Whispers of rain threatened the crowd, mingling with whispers of threats and monsters. Hundreds jostled under the cloudy sky, weary and brittle or young and curious, tall, short, fat and thin, bumping shoulders as they gossiped.
They were scared. Weak. Karen could see it so clearly, the bubbling tension in twitching fingers, square shoulders- and, occasionally, a holster lurking near the belt. They filled the street leading up to the hastily erected podium by the Town Hall, all eager to hear what on earth was going on. Karen already knew this would be the real icebreaker on Mystics and magic for most, so she kept to herself, perched on a dumpster near the back, high enough to avoid the tight squeeze of humanity.
Until a warm brown hand thrust up, and a flash of white teeth demanded, “Yo, Thomson, give us a hand up!”
Emily was all bright smiles even on a grey day, her dark braids rattling around her shoulders and short clothes as if she didn’t feel the cold. It was tempting to drop her, but Karen relented, she was a classmate.
“Fine, but eat less- and noone else, just us, kay?”
“Gimme a break, we can’t all be lil ballerinas,” Emily scrambled upright, stout but scarcely taller than her, “Ooh, much better- are those TV cameras? Are we gonna be famous?”
“They’re not pointed this way.” She grimaced, “But Caleb’s trying out journalism, we might get a school paper if he gets his way.”
“Big nerd.” Emily shot her a smirk, “He ask ya out yet?”
“No, just stuck his nose in my business. Why would you interview me about this stuff when there’s actual experts around he can bug? It’d just land me in trouble”
“Because he’s head over heels, like a big puppy dog.” She giggled, and leaned closer. “Ooooh, experts? Any at school? Are they really aliens?”
“Too close,” Karen shoved and steered her towards the stage, “I dunno, maybe those people with the microphones will know something. Maybe.”
On the stage, a small gaggle of figures sat in a crescent around the podium, with Mayor Hugh Carpenter front and centre, round and boyish in a pink salmon suit. On his left, contrasting vastly, was the massive muscular grey woman, Exi, and a nervous iron haired man rubbing his spectacles. On the right, a red haired punk girl in her twenties grinned beside an older gnarled man in an electric wheelchair.
“Ooooh, do you think she’s an alien?!” Emily whispered eagerly.
“Gosh- what a crowd!” Hugh’s jolly voice boomed from borrowed speakers, “I guess half the town’s here, but if you see anyone confused, please be a sport and help them out! Now, just to-”
“OI!” A raspy man shouted near the front, “’ugh, what’s the nonsense ‘bout ‘nomalies an’ monsters? What’s the bloody punchline?”
That he was a snakeman seemed a good punchline, but the Mayor simply chuckled, “Pete, I’m flattered you think I could pull anything of the sort off! No, all the letters you g-… well, all the letters we sent out anyhow, were real, but damn dull, so to help us out allow me to introduce- Director Exi, Doctor Morris, Diana Kingsley, and the venerable Mr Scevola! Good doctor, would you start us off?”
He broke into eager applause that was uncertainly echoed by the anxious crowd, while the iron-haired man startled, swallowed, and fretfully took the microphone.
“Ah- w-well I suppose I can’t say no now.” Morris’ voice was tense and low. “G-good afternoon everyone. I am with OAR- the Office of Anomalous Registr- uh, Research. Essentially we catalogue and research things… science can’t.”
“It’s been a very confusing year, but over it we have discovered that many… fairy tales, myths, legends, ghost stories, paranormal beings, monsters, yokai… whatever you want to call it, supernatural beings are real. Until recently, they’ve lived among us secretly using… well magic, for lack of a better word.” He swallowed, and the crowd took that instant to break into a storm of questions.
“So why are they here?!” “You mean monsters are real!?” “How do we know you’re serious!?” “Are we safe?” His next words were drowned out by shouts and questions as the dam broke. Each person wanted to call out, to demand answers, to act proud as if they weren’t terrified to their core. Ridiculous. “So is science fake?” “You’re falling for demons?” “Are they from the hollow?”
“QUIET!” A thunderous roar broke the noise like a knife, and the ancient arthritic man grimaced from his wheelchair. “These are your experts. You will listen to them, ingrates, then ask. Now hurry it up!”
