River had expected a response almost immediately, part of him even hopeful for a magic portal of some sort to take him away from the pursuing threat. Instead, silence came from his summon and a burning ache seared into his hand as he clutched it tightly around the necklace.

A lick of magic reached him and he pushed himself harder to run faster, the street outside the alley nearly in reach. If he made it just in time, he could round the corner and get his boss’ attention before darkness swallowed him whole. 

Suddenly, he felt a tug on his ankle and collided against the concrete ground but ignored the ache in his body as he scampered to get back up. An invisible tendril of magic caught his foot and dragged him back down the alley, his fingers clawing against the rough cement, flesh tearing in his desperate efforts to stop. Quickly, he twisted himself onto his back and kicked at the invisible force around him to no avail, eyes frantic between what he couldn’t see and the mass of cloaked freaks calmly approaching him. He screamed in hopes his boss or any potential passerby would notice but he already knew the futility of it. Even should someone take notice, nothing mundane could save him from the magic of Mythics.

His voice faded to silence and though River tried to scream, to utter anything, his sound was stolen. A unison of laughter followed in sick amusement. River’s intuition warned him of their ill intentions, a gut instinct of what they would do either out of anger from his resistance or to pry out whatever information they wanted of his sister.

Magic rose River upwards into the air, as if the ground itself came with him. He struggled against the sudden constraints, stuck like a bug in a flytrap. His body burned in agony, begging for relief far away from any magic.

“Where is she?” The First stepped forward from the group, their head lifted to better see River. Still, a void remained inside their hood, not an ounce of light to show their faces. River began to wonder if they even had a face beneath those shadows. In a blink, they stood before him with rot on their breath, inches from his face. “Where isss,” the First hissed with a low growl, “Cerys Augustine?”

River grimaced, disgusted by the stench of the dead and the sting of magic that brushed against his cheek. He wrestled hopelessly with a cry unable to be heard, his body in an itching torment of heat, his ailment to magic worsening his already horrible situation. The hooded Mythics remained still, curious as they watched him writhe, as best he could, in a pain they unknowingly caused. 

“We will relieve you from your duress,” the First uttered with a touch of sympathy in their voice, “if only you answer our question. Where is Cerys Augustine?”

River stared at the First, his hazel eyes lost in the hooded abyss, and with a silent exhale, he parted his lips to speak. The spell dissipated and River enunciated each word as he spat, “up your ass!”

The First kissed their teeth and with a flick of their head, agony worse than his own allergy scorched through River. He screamed out in misery, lightning striking through what felt like crushing bones and torn muscle. He screamed until the spell of silence fell onto him again, but even muted, he could not stop his cries. All that coursed through was torture and all he could think was Cerys. Cerys, Cerys, Cerys!

Abruptly, a bright light flooded the alleyway and the First flung backwards through the dissipating group of hoods. River collapsed to the pavement, the hex of pain over but the ache from his fall fresh. His voice returned with a loud groan and he spewed up beside himself, while the unison of screams faded into one shrill, raspy screech. River pushed himself up to see what had happened, only to find a conglomerate of darkness rushing back down the alley from where he ran from.

“Get up, River!”

River jolted and turned his head towards the direction of blinding white light and the familiar, nearly forgotten voice from his elder sister. He blinked to adjust to the harsh lighting, his hand rising to shield his eyes, as heeled boots clacked towards him on the concrete. A woman in a cropped leather jacket stood before him, her ashy blonde hair lit up like a golden halo, and she outstretched her hand, black cracks scarring the pale flesh.

“Cerys,” River breathed and clasped onto his sister. “You came.”

She pulled him up to his feet and then into a hug, arms tightly wrapping around her little brother. River reluctantly returned the favour, still sore and in a daze from all that happened. 

“Been a while,” he exhaled in disbelief, “what, like, four—five years?”

“You want to do this now?” Cerys snapped as she pushed him back, holding his arms with an expression of twisted disbelief. “We got to go, now!” She pulled him along with one arm and forced him to walk with her towards the source of the blinding light, until they crossed out of its path and it no longer became a hindrance for either of them. 

River adjusted to the change and opened his mouth in surprise at her motorcycle. It sat with its headlight shining far brighter than any high beam out there. In fact, it was outright impossible, as if charged by a thousand suns. River quickly caught on; it had to be magic.

“That was a necromancer,” Cerys began to explain and within an instant, a helmet flashed into her hands, appearing from thin air. “And his ghostly patrons, relics of the dead. They’re all servants of night, villains of the day. The light hurts them, but it won’t destroy them. Do you understand?”

