The sound of distant police sirens filled the frigid air of the winter morning, frost had encrusted the outside of the windows. Not a particularly irregular situation to find oneself hearing in the recent years, arcane crimes had been on the rise.
What was irrelevant, you try and understand, was what the police were doing, lining the front of your establishment, your little safe space in the world. They flock out of their cars and vans, each one with body armour and 60 Index staffs, and channel the energy towards a child. This child was bruised, bleeding in some places, and wearing an Arcane Suppression Collar.
As the child approached, you performed your ritualistic smile, the one you always give to newcomers. But you could have never predicted the surge of energy which clashed with your own the second the child entered your nullification field. This wasn’t a normal face of an arcane misfire, and the look in their eyes.
As the child was escorted deeper into the building, they held not only the powerful aura of magic, but an aura of malice.
“Who is this kid… what did they do?” You mutter to a police officer as concern rises through you.
“They took down 55 soldiers before we got the collar on, and 18 more once it was. We don’t know who they are, what they are, or what their powers are. All we know is that they’re too powerful for a regular prison. So we brought them here.” Even the officer wore an expression of disbelief at what he saw. A child held so much power that the collar didn’t inhibit it all? How was that possible!
You can recall when you wore a collar as a test to see what the limits were, it stripped you of all your power. But this? This wasn’t a person… no, it couldn’t possibly be a person.
This was a God. As the thought crossed your mind, as illogical as it was, the child looked back at you. A smile crossed their face, as thought they could read your mind.
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