The streets of Station One were abze with light, fmes licking at the walls of buildings, moving in rivers through alleys and thoroughfares. The people moved through it, walking through the bustle and light like a river flowing, oblivious to the burning fme they created. To her eyes they were each bzing torches, emotions clear as day in their souls. This pce frowned upon those of her kind, who practiced the “vile and unnatural arts” of magick. She strode up the street, grimly looming buildings all around, she followed the flow of people having easily made her way past the guards at the entry gate to the Station itself. Her magick was simple to hide and she had a certain way with words that made people eager to do as she wanted. Today was, after all, the day of the vote and who was going to look twice at a lovely young woman eager to py her part in the city.

  The central pza was nestled just within the walls of the Prime Fortress at the core of the Station. This area served as the beating heart of Station One and had never before been breached by outside forces. Its walls were manned by all manner of soldiers and weapons, from hulking creatures with skin as strong as steel, to sleekly armoured warriors with bdes of pure energy condensed in their grip. The mass of people shuffled slowly into the pza, every inch of space occupied by someone. Others hung from balconies, some with feet swung over the edges of rooftops, the area was packed to bursting, and tens of thousands of eyes moved to the stage at the north end where a single, simple podium had been erected at its center. A hush soon began to fall over the arrayed people, though the low buzz of whispers never truly faded leaving a sound like static over the crowd. A pair of individuals made their way onto the stage from the wings, the first all but marched over the space between him and the central podium. His finely tailored suit was in the military style with rge decorative epaulettes and a short half-cape over the left shoulder, he held himself as if he were the most decorated general in the entire Void. The woman who trailed behind him was short but well-built, her cybernetic repcement limbs integrated smoothly where they met flesh such that it was hard to even locate the seam. The man took to the podium while the woman stood just behind him to his left. And just at the edge of the stage stood a lone soldier in smooth pted armour, a chain in his hand connected to something out of sight.

  The man who everyone here knew to be the Commander General of Station One’s military straightened his jacket before clearing his throat and speaking. “Today marks a turning point in our history, one that will be remembered for decades to come. Today is the day we introduce our newest initiative to halt the menace which has pgued our nds and our Station and each of our histories.” His voice grows more emphatic with each word, stirring the onlookers' feelings like a bellows feeding a fme. “Through recent advances in our research divisions, we have determined a way to inhibit the abilities of those tainted mongrels who wield that most foul perversion of the natural order, magick.” His statement reverberates through the pza, carried by speakers to the farthest corner of the gathered mass of people. Some gasp in shock, some cheer in delight but one and all grow more attentive to the dispy before them. The Commander General gestures to the soldier at the edge of the stage and he advances from his position, revealing the line of people at the other end of the chain in his hands. Five individuals trail behind the armoured soldier, each in ragged clothing with thick steel manacles around their wrists and ankles. They are brought onto the stage and each fastened to something embedded in its floor, brought to their knees. None of them dare look up at the gawking crowd, a few merely shake with fear.

  Belri closes her eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath and allowing her senses to escape out into the crowd. She can feel the flickering of each soul around her, though there are so many that she could not possibly reach them all without someone noticing. The feelings are a wave of sensation as she opens herself to it, fear and shock and wonder and pride mixing in a bze of lights. A man, about twelve yards to her right, has noticed that two of the ‘tainted mongrels’ bound in shackles on the stage are children no older than eight years. His heart, which had been a strongly burning yellow fme, full of pride at his people, begins to shift. The yellow fire begins to flicker and gutter as a curl of ugly green kindles at its heart. She cups her mind around the fme, fanning life into the feeling of disgust he feels seeing mere children bound in such a way. His face twists in revulsion, he begins to whisper to those around him of what he has seen.

  Her focus shifts again to the man on the stage, his impassioned speech never stopping. “We have seen fit to provide a demonstration of our newest technological advance before you cast your votes to enact this new policy. Lieutenant, if you would kindly release the first prisoner.” With a casual gesture to the woman beside him she moves to the first of the prisoners, a tall willowy being with more intricate bonds than the rest. Each of their long fingers is bound in several pces preventing any motion. With a series of clicks each ring is removed and dropped into the waiting hand of the soldier with the chain, all except a rge colr fitted around the neck which glitters with a strange mix of metals like a swirling cloud. The being is coaxed to rise, weapons trained on them by the woman and soldier. “This is a so-called ‘Incantor’ who was found on a caravan travelling our territory, they cim to only practice peaceful magicks but our forces reported empowered resistance and one death among our brave border guard, impaled with spells crafted by those wicked hands!” His face is red with rage, and the crowd mirrors the anger, bright crimson light kindling within many. “Now, to the demonstration. Creature, you may attempt to escape and we will raise no weapon against you.” He turns to the now standing being, gesturing for them to go ahead and smiling insidiously.

  Immediately they begin to raise their hands into the air, drawing sigils of light around themselves in a complex tapestry. As the circles floating in the air around them begin to coalesce and glow bright there is a sharp staccato chime from the colr around their neck and the sound of a cord snapping. Visible in the air for but a moment is a thin thread of gossamer violet, bursting into vapour before fading from sight. The sigils that had floated around the being burst as well and they cry out in pain, slumping to the stage heaving heavy breaths. Slowly, the bindings on their hands and ankles are reattached and they are left to sob weakly beside the others. Her senses again escape to the crowd, feeling for changes among the popuce, more bright yellow fmes burst into purple fear, shriveling under the cruelty seen before them though just as many grow into pilrs of pride and joy. The woman two rows ahead is a dizzying wash of colours, as she grips her cloth apron so tight her knuckles turn white. Her fmes dance with fitful orange bursts as she nervously recalls the Talented folk of her vilge and her young daughter who will reach the proving age soon. Sickly blue fear and deep blood red dread mix with it as she begins to pn how to move her family discreetly. Belri feels a twinge of regret, like cold ice, and throws a piece of tinder into the woman's heart. It sparks and a flicker of steely grey passes through the fmes, her back straightening ever so slightly as her resolve to see her child to safety hardens.

  Her senses flit around the people surrounding her, probing for more she can prod away from this horrendous course. A few could be swayed, sparks of disgust like coals within them but so many more harbour deep fear of those who wield magick. Their hearts were a mix of bright sunny yellows and icey blue fear, so bright that it overtook nearly her entire field of vision. The General on stage had continued speaking but she could not bring herself to listen, her mind was reeling. She had come here with some idiotic sense of heroism, that she could simply waltz into the stronghold of their greatest detractors and turn their hearts in a single grandiose act. How very wrong she had been, this act would pass, her people would be shackled and forced to kneel. Her own heart dimmed, creeping tendrils of dark purple fear flickering within its light. She numbly followed the crowd from the pza as the speech ended, the streets of Station One abze with a fme that would try to burn the world to ash.

  FeralFeathers