“A-ah, thankyou, Scevola, s-sir!” Morris blanched pale, “As I was saying, since… these beings are sapient and… technically citizens, our tactic is to register them, and seek ways to live openly. We are quickly opening many ca- uh, settlement areas- in less urban environments to help relieve tension. OAR is here to… be your researchers, your diplomats… and your police if anything’s dangerous. Uh, next question?”
“WHY’S SHE GOT SIX ARMS!?” Emily yelled fastest.
Karen winced as several eyes turned towards them, including Exi’s vivid green ones. Then the mystic stood to her full looming height, gave a flat toothed smile, and took the microphone in one hand. “Well. I was born this way like you were born with two arms, young lady. I hid them for much of my life out of fear. But one day I decided to stop hiding them. Now I have five hands.”
She considered her prosthetic hook, “Not all non-humans, not all Mystics, are like me. But they are all also like everyone. We are all animals. We are all sentient. None of us chose to be born with our sex or skin colour or height or species. And we all want to live in peace, to work together to make a better world! As Morris said somewhere in that waffle, we’ve lived in peace for a long time but from now on we’re going to be open about it.”
“Question!” A red bearded man punched the air, “Some monsters look like animals or stuff right? How do we tell what’s sentient? Wolves or elk or the like?”
Exi gave a nod to her side, and sat down as the red haired woman, Diana sauntered forwards. Her eyes stood out more than her outfit- not human, but avian, a brilliant predatory gold as she smirked over the crowd.
“Well, firstly, most organisms are sentient. Sapience is the thing humans value and Mystics, not monsters, are perfectly sapient. Our friends at OAR have divided us into three… categories.” Her voice was a sweet drawl, like dripping honey, “Class A is pure humans. Class B’s are beings that can use tools and speak in their true form. Class C’s are anything that can’t easily speak or use tools, but are still sapient, we use magic when we need to match… civil society.”
“Well yeah- but point is, how do you tell a class c, a mystic, from an animal? What if you’re fishing and you kill a deer and it turns out that’s actually a magic deer?!” The man stumbled through his metaphors.
“Killing someone is murder, sir. How often are you killing animals for this to be a concern? If it seems weird at all, wearing anything, err on the side of caution and resist murdering them, alright?” Diana gave a patronising smile, “After all, you manage to pass off as intelligent life, sir.”
“Ooooh-kay!” Hugh bounced up and snatched the mic away, “Thankyou Diana- uh, next question, I heard someone ask about the location?”
“Yeah- why here?!” A reedy mother with a toddler round her neck screeched, “Why us? Where’s our choice?”
“Ah, of course. This entire process has been new territory, quick decisions being made and so an emergency meeting was called as soon as the Jamieson campsite was sold.” The Mayor lied, “Finding out all this was quite a shock for me! But after a lot of gabbing, the council felt that it was worth a chance.”
“I love Ranelk, but our population is hardly what it once was. There’s a lot of ghost towns up here, and we fear ending up as another one of them. It’s not easy, change never is, but helping OAR and these folk is gonna help Ranelk.” He coughed, looked over the crowd, then suddenly pointed, “Ah- Matthew Tomacher, there you are- how many viewings have you got booked compared to last month? And, oh, Jules! Julia, how much more business has hit the gas station? And, ah, Andy! How many days have your trucks sat idle this week?”
A scattered shower of voices reported fine- no, bustling- business as the RASA was prepared, and Karen watched them, a shiver running down her spine. Were they planted to agree with him? Or was he truly this social man? Did it even matter?
“Now, I’m no Doctor, but this seems set to bring business and folk around here, and that’s without even talking about what this magic stuff could do. Only took William Shockley to put Silicon Valley on the map, and look how many electronic gizmos we all have now. Who knows what amazing discoveries OAR will help with!” He shrugged in seeming blissful ignorance, “Now, what’s next?”
As it turned out, next, and the vast majority of the conference, was damn boring. Hugh and Doctor Morris prattled about legislature, Exi and Diana got badgered about particular mystic species, and the old man seemed to fall asleep in his wheelchair. Karen’s own attention drifted skywards, considering the clouds and then the sparrows that fluttered curiously overhead. They were small and light, quick, but if taken by surprise in a dive they would be easy prey, it was just a matter of getting above th-
“Thomson?” A hand waved in front of her, and she recoiled and cracked her head into the wall.
