The Colors of Thomas

The Union troops retreated from the Shenandoah Valley, their banners hanging low and soldiers exhausted after the defeat. Coralina walked among the ranks, assessing the defeated faces of the men.

They reached the improvised camp, far from Virginia's valleys.

Richmond, the Confederate capital, was more than a strategic point; it was a symbol. For the Confederates, its defense represented the resilience of the South. It was the heart of their war machinery and their national pride. The city was fortified with the best magical and conventional defenses the Confederates could muster.

Message 333 from President Lincoln emphasized the importance of taking Richmond and granted absolute authority to the elite Unit 333.

"Miss Álvarez, Richmond must fall. Take care of the British mages and the elite Confederate magical units. I authorize the formation of an elite force under your direct command. You have full freedom to select its members and organize them as you see fit."

Coralina set the message on her makeshift desk, contemplating the implications of the words. Creating an elite force meant the opportunity to surround herself with the best mages, but it would also be a complicated task. Not all candidates would have the mental or physical fortitude to face what awaited in Richmond.

Derek looked at her, considering her words. "Do you already have candidates in mind?"

"Some."

Thomas barged into the tent, his posture as defiant as ever.

"Álvarez," he said without bothering to greet her. "I want you to train me like you train Derek."

"Are you scared, Porter?" she asked, her tone carefully designed to provoke him.

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Are you sure? Because from here, I see the food is pretty far from my tent," Coralina replied, gesturing toward the mess hall.

It took him a second to catch the hint. He clenched his fists, annoyed, but finally said, "I can bring you food every day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

Enjoying the small victory, Coralina smirked. "I like your attitude, Porter. We'll train at night. Find me at my tent."

"At night? Isn't that the same time I train with you?"

Coralina scratched her head.

"True. Do you have any objections, Derek?"

"Yes," Derek replied firmly. "I won't be able to keep up the same pace if he has private sessions."

Leaning back in her chair, Coralina nodded. "Fine. Porter, we'll move your training to the afternoon. Make time."

Thomas protested. "I've got things to do around the camp at that time."

"Then do them faster," Coralina replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Struggling against his frustration, Thomas muttered, "As you say."

She approached the two of them, pointing at them as she spoke in an authoritative tone.

"Derek, your training will focus on perfecting your basic spells and strengthening your magical resistance. But you, Thomas… your problem is deeper. You don't know how to manage your mana reserves. You have a lot of it, but you use it as if it's endless—a giant hammer for pinning needles."

"That's not true," Thomas protested, rubbing his hands. "I'm open to opinions. Not that I'll consider them…"

"Mmm. I'll teach you to shape your emotions."

Something changed in Thomas's eyes. A shadow appeared there, something he didn't often show but that now seeped into his expression.

Thomas Porter had grown up in a family where affection was a luxury he was never offered. His mother was absent, and for the patriarch of the Porters, politics wasn't just a vocation—it was a constant battle in which feelings had no place. Under this mold, Thomas had learned to hide his emotions and remain distant, trusting that arrogance was the best armor against the world.

He had never known what it meant to be loved unconditionally. Despite that, Thomas had learned to love uniquely: by giving himself completely.

"Never hurt a man who never knew his parents' affection," he often told himself. "Because if he loves, he doesn't know how to do it halfway. He loves with every part of himself, even the parts no one cared for."

It was this way of loving that, deep down, fueled his desire to excel. He wanted to prove his worth not just to Coralina but to himself. He wanted to give everything he had because, in his mind, loving and striving were ways to heal the scars he carried.

"You don't know how to control your emotions. And let me tell you something, Porter: if you can't handle what you feel, it's going to kill you before those British mages do."

Frustrated but without words to contradict her, Thomas muttered, "I see no problem with my attitude."

"Of course you don't, Porter. That's why you're here. Let me give you some advice: start keeping a journal."

Thomas looked at her as if she had just suggested something utterly ridiculous. "A journal? That's for women. I'm a soldier."

"Oh, really?" Coralina tilted her head. "Because, according to you, soldiers are incapable of expressing themselves, right?"

"I didn't say that, but—"

"But nothing!" Coralina interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If you don't want to write a journal, then let's do something more interesting. How about, instead of bringing me food, you prepare it for me?"

