Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 993
🕑 Added 2025-10-11 02:02:17 +0000 UTC“So,” I asked my cousin as we sat down at a nearby table. “How about you make us some tea and we talk about some of the potential recruits you might know about?” I had to admit, I was REALLY interested in trying the tea. It was a picture in a cup. Some of the images had been of animals, plants, even some natural forces. I really wanted to know what a lightning storm tasted like.
She chuckled at my expression. “Well, you ARE the boss. Who is going to be attending this little tea party?”
I glanced around. My parents and grandparents were both gone, as were Zeke and Stella. Chelsea, Bethy, Gabe, Abel, Mel, Callie, and I were the only ones left. “Guess just the seven of us,” I shrugged. “Now, why don’t you tell us about the tea before we start. I’m guessing the different blends are better for different things?”
Her face lit up. “Of course.” She pulled out her palette of paints. “Now these are just my basic color mixtures, I tend to do them on elemental or attribute lines. It keeps things simple. But for custom blends we can get a little more esoteric. How would you describe your ability?”
Assuming she didn’t mean the obvious one, I hummed to myself. “I guess…video games come to life, turn me into a bunch of demons and lets me wear a lot of hats?”
She stared at me in confusion. Callie hummed introspectively. “Actually…that’s pretty accurate, though I could see how it would be completely unhelpful. Do you have a mix that would work with his wish power?”
“Maybe,” she grimaced. “I don’t associate with a lot of bloodline holders, but I guess I DO have a blend I’ve been experimenting with.”
She reached into the bag hanging at her waist, pulling out a small grey tin and then a mortar. She dropped some of the leaves in, ground them up, and then dropped in a few other plants. “Bit of Dreamshade, some essence of desire, Paradise Poppies,” she paused. “Don’t worry about those, they aren’t euphoric in teas. Or addictive. And finish it off with…hmm, you mentioned games. Hah, Puzzle Violets. That’ll work.”
The resulting mix of colors came out a sort of radiating sparkly violet that reminded me of wish lightning. Dipping her brush, she started to paint.
Using the purple as a base, she slowly painted out a sunset, with Callie and I standing below it on a cliff holding hands. The purple made up most of the sky, and she used a few other colors as secondary binders. Finally, she finished, then picked up the page. Lifting it, she dropped the paper, her hands quickly moving to pour boiling water into the cups. As it reached a level with her eyeline, she BLEW on the page, and the image just floated off.
Drifting into the air, it split in two, half sinking into each cup. Steam hissed up from the teacups, and within the steam I could see images of Callie and I together watching the sun sink below the horizon.
I reached down, picking one up, and she nodded at me with a smile, pushing the other toward my wife. Callie picked hers up, and we each took a sip, and it was…I had no words.
It TASTED like sunset. Like love and companionship and dreams fulfilled. I could taste the Wish in there, but that wasn’t the POINT. I’d assumed she’d make the tea to capitalize on my powers, but that wasn’t it. That was just a carrier, to flavor the emotions, to deliver the sensation in a way that connected with me.
I felt Callie get the same thing through the bond. Each of us feeling half of the story, and the bond carrying it back and forth, echoing between us and growing louder with each repeat.
“That’s…” I breathed, steam flowing from my mouth. “I don’t understand.”
Vicky nodded, reaching back to tie her hair up., smudging a bit of glowing purple on her cheek as she did. She had the same sandy hair as I did, though her eyes were steel grey rather than the usual Wyndham green. “Yup. I figured.” She winked at me. “You two are pretty obvious, and anyone whose talked to you for more than five minutes can pick up how crazy about each other you are. I’d be a pretty terrible artist if I couldn’t put that down in paint.”
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “Can you imagine? What about the others? Think you can do them?”
She hummed, glancing at Bethy next. “Bloodnettle flowers, Sunshine Daffodils and…” she sniffed, eyes narrowing. “Tantalus Root. As a base shade. Something like loyalty for depth, maybe some hidden pain for shading.” She bit her lip as she dug back into her bag and started painting again.
This time the image was a little different. A blood red teddy bear sitting in a dark room, red moonlight pouring through the window covered by clouds, dim enough to make it tough to see.
She raised the paper when she was done and tapped it into a cup, then pushed it over to the vampire. Bethy, raised an eyebrow but shrugged, lifting it to her lips to sip. Her eyes fluttered. “That tastes like…home. Sewing with mama on one of her good days, going with daddy to see the opera.”
“Ok, that’s not just observation,” I said flatly. “You’re DOING something.”
She shrugged. “I see the world like an artist. We find shades of color other people don't know to look for. Is it a function of my Skill? Yeah, but it’s not really active. It’s not something I’m DOING, it’s something I’m BEING.”
And I realized why my dad was so interested in me working with her. Because really, what was a party but creating a painting using the emotions of all the guests. Finding the emotional shade every person projected and creating something not just harmonious, but better than the sum of its parts.
