Spell Weaver

The alarm went off, and Alex rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand. In the process, he knocked his headphones onto the floor.

Fuck.

Groaning, Alex squinted against the sunlight coming through his curtains.

Mmm, five more minutes.

His hand flailed around, trying to find the button to snooze his phone.

After a couple more snoozes, Alex realized he’d have to drive and be late if he didn’t get up quickly. He forced himself up and searched for the comfortable slides beside his bed.

Inspirational quotes pinned to the walls seemed to mock him— “Embrace the chaos,” “Creativity takes courage.”

Easier said than done.

Coffee. I need coffee.

After pressing a few buttons on his coffee machine, the bitter smell filled his small kitchen. He leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew. A glance at his phone showed a new text from his mom, reminding him about the family dinner that evening. The thought of it threatened to bring on an early migraine.

It was another obligatory family gathering where he’d be expected to “discuss his future plans.” He grimaced and sipped the fresh coffee, the heat a welcome distraction.

Two hours later, Alex was walking into his office. He ignored most of his surroundings as he walked through the downstairs lobby and into the elevator.

As soon as he stepped onto the work floor, he heard, “Alex! Just the man I need. Team meeting, now.”

His manager, Mr. Henderson, stood by the conference room wearing his usual mask of professional urgency. Alex had time to drop his bag at his desk before being ushered into the room.

The meeting was a blur of marketing jargon and ambitious deadlines. Fueled by coffee and a new project, his colleagues fired off ideas at a dizzying pace. At times, Alex struggled to keep up. His mind latched onto a single detail, but just as he was about to process it, someone would move on to the next topic. He felt the pressure to keep pace but often fell behind.

Don’t fixate. Just be a bit more flexible. I can keep up if they can.

He repeated the phrase over and over. Alex knew he tended to beat himself up about these things, so it was unsurprising for him to hear his parents' voices drown out the reassuring mantra Sarah had taught him.

‘We did everything we could to present you and your brother with these opportunities. It’s up to you to capitalize on that. Don’t let it go to waste just because you find it troublesome.’

The meeting ended, and Alex escaped back to his desk. He unlocked his computer, and the Teams Task page on the screen mocked him.

Task: Up Next: Alex Moore - Ad Campaign Pitch Deadline & Slide Deck (Due Friday 11/22)

Several unproductive minutes went by as he tapped his pen on the space bar of his keyboard.

I’ll have a brilliant idea any minute now…

…Ugh.

Nope. Nothing.

His gaze fell on the notepad next to his keyboard. Without thinking, Alex spun the pen in his hand and started to doodle.

Lines flowed onto the page, intricate patterns forming under his hand. A swirling vortex here, a labyrinth of interconnected lines there. It was a familiar comfort, a way to find order in the chaos. The repeated, consistent movements of the pen in evenly spaced lines—

“Lost in your little world again, Mr. Moore?”

Mr. Henderson’s voice broke his concentration. Alex flinched and quickly closed the notepad, feeling color rise in his cheeks as he kept his brows from coming together. Henderson’s expression showed disapproval, and Alex fought down the urge to defend himself.

“Deadlines, Alex. Remember? We’re counting on you.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Alex said while lowering his head slightly.

Henderson shook his head before continuing down the open space toward the next desk.

Fuck.

Alex's head lolled back in defeat. He looked up at the bright lights, forcing his eyes to stay open for a few seconds before closing them and seeing bright purple and yellow outlines where the lights were.

As he straightened in his chair, Mark caught his eye from across the office. His large friend raised an eyebrow when they made eye contact. Alex shook his head in answer before returning his attention to the creative block that always came with forced projects.

A few unproductive hours later, Alex met up with Mark in the office breakroom for lunch.

Alex was pretty average in height, 5’11”, and was proud of the fact that he was a few inches taller than his older brother. Mark, on the other hand, made both of them look short. Mark was one of those people who was awfully close to needing to duck when walking through doorways. He was a solid four inches over six feet. His Polish ancestry came through strong in his height, brown hair, and blue eyes.

“So, you doing anything exciting tonight?”

“Not really. Just dinner with the folks.” Alex picked up half of his turkey wrap.

