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weight of my father’s rage—they would certainly endure
beyond this creature’s grip.
I threw off the monster’s hold, and as it staggered
backward, surprised no doubt that I had overcome it, I
delivered my fist hard and fast across its perpetually grinning
face. The thing tumbled to the floor, and the tides of fleeing
killers reversed their course, realizing the elemental was
clearly the lesser of the two presented threats. I was pleased,
but the elemental and the army were peripheral to my course.
I could feel the Red Dream fill my body, thundering
through the cracks of the mundane Deadworld, powering my
efforts at negotiating the combat at hand. Now renewed and
then some, I assumed the Prince of Smoke would be a fairly
easy name to cross off my list. I was to learn otherwise.
Magic shares much in common with dreaming, in so
much that it is an effect without explanation—a staple
feature of any dream. And contrary to the more common
assumptions about magic, it isn’t merely the defiance of
reality, but is more specifically the annihilation of causality.
This realization ran to the forefront of my mind when I saw
the Prince appear from the choking smokes of unchecked
fires, moving towards me with a grace borne from practiced
lethality—an attitude that had no place within the spoiled
spaces of any one of the triplets. Here was magic, surely.
My amazement rapidly turned to pain. The Missing Child
had already risen from my blow and was quick to put me
into the stone and mortar of the false castle. Its attack was
more than sufficient to send me flying through the wall
and into the next room. Unsurprisingly, the creature failed
to follow through with its bid to kill me, as it was clearly
more focused on the Prince. I found it humorous to think of
such an undead monstrosity as this carrying around a list of
names, periodically perusing it for direction.
The fires from the initial meeting between the army and
elemental continued to flood through the structure, spilling
across wooden fixtures and climbing into the rafters. I
244 | Mark Anzalone