Thomas blinked, confused. "Prepare it? I don't know how to cook."

"Exactly," Coralina replied. "That's why we'll cook together. Don't worry, Porter. I know you didn't have a mother to teach you these things. So I'll take care of it."

Coralina's words struck a nerve. Thomas, who had always been the center of his own world, flinched slightly at the mention of his absent mother. It was something he never talked about, and the fact that Coralina brought it up left him speechless.

Derek couldn't help but think: Is this the great Thomas Porter? The same one who always brags and looks down on everyone? Now he looks like a wounded kitten.

For the first time, Derek felt something akin to empathy for Thomas. Behind all the arrogance and haughty attitude, there was someone who simply didn't know how to cope.

That very afternoon…

Coralina placed a heavy box on the table of the improvised kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the curious looks from Thomas and Derek. "This arrived this morning," she said, opening the lid to reveal a variety of fresh ingredients, spices, and foods typical of her homeland.

"What's all this?" Derek asked, leaning in to take a closer look.

"A gift from Lincoln," Coralina replied with a slight smile. "He sent ingredients so we can prepare food from my country. We're going to cook something special."

"What are we cooking?" murmured Thomas.

Leaning against the table with her arms crossed, she smirked. "That's a secret. Cooking here won't just be cooking. We'll use magic. Do you know why?"

Derek quickly raised a hand. "Manipulation?"

"For when we run out of fire!" Thomas interrupted confidently.

"Neither of you is right. Both wrong, but I appreciate the effort," Coralina said.

Straightening up, she dramatically pulled out a couple of aprons from the box, handing one to each of them. "From this moment on, you are no longer soldiers. You're now homemakers."

The boys stared at the aprons in disbelief, but Coralina didn't give them time to protest. "Put them on and make me something decent! No excuses. Start cooking now."

Thomas scoffed. "I already told you, I don't know how to cook."

Coralina shot him a smug look. "One of the qualities of a mage is knowing how to improvise and adapt to their environment. You don't have fire or utensils. Use your magic. You have ten minutes."

Derek and Thomas exchanged looks, grumbling under their breath as they headed to the designated cooking area. They used earth magic to shape plates, pots, and spoons. Derek, more experienced in elemental manipulation, managed to create rudimentary utensils in minutes.

Thomas, on the other hand, struggled with every spell. His plates were crooked, his spoons had holes, and his pots looked more like abstract decorations than functional tools.

Coralina watched them from the corner, lighting a cigarette with her lighter. She brought it to her lips and took a long drag, the smoke escaping slowly.

"Porter," she finally said, walking toward him.

Thomas looked up, slightly sweating from the effort and frustration. "What?"

Coralina stepped closer, taking his hand without warning. The soft touch of her fingers made Thomas tense up immediately, and his face turned a noticeable shade of red.

"Relax," Coralina said, bringing her cigarette to her mouth with her other hand. Then, with a mischievous smile, she extended the cigarette toward him. "Do you smoke?"

Thomas quickly shook his head, his gaze fixed on Coralina's hand. Her fingers were thin and delicate, with perfectly manicured nails painted a dark shade that contrasted against her pale skin.

"Come on," Coralina said, gently intertwining her fingers with his. "Calm your magic. Focus on my touch. Stop fighting with your hands and feel the flow."

Thomas tried to pull away at first, uncomfortable with the closeness. "My hands are rough, calloused, not like yours."

"That's why you need to focus," Coralina insisted, her voice a soft whisper in his ear. "Forget everything else. Just listen to my voice and follow my rhythm."

With her guidance, Thomas closed his eyes and let his magic flow. Coralina used her anti-magic to dispel the unstable mana, patiently guiding him. Finally, the deformities disappeared, and a simple yet functional pot appeared in its place.

"Well done, Porter," Coralina said, letting go of his hand.

Thomas slowly opened his eyes, staring at his creation. But what impacted him the most wasn't the success of the spell—it was the intimacy he had just experienced with Coralina. Her perfume still lingered in the air: an intoxicating blend of smoky wood, a hint of cinnamon, and a floral note that was unmistakably feminine.

From up close, Thomas noticed more details about Coralina than he was willing to admit: the curve of her jawline, the precise shape of her lips, and the way the cigarette smoke curled between them.

