To underestimate is to invite surprise—especially when the 'nobody' turns out to be the 'somebody' you didn't see coming.
Underestimated Him
Lil teleported home without saying a word. Alex, meanwhile, exhaled loudly, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh.
"I still have something I need to do," I said to the others, who were now left in the quiet aftermath of our tense visit. Without waiting for further questions, I turned and left, heading to Lil's house.
When I arrived, I found her door closed. I knocked lightly, then, seeing that there was no response, I settled down on the step, pulling out my phone to pass the time. Hours passed as I was playing, keeping myself occupied while waiting for her to acknowledge me.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Lil's tired face appeared.
"Shouldn't you be preparing for your trip with Violan?" she asked, her voice sharp but tinged with fatigue.
I looked up from my phone, meeting her gaze with a rueful smile. "I figured I'd come and explain myself first," I said, standing up and dusting off my clothes. "I know things didn't go as planned, and I didn't mean to upset you."
Lil's eyes softened just a bit, though her irritation remained. "You could have just told me that you were planning to face Violan. Instead, you walked into a situation that could have been dangerous for all of us."
"I know," I admitted, stepping closer. "May I come in?"
She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed and stepped aside, letting me into the house. "Fine," she said, her tone grudging but resigned. "Come in."
In the house, the tension between Lil and me reached a boiling point. We sat in the dimly lit living room, the soft hum of the evening outside barely filtering through the walls. Lil's eyes were intense, her frustration barely masked.
"Why did you ask for my help if you were going to handle Violan on your own?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "You clearly have your own way of dealing with him."
"Did you think this was some game?" Lil's voice was tight, barely containing her anger. "Were you trying to make me jealous?"
I stared at her. "Jealous?"
Lil's gaze remained piercing, and I could feel the heat of her anger. Her magic was palpable, a barely restrained energy crackling in the air. For a moment, it seemed she might unleash it on me, much like her suitors before.
"I wanted to make you see me."
Her eyes widened. I took a step closer, trying to bridge the distance that had grown between us. "Lil, it wasn't about making you jealous. I needed you to understand that I'm not weak."
"I know you are not weak," she countered.
"It wasn't just about proving strength," I explained, searching for the right words. "I wanted you to see me differently."
"I wanted you to see me as an equal," I said softly.
Her expression shifted from anger to surprise, and then to contemplation. "You think I don't see you as an equal?"
I shook my head slowly, gathering my thoughts. "It's not just about being strong. You've lived for centuries, seen things I can't even imagine. And I'm... well, I'm young. But I didn't want you to see me as just a kid."
Lil's eyes softened, but her guard wasn't down. "Shay, age doesn't always define power or understanding. You've proven you're capable, time and again."
"I know," I said, stepping a little closer, closing the distance between us. "But it's not just about capability. I wanted you to see me as someone who could be by your side."
She exhaled, and the crackling energy in the room seemed to calm, though there was still a tension in the air. "You think I see you as a child?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "I wanted you to see me as a potential partner—someone you could stand next to without having to worry if I could keep up."
Lil crossed her arms, her gaze never leaving mine. But then her shoulders lowered slightly, a signal that the storm of emotions within her might be settling.
"You think too much, Shay," she said softly, though her voice carried a weight of emotion.
Her gaze softened further, and for a moment, the ancient mage looked... human. Vulnerable, even. "You don't need to prove yourself to me, Shay. You never did. I see you."
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. There was a long pause, the air between us heavy with unspoken words, and then, almost too quietly to hear, she added, "Maybe I always have."
Her words sent a ripple through me, a mixture of hope and uncertainty. But the moment felt fragile, as if any wrong move could shatter it.
I stood there, unsure of what to say next. Then, finally, I offered her a soft smile. "Thank you."
Lil gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and the distance between us, though still present, felt... less daunting.
"Now," she said, her voice regaining a bit of its edge, "shouldn't you be packing for your trip with Violan?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "First, I needed to make sure you and I were good."
Lil raised an eyebrow, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. "We're fine. Just don't make me burn you."
