Felix is stuck in a never-ending cycle of job applications, rejection letters, and the crushing weight of existential dread. When a job offer magically appears in his inbox with a salary so ridiculously high it could pay off his student loans and bu...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ha?
Felix froze, staring at him in disbelief. Nix uncurled himself from his side and sniffed his hands, looking worried. His mind raced, confused, trying to process the words that had just left Cain's mouth. He blinked, waiting for some kind of joke or punchline. He blinked again. Nothing came.
The older Wishmaker stood with his arms folded, his usual slouch abandoned as he held a posture so unnervingly straight it looked unnatural on him. The casual, lazy air that typically surrounded him had melted into something sharper, something dangerous.
"I shall get some items, Mr. Solares. Sir Cain?" The healer beside him gestured towards their empty seat. As they stood up, their cloak rippled like liquid shadow, swallowing the dim light in a way that made it difficult to see their actions. They left in a blink of an eye.
Cain sat, then he spoke, but it was as though Felix's head was stuffed with cotton again, the words slipping away before they could register. He caught fragments, disjointed pieces that drifted in and out like waves crashing against him.
"Hold on—what?" Felix blurted, rubbing his temples as if that would help clear the fog. "My wish core? What does that even mean? Trying to kill me? How?"
"Yeah, well," Cain said, rubbing the back of his neck, his tone heavy with resignation. He looked a bit miffed, really. "That's not the weirdest thing about you."
Felix gawked, "You wanna maybe, just maybe, lead with a softer punchline next time?"
Cain let out a sigh, clearly not in the mood for sugar-coating. "The orb you were supposed to handle? Remote wish; easy. You'd grant it from a distance, no big deal. But I retraced your steps and found that place, that in-between you got stuck in. There were no other traces but yours. Miri's contracts? Same reports. You were the only person who'd been there for who knows how long."
Felix frowned, trying to recall what had happened. The bright flashes of light, the visions, the suffocating magic... He shuddered at the memory. It kept crawling in the back of his mind like bile. "And what does that have to do with my core?"
Cain ran a hand through his messy hair. "You led yourself there. Rather, your core did. It's been beyond unstable, and that's putting it lightly. Most Wishmakers have cores that align with the wishes they grant—it's how we balance things. But yours? It's acting like a rogue conduit, drawing in magic and giving it back in unpredictable ways--for decades now, apparently. If I didn't find you that very second you would've imploded in yourself."
The older man gave him a sharp, sharp look that was terribly akin to his sister's. Cain always looked like he could use an extra twelve hours of sleep. But the sharp glint in his eye—the one that sometimes made him feel hives—hadn't dulled. Felix had learned the hard way that despite his lazy demeanor, Cain was far from careless. A part of him felt relieved that the man stumbled upon him that day. A part of him was terrified. Not for him, no.
