Elyas's trouble with magic was only rivaled by his trouble with people. Particularly girls. More particularly, Yara, the girl next door. From the moment he realized that looking at her made him feel like he'd swallowed a bucket of butterflies, his already erratic behavior somehow found new and creative ways to embarrass him.
When he turned thirteen, Elyas finally mustered up the courage to talk to Yara—an achievement akin to mastering the most complicated spell in existence. He stood outside her house, nervously twisting his shirt into a wrinkled mess. His mind raced through all the possible ways this conversation could go wrong, which for Elyas, was a lot.
Elyas (stammering): "Y-Yara, do you want to... maybe, you know, go to the river with me? Just us?"
Yara, ever the clever one, smiled sweetly. Elyas, being the awkward, magic-prone disaster that he was, missed the mischievous glint in her eye entirely.
Yara: "Sure! But my brother Dorian will come along too. He's been wanting to get to know you better."
Elyas blinked, confused but too flustered to think straight.
Elyas (blushing): "O-okay, that sounds... fun?"
Fun? What was he saying? What was fun about Yara's brother Dorian tagging along? Dorian was older, taller, and far too suave for Elyas's comfort. The guy had this strange habit of smiling at him like he knew something Elyas didn't. But, in his oblivious haze, Elyas assumed Dorian was just being friendly. Besides, what could possibly go wrong on a simple walk by the river?
As it turned out, a lot.
When they reached the riverbank, Yara mysteriously vanished. Elyas didn't think much of it at first. Maybe she'd gone to pick flowers, or maybe she needed a moment to herself. His thoughts drifted nervously to Dorian, who was now standing far too close for comfort.
Dorian (grinning): "So, Elyas... Yara says you're good with magic. Maybe you could show me sometime?"
There it was. That smile again. Elyas, feeling his ears go red, scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
Elyas: "Uh, sure? I'm not very good at it though... I kinda mess things up."
Dorian didn't seem to mind at all, in fact, he leaned in even closer.
Dorian: "I don't mind. I like a bit of... unpredictability."
That did it. Elyas's heart started racing, and not in a good way. The more nervous he got, the more his magic stirred inside him, like a pot about to boil over. His mind raced—how did he end up here? What did Dorian mean by unpredictability? Why was he smiling like that? Was Yara plotting something?
Elyas's anxiety reached a critical level. He needed to get out of there, fast. Without thinking, he muttered the first teleportation spell that came to mind, hoping to make a clean escape.
But, being Elyas, "clean" wasn't part of the deal.
Instead of gracefully disappearing from the riverbank and reappearing at home, Elyas found himself standing in the middle of a public bathhouse. Not just any part of the bathhouse, but the men's section. Naked men. All staring at him in shock and confusion.
Man 1 (shouting): "What the—who are you?!"
Man 2 (covering himself): "Kid, this is no place for magic!"
Elyas's face turned a shade of red that even a tomato would envy. He spun around, eyes darting frantically for an escape route. Anywhere but here. But in his panic, his magic flared up again, and before he knew it, he had cast another teleportation spell, hoping to disappear.
And disappear he did—but not to the safety of his home.
Instead, Elyas burst through the wall and reappeared in the women's bathhouse.
This bathhouse, unfortunately for him, was filled with elderly women. The shocked silence that followed his arrival was more deafening than any spell he'd ever miscast. Elyas, now a bright, mortified mess, found himself surrounded by a group of grandmothers who were far less understanding than the naked men.
Grandmother 1 (gasping): "Good heavens! A boy!"
Grandmother 2 (clutching her robe): "Where's your mother, young man?!"
Grandmother 3 (squinting): "Is that the Smithson boy? The one who turned his cat into a teapot?"
Elyas, unable to form words, tried to stammer an apology, but all that came out was a faint squeak. One of the grandmothers took a step toward him, wagging her finger like she was about to scold him for running through her prized flowerbed.
Grandmother 4 (sternly): "What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"
In a state of sheer terror, Elyas did what he always did in times of extreme stress—he ran. Or, at least, he tried to. In his haste, he tripped over his own robe and tumbled headfirst into a large tub of water. The splash soaked half the elderly women, who let out an indignant chorus of gasps and shrieks.
Grandmother 1 (now soaked): "Oh, for the love of—!"
Floundering in the water, Elyas scrambled to his feet, slipping and sliding as he tried to get away from the chaos he had created. He managed to cast one final teleportation spell, and this time, by some miracle, it worked.
He reappeared outside, soaked, panting, and dripping wet, leaning against a tree for support. His heart raced as he looked around, thankful that he was, at last, alone. The fresh air felt like sweet salvation after the bathhouse disaster.
Elyas (gasping): "I'm never using teleportation again..."
He tried to collect himself, hoping that Dorian and Yara hadn't noticed his extended absence. But knowing his luck, they were probably wondering where he had gone—or worse, Dorian might've followed him, intent on continuing whatever weird conversation he was trying to have.
Just as Elyas began to relax, a familiar voice echoed through the trees.
Yara (teasing): "So, how was your bath?"
Elyas groaned, realizing that Yara had likely seen the entire debacle—or at least guessed enough of it to make fun of him for the rest of eternity.
Yara (grinning): "You were gone for a while. Did Dorian bore you that much?"
Elyas: "Yara, please don't..."
Yara (feigning innocence): "Don't what? Tell everyone how you magically crashed the bathhouses?"
Elyas buried his face in his hands, wishing he could just vanish for real this time. But with Yara, that wasn't an option. The girl was relentless, and now, Elyas had given her more material to work with than she could ever have hoped for.
As he trudged back toward the village, soaked and embarrassed, Elyas could only sigh. Maybe one day he'd figure out how to control his magic and avoid these humiliating situations.
Or maybe... he was just doomed to be a walking disaster forever.