I vowed not to sleep that night. As soon as I managed to pull myself together after tossing out Lucan (It occurred to me later when I absent-mindedly checked my watch that I had spent a good hour just standing in the darkness of my hallway), the realisation that I had been spotted by the ASF hit home – so I threw myself into learning as many spells as I could. If the Binders were after me then I wasn’t going to be taken to the Queen without a fight. I would scratch, claw and bite my way through anyone they sent for me. I would play dirty and fight unfairly and make sure that I took as many people out with me as I could. That was a promise.

  I wasn’t going to make it easy for them, I would make them work to find me, let alone capture me. I knew they had managed to spot my hair, so I cut it short. I’m no barber so it was messy – choppy and uneven. I also managed to find some old black hair dye that Ragneth sometimes used to cover up the grey hairs that had started coming through a few years back. There wasn’t much else I could do but it would have to do.

  My head was buried in an ancient book from Ragneth’s library. She might not be here to help me but her books were and that was good enough for now. The radio was on softly in the background, I wanted to keep my mind from spiralling and my panic from overflowing. The music gave me a sense of calm while my tired eyes glanced over sentences in the dim lighting of the office’s lamp.

  I had read this particular book before. It had been one of my favourites to read before I had magic, I loved reading the spells and imagining the sheer power they contained. I imagined myself in the casters shoes, being able to wield magic so unstable with such ease. The book was beautifully illustrated, the colours still vivid even for its age. Which helped since I remembered some of the spells being in some ancient language or just completely unreadable, the letter backwards and words scrambled beyond recognition.

  I suppose I chose this book first because, in some silly way, it brought me comfort. Reminding myself of simpler times.

  I shake my head to myself, now was not the time to reminisce, idiot. Now was the time for action.

  Regardless, as I read this book, I noticed something strange, as I reached a previously unreadable section of the book, the words seemed to rearrange themselves on the page. I rub my eyes, thinking it was my delirious mind causing me to hallucinate or something, but nope, the words kept moving.

  “Great” I mumble to myself “Just what I need on top of everything – dyslexia”

  As I looked closer at the dancing letters, I almost drop the book in surprise when I leaned in closer, the letters were settling onto the page, forming full and coherent sentences. My nose was almost touching the page. I could smell the dust and age that lingered in the pages. And to top it all off the pictures seemed to come to life, acting out the spell. I watched open mouthed as storm clouds rolled across the page and lightning struck around the caster. It was like watching an animation!

  I tore my eyes away from the moving pictures and started reading the newly formed sentences.

  Caster, beware – for this spell is strong. To be used only as a last attempt. Control the sky, summon the God of old to bring down the heavens upon your enemies. Feel the strength of the holy on your side. Fire that never goes out. Floods that soak the earth, Winds that uproot even the most stubborn trees, clouds that block out the sun and bring darkness to your foes and lightning to have them begging on their knees.

  I can feel a strange sensation in my chest and fingertips but I ignore it.

  Wait wait wait. Hang the fuck on, this sounds... incredibly familiar.

  My brain flashed back to the meeting in the church with the Reverend, how he explained that the Gods were present that day. How each God had their own assigned role. The destruction that happened had been astronomical, some places in the city were still getting back on their feet even now, eighteen years on.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Was Ruinfall...man-made?

  No… there’s no way Ragneth would do something like that. I shake my head to dislodge the though, but it just tumbles to the back of my mind, whispering and nagging at me from the shadows of my subconscious. I say Ragneth because I know for a fact there’s no other mage as powerful as her in the whole Kingdom, let alone the city. Unless… they died after casting it? No. No! It was a natural disaster. These things happen. Earthquakes, volcanos, tsunamis, thunderstorms. They’re all natural things that happen and Ruinfall was just one of those things. Yeah.

  Yeah…

  The radio starts to play the news jingle, rousing me from my thoughts.

  “Good morning, I’m Samson Reed, and this is News at 4. Our top story today: The Arcane Suppression Force has requested the help of the general pubic for any information on a potentially dangerous mage that caused havoc yesterday afternoon in the Market Place. The wanted mage, given the name, The Outlier. Is said to be roughly five foot six with medium length brown hair and blue eyes. Last seen wearing black jeans and a two toned blue hooded jumper. The Arcane Suppression Force urges the public to have a look at the picture of the suspect on their website. They also urge the public not to interact with this dangerous individual and instead call them on their hotline number” The news anchor then goes on to list the websites address and hotline phone number. “Her Majesty the Queen has also made a statement stating that anyone caught aiding and abetting this fugitive will face prosecution, just like any other mage, magical or not. Now for the weather-”

  My blood ran cold and pulled out my phone, typing in the ASF’s web address, filled with mistakes as my shaking fingers struggling to type on my keyboard, only to see half my face staring back at me. I can see panic in my visible eye but half my face was a mask of stone. The other half hidden by my hair and I thank the Gods above that it wasn’t worse.

  A thought flashes through my mind. Would Lucan’s parent’s rat me out to the Queen? I hoped not. Would their hate for mages and how the Queen meddles with them make them spite the woman? Or would they call the number as soon as they saw my face flash up on their TV screens?

  I don’t dwell on the question, instead I throw myself head first into learning more spells. It was now only a matter of time before someone recognises my picture and dobs me in and I was determined not to waste the precious few hours I have left until people start waking up and turning on the news as they get ready for work or school. Moving past the Storm of the Gods spell, I come across a range of powerful looking spells. Each one had markings in the margins in Ragneth’s spiky handwriting, pointers and instructions about how to control the spell.

  I set about learning all these different spells and abilities, not letting exhaustion or fear get in my way. I soon had a menagerie of spells at my fingertips. Using my magic this much at such a rate was incredibly draining but I pushed through. Bird song and early morning sunlight was streaming through the windows when I was practising a particularly wild spell, a spell that would transfer all kinetic energy into a solid wave that could be used to send opponents or objects flying away from the caster. The book had called the spell “Shatter” and had described it as a good spell to used when surrounded.

  Clenching my fist and drawing in my dwindling mana, I close my eyes before taking in a deep breath, determination settling on my features. I can feel the mana bubbling under my skin, begging to be released as I let it grow. I open my eyes and let out a yell, flinging my arms straight out from my sides with more force than I had intended. The room in front of me wobbled in the distortion of the spell before the lamp in front of me exploded into a thousand pieces.

  A searing hot pain flashed across my face and I grip my eye instinctively, I could feel a large blade of glass sticking through my fingers, embedded in the skin of my face. Blood poured through my hand, dripping down my arm as I let out a cry of pain. I bent over as I struggled not to panic and cry.

  The vision I did have was blurred with tears that threatened to fall at any moment, but I was scared to blink, not wanting to dislodge the shard in case I made it worse. In my desperation to learn offensive spells to fight, I didn’t think about another important factor. Healing spells. It would be no use knowing all these spells if I was injured before the Binders even showed up. I hadn’t even contemplated getting injured during the fight either.

  I stumble over to the desk, my feet crunching over the glass from the lamp, flicking hurriedly through the book in the hopes of finding any kind of healing spell. Blood droplets fell upon the book, leaving their permanent mark on the page. But I couldn’t focus. My vision swam as I felt myself fall apart. I was so engrossed in my pain and reading that I never heard the person come up the stairs until they stood at the entrance of the door and their voice cut through my haze of panic.

  “My baby! What happened?”