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Milo staggers away, wincing. That’s going to be a new scar, probably quite an impressive one.
The smugglers have separated them, overwhelmed them. Come back in larger numbers to take revenge. Or maybe to collect what is clearly a powerful group, who would all sell well. Especially Zack’s rarer magic.
He keeps fighting back, advancing as fast as he can. The streets are narrow, and he can’t see his friends. But he can hear yelling.
He turns the corner to see Zack against the wall, surrounded by smugglers with chains and weapons. Zack is standing still, staring into space. His eyes are glowing an eerie, empty silver. Milo’s heart drops.
“Zack!” He yells, automatically putting a shield underneath his feet.
Zack doesn’t react. He just stands there as the smugglers advance. One grabs his arm, yanks him forward with a rough hand and cruel growl. And then she cries out in pain. Milo looks away, knowing what is coming.
The woman dissolves into dust, screaming the whole time, which seems to convince the others that this particular cargo isn’t worth it. But that realisation comes too late. Grey smoke spreads across the grass, darkening it to an ashy grey. And Milo stands helplessly on his shield, watching as the smugglers are all caught. As they all die.
Those people would’ve captured all of his friends, hurt them terribly. And yet Milo still has trouble believing that anyone could deserve to die like that. So painfully. It reminds him too much of mage burnings.
The grey is still spreading, slowly and steadily but still spreading. Milo winces. When will it stop? When the threat is gone? And how many people die in the meantime?
He has to do something. He jumps off of the shield and sprints, until he meets the edge of the grey. Of the magic. He can’t call it Zack’s magic, because he knows how much Zack hates it. This is only the second time it has happened, and both times from sheer desperation and helplessness.
He forms a small shield and steps on it. As he jumps off, he forms another, which he lands on. He hops over like that- a tactic that he has used before, while crossing water. But this is much more dangerous. He wouldn’t survive the fall, and Zack would never forgive himself.
He is next to Zack now. His eyes are still open, still grey and empty. Milo hates seeing his friend like this. Zack is a healer, warm and kind and gentle. But this magic makes him shiver, it feels cold. And looking into his eyes right now, it doesn’t even look like Zack is there.
“Zack?” Milo tries. Zack doesn’t reply. “Zack, can you hear me?”
Nothing. But is the spread slowing a bit? “Zack, it’s me. It’s Milo. You’re safe, ok? We’re safe.” He is reassuring. He just wants to hug Zack, but he can’t. Not right now. “You need to stop now. It’s ok, they’re gone. But you need to stop.”
The spread slows and slows as he talks. And then it stops entirely. Milo sighs with relief. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s good.”
He keeps sitting with Zack, talking in a low, reassuring voice. He notices the rest of their friends arrive, but he doesn’t look at them. All of his focus is on Zack.
The grey recedes, flowing back into Zack until it is all gone. But his eyes are still grey, and he is still clearly not here. “Great, that’s great. Take your time, you’re ok.” Unconsciously, Milo forms a shield around both of them. Protecting his friend. “I’m right here.”
His stomach squirms as he sits next to Zack. Zack has had such a hard life, and Milo has tried to help him understand that his magic doesn’t make him bad. Had tried to get him to see exactly what Milo sees, that he is kind and caring and heroic. A hero. And he thinks that it was working.
But now Zack has to deal with this, with dangerous magic that he can’t control. That hurts people, which Zack hates doing. It must feel like everything he was told that he was. Everything Milo knows that he isn’t.
The grey in Zack’s eyes flickers, like a candle in the wind. Milo’s heart skips a beat. “Zack? Are you there, buddy?”
“… ‘lo?”
Milo smiles, relief flooding through him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. You’re ok.”
The grey fades away completely, revealing the deep brown that was hidden behind. Zack collapses against Milo, his head lolling onto his shoulder. “Wha…”
“It’s ok.” Milo rubs his back. He can feel the lines of Zack’s scars even through the fabric, which makes his heart hurt. But he focuses on reassuring Zack. “It’s ok.” He feels his own new injuries knit together and fade. “Don’t worry about that. Just rest.”
All is peaceful, sans Murphy’s Law and some villagers who want their heads on sticks and a horse chase into the wilderness. But finally, Zack seems to come around more. “Oh gods, I did it again?!” He exclaims, horrified.
“You were cornered. It probably saved you from whatever those monsters would’ve done if they captured you.” Milo tries to reassure him.
Zack clenches his fists tightly, and pulls his cloak close like it is a comfort object. “I don’t like this, Milo. It’s horrible, and I can’t control it, and what if you weren’t there?”
Milo holds his hand and reassures him. But admittedly, Zack is right. There’s nothing wrong with magic. Nothing evil or bad or scary. But uncontrollable magic? That is dangerous. “Then we’ll just have to figure out how you can control it.” Milo decides, with confidence and a smile. Whatever Zack can do, it’s strange and scary, even to Milo. But it’s just magic, and he knows that Zack will work it out.
He just wishes that Zack could believe in himself as much.