What even are mages? Seriously. I’m so over this—over them hunting me. What did I ever do to them? I swear, if one more Hunter chokes me, I’m gonna develop a complex.
And I already have so many of those.~Samantha Anders
For once, just once, I’d like to be able to go out into public without watching my back. It’s already bad enough going into public with my bow and quiver of arrows slung over my shoulder. The looks Seattleites on the bus and Link Rail give me are priceless. I’m so far past caring, I should be given a gold star.
Whatever. It’s fine. Well, it’s not. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I screwed myself over long before I’d known what I was doing. And that’s the catch, isn’t it?
When I was thirteen, I screwed up royally. It wasn’t my fault—at least, I don’t think it was. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m a witch. But not just any witch; I’m so powerful, I’ve got enemies in high places.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
On my thirteenth birthday, I discovered I had powers. Powers that allowed me to time travel and see auras. The auras weren’t the issue. The issue was my powers flaring and dragging me over two millennia into the past.
That’s right. Two. Millennia.
That’s where I met Chibale. Real cool dude—not that I’d been able to understand a word he’d said, but he was nice. He’d also been enslaved to guild mages. And that’s where my entire legacy begins. I’d dared to rescue him—to free him—and the mages hadn’t taken too kindly to that.
Since I used magic—I didn’t know then that I gave off a terrifyingly large and threatening magical energy, which was how I’d been found and captured in the first place—to liberate us from the guild dungeon, I’d gained a bit of a reputation. And by “a bit,” I mean they titled me the Sibyl, a fierce, evil woman with wicked powers.
That title hadn’t died with the end of the era, with the death of the century. Oh, no. The damn title carried through the ages, picking up steam and blowing out of proportion bit-by-bit with each retelling of the story. Before long, the Sibyl was myth and legend.
A myth and legend that the guilds of today still consider a threat.
But back to my story.
After I rescued Chibale, we trekked the desert of Ancient Egypt back to his home. I collapsed long before we got there, dehydration and the journey more than my frail body could endure. He carried me the rest of the way.
That’s when I’d met Bennu, Chibale’s son.
Bennu was kind enough to see me back to good health while his mother, Tauret, did the same for Chibale. His father had been in better condition than me, used to the harsh climate of the desert, and had recovered quickly.
Now, flash-forward to the twenty-first century—to right now, literally right this second. There’s a mage on the bus with me, and I can feel his eyes on me the way I can feel his magical energy grating along my skin. His aura is lethal. His presence is menacing. But I pretend not to see him.
I’ve dealt with stronger Hunters than him. I could take him. That is, I’d be able to take him as soon as we aren’t both crammed into a city bus with dozens of bystanders sitting between him and me. But that’s the thing; as soon as I get off the bus, so will he.
Then the chase will be on.
Which will be faster… My arrow or his knife?