"The sound of the impact echoed through the air. I stand frozen in place, staring at the boy's broken body lying just feet from me. Others in the square rush to his side, but I could tell from the amount of blood pooling around him and the way his b...
My educational session went surprisingly well. My long night of studying had paid off when I got my test grade back to see a perfect score. Even stone-faced Patrick couldn't keep his composure as an astonished look crossed his face. The satisfaction of seeing his bewilderment was the motivation I needed, and I vowed to ace every test from that point forward.
But my day went downhill once I met with Micah that afternoon. I was in a great mood, proud of my successful day, but this didn't last long once Micah started his usual lecture. I was no closer to performing magic that day than I had been for the last several months. By the end of the lesson I felt depreciated, despite everything that I had accomplished that morning.
As Micah and I walked back to the square after our lesson, we noticed a large group of people crowding around the base of the Commander's tower.
"What's going on?" Micah asked a young woman.
She didn't say anything, but pointed to the top of the tower where a small boy was standing a little too close to the ledge. I let out a gasp when I saw him balancing precariously on the railing, looking as though he were about to jump.
"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" i asked, looking around at the protectors who seemed rooted to their spot. Wasn't it their job to stop things like this from happening?
I ran forward, eager to help the young boy before he can step over the railing. But before I could get to him, a sharp pain shot through my body, as I was thrown back onto the ground by an invisible force field.
"There's a magical barrier keeping everyone at least ten yards away," one of the protectors said, helping me to my feet.
Now you tell me, I thought to myself, rubbing the spot on my arm where the barricade had electrocuted me.
The click of the PA system turning on resonated around us, and the young boy's voice echoed through the city.
"Mortem, metum, miseriae. Mortem, metum, miseriae," the boy said over and over, his voice monotone and detached.
"What's he saying?" I asked.
"Death, fear, misery," Micah replied, his eyes widening in alarm.
"We know the prophesized one is in your midst, being shielded by your strength," the boy continued. "I may not be able to cross the threshold of your gates, but I can cross the threshold of your minds. Give her to me, your King, and you shall be spared. Refuse, and you shall die one by one until no one is left to protect her."
Gasps echoed through the crowd as every eye turned to look at me. I felt my heart accelerate. Micah tensed beside me, ready to fight anyone who might take the King up on his offer.
"Mortem, metum, miseriae," the boy repeated continuously. The mantra was interrupted by a scream from the crowd as he stepped off of the ledge.
Time seemed to slow down as dozens of protectors lurched forward, trying to catch the child before he could hit the ground. But the barrier did its job well, and they are thrown backward with every attempt. No matter how hard the protectors tried, they couldn't get to him in time.
The deafening sound reverberated through the square as his small body hit the ground, falling into an unconscious heap.
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