Six weeks ago...

There was a certain discomfort he felt all around and inside himself. It was an aching and troublesome nuisance, like having an unbearable itch in multiple spots and yet somehow he was unable to relieve such annoyance. This feeling had unfortunately become too familiar with his energetic and fidgety teenage body, as Markl had been forced to sit and study at his desk for the last three hours.

Correction - for precisely three hours and fourteen minutes. The young apprentice kept a close eye on his bedroom clock, checking every couple minutes to see how much longer until the midday hour would come. He had several chapters still to read and memorize by that time, and then the real training would begin.

Markl rested his back against the stiff, wooden chair and groaned. He had sat at his desk chair since early that morning and the fidgeting only worsened the longer he sat. His legs bounced up and down like jellyfish floating in the sea, and he twiddled his quill pen between each and every finger on his left hand. His back felt the familiar ache of his lethargic bones and muscles as he yearned for actual magic practice. He still needed a shower before his training session, as he noticed the grease darkening his ginger hair into a darker red.

He didn't have the time to shower; not yet, at least. Master Xarx was keen on his studies coming before anything else. As much as Markl hated his training sessions, he absolutely loathed studying for them even more. All the ancient tomes he forced the teenager to read, from potion making to alchemy to spellcasting, made magic less exciting.

Markl used to dream of all the wondrous spells he witnessed from Master Howl - back when he apprenticed under him, and when he used to call him Master - and how he made even the simplest of spells so fascinating and magnificent. Xarx's only concern was getting the spells done right, and preferably right the first time. Whenever Markl struggled to perform, it was back to the books to brush up on the boring history of it.

Markl rubbed his temple with a vigorous force. As exciting as these spells and magical creations were, he much preferred the actual practice of magic rather than sitting in a chair reading about it.

He wanted to experience the thrill for himself.

Pages flipped at a brief wave of his hand, and Markl barely glanced at the words before him. He couldn't think of a worse way to spend his Friday until he came across a particular page that piqued his curiosity.

Markl stopped flying through the pages and he leaned forward to closely read the title: "The Origins of Magical Sources."

Markl perked his ears and sat up straighter. Finally, something that was interesting to him. Markl scanned the page word for word, using his index finger to guide him:

Magical sources range from various elements of the natural and spiritual realm...

From verdant magic to lunar, magicians hone their craft through the core of their foundation...

Sources are usually rooted in familial genealogy, and are passed down through the generations...

Markl read that final sentence nearly a dozen times - familial genealogy. Howl's source of darkness must have come from his uncle, who was also a magician, or someone farther down his family, though he rarely mentioned anything of the sorts. Kenta had always talked about how his family were known for being Verdants and controlling the physical environment. Xarx was a light source, the same as Markl, yet he never spoke of his family nor his origins.

Nevertheless, they all had one thing in common - they knew where their magic was rooted and from where they came.

Markl closed the book, keeping the golden string bookmark settled between the current pages, and bolted through his bedroom door. If anyone could possibly answer these questions Markl had about where his source came from, it was best to go to the man who knew him the longest.

On his way out of the bedroom, however, he nearly toppled over Sophie as she cleaned and scrubbed the hallway floors.

"Wait, Markl!" She raised her palm in front of him, keeping him pressed back against the wall without so much as touching him. "Watch your step. I already washed this mess off of Heen, and I do not want any more tracks in the house."

Markl glanced further down the hallway and noticed small footprints and handprints in various colors. They began farther out by Howl's study and traveled toward the bedrooms. They spread out in sporadic formation, no clear direction as the colors solidified on the floors, walls, and even up to the ceiling.

Even poor Heen lay on the cold floor, his aged fur spiked up and his chunky body shivering from the bathing Sophie had given him to clean off the colorful mess.

Markl rolled his eyes. "One of Morgan's little experiments again?"

