Under His Spell

1. Are You A Magician?

The Disappearing Act of Dazzling Den

Den, better known by his stage name "Dazzling Den," was not your average magician. First off, he was fabulous. Sequins? Everywhere. Capes? Darling, they were more like flowing gowns that shimmered in the spotlight. And his wand? Oh, please. He didn't carry a wand. He had a glitter-covered fan that snapped open with a flourish whenever the mood struck—usually mid-sassy comeback.

Den had been performing in clubs all over the city, but tonight was different. Tonight, he was set to perform at the Illusionistraa Invitational, the most prestigious magic competition in the world. Or, as Den liked to call it, "the Ball for people who wear too much grandeur."

Backstage, Den adjusted his rhinestone-encrusted top hat and threw a wink at himself in the mirror. "Showtime. Let's dazzle these dullards."

The competition was fierce. Some guy calling himself The Mystic Maestro had just turned a bucket of water into wine and then back into vodka. Then there was Sven the Swisscheese, whose trick was literally just being seven-foot-six and attractive, making half the audience swoon without even needing to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

But Den? Den had something up his impeccably tailored sleeve that no one would see coming.

As he strutted onto the stage, the crowd fell silent. His outfit sparkled like a disco ball had exploded onto a witch's wand. He paused at center stage, one hand on his hip, the other poised with his fan, which he snapped open with a thunderous THWAP.

"Hello, dearests!" Den purred into the mic. "Are you ready to be dazzled? And I don't just mean by my mesmerising presence."

The audience chuckled nervously. Den flashed his trademark grin. "For my first trick, I will make something disappear... other than my ex-lover's texts."

With a dramatic wave of his hand, Den pointed toward a member of the front row, a particularly sour-looking man in a suit who clearly had no time for this level of tenacious mischief.

"You, sir!" Den pointed. "I sense a lot of tension in your aura. Are you taken?"

The man turned beet red as the crowd tittered. Den sighed dramatically. "Thought so. Don't worry, darling. I, too, am single. But only because the world can't handle this much sparkle."

With that, Den clapped his hands, and the lights flickered. A puff of smoke exploded around him. When the haze cleared, Den was standing in the audience, right next to the red-faced man.

The audience gasped. Den snapped open his fan again, giving it a playful flick under the man's chin. "Now, for my next trick, I will make something truly special disappear."

He strolled back to the stage, the man in the suit following, still looking flustered. Den reached under his hat, pulling out a small, intricately decorated box.

"This, my dear friends, is the Box of Emotional Baggage. And I'm going to make it vanish!" He turned to the man. "Hold onto your feelings, darling."

The man reluctantly took the box. Den gave him a sly wink and said, "Hold it tightly. It's fragile—like my patience with unsightly men."

With another dramatic wave, Den clapped his hands. The lights dimmed, another puff of glittery smoke enveloped the stage, and when it cleared, the man, the box, and Den were gone.

The audience gasped. A beat passed. Then another. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Where had Den gone?

Suddenly, Den's voice boomed from the rafters. "Oh, don't worry, darlings. I'm still here. I'm just too fabulous to be seen at the moment!"

A spotlight hit the center of the stage, revealing Den back in place, flawless as ever, holding the man's tie, which had somehow been tied into a bow.

"And as for your emotional baggage?" Den flicked the fan open once more with a resounding THWAP. "Poof. Gone. Like every text from your therapist you ignore!"

The crowd erupted in laughter and applause as Den took a dramatic bow. Another successful trick, another audience dazzled...

Another prey captured.