Chapter 529

The world ended not with a bang, but with a whispered curse. It started innocently enough. Street performers, once harmless, now wielded abilities beyond card tricks and disappearing coins.

Marta watched from her apartment window in Barcelona. She saw a man in a tattered top hat make a car vanish, then reappear across the street, leaving onlookers in bewilderment.

She had just turned sixteen. Her life up to this moment was one of stolen joy, her future now uncertain. School was pointless, gatherings were forbidden, the few friends she had kept distant.

"Mama, did you see that?" Marta asked, her words a cold current through their cramped home.

"Yes, Marta. Best not to think on it too much," her mother replied, her eyes worn. Her hands never stopped working, sewing, always sewing.

Days became a montage of increasing dread. The news, controlled as it was, couldn't hide the truth. These "magicians," as they were called, were changing things. They controlled the world.

Normal life, it's simple safety net, dissolved into a cold nothing. It left most like Marta's mother, heads down, trying to get on as before, most, with nothing left to lose.

Food became scarce. Marta's mother traded her wedding ring for a loaf of bread, her face a mask of quiet despair. Marta said nothing.

One afternoon, a man in a dark suit, with eyes like chips of obsidian, came to their door. He didn't knock, the door just opened.

"Maria Álvarez," he said, his words low and cold. It was a statement, not a question. "Your talents are required."

Maria's face went pale. "I don't know what you want." But he took her away, leaving Marta alone.

She was never there. It was as though Marta's mother had dissolved, becoming one with the shadows of their apartment.

Marta understood, she had to go on, a bitter resolve hardening inside her. The streets, once familiar, now felt like a predator's hunting ground.

Magicians patrolled everywhere, their abilities displayed openly, menacingly. A woman turned a stray dog into stone with a gesture, and everyone got it. She meant everyone to understand, everyone, except Marta.

One day, hiding in the abandoned metro, Marta saw a group of people, huddled, faces desperate, they all felt the same, none understood what was wanted from them. But their terror kept them where they were, under control, for the moment, not forever.

A young man, perhaps eighteen, caught her eye. "We have to fight," he whispered, his tone full of an intense anger.

"How?" Marta felt tired, a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. They're not human, nothing about this, is human anymore.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. He said his name was Rafael. "But we must try." The anger in his words kept their words low.

They formed a group, a collection of strays brought together by chance. Rafael was good at lifting things, what you needed, if you could take the risk.

Their days were a continuous act of small rebellion. Stealing food, finding places to sleep, surviving, despite the odds. The new world hated them for it.

They heard stories of what was being done, they all understood what was wanted. To crush dissent. To break any thought, other than what they were meant to have.

Marta learned to hate with a purity she hadn't known she was capable of. They moved like mice through a dangerous land.

But the magicians were many, and the people were few. Their numbers dwindled, one by one, as they kept their thoughts to themselves, and hoped the magicians never heard.

One evening, they found an old, hidden library, untouched by the change. Books, a relic of a time now dead. There has to be something in one of these books, anything to help, or at least to make sense of their reality.

Rafael found a book on ancient magic, its pages brittle with age. He began to read, his brow furrowed in intense study, and something flickered across his face, but he never explained.

As he read, something in Rafael seemed to awaken. He started understanding the words, not just reading them. Then Rafael started trying things he'd read in the book. It started to work, things moved for him, things changed.

They started to hope, a dangerous, fragile thing. Maybe, just maybe, they could fight back. They wanted someone to explain this all to them. What's going on.

They trained in secret, their abilities weak, but real. A lifted object, a small change, it all fueled their dying hope. They never fully believed what was taking place.

Then, one night, they were found. A magician, his eyes glowing with a cold, blue light, stood before them, he held out a hand and one by one he drew them closer. Rafael, ever at the back, got it first, and Marta closed her eyes, not wanting to see.

Marta, enraged, threw herself at him, a futile gesture against his power. But he was prepared. He pushed out an open hand and sent her spinning away from him, in the opposite direction.

She ran, the sound of her own footsteps hollow in the night. She didn't look back. They knew, once gone, always gone. No one ever saw the people who were taken, ever again.

Marta found herself in the countryside, in an old, abandoned farmhouse. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, still nobody told her anything.

One day, from the farmhouse window, she saw a group of magicians in the distance. She hid, her heart a cold lump of ice. There was a flash of light, the magician was hit from the side and went down.

More of her old group appeared. More magicians fell. They fought, using their powers against each other. But Rafael wasn't with them.

They won, the remaining magicians beaten. Marta ran towards them, tears blurring her vision, a lifetime ago, the pain was almost overwhelming, almost.

