We are young, and foolish, but such is the way of things. One day, we may find peace, but for now there is only war. War within ourselves, and war with those around us. The men in power drop bombs on nations we've never seen, while at home, we struggle with those who can reshape the world. Magic defying logic, technology turned on our own. Man hunts man, simply because one was gifted with the power to change the world. It is a sad metaphor for the world. Or maybe, the world is a metaphor for the witch hunts we face.

* * *

I remember seeing her so clearly. Her golden eyes shimmering the pale half light of the moon, mingling with the street lights. There is yelling in the distance, the mob rule that has come to be so common. They bear torches and knives, guns and instruments of death. I simply wish to be with my dearest, but even now I must leave. I fly, feet on the ground, seeking to evade this hoard which seeks my blood and my flesh. Blasphemy, sacrilege, witchcraft... It is fear that guides them, not reason. And it is reason that might save me this night. Darkness surrounds me, envelopes me, holds me near like a mother protecting her young. They are screaming my name now, and I know that this city isn't safe for me, isn't safe for my kind. For now, I can only wait, hope they do not find me, hope they do not kill me for what I am, instead of what I have done. I've brought no harm, only life, peace, happiness. But they do not understand. And so, they are afraid. And as I sit in this alley, surrounded by the smell of refuse and the skittering of rats, I know that there is time for change, if only they can accept it.

* * *

Spinning 'round, twirling, falling, rising, descending. A clockwork pantomime that portrays my every last secret. I can see it moving, the gently rolling fluctuations beneath the flesh of reality. They are mimicking me, my movements, my thoughts. An echo of an echo of my mind. Cattle. Sheep. Herd animals, waiting for the slaughter. Soon, they will be saved, but not by my hand. No... They will find a different savior, if they are wise enough to seek it, to know that it is there. But that is not today. Today is the beginning of a new phase in the cycle. Today, there is destruction, retribution, blood for blood spilled. They would slay my brothers. So be it. Vengeance upon them.

* * *

I am embraced, warm arms surrounding me, carrying me through this cold, dark night called day. He keeps me near, tells me the world around me, visions for one who cannot see. It is beautiful, the sound of his voice, and the images he brings with it. This is my world, my ear to his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of a heart beating for me. But he is afraid. He knows that peace will not remain for us. We are leaving. Soon. Silence is our key, and I know that his voice will be lost to me for so long. His hand gently strokes my hair, his breathing is steady. This is peace. This is my world. This is paradise.

* * *

I awaken. The shadows still embrace me, though I know not how. Her voice echoes in my mind, pleading with me to stay. She knows it is futile, that to stay is to embrace her death with my own. So I run. There is daylight, and I know I am safe. They refuse to strike when they would be caught, arrested, given charges that are there only in the imagination, pretending to be real so that the public won't complain. They grow more frequent. A protest group near the church, a lynching waiting to happen. I walk. They scream, they rant. I am handed a flyer, cheaply printed, detailing the gathering of this newest lynch mob. I walk. The paper floats to the bottom of the can.

* * *

Can't they see?! Blind goats, herded along like moo-cows, ready to be made into processed beef cakes and consumed by a ravenous public. Forgetful. Names, yes? Alfred. I like Alfred, because Alfred is I, is me. But you don't know that. You can't, because you're not here. Why are you listening? Go away. Nobody likes you... Nobody like me...

* * *

The city is burning, the immolation of a corpse long left to rot. Cremation isn't just for humanity. I hear the sirens, and I know. I felt the earth rumble, breathe a long-held sigh of relief. It's burning now, the flames lighting up the midnight sky as the sirens race to combat a blaze they'll never douse. Not until the sun's light. The news is screaming about it, and I turn the announcer down, a low whisper under the sound of a crackling heater. The neighbors are at it again, Bach at three am. It is soothing, and it matches the fireworks nicely. The flames reach for the sky, and for just a moment, I see God. The God within us all.

* * *

The train rattles into motion, tugging us along on our voyage from this hole. The noon lights shine in through shaded windows and cast doubt into our hearts. I see them all before me, packed into this little rail car. They are afraid, just like I am. Afraid to lose what matters most. Afraid to lose the magic within. They're ready, though. Ready to set the world free, and bring back an age long forgotten. We are prepared, for we are magi.