I woke up to the sound of wailing in the streets and a smell of something burning in the air. I jump out of bed and rush to the window. Everything has erupted into chaos. People are yelling in the streets, fireballs are being launched into shattered glass windows. Children are screaming, and parents are pushing their way through the rioting crowd. Faintly out of the window, I hear chants of the rioters.

“Royals step down, off with the crown!” They are protesting the royals’ rule! For years, our town has been divided into three main classes. The “royals,” the “faeries,” and the “citizens” The royals have ruled for years, in their palaces of marble and gold. The citizens have been doing the typically “desirable” jobs. Jobs that sustain them with good paychecks and plenty of magic. Then there are the faeries. We are responsible for the jobs that no one wants. The servants, or waiters, or janitors. We are forced into minimum wage, just because of the glowing moon tattoo that we are born with. Just because we have more magic than most people.

I rush to my closet and force open the false bottom. I take out my midnight black cloak and slip it over my clothes. I see the symbol of le résistance on my left arm. A moon with a sword running down the middle. My uniform. I feel the weight of my numerous weapons concealed in the folds of the robe. I’m ready for today. This is what I have been training for.

I rush as quietly as I can into the streets, purposely leaving the back gate unnoticeably unlocked. As I run I tie my frizzy red hair into a tight bun. Time for step one of the plan, château raid. I focus my energy on summoning a telepathy orb. I watch as it glows in my hand. Through my mind I tell the other members of le résistance that it is time to begin the raid. Soon enough, three members will be sneaking into the castle invisible, and causing general chaos. While the guards are distracted, the rest of us will rush in and initiate the final step. A bas la couronne. Down with the crown. Once we get all the servants, or any faeries working in the castle out, we will be using our combined magic to blow the palace and royal family sky high. They deserve it. Death is typically the punishment for treason, and killing our people because they have magic is treason in its highest form.

Walking through the rioting crowd, I dodge glass bottles and stones. It is a nightmare out here, but I am loving it. I walk calmly over to the art store, but go quickly to get out of the fire and smoke. The store is abandoned, much as I had figured. I smirked. This was perfect. I weave in and out of broken glass and fallen merchandise until I am standing in front of my favorite aisle. The spray-paint aisle. I start grabbing color after overpriced color off the shelve and shoving them into my backpack. I look back around at the store and grab a few yellows, oranges, and reds. I rush to the back wall and start spraying. I layer the colors, smiling as the paint drips and smears. Soon enough, I step back from my chef-d'œuvre. A crown with a moon shaped blade slicing through it. Suddenly I hear shouting from across the street and curse under my breath. Citizens. Probably here to arrest any faeries they see minding their own business. I rush to the back storage room when I hear them walk in. There is no power, and it is pitch black. I summon a lumière orb, and its light guides me to the back door. But it's too late. They found me

“Arrêtez! You are not autorisé par la loi to be in here!” Someone shouts. Of course I’m not allowed here. I try to run, but the citizen grabs me, and pushes up the fabric on my uniform to reveal a moon-shaped tattoo on my left arm. It is glowing with the power of my light orb. I try to stop the power, but it is too late. The citizen uses a simple lier, binding spell to trap me. Citizens can do magic, but only what is required by their job. Police officers need binding and truth spells, doctors need healing spells, etc. “By order of the Royal Force of Guard you are under arrest to be punished for the fullest extent of the law!” I untie my hair and smile.

“For what?” I ask, even though I know why. Graffiti of any kind is I smile a bit, trying to build up a charme spell. My lumiere spell flickers a bit under the power of my new spell, but barely. Their eyes go glassy. Parfaite. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? I am the daughter of this store owner, and I am just trying to salvage ma maman’s supplies!” Complete lie, I have no idea who owns this store. Luckily the citizens fall for the charme.

“Yes. Daughter. Supplies. Pardon. We will be on our way.” They turn and walk out of the store. I suddenly collapsed in the back room from the effort of carrying three spells. I have to keep the Telepathy in case someone needs to contact me, and of course my charme and lumiere spells. I take a sip of water, and immediately spit it out. Why does it taste...so…….

The last thing I hear before I pass out is the voice of someone saying “Well, well, well. Looks like we caught our little oiseau de feu.”