Weren’t they always? Ever since she could remember, they had chased her kind. They’d stayed away when she was in her prime – she could have obliterated them with a wave of her hand, after all – but word had got out that her magic was weakening. It made her an easy target. It also made her an urgent target. Because soon she wouldn’t have any magic left for them to take. Aprestine slipped back into the shadows, pulling her cloak further above her head and trying not to shiver. It was beginning to rain, the first few drops spitting against her face like little needles of ice. Part of her was glad for the fortuitous change in weather; if the cold ocean wind wasn’t enough to send the magic catcher indoors for the night, perhaps the rain would. The wheels of the catcher’s cart clacked as it manoeuvred down the cobbled streets. From her position in the alley, she could only see its shadow, the only real giveaway it was there at all was the light swinging from side to side as the lantern that hung from the roof of the cart rocked back and forth in the winter breeze.