"Where is Rafael?" she asked, her words choked with exhaustion. No one knew. He had disappeared when the attack began, to keep them all safe.

The leader, a woman with eyes that held a storm, spoke. "He is our weapon now. He changed sides. But, we can beat them still, with more help." She eyed Marta, but Marta wasn't ready to leave, yet.

The new world was in tatters. They had fought, and many had lost, but a few remained, a flicker of defiance, like Rafael before them. They hoped, they could bring back their friend.

Marta stayed with them, trained, honed her abilities, always, still, waiting for her mother's return. There were others she knew who had been taken, just waiting.

The magicians, though beaten, were not broken. Their control lessened, but they did not leave, it was just easier to avoid them now. Their hope was their new people could control their powers.

One day, a man came to their hidden base, his face covered in shadow. He approached Marta, his steps heavy, certain. Who could help? How could they make things go back? It just seemed impossible.

"Maria Álvarez," he said, his words a cold echo of the past. He meant her mother. "Your talents are required." What does this even mean? What talents.

Marta recognized him, the man who took her mother. "What did you do to her?" Her words were venom.

He offered no answer, just held out his hand. "You come with me, now, your mother can leave. The sooner you use your new skills, the better it will be, for both of you."

The group around her stiffened, ready to fight. But Marta saw something in his eyes, a flicker of something—truth. There must be an easier way to get her to help them. Why make threats?

She went with him, her heart a dead thing in her chest. They walked for hours, into the heart of what was once Barcelona. Why not let them win? She already had no life, only waiting.

They came to a building, untouched by the ruin around it. Inside, it was bright, clean, almost normal. Nothing made any sense. If only she had never seen the magicians.

They led her to a room, and there, sitting at a table, was Rafael. He was older, harder, but alive, her first moment of pure joy in what seemed like an endless run of nothing. He wanted her here. He's her new power.

And there, behind him, was Marta's mother. Alive. The same day-worn stare in her eyes. As she always had been, for Marta at least, alive and safe.

"You can help us," Rafael said, his tone flat, tired. "And your mother can be kept here, safe." We don't have the same people as we did, before, is all he was trying to say.

Marta looked at her mother, then at Rafael. She was bait. Nothing more. A tool to keep Rafael under their thumb. There had to be more she didn't yet know, or see.

Her choice, the only choice she had ever been given. Fight, and her mother dies. Give up, and become a weapon. Rafael needed to be protected, nothing else was of any importance.

Marta, looked at her new life, all laid out in front of her. "What do I have to do?" she said, the cold finality settling on her like ice.

She understood, she always had. There was no good in this new world. No justice, no peace. There was nothing they could give her to help her make this life choice.

Her mother was taken away, back to a world that no longer existed. And Marta was led to a room, cold, sterile. Nothing was making sense. They needed her, to change Rafael.

They showed her what to do, how to use her powers. She was good, too good. This was Rafael's idea. This made perfect sense. This was how to keep him under control, to do their will.

She trained, she fought, she obeyed. It made perfect sense, Marta became what they wanted, a weapon. Another tool for their cause, and nothing, none of it, would ever get better.

Years went by. She saw her mother on occasions, each time more painful than the last. She lived a life with nothing to lose, apart from one thing. Each moment made Marta want to leave, or not, she didn't care.

Marta and Rafael were used to keep order. To maintain the balance of this broken world. It's all that kept them, now one was needed to keep the other.

One day, they were sent on a mission together, to deal with a group of rebels. Another group, fighting a lost cause. Just like Marta's group had, at the beginning. Just like Marta and Rafael had.

They confronted the rebels, a small band, tired, desperate. Just as she had been, so long ago. This is not living, she knew this would be the day, at last.

Rafael started the attack, his powers immense, terrifying. Marta stood beside him, watching, waiting. It would end here, there was nothing here, she could see no more.

She turned, and with a single gesture, struck Rafael. He fell, his eyes wide with shock, a betrayal he hadn't anticipated, a trust, a belief, that she would not act, for a moment, at least.

Before the others could react, she attacked again, and again, her powers, unchecked, were devastating. It was better for her this way, easier, perhaps.

When it was done, she stood alone among the bodies. Alive. Unhurt. There would be no other day like this one, ever again. Marta had nothing more to lose, except Rafael.

Her mother would be killed, Rafael was likely dead. Marta had lost, from the very first day. A sudden peace settled on her, and in a second it would all be done.

There was a small smile, one her mother might have shared, if she could see it. A cold breeze, where it all began.