2. Buzzfeed Banshees
1157 Words
Leah stepped from the park into the bustling heart of Soho, the pulse of London vibrant around her. Neon signs flashed brightly, casting multicolored hues across wet pavements that mirrored the bustling nightlife. The air was thick with tantalizing aromas from street food stalls, mingling with laughter and lively conversations spilling from bars and clubs.
She stopped in front of a*****e window, her reflection stark in the glass. The modern attire still felt alien on her body. The hoodie bearing the faded emblem of St Albion’s seemed both comforting and absurdly out of place amidst the vibrant nightlife attire around her. Adjusting her hood, she sighed softly, the surreal nature of her situation pressing heavily upon her.
Her phone buzzed once more, its insistent notifications becoming a source of intrigue and slight annoyance. Leah unlocked it, marveling again at how quickly she had adapted to this strange device. The notifications poured in—countless likes, messages, and shares of her recent encounter with the café poltergeist. She scrolled through the messages, her eyes widening at the variety of reactions. Some users were enthralled, believing wholeheartedly in the magic they'd witnessed. Others declared it an elaborate hoax, dissecting each frame meticulously for proof.
One headline from Buzzfeed caught her eye immediately: "Mysterious Soho Witch Goes Viral—Watch Her Vanish a Poltergeist!" Leah frowned slightly at the word "witch," recalling the fraught history behind it. Yet, she realized with a mixture of amusement and resignation, modern audiences clearly saw magic as entertainment rather than threat.
She continued walking, captivated by her surroundings. Groups of young people moved in energetic clusters, their laughter infectious. Leah observed the ease with which people interacted with their technology, simultaneously present and detached. The sense of isolation she'd felt earlier deepened slightly, punctuated by a growing curiosity about the lives these individuals led. How did magic fit into this contemporary landscape?
Her contemplation was abruptly shattered by a piercing scream. Leah spun swiftly toward the commotion. Across the street, chaos erupted from a bustling coffee shop. People stumbled out, their faces contorted in fear, some pointing wildly back into the shop.
Instinctively, Leah rushed toward the scene, her heartbeat quickening. Inside, patrons scrambled away from a translucent figure hovering menacingly above the espresso machine—a banshee, its ethereal form shimmering with spectral rage. The creature emitted another piercing wail, causing glass cups to vibrate violently on shelves, several tumbling and shattering to the floor.
"Stay back!" Leah commanded, stepping decisively into the fray. Her voice was calm yet authoritative, momentarily cutting through the panic. Patrons hesitated, turning toward her in confusion.
The banshee turned its attention toward Leah, its eyes blazing with ghostly fury. Leah felt adrenaline surge, but her training took control. She quickly drew her oak-twig pen, biting her thumb to draw blood as improvised ink. With precise strokes, she traced intricate protective runes onto the café’s counter, murmuring ancient incantations under her breath.
"What is she doing?" someone whispered nearby, their phone raised, capturing every move.
The banshee lunged toward Leah, its wail intensifying. Leah remained unflinching, her voice steady as she completed the final rune. "Peace, return to rest," she intoned firmly.
The banshee paused mid-lunge, its spectral form wavering. Another agonized cry escaped it, this time softer, almost sorrowful. Slowly, it dissipated into the air, leaving behind only a faint mist.
Stunned silence filled the café, quickly broken by scattered applause and astonished murmurs. Patrons hurriedly uploaded the footage, their excitement palpable. Leah sighed quietly, exhaustion washing over her. The attention felt overwhelming, but the satisfaction of resolving a spectral unrest remained undeniable.
Her phone buzzed urgently again, pulling her attention to a new message. This one bore the distinct logo of Crownwell Developments, signed simply as "Mr. C": "We need to talk. Soon."
Leah’s pulse quickened, unease settling over her. Crownwell’s presence so soon after her awakening was concerning. She glanced around the café, sensing she was being observed more closely than before.
Deciding to leave quickly, Leah exited into the cool night air, the sensation of being watched trailing behind her. She hurried along the crowded sidewalks, weaving through groups of revelers oblivious to her turmoil. Her mind raced, the weight of unanswered questions growing heavier.
Finding a quieter side street, she paused, leaning against the cool brick wall of an old building. The night was filled with sounds—distant music, muffled conversations, the occasional siren. Her breath fogged lightly in the cool air as she considered her next move.
A familiar hum of ley-energy tugged at her consciousness, guiding her forward. Leah pushed off the wall, following the subtle sensation through winding streets, away from the bright lights and back toward the comforting gloom of older, quieter neighborhoods.
Her thoughts drifted to Lucas Hawthorne. Lucas had always been a source of knowledge and stability. She hoped fervently that he was still accessible, still in possession of information she desperately needed.
She turned onto a dimly lit street lined with ancient trees whose branches created shadows beneath dim streetlamps. Ahead stood a familiar building, a sense of relief washing over her as she recognized Lucas's quaint apartment.
Approaching the door, she knocked gently. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Lucas, his glasses slightly askew and a look of surprise on his face.
"Leah," he said softly, a gentle smile spreading. "I expected you'd find me soon enough."
"Lucas," she replied warmly, stepping inside. "I’m glad you're here."
His apartment was cluttered but cozy, filled with books, manuscripts, and various odd instruments strewn about. Leah inhaled deeply, comforted by the familiar scent of parchment and herbs.
"Things have changed," Lucas remarked, closing the door behind her. "But perhaps not entirely. Magic is still here—just hidden beneath layers of modernity."
Leah nodded, easing into an old armchair. "I sense it. Yet, everything feels unfamiliar."
Lucas sat across from her, his expression thoughtful. "Crownwell Developments has been active lately, targeting magical sites and ley-nodes. They’re trying to harness and monetize magic."
Leah felt her chest tighten. "How can we stop them?"
Lucas leaned forward, determination clear in his gaze. "Your newfound fame might be the key. If you can bring magic openly into the public eye, rallying support against Crownwell might become possible."
She hesitated. The idea of exposing magic so openly felt risky. Yet, facing the alternative—the destruction of sacred sites—made her decision clear. "Then we fight openly."
Lucas nodded, smiling reassuringly. "We'll gather allies, and we'll protect what matters."
Leah exhaled slowly, resolve hardening within her. Despite uncertainty and fear, she felt hope stir, igniting a fierce determination. Her awakening had thrust her into chaos, but it also offered an opportunity—a chance to preserve the ancient magic she cherished.
As the night deepened, she and Lucas began planning their next steps, preparing to face whatever Crownwell—and the modern world—had in store.
- Writer
