#FictMAYhem #StoryADay May 15, 2017

Welcome! This month I’m writing a small story each day to try to brainstorm a future full-length novel, a sequel to my current WIP Memories and Magic, which is tentatively titled Rebels and Rebellions.

Please forgive the vagueness of today’s story, but I had limited writing time and didn’t want to waste it trying to come up with names for incidental characters.l

Today’s prompt is: Meet.

Clara and the Mages followed their guide down the corridors. They stopped outside a tall wooden door, and the guide knocked. It opened from the inside and the guide stepped aside for Clara and the others to enter.

Inside, there was a round table lined with chairs. There were four empty chairs on one side and Clara made her way around, avoiding eye contact with the men and women already in the room. Rikard Voidsun was there and she did spare a small glance for him, though he seemed just as determined to avoid her gaze as she was to avoid everyone else.

It was an old man with white hair who stood up to begin the introductions. He nodded to Clara first.“Your Majesty,” he said and Clara returned the nod. At least someone was treating her with a modicum of the respect her position deserved. She knew that everyone here objected to her magic, but wasn’t that why protocol existed? So that everyone could at least meeting civilly, even if none of them wanted to speak to each other?

The old man’s eyes moved around the table, lighting on his colleagues first of all. “Honoured guests.” His gaze moved just in time for it to seem as though the Mages were included in that salutation. “Before we begin, we should all know each other.”

He went around the table, noting the names of each of the Racharans sitting there. When he had finished, he looked expectantly at Clara. She stood up and introduced the Mages. The Racharans were staring at the Mages with borderline contempt, and Clara felt tempted to say something in her friends’ defence. She knew it wasn’t going to make any difference, though. Not this early on at least.

The next hour passed slowly, and Clara tried to keep herself engaged. There was little discussion happening at this point; mostly, it was just the Racharans airing their grievances once again. But then they said something that made Clara sit up straighter in her chair.

“What a coup for the descendants of the Racharan magicians if they had the all-powerful monarch of Thelidon on their side.”

That was more than Clara could take. She would take responsibility for bringing magic where it was no longer welcome, but she wouldn’t be associated with a class of magicians who saw no life as sacred as their own.


Published by Emily Wrayburn

She/Her. Writer. Reader. Blogger. Theatre nerd.

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