Voice Fault Spell? It’s more like bottled happiness, made with magic.
Bir was mesmerized. Each ugh seemed to bloom a new steltion of stars and a fresh array of flowers, each shaped uniquely and bursting with vibrant, shifting colors.
Evan’s youthful voice came bright, bubbly, and yellow, effervest like sunlight boung off a spring m. With every sylble, soft petals of pastel hues and greens unfurled, like fresh blooms in an untouched meadow. The sight was so vivid it felt as though the air itself was carrying the fragrance of those imagined blossoms.
Then came Mante’s voice, deep and resonant, carrying a weight that whispered of strength and mystery. His tones jured swirling gaxies, their nebus rid dark, painted in hues of deep blues, purples, and sm golds. Stars glinted like fragments of shattered light, suspended in the dark vas of his presence.
Other voices followed, eaique, painting the magical se with yers of sound and light. Some voices were soft and tender, weaving intricate floral patterns that glimmered with subtle beauty.
Others were louder and more boisterous, f bursts of fiery reds and es, streaked with the energy of ughter so full it could shake the heavens.
The spell was more than magic; it was a symphony of memory made visible. Bir felt herself pulled deeper into it, as though she could reach out and touch the colors, feel the ughter in her fiips.
It wasn’t just an auditory experie was alive, breathing, and blooming in front of her eyes, each voice a thread in an iridest quilt of warmth and joy.
“I… I think I have a new favorite spell,” Bir said, her smile soft and genuine. Bunny chuckled lightly.
“...Me too…” Evan murmured, his mouth still hanging open in awe, while Maood there, utterly frozen.
Bunny teased the air with her fingers o time, and the spell faded away. It was silly, really—after millennia of existehis was all she had to show for herself.
A handful of moments, scraps of warmth preserved through time like pressed flowers in a book. ly the grand archives of an immortal being, was it?
She didn’t have many friends. And of the few she had, even fewer moments like this—moments of ughter and stories—ever made it into her colle.
Most of them, like everything else in her life, had e and gone in a blink, leavio gather whatever fragments she could before they disappeared pletely.
What she didn’t realize—though maybe she should have—was that, between the four of them here, she was the only one who might ever have the ce to gather this much ughter. Bir and Evan? They were just kids, weighed down by their roles and expectations, with little time to colleything so frivolous.
And Mante—Burn? Well, rulers tend not to leave mu for joy in their carefully trolled kingdoms. That was the price of putting the weight of the world on your own shoulders—no time left to carry the sound of ughter.
“I love it,” the man said as he reached out, pulling her waist to him and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Just wait long enough, and my voice will domi.”
He had eternity to make it happen.
“Mioo!” Yvain chimed ihusiastically.
“That’s if you don’t die early, brat,” Burn shot back, his tone mog.
“As long as you teach me your Force Magic, I won’t die! I’ll achieve Vessel Immortality one day too!” Yvaied, practically yelling.
“Oh, really?”
“Papa promised he’d teach me! So if I die, I’ll just demand pensation in the loop!”
“You die quietly every time.”
“Yeah, but Mama brings me back every time, so bleh!”
“Bleh? Kek—you dare ‘bleh’ me, brat?”
“They’re talking nonsense,” Bunny said with a serene smile, turnitention back to the visibly fused Bir. The girl nodded awkwardly, grateful for the ge in focus.
“Now, are you ready to show me your favorite spell?” Bunny asked, her tone light but expet.
“Yes,” Bir said with a bright smile. “It’s just a simple golem spell.”
Oh sure, simple. But as she began casting, it became clear this wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill spell. Her red string magic came to life, unraveling like thick, vibrant wool. Slowly, delicately, the strands twisted and coiled together, f the unmistakable shape of a small, crocheted kitten.
Not just any kitteher—this one had an oversized, perfectly round head and ically rge bck buttohat seemed to stare directly into your soul. It was equal parts adorable and slightly unnerving, like it could follow you home and silently judge your life choices.
As Bir worked, the golem came together with the precision of someone who’d clearly spent way too much time perfeg its design.
The fluffy little creature twitched its tiny yarn limbs as though it were testing out its new body, and holy, the effect was almost too cute. It was the kind of spell you’d expect to win over anyht before it stole all their secrets with its unassuming charm.
“Adorbs!” Bunny d’awwed, g her hands together like she’d just seeest being ience.
Evan and Mauroward her, curious at what had caught her attention. When they saw Bir’s creation, they froze. The little crocheted kitten, with its intricate red string weaving and hauntingly adorable bck button eyes, immediately remihem of the day Nemo’s body was formed in the Infich’s hands. It was no less intricate, no less stunning.
Bunny’s expression shifted, her pyful smile softening into something more profound. Her eyes glimmered with genuine awe as she realized what she was witnessing. Aalent—one ready to bloom and take the world by storm.
“See, Mama? She’s as amazing as I told you, ri—”
COUGH!
Blood sprayed on the ground.
Bir’s eyes went wide, her pupils shrinking as panic overtook her. Bloodshot and unfocused, they darted around wildly while her trembling, blood-streaked hands shot up to clutch her neck, desperate and instinctive.
The crimson droplets slid between her fingers, vivid and horrifying against her pale skin, as if her body itself was rebelling against the magic she had so carefully woven.
This wasn’t a rampage.
This was a curse.
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:)
Let's see how many I write today.