“Ah, the weekly inquisition?” Mark teased, knowing how much these dinners drained his friend.

His parents meant well, but their constant comparisons to his brother and ability to make any of his accomplishments feel inconsequential was hard to deal with. Alex forced a chuckle, “Something like that.”

“Well, at least they feed you, right?”

“True.”

Lunch was the same as it had been in recent weeks. They exchanged some banter before Alex flipped on his tablet and then passed a headphone to Mark so they could listen to the latest news.

The familiar homepage of The Nexus Hub website greeted them as he did so.

The Rifts had become a morbid fascination of theirs. The fact that they could tear through reality and house creatures of myth and magic was terrifying and completely out of the realm of what everyone thought was possible. Some people saw it as an opportunity and were excited to adventure. Some people said it was the end of the world.

Alex felt it was more accurate to call it the end of the world as they knew it.

I can’t imagine something so drastic that humanity couldn’t overcome it… even if it is as crazy as all of this.

They scrolled through the latest reports.

People had disappeared into a Rift in Nevada and never returned. No trace at all. A Rift in Tokyo had been sealed off but had eventually unleashed a horde of grotesque insect-like creatures. The death toll from that incident was still climbing.

What would it be like? To step through one of those Rifts? Facing the unknown, fighting for...something more?

The powers people supposedly gained from surviving the Rift were even more intriguing. The Nexus Hub website had started as a bit of a joke, poking fun at the early ‘super power’-like reports. However, as weeks passed, it became the fastest and most reliable forum for Rift reports, updates, and information on The System.

Alex almost laughed.

What am I thinking? I’m a graphic designer who’s stuck in a dead-end job. My life at the moment consists of drowning in deadlines and managing expectations.

All too soon, lunch was ending. They both stood to dump their lunch trash and bumped fists before returning to their workstations.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and before he knew it, Alex had changed and was on his way to his parent's house.

"Alex! You're a sight for sore eyes, “ his mom said, her voice laced with her familiar brand of concern.

"Hey, Mom." He offered a tired smile, leaning in for the obligatory hug.

His dad appeared behind her with a wide grin. "Look who decided to grace us with his presence." He pulled Alex into a bear hug, his aftershave a mix of sandalwood and something herbal.

"So, how's work been?"

Jesus, that didn’t take long.

"Eh, nothing really new to report," Alex said as he sat in his normal spot on the couch and accepted the glass of tea his mom handed him.

The familiar scent of pot roast wafted from the kitchen, and they made small talk until Jake arrived and the food was ready.

"Your father had a rough day at the firm," Mom said as they sat around the table.

"One of those clients," His father said. He sighed as he sat down in the chair at the head of the table. "You know the type."

Alex nodded, though he didn’t really know the type. His experience with high-powered clients began and ended with approving ad font sizes.

The conversation flowed around him. The usual stuff. Complaints about traffic, updates on Aunt Carol's hip replacement, and the latest Maplewood, New Jersey gossip.

He nodded at the appropriate times and chuckled at his dad’s jokes. He knew how to play the part. The evening continued to pass, and Alex did his best to be mindful of the things that would set his mother off on a tangent.

They made it through most of the dinner before the dreaded conversation was brought up oh-so-casually.

"So, Alex," His mom began, her voice carefully neutral. "Tell me more about how things are at work."

He forced a smile. "They’re busy, as always. We just landed a big account, actually."

"That's wonderful, dear," Her smile was a touch too wide as she tapped his dad’s arm. "But you're still working on that- what was it… social media campaign?"

"Yes, Mom. Still working on it."

Why does it always come back to this?

"It's just…," she continued, her eyes darting toward her husband, seeking backup. "Well, your father and I were just discussing…"

Alex’s father cleared his throat, and his brow creased slightly. "We just want what's best for you, son."

Fuck. There it is.

"And what's best for me is…?"

"Stability," His mom interjected. "A career with a bit more of a path forward. Not just some… artistic pursuit."

The judgment hung in the air. Alex could feel his face flushing.

He pushed the food around on his plate, the roast suddenly looking unappetizing. A part of him wanted to speak up about his choices, but the words wouldn’t come. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Alex?" his mom’s tone was laced with genuine concern.