I grinned, taking her warning to heart. "Noted."
As I stepped out of Lil's house, the cool night air greeted me. But as soon as I closed the door behind me, I spotted a familiar figure standing in the shadows—Mazen.
He wasn't just waiting. He was fuming. His black cloak billowed slightly, though there was no wind. His eyes flashed, darker than usual, and his presence was palpable. A silence fell over us, one that felt charged with frustration.
Mazen's lips curled into a sneer as I approached. "You're unharmed," he stated, more in disbelief than surprise.
I shrugged, trying to keep things light. "Yeah. Seems I am."
He didn't respond right away, his eyes scanning me as though searching for some hidden injury or sign that Lil had indeed lashed out. His expression turned from shock to something darker.
"Mazen, Darkest of Mages, Destroyer of the Unmagicals, Master of Death…" I almost sang to him.
"This isn't going to work now," he growled, his tone colder than usual.
I stopped in my tracks, raising an eyebrow. Why? Will it work another time? I stored away this most useful information.
He stepped closer, his face inches from mine, eyes burning with something dangerous. "You think this is funny?" he hissed. "You're planning to infiltrate one of the darkest mage's hideouts, Shay. This isn't some game. You can't just waltz in there alone and shrug it off like it's nothing."
I held my ground, refusing to back down despite the intensity of his gaze. "I know what I'm doing, Mazen. Vio will be there with me."
"Do you?" he challenged, his breath hot against my face. "Because it sure as hell doesn't seem like it. This isn't some petty conflict between us. This is life or death. And you think bringing Violan along is going to make it any less dangerous?"
I shrugged, trying to keep my calm. "Violan knows the terrain. And let's be real, he's not exactly going to let me die on this trip."
Mazen's eyes narrowed further. "You're underestimating what's at stake. And you're trusting him? Violan may be useful, but he's not your ally, Shay. Not truly."
I sighed, leaning back just slightly, the tension building between us. "Look, I'm not walking into this blind. I know what the risks are. But this has to be done."
He wanted to argue more but I was quicker.
"Everything will be alright," I said, a touch more quietly but with conviction. "Because I have you."
Mazen's eyes flared with disbelief, and he shook his head, rubbing a hand across his face in frustration. "What's that supposed to mean, Shay?"
I glanced at the floor for a moment before locking eyes with him again. "I'll bring one of your mirrors with me. If things get out of hand, you'll be able to pull me out. You'll be able to rescue me."
Mazen froze, his expression unreadable for a second. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he closed his eyes and began massaging his forehead as if trying to stave off an oncoming headache. "You really think this is as simple as carrying one of my mirrors around like some safety net?"
"Yep," I nodded.
"You're an idiot," he muttered, still rubbing his forehead. His fingers pressed into his temples as if he could push away the inevitable disaster I was about to walk into.
Mazen shook his head slowly, exhaling through his nose. "I can't believe this," he muttered under his breath. Then, after a pause, he looked me dead in the eyes. "Fine. I'll give you one of my mirrors. But Shay…" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You'd better not make me use it."
I smiled faintly, though the weight of his words hung in the air between us. "Deal," I promised.
Mazen was still massaging his forehead, muttering curses under his breath when Simon burst in. His arrival was a whirlwind of nervous energy, instantly cutting off any further argument between Mazen and me.
Mazen and I exchanged a glance, all arguments forgotten.
"What do you mean, they are in trouble?" I asked, stepping closer to Simon.
Rolo, calm as ever, stood in the corner shop. He lazily scanned the shelves, picking up a packet of cocoa and reading the label with a kind of detached amusement. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He frowned, pulling it out and reading the message.
The boredom that had clouded his expression vanished instantly, replaced with dismay. Without bothering to buy the cocoa, Rolo rushed out of the shop, urgency overtaking his usual laid-back demeanor.
Meanwhile, Mose was trembling as he faced off against the mage in the alley. The dark figure, cloaked in shadows, looked down at him with cold, calculating eyes. Mose could barely keep his hands from shaking as he tried to stand up, every breath labored. His ribs ached, each one feeling as though it might crack under the pressure.
