David Solomon had survived a magical duel, a collapsing bridge, and mild food poisoning from leftover Chinese noodles.
Now he was fighting his toughest opponent yet—economy class.
The seat in front of him slammed into his knees. He winced. "Confirmed. Evil exists."
Beside him, Elliot was in open war with the seat tray. "Why does it fold up?!"
"Because the designers hated humanity," David muttered.
The toddler three rows ahead started crying. David pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered a Silencing Charm.
The sound vanished. Silence—holy, blissful silence.
Elliot blinked. "Did you just mute a baby?"
"Self-defense."
"You're gonna get smote by karma."
"Then at least I'll die in peace."
The flight jolted through turbulence. Plastic cups rattled. David tried to close his eyes, but Elliot's curiosity was louder than the engines.
"Hey," Elliot said. "That dream you told me about—the one where you were an archmage and martial god. You really think it was real?"
David cracked an eye open. "It felt more real than this flight. I remember every scar, every face, every mistake. Dreams don't leave bruises."
"So you actually lived it? Like… two whole lives?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I just never woke up properly."
Elliot frowned. "That's terrifying."
"You get used to it."
He stared out the small window. Clouds drifted like slow gray waves beneath them.
Elliot hesitated. "If you have that kind of knowledge, why not, you know, fix stuff? Heal people, make money, buy a decent seat next time?"
David snorted. "Because the moment I start fixing things, governments start calling, scientists start cutting, and churches start preaching. The world loves power—right until it fears it."
"So we're keeping it quiet?"
"Exactly. The world's not ready. It never is."
Elliot leaned back. "So what are we now—magic janitors?"
"More like myth control."
"Unpaid myth control," Elliot added.
"Now you're getting it."
He hesitated again. "So can I learn? I mean, you said I've got a spark."
"A spark," David said, eyes half-open. "Not a forest fire."
"I can work on that."
"Try not to burn down the plane first."
The seatbelt sign blinked on as the captain announced descent.
David whispered, "If this plane lands safely, I'll almost believe in divine mercy."
Scene – Arrival in Prague
Cold wind hit the moment they stepped outside the terminal. David's coat flapped in the chill while Elliot dragged their dented suitcase across cobblestones.
"Man," Elliot said, teeth chattering. "Even the air feels older here."
"Ley-lines have long memories," David replied.
They followed a narrow street until an ivy-covered church rose ahead—gothic arches, chained gate, faint carvings pulsing under moonlight.
Elliot held up his phone. "This is it. The one from that Reddit post."
David crouched, pressing a hand to the ground. The cobblestone vibrated faintly.
"The mana's unstable," he murmured. "Like a wound that never healed."
Elliot shuffled closer. "That guy, Lucien… who was he, really?"
David's gaze stayed on the church. "I don't know. He said I was a legend where he came from."
"You mean, like, a hero?"
"Or a warning." His eyes narrowed. "What's stranger is his magic. The runes, the structure—they were identical to what I used in my dream."
Elliot frowned. "So he's from that world?"
"Maybe. Or maybe that world was never just a dream."
Before Elliot could respond, a low hum rolled under their feet. The church door shuddered. Dust fell from the archway.
Elliot whispered, "Please tell me that's not another magician."
David stood, green light gathering around his hand.
"Worse," he said quietly. "Something that doesn't care who wins."