“Aoow, what the hell Emily?!” She rubbed her head, pulling her ponytail out as she took stock. The crowd was dispersing, chattering with a mote less fear than before. Whatever else, Hugh’s lies had kept them calm and a little more informed.
“Earth to Karen,” Emily leaned close, too close, and Karen recoiled, banging her head into the brick wall behind her. “Ooooh, ouch. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
“Startled, not scare- back up,” She slipped around her, almost stumbled at the dumpsters edge, then threw her momentum forwards. Legs flew over head, and she flipped through the air before landing with barely a stumble on street level, arms wide. “See? I’m fine.”
“Such a show off.” Emily sat and slipped off, landing heavily, “Why don’t we have you leading a cheer squad?”
“I’d have to trust chumps to keep up.” Karen rolled her eyes, only for Emily to follow her eagerly. “What?”
“You know mystics. Right? C’mon, introduce me, what else you gonna do. Stare off at clouds some more?”
It was the stupid bird-brain. Leftover instincts from flying as a hawk, playing with her head, but she wasn’t going to tell Emily that. “No, I’m getting lunch. Besides, they’re not a freak show.”
“Oh cooooome on, I wanna welcome them. They’re new Rani… Ranelkers! Neighbours!” Emily pursed her lips, and caught up, “I’ll buy lunch, you introduce me. Deal?”
“Is no an acceptable answer?”
“Nope.”
It was tempting to run, just outmanoeuvre the broader girl, disappear into an alley and lose her. But lunch was more tempting, and there were worse people than Emily in the world. She wolfed down three burgers, partially out of appetite, partially as revenge for her receding headache, before Emily’s bewildered expression made her stop and they departed.
The rain began during their trek out of town, turning the landscape to grey sheets, and the road to a quagmire. They hugged the treeline, stumbling over dryer roots and needles to keep some shelter, Karen walking the familiar track while Emily pestered her with questions. Were there vampires? Demons? Castles? Ghosts?
“We’ll start simple- guy in our year, Logan, he’s human but can do magic. Big beanpole, he knows way more than me or Caleb.” Karen pursed her lips. She deserved to see someone else get surprised by the dragons. “Seriously though, don’t you ever run out of energy?”
“I’m not the one who backflipped off a dumpster.” Emily retorted, “Oooooh, Halloween this year is going to be badass! We could have real magic and monsters, make it super spooky- enough to terrify even you.”
“The only thing that terrifies me is how badly you’re going to insult them- they’re Mystics, not aliens.” Karen instructed, “As for Halloween, not a clue, ask Logan.”
“Aaaaw, you do care,” Emily giggled. Then stopped walking, her braids clattering around as she whipped her head. “Wait- hear that?!”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Karen span, eying the misty trees, ready for one of the dragons to snarl and scamper up. Read to see Emily panic.
Instead, a child’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.
“HELP! Please, someone, heeeeelp!”
“Hold on, I’m coming!” Emily took a step forward but Karen grabbed her sleeve.
“No need. That’s Jess, prankster mystic, she’s just after attention.” She sighed, “Trust me, worst case scenario she’s in trouble, and she deserves it.”
“I… aaah, bone poking out! AAAAAH, HELP!” The echoing cry came again, and Emily glanced between her and the woods.
“It doesn’t sound fake.” She pulled her sleeve free, “I’ll just take a look, no worries- I’m here to meet kids anyway!”
“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Karen watched her vanish into the fog, crossed her arms, and slumped against a tree. The girl simply lacked any sensible fight or flight instincts, it was ridiculous. Yet she could make a good diversion. If Jess was focussed on pranking Emily, then perhaps the prankster could become the hunted? Or prankee?
The teenager bent low and skulked forwards, hugging the trees and ducking under branches. The fog was thick, perfect cover for her approach, and she could hear faintly enough to guide her way. She veered right, almost on all fours, and curved around, fingers occasionally brushing the needled floor, until the sound came from behind.