"Captain," Derek called out loudly, breaking the moment. "I need help too."

Without looking away from Thomas, Coralina replied with a teasing tone. "Of course, Derek. But if you're feeling jealous, just say so."

"I'm not jealous!"

Using the ingredients from Lincoln's supply box, they decided to prepare something classic and simple: a beef stew with vegetables and rustic bread that they would bake using magic.

Derek used fire magic to heat the pots. Flames danced from his fingers as he chopped carrots, potatoes, and onions into uniform pieces, making the knives spin in the air.

Thomas, despite his initial clumsiness, managed to control his fire magic to sear the meat before adding it to the stew. Although he still showed some insecurity, with Coralina's occasional guidance and comments, he managed to keep the fire steady.

"See, Porter? It's not that hard," Coralina said, watching him from the corner as she exhaled a puff of smoke.

Thomas just grunted, avoiding her gaze.

Meanwhile, Coralina took a small bowl of flour and water, showing them how to knead the bread. "This bread will be different—use magic to cook it evenly."

With the bread finished, the meal was ready. The three of them sat around the improvised table, sharing the hot stew with freshly baked bread.

The initial silence was broken by Derek, who let out a sigh.

"Don't you miss home, Captain?" he asked, looking at Coralina. "I do. I miss my normal life."

Coralina looked up from her plate. "Where are you from, Derek?"

"I'm from Iowa," he replied with a nostalgic smile. "We lived on a farm. My family isn't wealthy, but we had enough. I miss the quiet nights in the countryside, the smell of trees after the rain... and my mother's apple pie."

Coralina nodded slowly. "That sounds... simple."

"And you, Captain?" Derek asked, his curiosity genuine.

"I'm from Mexico," Coralina answered, leaning back slightly in her chair. "A young country. It hasn't been long since it gained independence, and there's still a lot of Spanish influence there. It's a complicated place."

Thomas, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Mexico? I thought they called it New Spain."

"That was years ago, Porter!" Coralina replied, rolling her eyes. "New Spain was the name when we were a viceroyalty of the Spanish Empire. But when we gained independence, we reclaimed the name of our ancient capital: Mexico-Tenochtitlán. We call it 'the navel of the moon.'"

´Both countries used to be part of an imperial state. ´ That thought crossed their minds.

"Hmmm, what happened to your family?"

Her tone shifted slightly, becoming more somber. "Well, I don't have close family in Mexico anymore. I'm the matriarch of the Castilla lineage in the country. My only family now is here, in the United States—my squadron."

"Must be easy for you, Captain. Those from established lineages always have their lives figured out. I'm sure it's the same in Mexico as it is here."

Coralina slammed her hand on the table. "Figured out? Porter, you're more naive than I thought!"

"Let me enlighten you: leading a lineage isn't a fairy tale. In Mexico, I have to deal with constant instability. Today, you can be a hero, and tomorrow, a traitor, depending on who wins. Conspiracies, civil wars… and then there's the Castilla headquarters in Spain, expecting me to report every time I blink."

Thomas lowered his gaze, clearly humbled by Coralina's words. "I hadn't considered that… I'm not part of a lineage. I've never understood it."

Derek, sitting beside him, nodded. "Me neither. My parents were farmers. I've never had anything to do with lineages or anything like that."

Coralina shifted from exasperation to a spark of curiosity. "Then tell me something: how many magical lineages are there in the Union?"

Derek spoke up, encouraged by the question. "There are 21 recognized magical lineages in the Union. All are registered and overseen by the government. Some are more influential than others, of course, but all have a place in political decisions."

"Twenty-one?" Coralina repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's quite a lot."

"Yeah," Derek added. "But many have lost their power over the years. Industrialization and the growth of the magical military have reduced the influence of lineages in politics."

Thomas, taking a puff of his cigar, bragged, "I know things too. I can be intellectual."

Coralina nodded slowly.

"In Mexico, there are four recognized lineages. The Castilla, obviously, are one of them. Then there are the Mendoza. The Aragón, who specialize in magical diplomacy. And finally… the Huetzin, a native lineage recognized by the imperial family."

"Only four? That's not many."

"In Mexico, there's no room for the weak."

Thomas didn't argue. He understood a little more about the world of the woman he admired.

