Creation

Why Does Magic Last Forever?

This chapter is an entry for Day #28 of Aim to Engage II (The Return of Magic)

She doesn't respond.

Hurls of frostbiting wind are what greets me when I glanced at the doorstep.

The door is opened. And Tara's fur shoes are gone.

How can she escape our surveillance? What careless parents we are!

A brief shock passed through Desmond's face. His eyes wandered around, looking for Tara's belongings. And they flickered to the mass outside, who are hauling banners and fake wands to satirize the government's decision.

He heaved me in a single pull and said, "We can do this. Don't let Vicky or the bullets get her first."

*

A muffled scream snaps my attention from the orations. It was followed by kicks and punches.

My knees lost their composure. My gloved hands advanced on the snow, while my knees crawling fast behind.

It must be Tara. Or another vulnerable child.

"Tara!"

"Mommy!" An astounded yelp. Cries of protest. Thud on the ground. Another whizzing. An explosion.

When I reached the nearest alleyway, I met her. Restricting her mobilization are four bent corps in gray, with monotone helmets covering their upper faces. A discarded gun lied on the ground, abandoned.

My instinct kicked in. My palms intertwined, resulting in a low boom.

My action may result in another probation. But who cares.

One of the corps dashed to the discarded gun, and I thrust myself forward, grabbing it in a headstart, and pointed the muzzle at him.

I bared my teeth in a menacing growl.

"She abandoned the rules. We have all the rights to process her. According to the 67th Regulation,"

"Don't ever start!" This is why I never want to get involved with the corps. They can lure someone to kill them, thanks to their lousy funnels.

"Kids below 5 years old aren't allowed to leave their residences. Their magic . . . "

I interrupted by opening my joint palms. A shattering scream broke free, attacking like the marvels of the Red Sea—sparing Tara on the dried ground.

Their backs met the wall, and their helmets' screens are stained with cracks and red. The walls rumbled, and the pots fell one after another, joining the snowfall.

"Go, Tara! Run!" I blow out amidst the cries my palms' magic caused. I walked backward, anticipation lingering my senses. I let Tara clung to my scraped knees.

I haven't withdrawn my palms when a hole strikes my back. The pain seized my magic away. The sonorous shrieks are replaced by my bloody gurgles.

Tara screamed as diligent footsteps of the corps surrounded us.

A man cloaked in purple appeared, a glowing gun on his hand.

Mayor Vicky. Provocator of mayhems.

The pain seared on my back, spreading like paint and water.

"Consequences of magic. 1st Regulation. Those against the law shall meet an ill fate. So never . . . trespass the lines, Greta. Include it in your last words."

My limbs weakened. My head's a chaotic mess. But nothing can stop me from claiming justice.

So I shot his chest.

"It makes us equal."

Now let the coup d'etat begin.