He glanced up to see her eyebrows and lips pursed. He looked toward his dad, but the older man’s gaze was avoiding his eyes.

This is so awkward. Why do we keep doing this?

The silence stretched, each tick of the dining room clock sounding louder than the last.

Say something, Alex. Anything. Stick up for yourself. Tell them you don't like your job, but at least you picked it. Tell them you have a plan. Or at least a goal…

"So, Alex," Jake said, his voice carrying its normal carefree lilt. "Jamie told me you and Mark are still slaying dragons in your free time." He chuckled.

Is he serious right now?

"Jake!" Mom hissed, her eyes flashing a warning. "Don't be ridiculous. Alex gave up such childish fantasies years ago."

"Do we need to discuss your future career plan, too?" Their dad said in a mock, threatening tone.

"What, me?" Jake raised his hands, feigning innocence. "No need to worry about me, I just got a promotion last month. My boss says that they’re fast tracking me. Also, who cares if Alex plays video games still, we know Alex is the dreamer of the family."

Alex’s cheeks burned, a wave of shame washing over him. Something about the way Jake casually dismissed his hobbies or friends with humor annoyed him to no end.

"Jake's right, Alex," His dad said. "There's nothing wrong with having a passion. You know that we love your art. Your mother and I just want you to be realistic. You have a stable income right now. We just want to make sure that you're thinking about what comes next."

Of course, he’s right, Dad. In your eyes, Jake can do no wrong.

Alex looked Jake in the eyes.

Does he even realize how big of an asshole he is?

Jake looked back, smiling as he took a big bite of his dinner roll, then looked away with an exaggerated innocence, acting as if he had no idea what was happening. While things had always been competitive between the two, Alex felt that things had become a bit more intentional as they reached adulthood.

They made eye contact again, and Jake winked at him.

Dick.

A high-pitched tone cut through the tension, and all eyes turned towards the living room. The TV blared the tone from the emergency broadcast system.

"I'm not that hungry anyway," Alex mumbled, pushing his chair back from the table. "I'll go see what's going on."

Anything to escape this conversation.

The news anchor's face was a mask of concern. Words like "emergency announcement" and "government initiative" flashed across the bottom of the screen.

"… the Hunter's Association will be responsible for the registration and regulation of all individuals with abilities related to the Rifts," the anchor noted. "The government assures citizens that this is a precautionary measure, aimed at ensuring public safety and…"

"Hunters Association?" Mom scoffed, her voice full of disbelief. "What are they going to hunt? Unicorns?"

"Turn that off, Alex," Dad ordered his voice tight with annoyance. "It's all a load of crap."

"But Dad-"

"It’s propaganda, pure and simple," He said. The older man waved his hand dismissively at the screen. "They're trying to scare us, distract us from the real issues. The elections are only a year away, remember?"

Alex bit back a retort, knowing it wouldn’t do anyone any good. It was always the same. Anything outside their personal worldview was dismissed as ludicrous or blamed as some sort of manipulation by the other political party.

But Alex had seen the videos and read the articles. In the live video segments, the fear in the onlookers’ eyes was real.

There's no way it can be staged. It's been going on for over a month, and I don't think they could sweep something this big under the rug.

A rebellious part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he could be a part of something this crazy.

The news cut to a different camera. It panned across a crowd gathered behind a security cordon. In the distance, a swirling vortex of blue energy crackled and popped. The portal was terrifyingly large, easily matching the height of the two-story buildings nearby and hovering just off the pavement.

Alex’s breath caught. Even through the grainy footage, he could see a group of figures emerging from the swirling tear. The way the portal’s glow backlighted their silhouettes made them look like miniatures.

They look battered. But they are all standing tall.

The man at the front of the group waved toward the crowd, and the concerned murmurs quickly became cheering.

The TV abruptly turned off.

"It's all a hoax, I tell you. Rob from down the street was just telling me about how the kids nowadays can do this "deep fake” thing*,* and I'll be damned if -"

Alex stared at the black screen for a while, only half paying attention to his dad's ramblings.