By Erika Molkai
“You are the last.” The nameless man said, hands crackling with greasy current. At the end of the alleyway, the wizard seized a stout wand from his robe, pointed it threateningly.
“Don’t come any closer! I won’t warn you again!”
“Shut it, old man!” The nameless man growled. “I’m immune to your tricks. It all passes over and through me like water against a rock.”
“Water eventually erodes away the rock.” the wizard bit off, sending a bolt of crackling energy toward the nameless man, watching in strange, mortified horror as it rolled over him, vaporized as he shook it off, grinned.
“Your spells are like drops of water trying to bring down a mountain” The nameless man said. “eventually, you might be able scar the surface, but you won’t live long enough to see. You’re a seasonal stream, a forgotten tributary ready to be dried up by my deadly sun.”
“Wrong.” The wizard grinned. “It is you who are destined to be forgotten, wizards’ judas!” and with that, he turned into a falcon and slipped sideways into the fabric of reality.
- - -
I have been called an austere princess of pop. I resent the implications. ^_^
Labels: Erika Molkai