Chapter Text
"Hen'ry you've gotta count," his father insinuates as he presses a hand on his shoulder and looks down at him.
"I am counting," Hen'ry grits his teeth as he looks up at his father. His golden eyes were calm compared to his burning forest-green ones.
His father poses down into a tree and yawns as if this was the most boring fight he's had. "Come on. Attack me again, this time, do better." As he said, 'Do better,' his lips upturned into an ugly smirk. A hint of bile forced its way up Hen'ry's throat.
Hen'ry then stands and brushes off the dirt from his arms and legs. He just needed to land a single blow on him. That was the only way he'd finally win. He needed to prove he was an Oak.
He raises his hand as green, sparkly magic shoots from his hand. Vines rose from the floor to try and capture his father's feet. However, Bar'ry dodges them easily by shooting crackling green flames down at them. He then slides into the downward dog. His arm outstretches and he mutters something as he throws a whip of vines toward Hen'ry's face.
He lets the vines roll off his shoulders. He grips them and a wave of fire shoots down the vines burning them. Hen'ry raises his arms and watches as a wall of green fire surrounds them. He could see the flames reflecting in the unbothered gaze of his fathers. His father yawns once more before turning into a hawk and flying toward Hen'ry's face.
Hen'ry gasps his breath getting stuck in his throat. He reached out to shoot fire at him once more, but he hesitated too much. Sharp angular talons scratched his face and he fell down onto his back. His face burned as he saw red flood the corner of his eyes. "Shit."
"Hey! No cursing, Hen." His lips downturned into what Hen'ry could only assume was displeasure. "We Oak's are too powerful for those kinds of words." His father shifted back as he looked down at him. "Maybe next time you'll do better. Fester that anger into something useful." He turns on his toes and stretches into his next form. A small sparrow flew into the woods of Oakvale leaving behind Hen'ry to clean up himself.
Hen'ry felt his cheeks flush with unbridled rage, and he could feel his blood boil. He stands and throws a fury of vines at the woods. He shoots another wall of fire down another part of the Oakvalian woods. However, the trees didn't catch and Henry was left with bitter disappointment at that notion.
'Count Hen'ry.' A mocking voice whispers in his mind. So, Hen'ry took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then he shifted into a lark and flew back toward the direction of the Oakvale palace.
One. He shot straight into his room. Not bothering to even take his shoes off after turning back into himself.
Two. Once inside he throws a book of spells on his desk and begins skimming through the pages.
Three. He wanted to not exist in Bar'ry's presence for a couple of minutes. He wanted to get away from Bar'ry for a couple of fu- freaking minutes.
Four. His eyes scanned through the texts of his ancestors. A book meant to show him what he needed to do. What he wanted to do.
Five. He stopped at his desired spot and began to prepare the old-timey spell.
Six. Today would be the last time Hen'ry had to deal with this pessimistic annoyance of his father. He clutched the materials in his hand and began to spread them on the floor as the spell suggested.
Seven. Today would be the last day that Hen'ry was considered a child. A disappointment even. He grips the books and begins to speak. "Ereh morf yawa em ekat!"
Eight. Hen'ry sat down and crosses his legs taking in a deep breath. His eyes glowed a vibrant green color. His hands stretched up before he rested them on his knees. The room grew a purple color and Hen'ry was positive that he was feeling an unusual kind of string pulling him down.
Nine. He gasps out a breath as the feeling of magic surges around him. He felt himself begin to be sucked into the ground. This wasn't a part of the spell, what the hell? His hands reached for the desk, but he missed. "Shit! Shit!" Something had to have gone wrong, why wasn't he invisible? He could clearly see his tan hands, he should've been transparent!
He reaches for his spell book. He misses by a millimeter. Suddenly, the room was chaotic and the next it was quiet. All that was left was the spell book left on an outstretched page.
Ten.