A Promised Prophecy

Chapter Four

It was absolutely not a date. He embodied the stereotypical gym rat, which I could've overlooked, but he incessantly bragged about his magical abilities. It was about halfway through lunch when I realized he had no clue who I was and assumed I was low-magic or just some magicless person he was hoping to impress. I clenched my wine glass as I watched him, at the table of all places, turn his hand so his palm faced up. Then he conjured a round ball of ice. It was such an obvious ploy for attention that it became unbearable.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." I stood up. I didn't know what response he was expecting, but his eyes widened as he realized he missed the mark.

"What?" He fumbled with the ice he created, and it tumbled into his glass—now that would've been something to brag about. "What's not working."

He stood up and trailed me as I made my way through the restaurant. The surrounding whispers suggested people were curious about what had gone wrong on what appeared to be a delightful date. Until I made it to the front of the restaurant, where the paparazzi waited.

"Rhea," one of them called out.

"Look over here."

"Give us a smile."

"What the hell?" My date questioned.

"I'm not some magicless bimbo waiting to be swept off my feet by some guy with elemental magic." I whispered in his ear. "Next time, do some research on who you're dating. Our date didn't work out, but maybe the paparazzi catching us leaving will be a nice boost to your dating life."

I blew a kiss to the paparazzi before using a travel stone to teleport back to my front door. The once-glowing stone dimmed as it began to recharge. I pocketed it and opened the door, eager to tell Ophelia about the failed date. She had left at dawn using a teleportation spell, and even if she didn't have enough magic left to return, I assumed she brought a travel stone as back up. I expected her to be home before me, especially if she brought a few other women from the Deadly Witches.

"Ophie?" I called out as I unlocked the door. "You'll never believe how horrible that date went."

She wasn't on the couch, where I expected her. I called her name again, searching through the apartment. She wasn't back yet. While it was unusual, I resisted jumping to concern. Ophelia knew how to take care of herself and the rest of the Deadly Witches. But it was Dreadshade Summit, and my destiny was inevitably tied to it. I should have done more to stop her, but I had witnessed people trying to fight prophecies only to fall into them because they resisted. I had been lucky to avoid Dreadshade Summit for ten years.

Was my luck finally at an end?