A Delicate Web (gxg) | ONC2020 |

1. phantasmal spear

chapter one: phantasmal spear

word count: 1548 words

The word suit can hardly be applied to the arrangement of clothing that I wear on nights like these. It's mostly made of things I've scrounged together at different stores, even thrifting for some of it. That isn't necessary by any means. I could afford a custom-made suit like those portrayed in the superhero movies from decades ago, with people in metal and armoured, padded fabric flying around on old-style bursts of fire. But I need to be more discreet than that. If my parents find out their daughter, next in line to inherit the Northerns, is the new vigilante who's been popping up on militia radars, I'll never be allowed to leave the palace again.

I push my arms through the sleeves of my heavy black coat and pull the holo-zipper up to my chin. Then I release the transparent zipper and it blinks away, disappearing completely. I tug on dark fingerless gloves and my boots, feeling the smart laces shrink down to hug my feet and ankles snugly. Then comes my multipurpose belt, studded with pockets and clips, all of which hold an assortment of things I've found to be useful on the job. Last of all is my aeropod helmet, sleek and dark and fully shielding my face. I make sure the lifters set into the soles of my clunky, oversized boots are charged, then slide open my bedroom door.

Night in the Capital can hardly be considered dark anymore. Streams of magically enhanced lifting fuel arc across the sky in showers of glittering blue and white, replacing the millions of stars that used to be visible. Tonight, only one brave pinpoint of light glows up there, framed by synth-glass spires and the glittering sides of skyscrapers. In the southeastern chunk of sky, someone casts a light spell, and magical fireworks bloom like flaming roses against a blue canvas atmosphere. The largest city in the Northerns never sleeps.

On a building that stretches up above me, I see my own face on the massive holographic screen. I pause for a second, twisting my head upwards to catch what the news is saying this time. The reporter's voice is drowned out by the cacophony around me, masked by the sounds of parties being thrown in penthouses and the scream of aeropods in the sky owned by reckless teenagers. The scrolling text at the bottom, however, is visible.

Northerns princess, Maud Freeling, speaks openly against parents' proposal for new immigration policy at last week's press conference.

I roll my eyes and turn away from the screen before it can flash photos of the king and queen of the Northerns. Areya and Claude Freeling. My mother and father.

I have more important things to take care of.

Finding the underground market is pretty easy after combining all the intel I've been slowly gathering over the course of a few months. Essentially, find the most powerful people possible, and they'll lead you right there.

It's located in the basement level of Robert Neilson's Trade and Commerce building — literally underground, in this case. Forty stories tall, it's a glittering beacon of wealth. My parents have worked closely with Neilson before, and now, if my carefully gained information is correct, I'm about to send his empire toppling.

Since humanity first unraveled the mysteries of magic and its use, its counterpart, dark magic, has existed. The difference lies in how it's used. The dark arts are dangerous and unpredictable. They were outlawed in the Northerns for a reason, but people like Neilson can't resist the power it gives them.

Magic has to be learned, but dark magic is given. Or, in Neilson's case, sold to the highest bidder in his underground market for the criminal arts.
My specialty is in taking down wielders of dark magic. And crumbling Neilson's trade system would be better than anything else I've achieved. A step towards making the Northerns safe.