Spyrit Magic

Chapter 2 - Changes

I awoke to the smell of something potent. Never had I smelt this… this strange stench. It was strong and burnt my nose in a good and weird kind of way. I sniffed a little more, keeping my eyes closed in case I was in the cells again. I didn’t need more reminders.

Suddenly all the memories rushed back to me, and my eyes popped open. I sat up so quickly that my head spun, and with a small sound my mouth was stifled. I could no longer scream.

My breathing was rapid but I calmed down quickly when I looked around and saw that it was the man I had kicked. Even without the shadows covering his face, I could tell it was him. He had the same air around him and even as I thought this, I trembled with confusion. It was the best way I could explain how I knew it was him, but even to my own mind, it sounded crazy.

I had no idea where I was, but it was definitely not the cells. I could feel and see the crisp, clean white bed that I was lying in, and I finally recognized the smell of cleaning products, but I was still confused. Prisoners were generally not kept in such tidy and clean places. They were left to rot in the muck-ridden cells.

Once he could see that I was calm, he let go of my mouth so I could talk. I was too stunned to do even that.

“I don’t trust you one bit,” he said, his face a deadpan. There was that same tone. “I won’t underestimate you again.”

His smooth face looked no older than twenty, three years older than me. He had bright red eyes that seemed to sparkle, the colour of a brightly burning fire. A red flame suddenly flashed through them without any kind of warning, a trail of fire shooting across the centre. It was almost worth the scowl he gave me to watch the beauty of it all day. I just sat there stunned as suddenly my brain clicked into place. I knew that face. It was the face of the Fourth Magician – the Fire Magician.

Shit! I had really messed up this time.

Shock registered in my mind before I felt a desire to throw myself at his feet and grovel. How could I have not noticed that before I kicked him? Or before I stole from him? Even with the desire to grovel and apologise so pitifully, I sat still, waiting. My whole body was on edge, tightly wound and ready to run at any moment. It was a vital skill I had learnt over my many years living on the streets.

He stood watching me, his lips turned up in an amused smile.

“Um… I’m sorry for kicking you, Fourth Magician,” I said. I had finally found my voice, which cracked and seemed stilted over the words. I bowed my head in shame and covered it with my hands, which were extremely dirty. How unattractive! I licked my lips nervously. “And for stealing from you.”

“Nice to know someone finally respects me for what I am,” he said smoothly. There was a cold edge to his voice, as though it were tainted with annoyance and anger. I peeked up to see the red flare in his bold, startling eyes again.

I knew he could tell I was staring and I didn’t care; but he did. His face turned hard and he no longer looked as young as before, creases appearing where they shouldn’t.

“Will you quit gawking at me like that?” he scowled, his voice no longer smooth, but harsh and cold. “And I will have back what you stole from me.”

His hand was outstretched in front of him, so I carefully took out his money and dropped it regretfully in his hand, quickly shrinking back into the pillow, not wanting him to call upon the flames again to engulf me. Just thinking of the burning heat and the feel of the oxygen being literally sucked out of my lungs made me gasp for the precious air that meant life instead of death.

I saw him relax and felt a tingling in my hands as he did. I glanced down at my hands expecting to see burns and scorched skin but they were the same as before; dirty and grimy and completely burn free. Most of the skin on the palms of my hands had been scraped off when I fell over. The fresh wounds stung now that I had noticed them. The dirt and blood stained my palms. I would need to clean them soon or they would get infected. The tingling feeling began to race up my arms. Well, it seemed that way as the feeling engulfed me, my entire body seeming to tingle. A light humming sound began to ring in my ears, and I shook my head gently to try and rid myself of it.

 Confusion tugged at my thoughts and I cringed.

I looked over at the Fourth Magician but he hadn’t seemed to notice anything. If he had, he wasn’t showing it.

“What is it about you that has me struggling to keep my cool?” he asked slowly and gently, his gaze meeting mine. The humming died in volume and seemed to idle just loud enough for me to hear it.

I sat there watching him, mesmerised by those eyes that swirled with flames. They were piercing deep into my own as if waiting for an answer.

Suddenly, I realised, he was waiting for an answer.

“Um… I don’t know… is that a joke?” I asked with a small laugh, speaking slowly as my voice tested out this constant use. It had been many months since I had spoken to anyone, preferring to be silent when with others, but most of the time, alone anyway. Living with others complicated things in my world. “Trying to keep your cool, when you are the Fire Magician?”

I gave a small smile, hoping he wasn’t going to burn me alive. His gaze became slightly more intense and then he laughed, the pressure easing off again.

I heard the humming sound again, and this time felt a thrill of amusement fill my chest. What was happening to me? 

I tried to ignore it, and block it out but it only got louder and louder. The Fire magician was now looking at me with his brows creased, finally seeing that something was wrong. He took a step forward to touch my forehead but the humming changed into one loud scream. It pierced through my mind and blurred my world. I felt all the agony and fear that the scream held pulsing through my body, and clenched my teeth together to hold in my own scream.

My closed eyes were filled with red light as the scream grew louder still until my world faded out; the blood red colour and the scream fading away as I did.