Note: Above drawing, Cypur's Faud by liber_spiritus (Thank you so much!)

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The next morning, Cypur had woke first, so he quietly dressed. Just as he was fixing his hair using the little mirror in the shower, a banging sound came from downstairs. He arched his brow at himself in the mirror and continued on messing with the various directions that his hair was going. It was such a frizz this morning. Maybe it was the shampoo.

BANG! CRASH!

Startled, he yanked a snarl too hard a tuft of hair tangled in his fingers. "Bastard," he muttered. What was going on downstairs? He still hadn't finished taming his hair and now he felt stubborn to continue when the bathroom door swung open.

"Cypur, oh, you Narsy!" She rolled her eyes.

He scowled at her in the mirror. "Well, good morning to you, too." He went back to fixing his hair, using water to wet it down, but some pieces were just going to misbehave today it seemed.

"Are you going to get breakfast for us? And it's a riot," she said. She flicked her hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, good noisy morning." She let out a loud yawn and grunted, stretching her arms. "Is someone doing steppenchellia downstairs?"

Steppenchellia wasn't that noisy. He could only think that someone must be too drunk, falling through things. Maybe it was better they stayed up here and waited it out. But then the noise came closer.

CRASH! CLUNK!

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. "There it goes! Get it!" a male called.

Wescherlie transformed, cawing an alarm.

Cypur quickly put his cape over his hair, scowling as it messed up his hard work. He picked up Wescherlie and set her on his shoulder. Something began frantically scratching against their door. A high-pitched squeal came. The air rippled with magick.

He jumped out of the way as a streak of golden magick blasted through the door. Wood turned black, falling away. As large as a medium-sized dog, an indigo-scaled lizard stood on stumpy legs with a basket of bread floating above it's head. Its eyes crossed as it squealed, thundering into the room.

A black net appeared over it, snatching it up from the floor. Wind whipped around them. Cypur lost his balance and his cape fell off.

"Gold!" several voices said at once.

"Run!" Wescherlie called. Cypur didn't even have time to scold her for talking. Three Sorcerer males wearing the bounty hunter capes came hurling in. The lizard had vanished from their net and was now reeling up on its hind legs. Golden magick shimmered across its scales. Cypur couldn't leave through the door, so he made for the balcony.

Leaning over the side, he debated to jump.

Wescherlie's talons gripped his shoulder. "I can feel more coming!"

"Stop talking!" Cypur warned.

"It's our lucky day, citizens," came a female's voice. Cypur's heart thumped. He recognized that voice. He turned slowly, meeting the eyes of the lizard and the white-haired Sorcerer female that emerged in the hallway. He'd seen her on the screen—the only bounty hunter with public fame, evading the law.

"Chrisma fèi Kaliophenous," he whispered.

"Sounds like a spell," Wescherlie whispered back with a snicker.

But Cypur didn't laugh. Chrisma was a Professor ranked Sorcerer, but rumors had it she was stronger than she let on. It wasn't someone he could fight. Although, Cypur couldn't fight anyone above Apprentice level unless it was combat. Even then, he never really tried to learn to fight. He would rather have verbal duels.

He gripped the edge of the balcony. He could jump and live, he knew. Floating didn't take much energy. But he would have to run the rest of the way. Chrisma would be smart enough not to follow them into Priviturn Lake. From the balcony to the left, just where the gray roofs came to an end, there was a brush of green and he could just make out the glistening waters.

"Cypur," Wescherlie whispered in his ear, "it's your Faud."

"Ow," He got a kink in his neck trying to look at her too quickly. Since a kink was not an injury, it wouldn't heal, and the pain lingered. "My Faud?"

At that moment, the lizard roared, and a lashing tail knocked through the wall and into Chrisma. It swung through the room, crashing through the bathroom, cracking the sink. Water sprouted from the fountain. The lizard stomped its legs, crashing through the floor. Sorcerers shouted spells, but then the hallway caved, taking the room's floor with it.

Lizard and a few Sorcerers fell through the floor into the dining room. A resounding CRASH echoed throughout the room. Dust billowed and a wind spell cleared the way. Chrisma stepped forward, hand outstretched. The air chilled as she worked her Kraitai-particular magick—ice, frost, and everything cold.

"Halfhuman Kraitai, huh?" Wescherlie whispered. "I saw one once."

