Mist approaches my suburb, smelling of copper and petals. Two more heads grow from the stump of the beast’s neck. Ichor drips down the sky, showering the city center in rose gold rain. My phone rings as the distant magical girl slices off the serpent’s head. I think that’s a shitty battle cry, but I don’t have a better one. The sky is a violent pink, and a loathsome serpent paints it brighter with each swivel of its coils. I frown and make my way to my porch chair, favoring the ankle that never healed right. Somewhere nearby, a magical girl is transforming in a cloud of luster dust and ribbons. When I open my door to dry my hair, I hear the sound of chimes. I used up all my magic coming back to life, and even after a decade, I still can’t match that otherworldly color. Splatters of hair dye stain my hands, no matter how carefully I paint on the lavender. I was a hero, a savior, the hope of the masses. None of the people inside looked at me.īe not afraid, sang the beast, chewing on a street sign, but I wasn’t afraid. My own reflection plummeted past them, petticoats floating, star gleaming at my neck. I saw the dishes and the laundry and the piles of bills. I saw into every apartment window as I fell. The underbelly of the clouds glowed golden, the streetlights amber. I pitched backward, sending my arrow streaking up into the heavens.

When I leapt, my leading ankle struck the roof’s edge and twisted. I had to defeat this false angel, rescue civilians, and heal the injured, and I had to do it all by myself, because nobody else would. I summoned a bright arrow from my wishing star and readied my bow. In front of me, a many-winged beast clung to the wires between traffic lights, drooling sparks onto the asphalt. Ten years ago, I stood on a rooftop alone. Series: The Tales of Gorlen Vizenfirthe.Series: From the Lost Travelers’ Tour Guide.People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction!.

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