“Help,” the whisper came, and she crept closer, eyes narrow. There- there was a shape amidst the trees, lean and… no, it was a tree stump, the rest of the pine fallen. She glanced around it, but there was no sign of her quarry. And yet…
“Help”, the voice was croaky, like a sapling bending, and echoed in the fog as she searched around. Left, right? No, a sudden warm impact hit her hand and she looked down to see a drop of crimson splatter on her skin.
Above. Her eyes flicked upwards, suddenly full of dread.
A ragged melted figure floated amongst the branches, septic wounds dripping with blood and worse. Its skin was scars, limbs exposing bone here and there, and five ragged ugly wings stretched from its back like a tarantula’s legs.
“Help me.”
Karen's heart stuttered. She ought to attack. She ought to run. This thing wasn’t right, this thing wasn’t natural. Wax-like flesh sloughed around yellow bones, barely covered by grimy rags.
No. She gritted her teeth. Don’t show weakness. No. She had promised Hugh. No more lashing out. No more fleeing. They were just people. Just like her.
“Good afternoon?” Her words struggled against the heavy fog, “I’m Karen- who’re you?”
“Who’re you?” Her own voice echoed back, as the being flew- no, drifted- through the air, it’s wings barely shifting, irrelevant to flight.
Karen winced, breath catching in her lungs. It’s face was a ruin. Cracked scars lined a bare scalp as if it’s very skull had been smashed, pus oozing down past a blazing orange eye.
“Lies.” Another voice came from it. Strict, british almost. Then, in her father’s heavy tones, “As for me… all of these mystics are going to have a fair share of bad eggs.”
Karen shuddered, “How do you know about that? Were you spying on me!?”
“How are the dragon whelps?” American, southern.
“What do you mean?! What’s that to you?” She shouted, scrambling onto the stump. Don’t show weakness.
“I am a friend of a friend. Everyone is.” Its mouth didn’t match the words, lacking a tongue and many teeth, if anything it seemed to croon into her mind, words slithering in her skull, “Their wellbeing is most important. Are they strong? Safe? Sated?”
“How should I know?!” Karen riled, rubbing her head, “Aren’t you spying? Tell me and maybe I’ll tell you.”
The Bad Egg cracked its neck, cocking its head sideways, single pupil meeting her own, “Ah. You truly know nothing of use, little whelp. I shall ask others.”
And like a drifting balloon, it ebbed through the misty branches. Karen blinked in disbelief, turning, ready for some jump, some scare, some trick.
It was leaving.
“Hey, where are you going? Is that it?”
Its back was to her, a mutilated mass that hardly seemed to match the five pinions stabbing into it, weeping mist from moist wounds. “Did you honestly think I came looking for you? Ignorant child, so wrapped in pride and denial. You are spare, you have no fate. Those dragon whelps are meant for greater things.”
“They’re not that impressive. They can’t even fly yet!” She growled, feeling a sudden anger boil up, “Don’t you dare turn your back to me!”
“Nor can you. You have no wings, no magic, no wits, no strength, no drive. Do you imagine your little flips would compete in a mundane world, let alone this new one?” Its whispers surrounded her, squirming in her ears like worms and she spun around, finding the mist thicker.
“Shut your goddamn mouth, you don’t know me!” She leapt from the stump after it, caught herself on a branch, and scrambled up.
“What is there to know? An empty little side character, diving into danger to feel important.” It never looked her way, never considered her a worthy threat, “For you are small, weak, slow and witless. Any time spent upon you is a waste, little nothing.”
Then Karen lunged with a scream at it. She smashed through mist, felt an impact on her fist and slammed it into the ground. Leaves scattered as she tumbled, coming to a stop on her back with pain and warmth to her hand, but alone. Karen lifted her talo- hand and winced at the dead ragged squashed pigeon there, her fist caved through its chest and organs and blood leaking around her fingers, dark red and fluid. A testament to her victory, the horror was gone.
Yet even that felt hollow and sickly.
She’d managed to kill a pigeon. So could any cub. She recoiled and tugged her hand back, trying not to stare at the exposed guts and intestines. A sixteen year old ought to be dealing with large prey- sheep, or elk or bucks or the like.
No, that wasn't right. Was it? A bitter laugh escaped as she stood. No, it was wrong. The bad egg, the ghost, whatever, it was wrong, it didn’t know her! It had to be wrong. No, it probably wasn’t even real, just a trick- mystics were animals like people, flesh and blood, not ghosts!