“No!” River glanced back over his shoulder, unable to see past the light beaming down the alley, painting it all in an endless white. He turned back to his sister, sweat drenching his hair and shirt, weakened by his allergy far worse than the cursed magicks of the undead, yet she met his gaze with little sympathy. “What do they want with you, Cerys?”

She opened her mouth but then closed it, shaking her head. “There’s no time. The Sunlight will hold them back but it won’t stop them from finding another way to us, and who knows if they called for back-up from the Everlasting Servants?”

“The Everlasting?”

She ignored him and shoved the helmet into his chest, her honey eyed stare firm and intense. “Get on the bike.”

River snapped his head to the seat of the cruiser and then back at her, eyes wide in alarm, his head slowly beginning to shake back and forth as he refused to take the helmet. “Fuck no. I can’t even ride a bicycle.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t you dare judge me!”

Cerys groaned loudly with frustration when a whoosh came from their side. At the end of the alley from where she entered, a flock of cloaked Mythics appeared, tendrils of fire and smoke wrought around their limbs. Backup, they both presumed.

Ice frosted from the cracks of Cerys’ hands and she shot her hand up, ice emerging from the ground beneath the fire conjurers and trapped them in an iceberg. River hissed painfully beside her, wild and raw magic flared out in the space around them.

“That’s not going to hold them and you're only going to get in my way,” she firmly told him and when he went to protest, she turned to him with a soft and gentle look, throwing him off guard. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”

The helmet slipped over his head suddenly and before he knew it, he was shoved onto the bike. He scampered to sit up-right with his hands on the seat until she forced him to take hold of the handlebars.

“All you gotta do is hold on! Don’t let go!” She fixed his hands and then smiled bitterly at him as he nodded repeatedly, panic rising in his chest. “Try and forgive me for this next part, yeah?”

“What—”

The motorcycle roared to life by itself and revved a few times, as if it had a mind of its own. His stomach dropped, his fear muddling whether the panic to jump off was from his intuition or not, and when he looked to Cerys, she smacked the back of the bike as if it were the arse of a horse. It flung itself backwards and River screamed violently.

Fire burst through the iceberg and when one went to throw a fire whip towards River, Cerys smacked it back with an invisible force from the palm of her hand. River tried to watch his sister, but the motorcycle had other plans and sped off away from the dangerous threat. He wanted to look back, to check if Cerys would be alright, but his own fear choked him and shook his body. He tensed tightly to the bike, a scream leaving him whenever he peeked up.

The motorcycle raced through busy streets and zoomed in and out of traffic, nightlife retreating and early risers beginning their morning commute. The sky grew lighter, the sun rising and replacing the black canvas with hues of blues and a golden horizon. River failed to notice, eyes squinted shut in his refusal to open them, focused instead on not throwing up or witnessing near miss accidents. He gripped the handlebars for dear life, his knuckles white, and his heart raced almost as fast as the motorcycle itself, adrenaline the only thing keeping him glued to what would either carry him to refuge, or to his death.

After years of not seeing Cerys, he never expected her to throw him on a magical, self-driving bike. Hell, he didn’t even know magic could do that. It felt impossible, even as the wind whipped past him and he squeezed his legs against the roar of the motorcycle.

Cerys then appeared behind him with a thud and he screamed louder as he pressed his head down, his arms shaking in absolute terror.

“You’re doing great!” Her voice clearly said beside his ear, despite the rushing wind and the bulky helmet on his head. River wanted nothing more than to strangle her.

“PLEASE DRIVE THIS THING!” He heard her clear voice laugh but gained no other response. The motorbike continued to drive on its own and River’s eyes welled up, a cry threatening to emerge from him, when he lost his voice as Cerys cursed. He shot his head up and forced his eyes open to a blur of passing vehicles and light. He peered to his side and a large pure black shadow was slowly encasing them.

“Hold on!” Cerys warned him. He would’ve made a sarcastic remark to his sister or even, out of spite, removed his hands, but this was a matter of life and death, and he could barely muster the ability to nod as he felt her leap off. The motorcycle sped up and River’s concern for his own life transferred to his sister’s as he flipped his head to look back behind himself. 

Cerys came down from the air and landed in the middle of the road with a blast, the ground shaking from what felt like an aftershock of an explosion. River fought to not be thrown off the bike, pressing himself down as tight as he could and slamming his eyes shut when he saw other vehicles screeched to a stop and crash into one another. By a miracle, or magic, River rode on through, his screams over but his nightmare not.