The Wielder of Death Magic

“Synyata,” said she peering towards a couple browsing a nearby shop, “-the composition came to me on one night,” her lips reminisced, “-all because of a boy I met so many months ago. A certain man who had no shame in troubling my life. We went through a lot; he nearly died at the hand of those I hold dear. Man,” she shook her head, “-I apologize for the prior animosity. I merely wanted to mark my territory.”

“I understand,” said Jen aching for the face of he whom she holds dear, “-the right person can change one’s life for the better.”

“I don’t understand,” she slid over to cup the unsuspecting Jen’s palms, “-why do you look so distraught. Did you and your boyfriend have a fallout?”

“Am I that easy to read?” the cupped palms grew heavy, “-I did something stupid and so did he. Things never went so bad before... I’m lost, I’m confused. Thanks to Igna, I was able to laugh a little and take a step back, I’m starting to realize the trouble I caused. Still, I don’t want to apologize,” her pride made it so, “-if he loves me, he’ll come, I know it.”

“Wishful thinking,” said Syndra,”-but I like it. Don’t falter and make him yearn for you, make him suffer.”

“Make who suffer?”

.....

“IGNA!” they jumped, “-don’t scare us like that.”

“What,” he mumbled, “-here,” with cream on the cheeks, he handed over crepes atop which laid flakes of strawberry and other goodness. “Rather eat and keep the mouth occupied than to cry or speak nonsense of another.”

“You’re right,” the girls glanced one another – the way the lashes fluttered, smiles turn to smirks, slight raise of the nose and brows, they were speaking telepathically, or so it seemed.

“By the way,” minutes turned into hours, “-isn’t Leonard and the others coming?” inquired Igna stood before a tent. Countless teddy-bears were arranged on moving platforms, the aim of the game was simple, knock one and the prize is yours. The concept might seem easy; however, the application was another story. Inside the tent, away from the eyes of the players, the stands were unequal, moving at differing speed, the vision was tempered by mirrors at the back and sides. Other distractions such as a jack-o’-lantern would often jump out to throw off the balance.

“Here’s three balls, good luck,” said the young attendant holding a forced grin.

“I don’t know,” answered Jen who scanned the tent.

“Give them a call or something,” added Syndra, “-by the way, I want the panda.”

“Easier said than done,” sweat glimmering off the forehead, ‘-here we go.’ *smack, smack,* they missed by a large margin.

“Give that here,” she snatched the ball and threw without taking a break. It landed squarely on the panda.

“We have a winner,” said the attendant grudgingly.

“Here, lady Syndra, tis a gift to commemorate our meeting,” she snickered at the sulking Igna.

“It’s unfair,” returned he, “-a marksman can’t participate!”

“Stop being such a sore loser,” laughed Syndra, “-thank you for helping the incompetent Igna, Jen,” none knew when but they locked hands and walked alongside the many other games.

‘Look at them,’ thought Igna, ‘-they seem as if long lost friend. Guess running away earlier did help somewhat,’ the portrait when one would turn to say one thing and the other would return with a chuckle felt blissful. ‘What will happen when Leonard arrives. Will she fall back into regret or overcome the arduous path before.’

“Igna,” spoke éclair.

“Yes, éclair,” he paused as the duo continued further inside the jungle of men.

“Lady Yuki has asked you to bring Syndra to the restaurant. Lampard and the others are there as well.”

“Why are they there?” he wondered as footage of Loron’s security displayed the trio aimlessly looking for Jen. “Never mind stupid question. I did say I was working there.”

A sudden splash of a large fish caught their attention. “Watch here very closely,” said a man in a top-hat and a wand, “-the fish will traverse space and time,” two bowls laid on opposite ends of a simple table. *Ting, ting,* two taps, he waved his hand carefully before the fish to then *poof,* a spark had the latter end in the other bowl. Small and young to old and rigid, the fish aged in matters of seconds.

“Amazing,” said a young boy cheerfully placing money into a ‘-donation box’.

“Amusing, don’t you say, Jen?” said Syndra in her classy accent.

“Yes,” returned she holding an accent though not as refine and well-spoken as the lady, “-how did he do that?”

“Simple,” came a group of young boys in uniforms,”-there’s a mirror with a contraption below the table, a hinge that retracts the thin mirror. The spark is misdirection, the bowls were never empty.”

“Is that so,” turned Jen stood firmly, “-thanks for ruining the illusion?”

“My lady, please,” said presumed leader of the group, “-we hail from St. Orena’s research Academy, tis part of our duty to enlighten the masses,” arrogant laugher followed. “Charlie, that’s no way to speak to a lady,” said another at the back, “-the common folks don’t have what we do in our pinky. Let us leave and not watch breaths.”

“Elion, please, my friend,” said he softly, “-we must be respectful to every living being, goes for sewer rats and them alike.” Blatant was more than perfect to describe the taunts.

“Lady Syndra, Jen,” voiced Igna swimming across the waves of people, “-why do you have to walk so fast,” the pace slowed to a halt, ‘-why are they so focused?’

“Charlie, look,” laughed Elion smugly parting his hair, “-the ladies have a dog as their guards.”

“Please, Elion,” he chuckled, “-what did I say about respecting the commoners?”

“My lord, you’re too much,” laughed the group loudly. It garnered the crowd’s attention, even the performer stopped to shake his head.

“You three, don’t bother with them,” said he checking the ‘box’, “-those boys come here all the time to ruin the illusion. Thanks to them I’ve not pulled in much crowd than before, it’s a pain but what can you do when nobility decides to intervene?”

“You insinuating these rejects are nobles?” voiced Syndra loudly, “-please, they aren’t worth the excrement of a dog let alone be associated with the upper-class.”

