Morons and Monarchs

Chapter Seven: Thanatos💉

𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖚𝖘𝖐

The most magical time for us Tomairsitkiz's. While the Laritiones prefer their classes at dawn when the sun is shining through the clouds and their magic is the most compatible with the Otherworld. We are the opposite. Our magic boils under the heat of the stars, gazing at us from the heavens above.

While most kids skip their classes during the day, when it is time for Magic class, everybody is there. Especially if you are powerful.

The air around the school now is thick with the scent of mythical mysteries.

Every person in their dorms stirred at the same time every day, feeling their power grow underneath their flesh.

As one, we all jump out of our cots, our feet pulling us to class. Our magic propels us to follow the herds. As one, all Tomairsitkiz's walk out into the hallway, some without shirts, some still in their pajamas, not that it matters. We crowd the hallways in a straight line, but when we go down the stairs, the more powerful students stand at the front of our glob, the weak go in the back.

Like every day, I am leading the way. My feet shuffle as they try to make their way to class.

Every day at dusk my magic awakes, boiling inside my veins. My body tingling with the force of it. Magic may be desired, but every wanted thing comes with a burden. And magic is one of the largest burdens anyone should have to deal with.

And like every day, my magic whispers sweet encouragement to prick my finger, to give Otherworld its price in order for my magic to be free. Just one tiny droplet of green ooze and my power can erupt from me and poof! Burden no more.

But like every day, my magic is lying. It is still a burden, because now I have to control the interesting force, and once the class is done, the magic once again returns.

I loath magic class, I loath how every single day I have to lead the class to our damnable classroom, I hate the feel of my power whooshing past me; I hate when everything I try to do is subsided by my magic; I hate everything about this burden I have to carry.

That is the only good thing about being picked for Prince. Your magic slowly leaves you, and you are free once more from your burden at last.

Sometimes I just imagine what the princes must feel like, waltzing around marble castles rebuilt almost every week, every single day a major portion of their burden lifted from their shoulders, landing on the Queen's instead. Sometimes I wish a queen would take my magic, but then I also want to live a life. I want to find a person with the same flower as mine; I want to find my mate and live with her forever. I want to keep my essence and give it only to my wife through small acts of love.

But there is no hope for me, I can only dream the impossible and hope it manifests. My life is like glue, everybody always prefers me over the tape, but they never ask if I am strong enough for the burdens laying on my shoulders that I never asked for. They never ask if I think it is an honor to always be picked, they make their own opinions, and they have no empathy for those who have them as well. That is all Fae, whether they are Tomairsitkiz, or Laritione, Bwardipuginin, or even Encantados, they don't care about you; they care about their own image. Their own opinions.

You are nothing but a piece of gum on the street, annoying and unneeded. Probably an accident and somebody only put you there because you are nothing anymore, even though originally you were bursting with flavor. But as you grow older, your light dims, and your hope that once thrived cannot accompany you; now people don't need you anymore. You are useless. You are a nobody to those who still have that light, and they race your darkness to the end of the tunnel till you have to retreat to the end. Until you fall off.