Magic Robren

The wind sliced around them, laced with the chill of an early winter. The dazzling city skyline behind them melted into the smooth swirls of the Milky Way above. Hecate drifted through the night sky with little urgency, almost amused by the tiny rebels flanking her. She would’ve ditched them out of sheer boredom—if not for the strange pull she felt toward this bold little witch who dared disturb her realm in this neon age.

“So, itchy-witchy,” Hecate’s voice curled like smoke, “what is it you’re hoping to get from me?”

Alice held her head up, trying to still the tremble in her bones. Her flaming curls parted to reveal two delicate horns catching the light like secrets half-revealed. Beneath her, Arch flinched under the pressure of flight, his wings shuddering—but she leaned down and stroked his scaled neck with a silent “I’ve got this.”

Lifting her chin higher, Alice looked directly into the eyes of the ancient being soaring above them. Her golden, draconic irises sparkled with steady defiance.

“You heard me,” Hecate snarled again. “What do you want?”

Alice gave a half-smile. “To tempt you.”

“Later, nerds!” Alice grinned, waving as the study group broke apart outside the library. The campus was glowing with tired lights, as the others headed for dorms, cars, or the crowded bike rack. Her own dusty blue bicycle waited loyally under the old lamplight.

As she dialed her lock combination, a tingle of awareness climbed her spine. Someone was watching.

She sighed. “Oh no…”

Straightening, she looked over her shoulder and spotted him—leaning behind the rack, half-hidden by a university newspaper. She yanked her bike free and wheeled it forward, scowling.

“Archie, it’s 2025. Try a phone.”

He dropped the paper dramatically and grinned, all teeth and smugness. “Old school charm never dies.”

Alice groaned. “What do you want now?”

“Who says I want anything?” Archie shrugged, walking alongside her. “Maybe I just missed my favorite freshman.”

“We made a deal,” she shot back. “You and your entire chaotic family were going to leave me alone for one whole year.”

They reached the bottom of a steep hill. Past the top lay Alice’s haven—her small apartment, filled with ramen, blankets, and most importantly, no magic.

“Kill me now,” she muttered at the climb ahead.

“You wound me, Friday!” Archie gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. Students passing by gave him side-eyes.

“I just mean,” he said, catching up with her, “I thought you’d trust me by now.”

He moved ahead and stopped her path, hands open in a peace gesture.

“Relax. I’m not here to drag you back. You asked for space. You’ve got it.”

“Good,” Alice exhaled. “Thanks.”

He smiled, stepping aside. But then—

“But…”

“Oh come on! Of course there’s a ‘but.’”

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Archie reached gently for her hand. She stopped. His grip was warm. His eyes, serious.

“He’s back.”

The words slammed into her like cold metal. For a moment, everything tilted.

“No.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “That’s not possible. He’s gone. We saw it. We watched him go up in flames.”

“Yeah, total kaboom,” Archie nodded. “But Aunt Babbie’s visions are picking up traces again. I’ve chased every sign and... they all point to him.”

Alice stopped walking. Her face darkened. Her voice dropped ice.

“Whatever she’s seeing—it’s not him. I’m done with that part of my life.”

She looked up at the rest of the hill, her eyes narrowing.

“Forget it.”

With a sudden burst, she mounted her bike and launched herself upward, flying past the incline, not looking back once.

Archie stayed rooted to the spot, watching her vanish over the crest. He didn’t look shocked.

He just sighed, resting his hands on his hips.

“Well... shit.”