“Hey? Thomson!?” Emily’s voice breached the mist.
She flinched, quickly licked and wiped the blood off, then called back, “Em! Over here- don’t run off again birdbrai-!”
They almost collided amidst the trees, and Emily seized the opportunity to hug her before Karen squirmed free. “Ah, there you go! Fine, sorry, sorry, you were right, you can say you told me so.”
“I told you so.” Karen seized the chance, “What did she do?”
“Dropped a shirt full of worms on me, it was… urgh,” Emily shuddered, then looked her over, “Ya alright?”
It was the stupid bird-brain. Her head was still reeling- first instincts playing with her head, now killing pigeons and imagining ghosts. But she wasn’t going to tell Emily that. “I’m perfectly fine. Come on- he lives uphill, we can cut this way. Did you keep my T-shirt?”
“No? Yours?”
“I’m going to kill Jess.” Karen fumed, forcing her legs to move and her brain to turn. It still hurt- either from the dumpster earlier, the fall or just elsewhere. The woods still felt too close, she longed for the sky, for clear space, and was partially sated when they found the road once more, the mist slowly lifting.
Emily had a clear view of the Lodge when they spotted it and the two dragons on its porch. Hardly fazed, the girl all but squealed. “Oooooh my god, look at them! Hullo der, you’re just adorable, such a widdle cutie pi-”
“Nope, no baby voices,” Karen cupped her hands to shout, “HEY LOGAN!? Got another classmate to say hi!”
The door opened almost instantly for the young man, who blinked owlishly and tugged his other boot on. “Yo. Another one? I was just heading out.”
“Yeah there’s more than three of us to a class- Emily, meet Logan,” Karen jostled her a step forwards, “Be warned, she’s insane.”
“It’s called being friendly! But yeah, welcome to Ranelk Anomalous Settlement Area, many happy returns and all that! What’re your dragon’s names?”
Growling came as Hex caught up with Nessie and them, each with at least the same mass as Emily herself, though on lean reptilian frames and flapping wings. The third, the small blue one wriggled out of the lodge behind Logan like a weird slinky.
“Definitely not mine. Red one is Hex, blue is Shen, they’re like little brothers by this point, and the green is Nessie, she’s more like a very argumentative cat.” Logan pointed to each, and paused as the emerald wyrmling turned to snarl at him. “Yes- yes you’re argumentative! What do you call this then? … you know the word discussion? Why’ve you never used it before? You’re just proving my point.”
“Just to explain-” Karen began sagely.
“He can understand dragons!” Emily clapped, bouncing on the spot, then knelt and outstretched her hand, “Heya, can I touch you… Hex? Shen? I’m a friend, so if ya want any burgers any time, ya can ask me.”
The red one snorted then butted her hand, serpentine tongue flicking out. “Well, not on me, but yeah. We just smell cos Thomson ate a ton.”
“How are you this good?!” Karen groaned, “I’ve swung by here… three days in a row and I’ve never petted them!”
“You never asked to. You’ve been trying to stay distant,” Logan pointed out, and the dragons added their own growls, before the red and green turned to each other.
“And I still don’t. Fluffy things are better.” Karen huffed, and counted down from five on her fingers. As if on cue, the pair lunged into a new brawl, a whirlwind of scale and claw, but Emily only gasped with further delight.
“Not everything's a competition. Is Maddie the only sane girl in this town?” He asked, turning towards the trail through the trees. “Here, this way.”
“Ooooh sweet child, she just masks the madness well,” Emily waved her fingers eerily, “By the way, ya wanna help with a Halloween party, end of the month? Is that rude? Where are we going?”
“That’s a lot- uh, thirdly, the camp’s this way, firstly, sure, and secondly, nah. Never met a Mystic actually invested in Halloween,” Logan explained, hastening down the side track and gave the dragons a wave, “Have fun you three.”
Karen followed, only turning to see Matt’s SUV pull up behind them. Out of it came the spidery mage, a young woman in hiker’s gear, and the crooked elderly man from the conference.
“Huh- we’re ditching those guys?”
“No. We’re… being polite. Scevola wants to meet the kids, and he’s kinda…” Logan swallowed, “Scary.”
