When His Magick Exploded ✓

7: "I'm a runaway."

Cypur and Wescherlie soon arrived at the edge of Vrebrinfeld Lowlands and discovered a grig parked as if expecting returnees.

Wescherlie crossed her arms. "Well damn, aren't these always locked?"

"Maybe. But not quite. This is Rachelle's and I've seen the lock magick she used."

"But we don't have time to be playing 'guess that lock combo', do we, Sorcerer guy?"

"I have a good memory." Cypur lifted his finger to his lips, and she clamped her mouth shut. He backtracked through his memory until he came back to that moment where Rachelle used her grig last.

Which lock magick was she using? He had to slow it down more. He read her lips and got the spell. Easy. He pronounced the spell and the grig came to life.

"Whoa!" Wescherlie exclaimed. "Impress—"

Cypur jumped on, pulling her wrist to get on back. "We don't have time. Police are really fast here."

With a whistle, the grig shot away with Cypur's cape billowing behind him. But not for long. Wescherlie soon bunched it up.

"Your cape is in the way, Sorcerer guy!"

If they were going to be on the run together, that name had to change fast. "Cypur Cromlight, not Sorcerer guy."

"Well, you might think you're cool and all, but your cape is in the way, Cypur!"

He scoffed. "Just don't wrinkle it."

"Why isn't it torn? You were scraping it against the—whoa! Look out!"

A tree came up in front of them as he rounded a corner. Skidding the grig to a halting stop just before the tree, he whipped it down the street to his road. He didn't have much of an idea what to do, but home seemed a good place to stop.

"Where are we—"

"Shush!" he said. He didn't want anyone to find what he had found. A Rauvuren was as rare as a ruby, and as valuable. Especially one like her. Wescherlie was quiet all the way to his house, but only that far.

"Whoa! This is your hou—"

"Shush! Or you'll get us both caught and imprisoned for life." Cypur parked the grig at the side of the road. It was dark enough that Wescherlie blended in with the night. "Just wait here, okay? Be quiet. Don't go anywhere. I'm going to get supplies."

"You act like you know what you're doing."

I don't. Cypur admitted only to himself and headed inside. He knew he probably should get supplies and that wherever they were going, it would take some time to get there. Back in his home with no one inside, he had a moment to reflect on what happened in the lowlands.

Rauvuren Whatva. Yava? Or Trude? Cypur snuck up to his room and found his backpack. Rachelle killed Gallen? Had me kill Gallen. A murderer?

He couldn't believe it. His entire day was flipped upside down. He grabbed the snacks he had in his room and his dagger infused with magick. Next, he hurried downstairs and shoved in as many snacks and dried food that looked good enough.

He paused in the doorway and looked towards his parents' vacant rooms. He knew even they wouldn't be on his side.

I'm a runaway. I'm a defect. No one will believe me. With a heavy sigh, he went back out. Wescherlie was right where he left her. She hopped on the back with his knapsack and used it to block his cape from fluffing in her face.

"I was thinking, see, I know a place in Narrentry Woodlands we can go hide out that no one will find. Magick hides it still. Old magick."

Cypur slowed the grig. "Can you drive this thing there?"