as youâve done to others, youâd have us do to you the same
One moment, Undyneâs halfway pulled a knife out from where itâs wedged between a flat tire and an ironically placed trash can. Itâs terribly rusty, and entirely lacking a handle. But sheâs recovered blades in worse shape from worse garbage dumps.
The next moment, sheâs... indoors? Itâs like a really small version of a really big building, which is just weird in general. And she feels weird, too. Sheâs always been made of magic, but the city has limited it: thereâs no manifesting it outside of herself, here.
Now, though? She feels her magic so strongly that it threatens to overwhelm her. Itâs familiar yet foreign, like if your blood was always tea and then it suddenly turned to coffee.Â
Almost on instinct, she reaches out a hand to manifest her newly (re?)claimed magic, and thatâs not her hand.
Lightning forms in an unnatural line from her outstretched hand, trying and failing to conform to the shape of her usual spears. Constantly trying to burst from its own outline, unlike the usual, sharply-defined silhouettes of her own bullet patterns. ...Not that thereâs much time to notice all that.
Her own startlement launches the lightning-spear into the nearest wall, and it tears straight through. The wall crumbles around the now-dissipated magic, opening a hole into another room.
âHoly--â she gasps before she can finish. Thatâs... not her voice. âWhatâs... happening.â Itâs a familiar voice, though.
And so there she is: frozen in place, staring at this wreckage sheâs made inside someone elseâs home. Trying to get a hold on the immense amount of power sheâs come into temporary possession of, before there can be a repeat of the disaster.