The mage, unimpressed, sneered at him. "Well, have you finished running at last?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Moses gritted his teeth, anger mixing with fear.
The mage's expression soured with impatience. "I'm getting bored. Your magic was entertaining for a moment, little mage. But now…" His tone shifted, dangerous. He raised a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath Moses disappeared.
In an instant, Mose was airborne, slamming into the dirt with a bone-rattling thud. The breath was knocked out of him, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his ribs screaming in pain. The mage approached him with slow, deliberate steps, clearly savoring every second of his victim's helplessness.
Just as the mage was about to strike again, a shadow leaped from a nearby rooftop, landing gracefully between the two. Mose blinked, wincing as he recognized the new figure.
"Are you alright?" Rolo asked, his green eyes fixed on Mose with both concern and a frightening calmness.
Moses could barely respond, his voice weak as he whispered, "You came alone? He has my magic how..."
Rolo glanced back at him, his expression sharp and unforgiving. "Don't underestimate me," he said coldly. His voice was laced with enough venom to silence Moses immediately. "He might have your magic," Rolo continued, "but that doesn't mean he has a chance."
Rolo finished the sentence with the calmness of one who didn't have to duck the mage's dagger. Even so, the dagger got close enough to wound his face. Rolo surveyed the hooded figure again. Though the dark robes obscured most of his features, his pursed lips and silvery eyes were still perfectly visible to him. When the mage raised the knife to his lips, Moses cried out in despair, as if all hope had been lost. Rolo's face showed that he wanted to roll his eyes.
"Veni," he whispered softly, yet forcefully.
The blood that had coated the dagger vanished, drawn away by an unseen force and appearing in small droplets on Rolo's outstretched palm. He calmly wiped his hand on his sweater, seemingly unimpressed by the mage's attempt at magic.
Moses let out a relieved breath, his body sagging against the ground as the threat passed for the moment. "His magic… he can steal magic with blood," Moses rambled, his voice shaky. "He can take anyone's magic."
Rolo sighed, clearly annoyed. "It's irrelevant," he said, his voice icy. "He won't get the chance to use it on me."
With a swift motion, Rolo pulled two vials from his pocket, hurling their contents at the mage. As the liquid splashed through the air, Rolo snapped his fingers, igniting it with a flick of his magic. Flames roared to life, consuming the space between them in a fiery explosion.
But the mage extinguished the fire just as quickly, his dark robes still untouched. Rolo narrowed his eyes, realizing he was up against someone far more skilled than he had initially thought.
"Absolutio," Rolo whispered.
Magic flowed through him like a torrent, surging into his veins and filling the air with raw, untamed power. The mage took a step back, eyes narrowing. Rolo's lips curled into a half-smile, one that promised no mercy.
"Do you think he has permanently stolen your magic?" Rolo asked, his tone sharp yet steady as he stared down the hooded figure.
Mose shook his head, his breath ragged. "From the way he fought, it felt like if I had died, my magic would've been lost too."
Rolo wondered, but exactly what, no one knew. Mose's magic surged toward Rolo, a wild force that cut through the air. Of course, whatever defenses he had put up, Moses' magic plowed through them like a knife through butter. He pursed his lips into a thin line as he instinctively dodged, pulling Moses aside just in time to avoid the attack of his own magic.
The dark mage laughed, a low, mocking sound that echoed in the alley. Rolo seemed more and more intent on wiping off his grin, but he was too busy with the containers hurtling towards him. Mose's magic was annoying in more ways than one.
First, his spells were so powerful that Rolo had little success in stopping them. Rolo secretly respected this in his everyday life, but now he certainly hated it more than anything. Another annoying quality was the special nature of his magic and its gravity-controlling attribute.
Rolo's magic seemed painfully simple by comparison and consisted of nothing more than the ability to control small objects. Nothing extreme, like a container, which would have come in handy in combat.