“Syndra,” whispered Jen,”-don’t get provoked by them.”

“Else what?” she shrugged to stomp and gawk at Charlie, “-I won’t budge until they’ve apologized to Sir Illusionist here.” A circle slowly opened to have them at the epicenter.

“My lady,” the so-called magnanimous voice lowered to a standstill, “-would you kindly step-away. Having you so close is an honor, yet, I must decline the advances of such a repulsive individual.”

“Shorty,” interjected Igna,”-better take that back,” he came to stand in-between them.

“Don’t get involved,” mumbled Jen sensing the powerful magical energy from the students.

‘Don’t,’ gestured Syndra, “-watch,” said she over the shoulder.

“Who are you to give me orders?” he raised his head, “-do you pissant really want to get involved with St. Orena’s Academy?”

“Pissant?” he looked down holding the worst expression imaginable, “-quite amusable that thee chose to use an insult with ‘ant’ in it, considering thee have to stand on thy toe to stare and still fall short. Pardon me, did I say short, I didn’t mean it so, my vocabulary is quite dwarven. Wouldn’t it be easier to get a stool?”

‘Listen here,” he gritted, “-I’m not in the mood to play thy games.”

“Why not?” he laughed, “-I thought kids loved to partake in games. I suppose there must be a height limit for shooting teddies. Not to worry, I can put in a good word to lower the targets.”

“Listen here!” he grabbed Igna’s collar, “-I’m not playing around. Don’t mess with us else.”

“Sorry,” he latched onto Charlie’s arms, “-the height difference made it difficult to hear.”

“I’VE HAD IT – FUCK HIM UP!” mid-level projectile spells conjured, Ice-Barrage, Tempest-Wind, and Fire-Arrow made for him.

‘This trick is going to come in handy.’ The contacts detected the danger from long-ago, attacking first would be unwise as it would paint him as the villain. Now, the matter changed, it came to self-defense. Using magic in public gathering was a serious offense. ‘-Mana Cancellation,’ thought he as the interface displayed many o’ possibilities. ‘Lady Mother made it clear to not fight using magic. I’d be at a disadvantage when faced against mages – unless I close the distance, there’s no chance. The torturous training will pay-off.’ A side-stepped easily evaded the projectiles followed by wave-like movements to touch and dispel the invocations. ‘I’m not as fast as mother,’ he closed the distance,’-and not as powerful either,’ he dodged another spell by ducking. A backhand touch turned it to naught followed by three punches, ‘-but I can very much protect myself and my friends.’

“What’s happening here?” came a squad of police officers, the curled-up students made them side-eye the spectators.

“Self-defense,” added Syndra, “-these students provoked and disrespected a noble. Not to mention used magic in public. If not for my friend here, bystanders could have been injured and even killed.”

“Lady Lordon,” nodded the older man, “-thanks for the help, and you too, sir. They’re from the St. Orena’s Academy. They’ve been like this since the start of the Festival. Youth, I tell you,” gasping at the coming paperwork, “-please, return to the celebrations. We’ll handle it from here.”

“Thank you, officer,” the crowd dispersed.

“My lady, words can’t express how much I’m grateful,” said the Illusionist, “-I can get to performing without hassle.”

“Not to worry,” said Syndra,”-tis the duty of a respectful citizen.”

“Let’s go!” added Igna, “-your lady mother is looking for us.”

“OK, ok,” smiled she holding Jen’s arm, “-don’t dilly-dally.” They crossed the sea of sweat and heat, the sea of claustrophobia, the sea of harassment. In name and description, Festivals were moments of utter joy. Nonetheless, they were also despised by many, predators would roam and attack through the anonymous freedom bestowed by the countless faces. Getting touched or felt while shopping, eating, playing – the list carried on and on. Despite how many guards were put on patrol, the issue could but be limited, not exterminated.

“Igna, say, how did you get strong?” wondered Jen coming to the lighter part of town.

“Training from my mother,” said he panting,”-forget it, Lampard’s waiting for us at the restaurant.”

“What do you mean, mother?” they arrived. Lampard noticed to suddenly burst in shouts and waves. “Over here, over here,” cried he unbothered by the gossiping glares.

“Leonard, Lampard, Rena,” said Igna, “-please, do keep an eye on Jen in the future.”

“You’ve been with Igna, Jen?” asked Rena, “-what about...”

“Listen, Rena,” courage didn’t suffice to speak face-to-face, “-we were wrong about him. Igna’s still the same boy we’ve known from the academy.”

“Igna,” added Leonard who quickly leaped into a tight-embrace, “-thanks for keeping watch over Jen. I mean it, truly, I was worried to death especially when that message came.”

“Don’t worry, man,” he patted his back in turn.

“Jen, I’m sorry about keeping this a secret,” he took her hardened fingertips, “-being a noble is more trouble than due. My family gave an ultimatum of us breaking our relation. That’s why I didn’t want to post any pictures, I wanted it to be a secret so I could work my way into my mother’s cold heart.”

“I’m sorry too,” the words of not apologizing felt short, “-I didn’t try to see it from your perspective,” they hugged, “-I love you, Leonard.”

“Me too, Jen, I love you too.”

“I’m glad,” smiled Syndra, “-Leonard of the Dukedom of Goldberg. I understand why thy hands are tied; lady Goldberg is very much strong-willed.

“Lady Syndra, might I ask why a lady of thy stature is here on the Festival?”

“You jest, surely,” she pointed at the restaurant, “-Loron’s belongs to my lady Mother.”

“Speaking of mother,” inquired Jen, “-Igna, what did you say earlier?”

The roar of a sport’s bike flickered to cut their breaths. Silvery-white hair flowed as a seducing silhouette approached, “-Igna.”