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Snippet from 7.

Apparently I was not good at making barriers. It was like hitting a brick wall at hundred miles an hour. I was thrown high and far, and the energy barrier shattered into a million tiny gold lights. I hit the ground hard, but layers of snow and Mishal landing under me cushioned my fall as much as landing on a chunk of obsidian could. I think I must have blacked out for a moment or two, because when I woke, Mishal was pulling me out of the snow. I felt something hot and liquid on the side of my face, and when I dabbed at my temple, it came away dark and red. I must have hit my head on the way down. Mishal looked very guilty and I felt a little bit dizzy, but Leviathan’s rumbling helped me refocus.

He’d lost his momentum and was sort of coasting sideways in the water; apparently the wall had hit him just as hard as he had hit us. That made me feel a little bit better about our prospects, and simultaneous guilty for pretty much punching an Old God in the face with my magick, but it was a win-lose kind of situation.

Not a particularly fabulous piece of writing and its still in draft 1, but I kind of liked how it sounded, so there it is.

Just a snippet.

So… we’re thinking Sea-sprites, huh?” I asked Sergeant Durndell, who hugged his thick coat tighter around himself. He cast a wayward glance at Mishal, who needed no jacket and indeed, looked quite comfortable in his simple shirt and pants; no real need for warm clothing when your insides were made of fire.


I shifted a tiny bit closer to Mishal, and the motion brought Durndell’s attentions back to me. His mustache wiggled.
“Presumeably… It’s either that or the boats are freezing
themselves to the dock. The fuel in the lines are frozen, too.” He pulled a small flip pad from his jacket pocket and ran over his notes, double checking. “ But it’s only frozen in the immediate area. It’s usually not cold enough for this to happen in such an isolated way, so it seems… ‘unnatural’.”

I looked out from where I stood at the head of the dock, where it connected to the boardwalk and Main Street, and studied the line of frozen boats. Each one of them had a thick layer of ice and frost at each end, and the water had been frozen around them, effectively cementing them in place. The ocean farther out was clear of ice, besides the soft flurry of snow. If I had not been able to see the rest of the ocean, I’d have thought the dock had been built in the Antarctic. Curious.


I couldn’t see anything other than the snow, and the boats, and the small, huddled crowd of perturbed, shivering fishermen. I took a deep breath, the freezing air stinging my lungs as I concentrated on my Sight for a moment. Witches are naturally gifted with second sight, the ability to see the world of magick, but like most of my abilities it had to be ‘switched on’ so to speak. For this to work, however, my glamour would have to come off. Glamour let the Fae, the magick-folk, hide themselves among humans and had become a necessity among the Greater Races. Sort of like supernatural make-up, it was the same thing that allowed Mishal a human form. It was also the reason my eyes were usually a natural, grassy green. After a moment of concentration, I felt the layers of magick melt away, and my left eye came through, a rich, ruby red. My right eye followed – a pale blueish gray. Most witches had heterochromia – eyes of two different colors. It was because the left eye was always the Seer’s eye, and for whatever reason, was always an unnatural color, by human standards. It gave us away as witches.


I blinked a few times and rubbed my Seer’s eye, and after a moment, they started to come into focus. Little blue streaks of light turned into little blue and white bodies, and tiny flitting, fin-like wings. I heard their high voices, frantic and whispering in worried tones. There were so many of them, a swarm of frantic Sea-Sprites, flying all over the small harbor, layering frost on the boats. There were so thickly packed into the space above the harbor, I wasn’t sure where to look.


I searched around for a moment, and then spotted her – noticeably bigger than the rest, and plump like a water droplet, hovering on wings larger than the others. Their matriarch seemed to be surveying her school of sprites, and after a moment, appeared to notice my presence. She blinked very large, fish-like eyes at me, and waved her tiny clawed hand frantically in our direction.


I looked over to Durndell, who recoiled very slightly at the startling change in my eyes.


“She wants to speak with you.” I said plainly, motioning to the end of the dock.

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