Chapter 1
The world I was born into contained magic. Magic was considered the use of mana. The definition occasionally said the “conscious” use of mana, but it more often said nothing of conscious effort.
Mana was how magic worked: focused, unfocused, ambient, internal, etc. All of it was mana-based magic. I’ll admit, our concept of “elements” was loose compared to other worlds I have since seen, but if you overlook that, I think you’ll find the magic of my world quite typical of any other story you’ve read.
There were two views about magic here: you were born with it, or you earned it. These two biased views of our magic system were solely based on a person’s appearance. Those born with “Marks” were born with magic. Those without Marks who could cast spells earned their magic.
The Mark of Magic, or Mark, is nothing more than a birthmark. Marks are all artistic, colorful, and/or beautiful. Not all of them were unique, and not all of them were common. If I were not so bitter, I might have believed there were gods who took part in making the Marks with such artistic consideration.
Each Mark represents an element (or type) of magic. If not for the Marks of those in our past, the people of my world would not even understand that magic had categories. The Mark for fire magic was a symbol in our DNA, and we used that same symbol to mean fire magic in documents and spell books. Even when people were born without facial marks, everyone learned the same symbols.
Long before I was born, there were persons so extraordinary that they were considered deities. These people decided that earning magic was far more noble and precious than having “magic handed to you.” Somehow, these “deities” took the Marks away from the world. Their reasons had to do with snobs, Mark bias, and groups of people hating each other for their elements.
Since I didn’t believe in the gods, I just shrugged or shook my head at such stories. There was, no doubt, a scientific explanation. It probably had to do with an extraordinary solar storm and had nothing to do with divine intervention. Solar storms were pretty common above my world: they are probably the reason my world has never progressed into electronic technology.
Whatever the story, it was impossible to take the world’s magic (thankfully!). Kings, religious leaders, and landlords told people they needed to earn their magic. When they could cast spells, the Marks did not appear, but now the proof of their magic was their casting ability.
The problem -- the entire source of my anguish -- was this awful view, because everyone in my world had magic -- period. End of story. It was a provable fact. It did not matter what people said or pretended.
And some people, like me, were born with Marks.
My element is mana, and I was born with the Mark for this element. Under the furthest edge of my left eye is a star with a teardrop beneath it. The five-pointed star represents magic and is usually purple. My star is red. The blood drop beneath my star is not red, but purple. Literally, my Mark means “the blood of magic.”
It’s no wonder I can see mana and, by extension, magic. It exists everywhere. Some of this magic was not visible through the use of spells, nor would it ever be. This is where the idea of “elements” could be contested. Though all types of magic were mana-based, some elements were just not visible. The diverse nature of magical types could have been an absolute pleasure to study if I had been given the chance.
One man I knew could repel magic spells hurled at him without trying. If someone was trying to bless him, he could accept the magic. This was not a “spell”: there was no incantation, nor was a wand necessary. However, it was most assuredly a magical ability that rarely anyone else possessed.
Every child heard tales of a woman who could communicate with all the animals of the world. It is theorized that her element was Psyche. She eventually educated animals with such skill that she created an entire kingdom -- until human kings thought it a threat and eliminated everything.
I once met a child who could tell me the chemical composition of anything he could see. It was as if molecular structures were made visible and enhanced, just for him; words and numbers levitated on display, just for him; and solutions to long thought impossible chemistry problems were easy for him to solve. And yet this child was not viewed as “magical,” because he could not cast a single spell. I knew his ability was mana-based, and it would take a long time to create spells that could replicate his innate element: Chemistry.
Before I was born, there were other people with the means to see mana, whether they had the element or not. Watching mana was part of every higher education’s curriculum. We all saw the same thing: everyone in my world was born with magic. This means some Unmarked persons could see this evidence just as clearly as I could.
However, as time passed, The Marked, like me, were considered “wrong.” Even if we were born with the Mark -- something we had absolutely no control over -- we were called cursed, diseased, and even soulless.
As soon as I was born, I saw the Unmarked birthing maid’s face. She was fraught with fear, but dared not say anything before handing me over to my Unmarked biological mother. Her smile was gone by the time my eyes turned to her. Horror was quickly followed by disgust. My Unmarked biological father’s disgust was quickly followed by anger.
Unfortunately, my magic isn’t just mana. I can remember everything. Perhaps not the tune of notes I couldn’t see or how many beads were in a necklace, but certainly every face I looked into. Only age dulled my memories, but I did not lose them.
I felt cursed at birth, not just for my Mark, but because I would never forget my mother’s disgust. Even when I wasn’t actively thinking about it, I hated the gaze of people because I expected disgust. It made my insides feel hollow, and yet I was filled with a pain in my heart that never disappeared. It was so present that if I ever felt pain-free, I assumed something was wrong.
