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The Magic Box was located right off the road that straddled the glistening Pacific Ocean. It was a small boutique that had been created to look like it was carved out of the rock that formed the cliffside leading down toward the sandy part of the beach. It had a bright blue and yellow exterior, with two large windows on either side of the door that displayed a variety of magical items, from wands to rings to potions to weird little figurines that gave me a slight case of the creeps.
I didn’t really understand most of it but wasn’t bothered by it either, unlike Maddox, who was looking at the door as if a tiger was going to fly through it.
Instead of a snarling tiger opening the door, we were greeted by a smiling Claire. She had on a pair of jeans and a dark red shirt that popped underneath the shimmering black robe she wore. She grabbed me and wrapped me in a hug, her familiar lavender-and-patchouli scent filling my nose, the golden rings and colorful gems in her locs clicking and clacking as she swung some over her shoulder.
“Thanks for coming so quick. How’s Warrick?” she asked as she led us into her shop, the scent of burning herbs and essence only growing stronger.
“He’s doing okay, but I’m not sure how much time we’ve got left.”
Her lips went into a tight slant, her hand moving up to her chest. Her rose quartz bracelets fell nearly all the way down to her elbow. I knew she used those to enhance her magic and wondered if maybe that’s what we needed. Some kind of Marvel-infused gemstone to cure whatever the hell was spreading amongst the dragons.
Claire Mallory Rose was a Marvel, one of the few humans gifted (or cursed, depending on who you talked to) with the ability to weave and work mana—the invisible threads of magic that were categorized into three major categories. Red colored threads for physical spells, blue colored threads of mana for illusions and mind spells, and green colored threads for healing and nature manipulation.
Claire was lucky in that she was someone who was born with the power to manipulate mana—mainly red—but many humans could live the majority of their lives without that inner part of themselves awakening.
Until Pulse night, that is. An event that occurred every ten years like clockwork and could change your life on a dime. It was a night that went still as magical energy washed over the planet, originating from the Tear, the mysterious miles-long scar on the Earth’s surface, cutting across the Iowa landscape. Planes were grounded, surgeries were paused, families gathered, and hugs were shared. Sometimes, tears were shed. Funerals planned. Families mourned.
Because for the majority of people, the Pulse would wash over them, and nothing would happen. They’d go on to live their regular lives, working their regular jobs, living as though nothing had changed. But around six percent of people had their inner abilities unlocked as they felt a rush that took them directly to cloud nine, the ability to see and work threads of magic around them becoming possible.
And then there was the rest. The smallest percentage of people, but the ones with the most dire consequences. For some, the magical energy unleashed inside of them was too much to bear, their bodies succumbing to the power and combusting into a ball of multicolored flame, leaving nothing behind but ash for their loved ones to remember them by.
So yeah, it wasn’t exactly a night anyone looked forward to, but it was a reality everyone accepted by now. Dragons, along with other magical beings, were unaffected by the Pulse, leaving only the humans a chance to become magic-wielding Marvels.
Which was fine by me. I could still breathe fire and fly faster than an Air Force jet; they could keep their kinetic barriers and mana weaving.
The most recent Pulse happened nearly a year ago, so there was plenty of time for the humans to relax before the next one.
Claire went to a small table in the corner of the shop and grabbed a cup of tea, bringing it back. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were bringing your brothers.”
“I didn’t either,” I deadpanned.
“I would have brewed more.”
Maddox scoffed and waved a hand. “I’m more of a beer drinker myself.” I noticed he was puffing up his chest a little more than usual, his jaw set so that his jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass.
I wanted to roll my eyes but kept them still, watching my little brother peacock his way into the friend-zone territory.
“Yeah, I would have guessed that,” Claire said, earning an under-the-breath laugh from Xavier.
Maddox’s brows inched together. “What’s that mean?”
Claire ignored him, turning to me. “Ready? There’s a lot to discuss.”
Ah, how I loved my best friend. I smiled at her, glancing at my bewildered brother. “Yes, let’s get this started.”
