Fantasy Mystery
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The dark days are over and all that everyone expects are brighter days ahead.
In a world where different types of mythical creatures coexist there might be differences, differences that are beyond unfathomable, but between all th...
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A lump of cold saliva galloped down Carmiabell's throttle, a wave of panic accompanying it to her spine.
She couldn't distinguish whether it was because there could be a psychopathic-nightmare-stalker lurking behind book shelves or the fact that they had been spotted habiting a black apple.
Either way their threat to safety was jeopardized.
“Don't move a muscle,” the voice alarmed ominously before Damon could come up with something ridiculous.
“Who the hell is that?” Zuina asked, pretending not to be startled.
More unexplained wind whispered by, rifling books like invisible creatures.
Carmiabell couldn't help but imagine what would happen if he was a nightmare, the kind of ruin the capacity of his abilities could lead to, the smokes the flames and the dead bodies.
The just picture ambushed her with jitters.
Zuina’s question still lingered in the air, unanswered, until it didn't.
“Simon Greenwings Sparkle,” the voice echoed thunderously, adding just enough marinade to paint the whole chicken golden.
“The fairy?” Zuina enquired as if doubting herself. Which she did —judging by the face.
The wind diminished as distant movements came to being heard.
“Am I that popular?” Behind one of the book shelves popped a four winged fairy.
Fairies attired in conspicuous attires hence earning themselves the title super designers.
As the stereotype stated, Simon clad in a hunter green cardigan woven with detail each leaf above and below the other systematically by enchanted leaves from fairyland itself.
His trouser was equally green but designed so slinky that it almost seemed to be his own skin. It was like two leaves attached —one from the back, the other at the front— and somehow woven together, leaving only a stripe of thicker green by the sides of his thighs.
The leather-brown boots were like those of normal humans but their size equal to that of half Carmiabell's pinky finger.
“You three are dead.” He flapped his wings in anticipation towards a ventilation hole above the door.
Typically, it was a brick or two rooted from the wall, but comparing it to Simon's size, he could make it through unchallenged.
Damon nimbly stretched his arm and grabbed him by his feet, pulling him back.
Simon flapped violently in a desperate attempt to earn himself freedom, but Damon firmed his fist.
Carmiabell could tell that the more he attempted, the more the chances of Damon squishing his legs.
Unalarmed, Simon turned towards Damon and waved a stick that had somehow been conjured in his fingers, releasing a spell.
A spectrum of colors in a streak, struck Damon's hand leaving a scalding effect.
You know what else had lethal outcomes in Ellialand? Magic. It was as forbidden as a vampires drinking blood.
Damon loosened his grip, his face turning into an animal Carmiabell had never seen before. His cheeks swollen drastically, his face trading its vibrance to sallowness as jagged fangs jut out of his reddish gums like a predator.
A low groan compared to that of a lion forced Carmiabell to back off steps away. If he was yarning for blood, he had to know that Carmiabell's tasted like food poison.
Zuina borrowed a wooden-covered book from one of the shelves and slammed the gliding fairy.
The force sent him flying across the room and crashing on a pile of books.
Resiliently, he sprang back to life pointing the crooked stick at them.
“You don't want me to use it on you.” He grinned demonically to put emphasis on his threat.
“What makes you think that we can't hide the black apple and say that you used your magic on us?” Zuina raised her brows dramatically, illustrating with hand gestures like she was speaking in sign language.
Carmiabell couldn't blame her, she had recently been practicing it —to be able to communicate with her grandfather— and apparently she was overdoing it.
“The stars know better.”
Cosmic witches could unveil their truth effortlessly, but so could they expose the truth about Simon’s magic.
“We are on the same page here. We all get punished eventually.”
Simon went silent, his stick still pointed at them.
“You forced me to use them. The stars can tell that,” his voice went cold and ominous.
Damon broke all laws of speed and in a nick his hand was stretched for the crazy fairy, books flapping open as if a wild tornado had just passed by.
Simon had been alert. Magically, he held back his grip.
Zuina tossed a book. If her aim was perfect, she should have sandwiched him to the wall far behind.
She took another, but before she could dash it, one was sent flying her way. It whacked her nose, sending her reeling backwards.
Carmiabell was rooted at the same spot devoured by sheer panic.
The last time she saw that much magic was in a novel. The face to face thing felt like a surreal imagination trap.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” Zuina scowled, wiping a nasty pint of blood from her nose.
Her strength was drained. She couldn't toss a book like Zuina or attack like Damon, she stood transfixed trying to fathom whatever was happening.
Zuina flung a novel his way and another in a row.
Simon must have been all and an exemplar in the art of forbidden magic.
He severed the first novel into two, ricocheting the other with utter force towards Carmiabell.
Ducking came instinctively, so she dodged it, digging into the wall behind her mercilessly.
With more vampire power, Damon's fingers broke through the spell, and grabbed him off guard.
The stick fell off his clasp.
One liquid-drop Carmiabell was worried that he would suck him dry and leave his corpse laying catatonically on the floor, but the other Damon was doing the exact opposite, despite the cold look on his face.
He built a prison out of books and threw him in.
Simon slammed the walls right and left violently for his liberty, but with the palm of Damon's hand on top of the handmade construction, it didn't budge.
Damon confiscated his stick in his back pocket.
Eventually, Simon ran out of power and gave in.
“Now, I have some questions for you.” Damon blurted, “how did you know that we had a black apple?”
The first lock that clicked in Carmiabell's mind was that he was a nightmare. How else would he have known that they had a black apple in hand?
