Cyrin was lucky to know Pia well enough— or really, unlucky enough— to
guess that after that, she would strike quickly, in some way. He
couldn’t have guessed that her attack would be pre-cast Flare spells flying his
way, but at least he was already moving by the time that they were.
Heat rushed past him as he dropped and rolled out of the fire’s way,
getting back on his feet the moment he had them on the ground. Since they
hadn’t hit him, the fireballs burnt out in the air, fizzling into sparks.
“I see you got a refill,” Cyrin said.
“Glad my magic could help you do all the hard stealing work for us.” Pia
shrugged as she watched the fire die out. “I can kinda see why Sparrow wanted
you on his team that much. You’re a bit of a shitty mage, but you know your
gymnastics.”
Cyrin scoffed. “Sparrow has enough people who are head over heels for
him and would do flips for him if he wanted.”
Pia sneered, reaching for her MagicBox again. “Well, if you’re no good
to him, then you’re just a shitty mage.”
Cyrin braced themself on the roof, ready to spring away from another
volley of fire, but she didn’t throw anything at them. Instead, she dropped a
spell on the ground, and the moment they were able to sense what she’d done was
also the moment it was upon them. The wave of Tremor sent them falling on their
back, sending a shiver through them. They could have gotten up near-immediately,
if it weren’t for their limbs shaking.
“I thought that was your Hollow,” they heard Pia crow triumphantly
through the ringing in their ears. “Going to be sick?”
Leilan’s words came back to them, for some reason. It wasn’t affecting you
in the usual way. Normally, when they’re around their Hollow, Minor Mages feel
really ill. They get really dizzy, think they’re going to be sick, have trouble
standing up. You just got… strained and shaky.
Cyrin didn’t feel sick. It just felt like the vibrations were
building up in their body and head, turning into the painful buzzing sound of
static. They’d take the dizziness and sickness over it, but for whatever
reason, they’d never felt that with their Hollow. It didn’t work that way for
them.
They needed to use this time to think, since Pia was busy gloating over
them, but it couldn’t be about that. They need to figure out what her Hollow
was.
It couldn’t be Projection, obviously. She’d used Rationale on the snakes
and Tremor and Flare on him. He’d used Concealment and Force around her at the
Arcade the other day, so those two were out as well. That left— he racked his
brain quickly— Acid, Chant, and Salve. None of which lent themselves
particularly well to a fight.
He forced himself to ignore the shakiness in his limbs and pushed
himself to his feet, giving Pia a dirty look as he brushed himself off.
“Not all that sick,” Pia said, sounding disappointed. “That’s a shame.”
Cyrin reached into his MagicBox, tossing a cluster of magic from hand to
hand. “Just sick of you, if I’m being honest.”
She growled softly under her breath as she spun a spell in one hand— a
large Flare one, not a series of small ones— but threw it his way rather than
coming up with another insult.
Cyrin met the wall of fire flying his way with a quick Acid spell that
caused it to immediately sputter out, then hurled a new spell at her. He was weaving
by instinct, hardly thinking about what he’d actually woven, but he was fairly
sure it was Force. Pia grunted as the spell pushed her backwards a few feet,
but she’d been well-braced on the ground for it, and she stayed upright despite
skidding.
“What are you here for?” they snapped at her while they each spun their
next spell. “I know you can’t do anything for yourself, so what does Sparrow
want?”
“You fucking bastard,” Pia snarled, flinging her newest Flare spell at
them. Cyrin dodged, the heat warming his face. “You’d ruin everything if he let
you.”
“Not sure how that’s an answer.” Cyrin stuffed their finished spell in a
pocket and quickly started working on another one. “I definitely would
willingly.”
“Well, unfortunately, he doesn’t want you dead, only stopped, so I won’t
get to kill you here.” Her next fireball was much closer, enough that the heat
was almost painful. “Saints knows why he’s refused to do that, but he won’t even
place you in harm’s way.” She grinned. “Can’t say the same of your other
friend, though.”
Cyrin froze, almost finished with their newest spell. “Which friend?”
Pia only laughed, curling magic into more Flare with a twist of her
fingers. The gold polish on her fingernails flashed in the cityscape light.
“Which friend, Pia?” they snarled, taking a step forward.
“It doesn’t matter. Getting out of that situation is entirely up to
them.” She smiled sweetly, but the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes outshone
it. “You can’t help them. And, as it turns out, they can’t help you either.”
Even though they’d been expecting it, her spell almost caught them by
surprise. The fireball caught Cyrin in the hip, and it took a full second for
the burning pain to strike— but when it did, it hurt. They dropped to
one knee, seriously regretting this plan as the agony spread, and a faint cry
escaped their lips. They smothered the fire quickly, but the relief didn’t come
until they reached into their pocket and pulled out the Salve spell, pressing
it to their hip until it healed the burn.
Pia snorted, unfazed. “You just knew you were going to get hit, didn’t
you? Why didn’t you come up with something better?”
“I do have a secret plan, actually,” Cyrin said, hiding their other nearly-done
spell in their hand. “Want to hear what it is?”
“Do share.” Her voice was amused, like she’d thought she’d won.
Cyrin lifted his hand to his throat, completing the final twist of the weaving
with the barest flick of his fingers— and screamed.
The Chant spell amplified the volume of his voice tenfold, making it
audible for what he was sure was several city blocks— and painfully loud on the
roof. Pia moaned, sinking to the ground as she tried and failed to cover both
her ears and stomach at the same time. She struggled for a moment, trying to
get back up, but he roared again, and she all but collapsed.
“What—?” she gasped, through a weak groan.
“Chant’s probably the best magic to have as a Hollow,” Cyrin said, dropping
their volume to an almost normal but still slightly loud level. “It doesn’t
come up a lot in life. There are oaths, of course, but you’re not a terribly
honest person. Too ready to backstab. You’re a bit like a snake in that
regard.”
With a grunt, Pia slammed a fist onto the ground, releasing a tiny spell.
The Tremor rippled their way and sent a shudder through them, and they felt a
little weak in their footing, but the spell wasn’t strong enough to make them
fall over.
“Why isn’t it working on you?” she cried in frustration and anger. “What
the fuck is different about you?”
Cyrin didn’t know, and it scared him, but the risk to the others scared
him more. He still didn’t know who Pia had been referring to, and he knew she
wouldn’t tell him. It could be Mireya, Clarity, Autumn, or even any of the
Heirs, if she was assuming they were his friends. To be fair, they might be.
The seven of them had gotten this far with their differences and without
disbanding.
He shook his head and turned around. He’d spent too long on this
distraction. Shane and Kasumi were no doubt already with Sparrow, and he was
going to be dangerously late.
“Get back here!” Pia shouted at him as he rushed to the edge of the
roof.
“Can’t,” Cyrin said, hopping the railing. “I’ve got some friends to
save.” With that, he gave her a wave before jumping off, landing on the balcony
of the floor below, and swinging into the window as glass shattered around him.
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