"Now," Coralina said, returning to her practical tone as she served herself more stew, "back to our cooking session. What did you learn today?"

"Easy: magical control and manipulation."

"Correct. But it's not just that. Cooking with magic isn't just about lighting a fire or moving knives. It's about channeling energy properly, adjusting the flow according to what you need. On a battlefield, that same principle could be the difference between a life-saving spell and one that wastes all your energy."

"That's what separates mediocre mages from the elite. Like me," Thomas said confidently, so self-assured that Coralina chose not to crush his confidence.

"I'm glad you think that, Porter," Coralina said. "Because from now on, cooking will be part of your training."

"My turn to share where I'm from," Thomas announced.

"I'm from Boston, Massachusetts," he began. "I grew up in a complicated family. My father, as you know, is deeply involved in politics. He's a… cold man. He's always put his career above everything, including me."

He paused, his voice lowering as he continued. "I never had a warm or welcoming home. (I guess that's why I am the way I am now)."

"That… explains everything," Derek said.

"You're just trying to fill that void."

"Well, Porter. At least you have a chance to change."

"Is that why you keep rejecting me?" he suddenly blurted, referring to his previous attempts to court her.

Coralina looked mildly surprised but continued drying a dish calmly. "You mean the five failed attempts?" she asked.

"Don't put it like that."

"But it's the truth, Porter," Coralina replied, setting the plate aside and crossing her arms. "You're persistent. What do you see in me, exactly? Or is it just an obsession because I'm unattainable?"

Thomas looked away, his usual arrogance faltering for a moment. "It's not that…" he murmured.

Coralina leaned slightly closer to him, her gaze inquisitive. "Then what is it? Why do you keep trying?"

Thomas remained silent, unable to find an answer that wouldn't sound foolish. It was then that Derek intervened, likely without much thought.

"And you, Captain? Are you married?"

Coralina ran a hand through her hair to adjust it. "No. I've never had time for that. I'm always in one war or another. Besides…"

She paused for a moment, pulling out a pair of glasses from a small case she carried. She placed them on carefully, then adjusted the collar of her uniform, giving herself an air of seriousness she usually hid.

"…I'm 28 years old," she finally revealed. "Though most people think I'm 19."

Derek and Thomas stared at her in disbelief. "Twenty-eight?" they said in unison.

Coralina crossed her arms, observing them with an amused smile. "What did you expect? I've been in more battles than I can count. That's why brats annoy me."

Derek, somewhat embarrassed, muttered, "We're only 19…"

Her response was immediate and explosive. Coralina burst into uproarious laughter, so loud she had to lean on the table to keep her balance. "Nineteen?! Please! You're just kids!"

Thomas frowned, offended. "That's not true!"

"Porter... are you a virgin?" 

Derek lowered his gaze, uncomfortable, while Thomas struggled to maintain his arrogant facade. 

"That's none of your business! It doesn't matter!" Thomas retorted. 

"And you? Are you a virgin too?" 

Derek said nothing, simply shrugging, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

"This is ###3!" 

"Ridiculous? No, Porter," Coralina said, still amused. "What's ridiculous is thinking you can handle the weight of a war when you can't even handle yourselves." 

She took off her glasses and placed them on the table, her expression shifting slightly to a more thoughtful one. "The second part of your training is casting fireballs until your mana runs out. You'll increase your casting speed and refine their quality." 

She pulled a small magic stone from her pocket and placed it on the table. The stone emitted a faint glow. 

"From now on, you'll spend all your magic during training," she explained. "I want you to shorten the time it takes to cast a spell. It doesn't matter what you're casting—a fireball, a shield, whatever. This stone will grade the quality and efficiency of each spell you cast. Your goal is to perfect them until they're instantaneous." 

Coralina extended her hand, and in an instant, a dark sphere began to form in front of her. 

"This is an antimatter ball," she said in a calm voice, though the magic she held in her hand seemed anything but calm. "It takes years of practice to master something like this. But you, Porter," she said, pointing at Thomas and Derek, "need to reach this level." 

"Why me?" he asked. 

"Because you're the one who needs it the most," Coralina replied without hesitation. "Show the people who underestimated you that you're better than them. Your progress won't just surprise them—it'll force them to improve as well. It's a calculated plan. And both of you," she added, looking at Derek, "will be part of it."