Sophie exhaled a heavy sigh, dropping the dirty rag in the bucket of dark, murky water. "He keeps us busy, that's for sure. Just be careful where you walk. I feel like a cleaning lady all over again."

Markl chuckled and patted her head softly. "We couldn't survive without you, Sophie."

She looked up to him, her starlight hair as bright as her smile. With a brief tilt of her head toward the end of the hallway, she said, "He's in his study. Make sure he doesn't let Morgan release any other spells in the house."

Markl nodded as Sophie continued her deep cleanse. Taking more cautious steps down the hall and passing the traumatized dog, Markl finally made his way to Howl's study. He knew to knock, since Howl hated being disturbed when he was in the middle of his projects. Whether it was a spell for a customer or he was in the middle of teaching something new to Morgan, Markl always knew to knock.

Times like these, he reminisced on the spontaneity of their training back in Howl's castle.

He clutched onto the hefty book tighter and gently knocked on the door three times. A muffled voice spoke moments later. "Come in."

Markl opened the door. Though their house appeared small on the outside, Howl made use of every inch of space. His study felt like a miniature library - bookshelves lined every wall, even around the doorway. There were more spellbooks and anthologies in Howl's library than Master Xarx would be able to assign Markl. Only a crystal window on the ceiling allowed any natural light inside, and several floating lamps graced the darkened room with muted radiance.

The light from the sun beamed down on Howl's crafting table, where bottles of all shapes and sizes lay scattered - some full, some cracked and useless, some empty and ready for a new potion that Morgan had just begun.

Markl remembered when Howl used to teach him potion-making. They'd spend hours in the castle when he was young, a child learning the mystical ways of creating a magical concoction with special properties. Howl always said he was a quick learner.

He also failed to realize how many hours Markl spent alone practicing these skills in order to impress Howl the next day or week or month when he'd return from whichever mission he assigned to himself. He learned a lot from Master Howl, but only after he had practiced on his own.

Now, Howl stood hunched over little Morgan. He was about the same age as Markl was when he began creating potions, yet the only difference was Howl's undivided attention on the boy.

Howl's smile glistened like the stars in the sky. "Now, add three tablespoons of poppy dust..." Morgan followed his father's directions exactly as he spoke them, Howl carefully and cautiously measuring the ingredients before he added them to their bubbling potion. Though still very much an amateur, Morgan showed promising signs of his ability.

Markl could only grab Howl's attention by waving the golden book in the air. He took a few moments before he finally looked up. "Oh, Markl. How are the studies coming along?"

Markl shrugged. "Boring, I guess. This looks like more fun."

Morgan smiled with all his teeth, save for the small gaping hole on the top right from his most recent tooth loss. "It's so much fun! You should join us."

"No," Howl said as he shook his head, "Markl has more intensive work to be doing right now." Howl looked at the floating clock, a perfect circle of time surrounded by golden, metallic rays of sun. "It's almost noon. Shouldn't you be heading over to Xarx's for training?"

"I was going to get ready, but I wanted to ask you about something I read today." Markl opened the tome to his bookmarked page and scanned for the words he read earlier. "I saw something about where sources originally come from for magicians and it got me thinking about-"

"Morgan, no!" Markl looked up and saw a burst of colors, similar to the ones in the hallway, spray up into their faces like an explosion. One too many scoops of poppy dust and the entire potion was ruined. Markl had made that mistake before, but apparently this was the culprit of Sophie's current cleaning situation.

Markl was quick to shield himself - using the precious book in his hands - but Howl and Morgan were not so lucky.

Howl wiped his eyes clean, but the books that surrounded the walls dripped with an overdone potion. Morgan, on the other hand, wore a devious smile on his face, not a shred of guilt for causing another spurt of chaos in the Pendragon house.

He pulled on his father's sleeve. "Can we do that again?"

Howl sighed. "No, I don't think your mother would like a third mess in the house. But, you can absolutely help me clean up." He lifted the boy from beneath his arms and carried him through the room, like he was drifting on a cloud. Morgan's laugh was lighter than air, and Howl's smile proved he was not remotely irritated with his son's mistake.