There was no point in standing here. Cypur stepped up on the railing and jumped. He curled himself into a ball as magick zipped over his head, hitting nearby roof, alighting it in flames. But the flames didn't stay. As he landed, they turned into fire swords. Cypur dashed down the road, aiming for Priviturn, trying to outrun the swords. Any magick that was for attacking didn't last forever, so if he could stay ahead of it, they would soon vanish.

But they weren't.

Clicking his tongue, he searched his mind for some water spells or wind to blow it off track. His heart was thumping so hard, and he could hear her shouting strengthening magick to make each spell last longer. Panic surged through him, and he blanked. Nothing was coming to mind.

"Water, come on, anything," he said as he huffed, turning down an alleyway and another as the road twisted this way and that. If only it was a straight line to the lake!

There was a squeal. The indigo lizard, now a reduced in size, came crashing through the alleyway, knocking over barrels and crates, and its tail splintered them. Legs pumped out sideways in a strange waddling gallop. It tripped over its own legs and got back up again.

That thing's, my Faud? He made a face. It was nothing like him. All Sorcerers had Fauds that were like them in some way. It was clumsy, impulsive, loud, and a nuisance. Cypur knew he wasn't those things.

"How do you know that's my Faud?" he said, leaping over boxes that barricaded the way.

"Well, what else could it be?" Wescherlie shouted. "They're coming from the sky!"

"What?" He looked up at the roofs and saw a silhouette jump in front of bright blue. Arrow in bow. Cypur stopped. The male aimed. Just before the arrow met, he called a spell and burnt the stick. Then he threw the arrowhead, guiding it with the wind, avoiding being snatched by hands. He stabbed the male in the leg. The male crumbled to the roof and rolled off the other side.

"Cool!" Wescherlie laughed.

"It's no laughing matter." Cypur rolled his eyes and took off again.

"But I've never seen you do magick like that before," she argued.

He scowled. It wasn't like he was completely magically useless. He was the top of his class. There wasn't all that much chance to use magick like this.

Soon, they came to a dead end. A squeal sounded behind and Wescherlie giggled in his ear. "The way it runs is so funny!" she shouted in his ear.

"Ow, Wescherlie, be quiet or help," he snapped as he bolted right, but it was another dead end. Sunlight made mud glisten. All the frost and ice from yesterday had melted. The wall loomed in front of him barring the way, probably laughing at his plight. It was too slick to climb, and the roof was too far up. Not advancing in school also meant he couldn't float that high.

He checked his magick energy. It was full and ready to go even on an empty stomach. Some wind, a magick burst, or something to propel him to the roof. Then from the roof, he could see the lake. Cypur, being Apprentice rank, could only teleport to places he had been and to places he could see from where he stood.

The commotion behind him neared. Chrisma's commands cut the air. Cypur's Faud squealed. A surge of magick exploded, and warm air met him from behind. The only magick he could come up with was a wind burst. He'd never tried its limits, so he didn't know how well it would work.

"You have nowhere to run, child," Chrisma's voice echoed all around them, vibrating in his chest. It was laced with a command, and he curled his toes to keep from walking towards her. Wescherlie's talons dug in his shoulder.

He had to go now. Taking a deep breath, he bent his legs. "I'm going to jump, burst, to the roof, hang on," he said and leapt.

His Sorcerer's natural ability to float didn't take him too far, and it wasn't something he could maintain. Just as he leapt, he felt gravity weight him down. He muttered a quick wind burst beneath his feet to propel himself upwards.

The top of the roof neared his eyes, almost in his grasp. Snatching the edge with both hands, the magick ceased, gravity pulled his arms. The ledge was wet, warm, and slippery. Pain shot through his little-used muscles. He slipped, hung by his fingertips.

"Damn it!" He grunted, trying to pull himself up, but he couldn't. Dangling helplessly, waiting to be bounty bait was not his plan. Blaming it on the empty stomach, he heard deliberately loud footsteps come closer and closer.

"You can't run, golden boy. Let go." Chrisma's command made one hand lose grip.

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Note: Author here!

Thought I should mention command spells are illegal, which is why you never see anyone else using it. If someone is commanded too many times, they could become brainwashed and lose their sense of self. There is no counter spell or reverse spell.

Most illegal spells are illegal because 1) they pose some danger or high risk, and 2) they have no counter spell or reverse spell.