“That old dude- ooooh, is he a wizard? Can he teach magic? Would he want to do Halloween?” Emily jabbered.
“No. Godzilla scary. He’s a dragon too. An old one.” Logan increased his pace, “I’m not a fan of it honestly.”
“Wh- you don’t like a mystic?” Karen gasped, and waggled her finger, “Logan… surname, I am disappointed, I thought you were more open minded.”
“Tohaken. Shut up- there’s plenty of jerk mystics around, like Exi or Diana, I’m not all loving.” He threw an arm out, “But big dragons, adult dragons, they scare me. Okay? Maybe I could get over it, but right now, he’s here to see the hatchlings and I’m not gonna piss him off.”
“Would he mind being seen?” Emily stopped in her tracks, eyes wide.
“I literally don’t know. He’s not a happy customer- apparently a centenarian human form isn’t much fun for a kaiju.”
“I’m not interfering. Just having a quick peek. I mean how often do you get to see a giant dragon!?” The girl grinned, turned and dashed back down the path between the trees. Karen watched her go, eyes flicking between Logan and the retreating braids, feeling her throat tighten.
“You were right, she is weird.” Logan sighed, “Are you okay? There’s no shame in hanging back, Karen. We’re only human.”
“Enough, I’m not scared!” She snapped, turned and sprinted after Emily. She wasn’t scared. That wasn’t her. The vision, the ghost, the bad egg, it was wrong, it was wrong. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t nothing. And she wasn’t second place to Emily of all people.
She caught up just as the other stopped at the treelines edge, half in a bush, but paused to watch the shape in front of the lodge. It was a tartan blanket, the one she recognized from un-hawking under the day before. Yet already the shape beneath was significantly larger and nothing like a shrivelled old man.
A taloned paw emerged amidst deep thunderous breaths, a swelling limb whose claws gouged the earth and erupted into an array like a dinosaurs’. Another three followed as the car sized monster, a hideous blend of leathery flesh and blossoming scales, continued to erupt outwards. With another minute its bulk matched the lodge, scarred flesh covered by a gleaming armour that flexed between green, brown and orange like rusted copper. Metre long talons bore the weight on four titanic limbs, the monsters tail could have sliced down trees across the clearing or destroyed the truck, and his head….
No.
Its head was a nightmare.
The small horns that the wyrmlings proudly displayed were nothing compared to the misshapen mass of barbed bones that adorned the dragons monstrous skull. Its eye sockets were deep set, tiny flames of power, and its age was evident in countless scars, and the flesh that was drawn tight in places, sagging in others.
And yet despite all of that, Scevola moved quickly, the titanic frame shaking the ground, stretching wings bigger than sails so far that the entire lodge entered twilight for a long moment as sunlight filtered through the membranes. The baby dragons growled and snapped and danced around its paws, and the creature moved, circling and rumbling down at them. Whatever ailments slowed a human of such age, the dragon suffered none, it loomed like an indestructible mountain, and a beat of its wings unleashed a veritable tornado.
The blast of wind bent trees, snapped branches, dropped needles upon them and knocked Karen over. She grunted at the impact, and felt another one on her gut, a small metal orb that had come free- a bullet? She closed her hand around it, and glanced up, only to skip a heartbeat.
The Dragon looked her way.
It was too much.
She fled.
Dead certainty set in- the monster could end her with a twitch, easier than swatting a fly. The wyrmlings were but infants, Logan nothing but a child- true magic, real magic was far beyond them. Far beyond anything she was capable of, just as the Bad Egg had said, beyond her speed, strength, or wit. She was a coward, an insect.
A nothing.
Emily and Logan found her on a tree trunk near the camp, too exhausted to even snap at them. Logan’s sympathy, his pity was of no comfort to her, nor was seeing Emily cheerful and blasé about the encounter. The attention only made her feel even smaller, and she made excuses in a low voice before retreating, leaving them to discuss other mystics and Halloween.
Two nightmares was enough for one day, she decided as she stumbled home.
Yet even home felt barely comfortable, the walls too close, the food unsatisfying, the trampoline hollow comfort. A whole week without school awaited her, and yet everything simply seemed futile in comparison. Compared to magic, how could one compete? They were completely inferior. Dinner and bed were hollow comforts. Everything felt hollow.