Howl set him on the ground gently and began preparing for a cleaning spell. Markl still stood in the room, though, waiting for his answers.

"Um, Howl?"

"Hmm?" He turned around toward Markl, remembering that the teenager also yearned for his acknowledgment. "Sorry, could we talk about this later? I'm sure Xarx might be able to help you out with it, too."

Markl sighed. "Yeah, I guess, but-"

Howl smiled. "You'll learn more from him than you ever could from me. He's an excellent teacher. That's why I entrusted you with the best." And with that, his attention from Markl was severed.

The teenage boy stood unmoving; there was nothing he could say or do at this point. Howl had already made up his mind, no matter how many times Markl insisted. The elder wizard was blind to his pleas to be taught by his original master again, to feel connected to the only part of his life that made any sense.

Holding the book tight to his chest, the words inside resonated through his mind - Sources are usually rooted in familial genealogy, and are passed down through the generations. He had nothing but a blank slate to look back upon, nothing but a faded memory of a doorstep in Porthaven and a flamboyant, blonde wizard allowing him entrance to his magical castle. The only other memory was a tall man covered in a dark cloak leaving him on that doorstep late in the night.

He couldn't even remember the man's face. It was like everything in existence from his life before that moment was somehow erased.

Markl walked out of the study and shut the door behind him. Snapping his fingers, he transported the book back to his bedroom and away from sight. He wished he knew more about his life before Howl. He ached for the memories that lived in the depths of his childhood, years of his life that somehow existed but without recollection.

Maybe, if he found those lost memories, he wouldn't feel so torn or empty or hopeless. He just wished someone could fill in the missing pieces.

A heavy knocking on the front door startled him. Heen wheezed from his lonely spot in the corner, but Sophie was still busy cleaning the floors. Howl most likely hadn't even heard that there was a visitor at the door. Markl still needed to prepare for training with Master Xarx, but answering the door was hardly time consuming.

He took several steps to the front door and opened it, Heen following close behind him. Nothing but the welcome mat and Sophie's trough of potted flowers lay before him and the elderly dog. As if by magic, someone had knocked on their door and vanished within the few seconds it took for Markl to approach the door.

The only deviance from their normal front entrance was a petite, violet letter on the prickly mat.

Markl picked up the letter, Heen wheezing and scratching his leg to fulfill his curiosity. The young magician gazed up and down the empty street that traveled by their home. No one, not a soul could be seen on the stone road even as midday drew near. He was alone, with only an unopened letter for company.

He looked more closely at its features. It was an envelope with an unfamiliar seal on one side and scorch marks on the other - he hadn't seen scorch marks like these in several years since the Witch of the Wastes infiltrated Howl's castle years ago. The seal was firm, and the red wax was shaped in a symmetrical circle surrounding three shooting stars, yet these stars were not bound for the sky.

They aimed for the ground.

Markl creased his eyebrows, yet he felt no reason to continue standing in the doorway any longer. Heen wheezed at the boy, but Markl paid no mind to the inquisitive dog. After closing the front door and slowly making his way back to his bedroom, to which he and Sophie barely noticed each other's presence, Markl observed every inch of this letter, from the seal to the scorch marks to the name written on the backside.

His name.

Markl Pendragon.

This was more peculiar than the letter itself. Rarely did he receive mail from anyone, save for the Lees or Maguires on holidays and birthdays. There was no sender name, yet this person knew Markl down to his surname.

How strange, he thought, to finally be noticed by a friend or stranger or companion of sorts. Something inside of him jumped with joy, like fireworks cracking and lighting up the sky with celebrations. Maybe this letter was exactly what he needed.

Maybe it had the answers he yearned to know and understand.

Markl didn't waste a moment as he broke the seal, tore open the letter, and started reading its intrinsic writing.