Rolo didn't rely on his magic much for that very reason, in fact, he was almost ashamed of it. That's why Rolo didn't do magic. He was simply more ashamed than anything else because of the simplicity of his magic. However, against skilled dark mage, his usual acid-fire tricks were useless.
"Damn it, this is just what I needed!" Rolo muttered under his breath, expertly dodging the next wave of magical projectiles.
He took a tiny coloured marble from his jeans pocket. The man laughed again.
"Is that how you're going to beat me?" the mage taunted.
Rolo grinned mockingly. "Rego!" he declared, raising his hand.
The marble shot forth like a bolt of lightning, spiraling toward the mage. Surprise flickered across the dark mage's face as he instinctively leaped aside. The marble embedded itself in the wall behind him with an explosive thud, creating a huge hole.
"Pretty good, kid!" the dark mage admitted, his expression shifting as he recognized the skill behind Rolo's seemingly simple technique. The kid shrugged as if it were nothing. He quickly reached into his pocket again, tossing a handful of marbles into the air, sending them flying toward the enemy mage. I was sure he wouldn't be able to control that many for long, so I knew the battle would soon be over. One way or another, it would end.
The dark mage conjured a shimmering shield just in time. Rolo's marbles collided against it, creating a mesmerizing dance of magic as they bounced and changed direction. They weaved through the air, finding every angle in a frantic attempt to breach the mage's defenses. The shield shimmered, flickering ominously under the relentless barrage. Maybe that's why Rolo never wanted to face the Mose. His spells were unnervingly powerful.
"Give up," the dark mage advised coolly. "You both have interesting magic. It would be a pity to destroy it. If you yield, I swear you will not be harmed."
Rolo sighed deeply, unimpressed. "As if I'd take orders from you," he said, flicking his fingers like a conductor orchestrating a symphony.
In a burst of defiance, a small glass orb erupted from the ground and struck the mage squarely on the chin. The shield shattered as the mage stumbled back, collapsing to the ground with a muted thud. Rolo stood tall, marbles dancing around him like stars in orbit.
"Dissolutio," he whispered, and the remnants of his magic evaporated into the ether, leaving behind an eerie stillness. But a look of dissatisfaction crossed Rolo's face.
Turning to Moses, who looked utterly stunned, Rolo demanded, "Give me your shoelaces!"
"What?" Moses blurted out, confusion marring his features.
"I don't want to waste too much magic tying him up," Rolo explained, holding out his palm expectantly. "Hurry up."
Reluctantly, Mose began untying his shoes. When he finished, Rolo shot him a look, an eyebrow raised. "For someone whose life just has been saved, you're rather ungrateful," he chided, feigning offense as he began to bind the dark mage with the shoelaces.
As Rolo worked, I leaned against a wall, watching the comical spectacle unfold. The dark mage lay there, groaning and grumbling, while Rolo muttered incantations, clearly making the bounds the most uncomfortable he could.
"He looks pretty frustrated, don't you think?" I remarked to Simon, who hovered nearby.
"And that surprises you?" Simon replied, his voice airy and detached, as he watched the pair with a hint of amusement in his dead gaze.
I smirked and winked at him. "My training couldn't have been that bad."
Simon rolled his eyes in response, but I could see the glimmer of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Come on," I said, shifting my weight and starting to walk in the opposite direction, leaving the duo to their rather cute little argument as the echoes of their banter filled the air.
Mazen remained frozen on the spot, his eyes locked onto Rolo, a mix of shock and realization washing over his face.
I paused, turning back with a smug smile. "Bet you didn't see that coming."
Mazen started to smile slowly.
"Ah," he drawled, his voice low and contemplative, almost like a dark melody threading through the air. The corners of his mouth twisted into a manic grin, one that would make most mages shudder. "That kid... he has potential after all."
The way he spoke the words was deliberate, each syllable dripping with a combination of admiration and something darker, more sinister. It was a grin that suggested he was reveling in the chaos of the moment as if the world was now a grand stage for a show he couldn't wait to see unfold.
"Yeah," I replied. "Seems like you've underestimated him."
His grin widened even further.