Mages: The Series
Prologue - The Fourth Dream
'Okay so here's what happened. I have the whole subway car to myself.
I'm on my way home, each stop
bringing me to the end of another work day. My pocket is filled
with money. I'm tired, but I'm happy.
It doesn't last, the empty car. At Union Square I'm joined by a basic
garden variety of people. But my eyes land on one in particular; a woman
pushing a stroller. I roll me eyes at her bubblegum pink tube top, and at how late she has her baby out.
She sits beside me and turns the stroller around to face her. Baby's
eyes focus intently on me and I flash the little guy a smile.
I turn away quickly, though. Mothers in New York City tend to disdain when strangers pay attention to their children.
He fusses when I avert my gaze, so I peek for mother's approval.
She's asleep.
So I look around. The sparse gathering who had accumulated seem entirely
absorbed in their mobile devices and headphones. I turn back to the baby
and lift up my right hand.
With an easy cantrip, I start glittering the space around my fingertips and wave them near the stroller. The sparkling dust sinks downward briefly before vanishing into nothing.
My
tiny audience is enthralled. I'm tired, so this basic display of magic
is all I could muster even if I wasn't worried about being caught.
No one seems to notice, but I don't do it again. It's enough to make my little subway companion coo appreciatively.
I pull my hood up over my head and stand as the train comes to a stop.
Dekalb Avenue. My stop. I glance back to the woman with the stroller and
wonder which stop is hers. I hope she'll wake up for it.
I should have kept my awareness on the people waiting for the doors to open. I don't notice the assassin until he plunges his dagger directly into my heart. I look at the handle.
The glyphs on it. They spell my name. He was waiting for me and I just let him take me.
I attempt to Cast but my breath catches with the taste of blood. I become aware of my death as the ground rises to meet me. My last thoughts are about my father.
And that,' I say to my dog, who sits silently beside me on our couch, 'is when I wake up.'
Cayce, my Jack Russell terrier, just stared at me blankly with a closed mouth and a bolted gaze. She didn't understand a word.
'What do you think,' I asked anyway. I liked how this makes her tilt her head, 'This is the fourth dream about a killing I've had this month, and this one was right down the street.'
Cayce watched me put my hooded sweatshirts and a pair of cargo shorts. They look stupid with my black boots but I don't care what I look like. Comfort is the goal. Mission accomplished.
'You're right,' I replied to nothing at all. Some nonsense thought about moving on. Still, I felt encouraged enough to leave the dream behind me, and to go to The Shop. But first, I wrote down the
glyphs from the handle in my dream.
In the dream these glyphs were my native tongue. I knew them like I knew the alphabet. But in that morning, they were alien to me.
I snagged my keys off the hook by the door trotted down the stoop. I was ready to put the bloody scene behind me and get a lot done for my employer, Mr. Pendragon. But this wasn't going to be possible. As I approach the subway stop to get into the city I am greeted by a flashing blue lights, yellow tape, and squad cars.
It's a crime scene.
My heart skipped a beat and sank deeply into my stomach at the the idea that my nightmare came true.
For the sake of my sanity, I chalk it up to coincidence and find another way to get to the Shop...
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