Beneath Dark Skies

Pursuit Of Happiness

Sygilx (or "X" for short): This shimmering liquid is extracted from mutated beings and enhances the user's magical prowess for a brief period. However, users quickly find themselves craving the euphoric rush it provides, leading to a cycle of addiction that fosters both physical and psychological dependence. Prolonged use can result in hallucinations and an inability to differentiate between reality and magic.

-Technical report, research lab,year 2895

Looking at the mirror, anxiety gripped me tight, the kind that made my hands shake just enough to ruin another perfectly drawn line. I don't even remember how many times I've redrawn these stupid black lines on my eyelids. Shouldn't I be better at this by now? I mean, I've been doing makeup since I was sixteen, and yet here I am-still fighting with eyeliner like it's my mortal enemy.

Maybe it's my shaky hands, or maybe it's just my fabulous luck. Nature's little gift to me-because clearly, I wasn't meant to ever master this art form, or any form of making myself look remotely pretty, damn it.

I sighed, tossing the eyeliner aside."Good enough", I said to myself in the mirror, though we both knew it wasn't. I brushed my hair from my face and gathered it into a ponytail, grateful for the one thing I could at least manage. Long hair-one of my rare, winning features. Carefully, I pulled out a couple pieces to frame my face, adding the smallest bit of flair. Small victories, I guess.

Earrings? Sure, why not. I clipped in so many that they felt like little weights pulling my ears down, but at least they distracted from the rest of the mess. I slipped on my black jeans and a halter top-no bra needed, perks of being petite up top. I might not have much going on in that department, but it means I can wear just about anything without a second thought.

Then, of course, came the shoes. The red stilettos called to me from the closet, a shiny beacon of bad decisions. At five foot seven, I was already tall enough-I didn't need to teeter around like a skyscraper on a shaky foundation. So, combat boots it is-because why blend into the crowd when you can loom over it?

To anyone else, I probably look like I have it all together-hair perfectly in place, dressed in black, ready for whatever. But if they could hear what's happening in my head, they'd see the mess behind the eyeliner.

Izzy barged in, stunning in black leather pants, silver knee-high boots, and a shimmering bodycon top. Her hourglass figure was perfectly accentuated by her outfit, the silver catching the dim light of my cluttered dorm room.

"Damn, Izzy, you look amazing!" I exclaimed, genuinely smiling at her, a flutter of envy mixing with admiration. She radiated confidence in her shimmering outfit, the fabric catching the light like stars, and I felt like a shadow next to her glamorous look.

"Legs for days!" she chimed, glancing over at me with a playful sparkle in her eye. "You should definitely model, Skye," she added with a teasing grin. "But I guess you don't have much of a choice in that matter, do you?!"

I rolled my eyes, brushing my hair behind my ear. "Yeah, because nothing says 'fashion model' like me right now," I joked, gesturing to my casual look.

We both burst out laughing, the sound bouncing around the room, filling it with warmth and lightness. Izzy and I had become fast friends, and that bond was truly amazing. I guessed that was what people called kindred spirits-two souls finding solace in each other amidst the chaos. She was a vibrant burst of color against the gray backdrop of my all-consuming anxiety.

As I stood by my wardrobe, lacing up my combat boots, the leather cool against my skin, excitement and apprehension bubbled in my chest like soda shaken too hard.

Evening light faded outside, casting a warm glow in the room, I felt a spark of hope flicker within me. With Izzy by my side, I was ready to embrace the chaos of the night, whatever adventures lay ahead.