Mystic

Magic. Such a strange word for something that’s in everything, that flows through every living thing, that attaches itself to non living things over time. It’s more energy than anything else, really, energy that’s both the same and different for everybody. Most adored it, relied on it, loved it, while others despised it, dreaded it, ran from it.Andrew Minyard was one of the few that hated it, though what his world would be like without it would be worse than with it. He didn’t know why he hated it exactly, though he really didn’t care about the reason all that much. All that really mattered were his promises, the paths he swore to people. Until two people decided they had a right to make that a lie.Neil Josten loved magic, but he feared it even more. It helped him sometimes, but only because it was wielded by his mother. He’d seen it used for worse, seen it used to burn people’s flesh, to slice it into ribbons, to erase and create memories. Still, he loved it because it was the only true constant he had, for even his mother couldn’t escape her fate. But its dangers never ceased, and even though he tried to remain hidden, to not catch attention, his magic gave him away. Maybe though, some good could come of it.