best gifts. Sometimes we’d travel to different countries, places my mother and father wanted to visit. Some years, my parents would host lavish parties.
None of that mattered to me. Sure, they were fun and I know I’m privileged to even experience these things. I never wanted for anything and oftentimes, was supplied with most things that I asked for.
