Choir of Moths

Chapter 2

The wind whistled past his ears and across his face and he glided through the air. With a single leap he could clear several rooftops, and with not even a fraction of the pain walking the distance would have been. His body and his bags all felt as light as the air they traveled through. The hardest part was making sure he didn't come down on top of someone's garden or decorations that sat on their roof. Admittedly he'd made this mistake 3 or 4 times already. He also made a conscious effort to keep as far away from any populated rooftops lest someone make a call to the authorities. Despite him quite blatantly breaking the law, Malik had to admit it was his favorite way to travel the city. Relaxing and most importantly, free. While in his work uniform, he could do so freely but after hours was a different story.

'Float', a spell that took Malik almost two weeks to master. He needed to after he'd gotten his courier job. His boss had worked with him during those first two weeks so Malik could get a hang of it. It made the caster and whatever they were carrying almost weightless, allowing them to freely drift through the air. Cast it at the right time and the user could extend a small hop by several yards. To keep that momentum, the caster had to dispel the incantation just slightly at the peak of travel to descend at a safe speed, then immediately increase the strength of the incantation as their feet hit the ground, continuing forward without losing speed. Without a doubt, Malik had probably looked like some kind of out-of-control feather his first weeks with the spell, but now he'd gotten so good at it that his movements almost looked like he was using pure leg strength. 'Float' was unquestionably useful but very few took time to learn it, those that did and weren't carriers rarely used it. The White Coats had made using the incantation in a majority of settings and situations illegal. Essentially the only ones who used the spell legally were the employees of the city's various delivery companies. Even then they were only allowed to do so while on duty.

This was an emergency, Malik thought to himself. If he'd taken any other route, the food he was carrying would be completely cold by the time he got it to his aunt. He was sure not even a tightly wound White Coat would want him delivering cold food to his poor hungry aunt. Maybe if he bumped into one he'd throw in how he was the only person she had to rely on. Not a total lie but it may earn him a couple of sympathy points.

A sudden chill in the air caused the smile to fade from his face. Before he could react, a cold blast of wind struck him square in the ribs. He cried out as he was knocked out of the air mid-jump and sent sliding across the roof he had been crossing. A wave of panic shot through him as the image of him sliding off of the rooftop and plummeting onto the concrete below appeared in his mind. It would have been a relief if his back slamming into a concrete railing on the roof hadn't sent a sharp pain through his spine. Several spots on his right forearm burned, not to mention the intense throbs of pain that ran from his ribs and down his back. He let out several deep groans, that tightened into grunts between clenched teeth. A wave of cold washed over him as he was hit with another blast of icy wind, this one much more intense than the last and causing a heavy sheet of deep blue ice to cover Malik's chest, left arm, and leg. He struggled under the frigid crystals, flailing about but found himself pinned to the spot. He cried out louder this time as the ice chilled his skin to the point of pain, even through his shirt. The weight of the ice pressed on his already throbbing chest making it hard to breathe.

"Firefly? Is that you ?" Malik looked up through squinting eyes to make out 2 figures in white garments standing in front of him. "Oh, it is." The voice sang in an amused tone. Even as the figures stepped closer, Malik didn't have to see a face to recognize that voice. One of the figures stopped approaching but the other confidently strode up to Malik and squatted down next to him. "How ya doing buddy ?" The man asked, playfully slapping Malik on his cheek three times.

"A bit dramatic for a traffic stop." Malik croaked out, his voice sounding shakier than he'd have liked.

"Woah now." The man said, throwing his palms into the air. " I told you last time, that if I caught you hopping and skipping across these rooftops again, our chat wouldn't be so nice the next time." Malik noticed the man's blue eyes flick to his companion before returning to him. " But, since you're my favorite little Torch, I think a ticket will be more than enough." Malik glared at the man, his flowing blonde hair covering one of his eyes, several strands caught on the black wool gaiter that covered everything below his them. He was sure all the hate he had for the man was quite clear through his gaze. That word, Torch, a slur used to reference Malik, and those like him.