Abel slammed his hands down on the table. “Alright, my turn,” he said boldly. “I bet it’s not even that impressive. I mean tea is great. But like, I can handle it, even if Bethy can’t. And why pick her to be your Champion. I would be an awesome champion. How is she better than me?”
“I mean…” I said slowly. “Aside from like…comprehensively?”
“That was a rhetorical question,” he snapped in aggravation. “I wasn’t actually asking you to NAME a way.”
I shrugged. “Then I guess I gave you a rhetorical answer.”
He glared at me, but I pretended not to see him. I MIGHT have been taking out my urge to banter on Abel. I also MIGHT have been holding a bit of a grudge from training. He rolled his eyes, and turned to Vicky. “Alright, go ahead. I can take it.”
Despite his confrontational tone though, I could see excitement behind his eyes. I was pretty sure he was trying to goad her into making something more visceral for him. I wasn’t sure if it was working, but at least he seemed pumped about it. So she started painting, and I took the time to ask her about some other possible cabinet members.
“So, any ideas about where we could find a Master of Secrets?” I asked with a sigh. “Becuase I’ll be honest, that one seems like the hardest to pin down.”
She hummed as she painted. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “I mean, there are definitely plenty of information brokers. Tons of information brokers. Too many honestly. Like this is the WCP, everyone is selling something, and information is easy to get. Or at least easy to get information is. If you’re talking about reliable sources of genuine secrets, the list narrows a bit.”
I didn’t rush her. She was thinking as she painted, more talking out loud than answering, and I wasn’t in a rush. “Maybe Radia, or possibly Carey. Scott or Decker might be viable options.”
“You seem unsure,” I said skeptically. “Isn’t there someone that springs to mind when you think secrets. Some name that immediately pops into your head as the best option? Who was the first person you thought of?”
“Wulf,” she admitted after a slight pause. “But he’s…odd. Almost impossible to find for one thing. But he has some kind of sensory Ability. He hears things you don’t say, responds to questions you didn’t ask. I just…I don’t know. I don’t think he’s ‘politics’ material. You don’t want him representing you…anywhere.”
I shook my head as she blew the picture of an armored pit fighter into a cup and pushed it over to Abel. “It’s not a problem. The Master of Secrets isn’t really…well they’re not customer facing, to put it in a weird but accurate way. They won’t interact with anyone but me. And…well, whoever their sources are.” I paused as Abel closed his eyes, inhaling as he processed his cup of tea. “Also how come the paintings are different for us. In the ceremony the climbed off the page?”
“Because I’m putting in effort,” she said as she started mixing paints again. “Those were just individual doodles. These are full scenes relevant to your lives. It’s a more involved process, but the result is more personalized.”
“Makes sense,” I nodded. “So, what do you think? Can you find this…Wulf?”
She shrugged. “I can ask around. If nothing else word will get back to him. It’ll be up to him if he gets in touch after that. But he probably will. He seems like the type.”
“What type is that?” I asked with amusement.
“The type who’s looking for somewhere to belong,” she answered bluntly. “Lot of that going around here.” She glanced past me towards the rest of the village. “It can be…empty. The WCP is all about getting ahead, but for those of us who never will, it feels aimless. I’ve got it better than most, granted. Grandpa doesn’t care much about us, but he takes care of my mom, and she takes care of me. Some of the other branch members don’t even bother with that.”
There were only thirteen S-rankers, and a LOT more Wyndhams than that. Not everyone could be a direct descendant from an S-ranker, at least not in recent memory. If Vicky was overlooked this bad despite being my grandfathers grandkid, how bad was it for the others.
I wanted to do…something. To help. But what was I supposed to do? Tell everyone to be nice? Stop treating them like shit? That had zero chances of working if I was even able to codify it, which I wouldn’t be able to. It was yet another thing on the list of shit I was going to have to fix with no earthly idea how to DO that.
Sighing, I shook my head. One step at a time. First get my cabinet together, then get through the coronation, then recruit vanished gods to save the universe, THEN fix my fucked up family. It helped to put my priorities in order. Not.
“Put the word out,” I told her, leaning back as she passed a cup to my sister. “Let him know we’re looking for a meeting. I’m not promising anything based on hearsay, so don’t imply that, but I want to meet him. I can tell a lot about a person on first meeting.” Dantalion could read information from anyone. I could scan him for a bit and see what he was like, then go from there.
“You’re the boss,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll make it happen. Now, as for the others, I believe you wanted to check out some tournaments? Because for your Master of Banking, I know JUST the place.” Judging by her sadistic grin, I had a feeling this would be much less entertaining for me than for her, but what else was new. I nodded in concession and she laughed. “That’s the spirit. Next stop: Kingdom Siege.”
