The Last Wizard of Eden

Chapter 5

The glow emanating from the little balls of light was warm, weak that it would not direct any attention to them, but enough to show the bright expression on Alastair's face. "As someone that can control Magick, you should have the Sight, as well. You can see it, right? The veins from which power flows, and the greatest proof of your hidden ability." And sure enough, there are thin, thread-like yellow lines twisting around the balls of light, invisible to others but them.

Amila, however, felt as if something heavy dropped inside her stomach.

She pushed him off of her with a weak 'excuse me', but Alastair grabbed her by the arm before she could take any step away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, I think you might be mistaking me for something or someone else," Amila answered in the same weak voice while trying to feebly pull her arm off the other's grip

"What? No, what do you mean—"

Alastair pulled his hand away, wincing, but Amila didn't stop or look to wonder what made him wince in pain and just ran towards the entrance of the courtyard. She had her eyes down, so she failed to notice the people standing by as soon as she exited.

"Hey! Watch it—wait, aren't you that gal earlier?"

Amila wanted to groan out loud when she realized that it was the same group of guys earlier.

"Oy, you're not going anywhere!" And just like with Alastair, one of them grabbed her by the wrist and stopped her from walking away.

She's not sure if she should laugh or cry at her luck today.

"Let me go!" The grip on her arm was tight, and the expressions on their faces told her that they were not planning on continuing their earlier business, either.

"We know what you are," the leader of the group sneered. "We felt that force earlier. You caused that, didn't you? Huh?" They were collecting quite the stares, and Amila could feel her blood literally boiling.

This is bad. She needs to go. She needs to go now.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go, now!"

"Don't lie!" The leader was red in the face as he glared at her, tightening his grip enough to make her yelp in pain. "I know your kind of people. You're one of them, aren't you? One of those abnormalities?"

The crowd was slowly gathering around them. Many of the refugees gathered close around the entrance of the courtyard, while those who were merely walking by had stopped and looked curious. The man was getting more agitated, and the situation was quickly turning into a scene.

Someone from the crowd, another young man wearing expensive-looking clothes, approached them. "Pardon, sir, but might you calm down and speak of your problem? There is no need to resort to these actions."

The angry man turned his glare to the newcomer and scoffed, "Pah, trying to look like a gentleman for the public? Scram. You're not the one I have business with."

Unperturbed, the well-dressed person answered the man, "While it's true that I am an outsider in this issue, I cannot, in my conscience, let you continue with such violent actions, especially as it's evident that you're hurting this young lady here."

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowds, but it just made the leader even redder in the face. Suddenly, he smirked.

"You come trying to defend this girl, but do you even have any idea what she is?"

The statement made the other man furrowed his brows. Before he could say anything in reply, the leader forcefully pulled Amila to face the crowd and pointed his finger at her.

"She's one of them! She has the ability to use Magick!"

The people gasped and cried, all eyes turning to Amila. In a second, the atmosphere completely changed. Many from the crowd took a few steps back, fear evident in their eyes. Some, especially from the refugees, looked suspicious, almost angry.

"I do not lie! I, as well as my friends, have witnessed it!" The leader turned to look around the crowd, pulling Amila with his movements. "We found her in a deserted area, and when we approached her, the air started feeling different: weird, suffocating, heavy. She looked as if she would have charged at us, too, before she suddenly ran away. Everything became normal again when she was gone."

There were shaky 'ohs' from the ladies in the crowd, and a few more stepped back.

"You. . . you can't just blurt out such accusations without any solid proof of your claims," the young man stated, but he, too, was now looking at Amila with a hint of fear and suspicion.

"Say what you want, but I know what I experienced. What else could bring such abnormalities other than her kind? We all know what they are." He glared at Amila again. "Harbingers of destruction. Bringers of death, whose greed can never be satiated even at the suffering of others. Isn't our history an undeniable proof of that? We all know what happened in the past with Eden!"

The people all looked at each other, whispering and nodding. The School of Eden was, after all, a well-known part of history taught from childhood, even Amila's.

It was also a known fact how the school, said to be founded by people gifted with the ability to see and use Magick, had caused a cataclysm that almost destroyed the lands and killed more than half of the population, all for the sake of achieving more power.

Murmurs around the space traveled from person to person, each adding their own input.

"Didn't they also find a little girl earlier setting someone on fire a few blocks away?"

"News of the climate outside the city being unstable and predictable has also been circulating, as well, causing an influx of refugees. Wasn't it the same during the existence of the school, as well?"

"So, what? You're saying that another group has been doing experiments again and bringing the apocalypse a second time?"

"How should I know? I'm not a fanatic like them!"

As the unease continued to grow, so, too, was the heat coursing through Amila's body. It was as if her blood was boiling hot, and felt as if steam was coming out of her nose and mouth.

"Please. Let me go."

Amila's voice was now weak, and she felt like her head was swimming in cotton. The man holding her sneered. "And have you fled from this city? You and all your kind are a threat, and we can't you wandering around."

"I said. . . LET ME GO!"

Threads of red, yellow, and gray started to flow out of the man's arm, the one that was holding Amila in place. Before she could realize what was going on, the threads multiplied in number and started to gather around her, solidifying into what looked like a transparent shield, visible only to her.

As soon as the last of the invisible threads left the man's arm, it started twitching uncontrollably, and the man started wailing in pain. Then, after a couple of seconds, the twitching arm burst into a pile of blood and flesh, painting the man's radius of red.

Amila was protected from the aftermath, standing stiff as she watched blood trickle from her shield, as well as small strips of muscles and clumps of veins sticking on it with wide eyes.