Utopia

Willa had been taught all her life, what an oddity that she was. It wasn't told to her as a bad thing, but it was still something that she had to hide. The four aspects of magic had never been ones that mixed well. It was a fact that her uncle and the boys had tried to teach her, though she hadn't learned the lesson very well. She seemed to have this addiction to knowing about the others. And more than just knowing academically.

The first rule she had been taught was to avoid hunters at all costs. Most hunters were human hunting anything with magic. Few of them distinguished between the different magic users. They were all the same. It was a sad cliche that humans tended to stick to. There were a few, however, who had learned to categorize and tell the difference between the different magic-users. Most of those had gained a kind of sensitivity to magic that made them dangerous to any that they hunted.

It was hard to hide from someone who could feel your magic.

The most dangerous hunters, though, were the Necromancers. From what she knew of the magical history, they had been mocked for centuries as simple casters and wizards with only one trick. She wasn't sure who had changed that conception, no one was, but sometime during the middle ages, they had become something else entirely. Able to speed and slow time along with raising the dead from the grave, Necromancers had spread their magic into another aspect entirely. They were no longer just wizards but humans, sorcerers and whoever else could get their hands on the rare spells and rituals that made the Necromancers what they were. No one was entirely sure what all they could do. Not even she knew. Peter had always been tight lipped when it came to his own magic.

After them most counted either the humans (in part for their passion and lack of discretion) or the Half-Breeds as the more dangerous of the hunters. Most Half-Breeds didn't care who they hurt. Either from a more sane sense of vengeance or a poison induced madness from their blood, Half-Breeds tended to hate all other magic-users. And who could blame them when their own bodies could turn against them. It was a delicate balance that kept the half-wizard and half-sorcery beings alive and functioning. Willa had always been most fascinated by them. In a world where everything had its order, they were out of place.

Just like she was.

The sorcerers and the wizards were the same. Both hunting the other. No one could remember why they had gone to war anymore. All they knew was that both sides had suffered because of it. The wizards had once been able to preform great feats of magic with a single spell or intent. Now they were limited. Most of their magic had been lost or reduced to its simplest forms leaving them with only certain spells and potions that they could actually use in any form of safety. That lose had come as revenge for what the wizards had done to the sorcerers. There had once been a time when the Guardian Angels who protected the sorcerers had not been necessary. There had once been a time when the sorcerers could heal themselves and access any element they so chose. Then the wizards had stripped that from them binding their magic for no one knew how long anymore and limiting their power so severely that they had been hunted almost to extinction. A group of angels, to protect the magical balance from being destroyed, had vowed to protect each generation until a counter-spell or healing potion of some kind could be found to give both magics their full power back.

Willa spoke the lesson calmly, explaining every word as she watched the hunters face. "So you do already know all of that?" she asked arching an eyebrow. "That makes me wonder what you are than. You're not like your brothers. I can't feel any magic in you, but you know about us. You know better than most of us."

The hunter shrugged,his body seeming to relax as he watched the four of them. "So? I learned what my little brothers were early, just like any good brother would," he reasoned with a shrug.

Stephen shook his head. "It's more than that," the Guardian insisted.

"What does it matter?" the hunter insisted. "Give me the girl and we can part ways happily. Does that sound fair to everyone?"

"Not particularly," Alex growled softly.

Sighing the hunter shook his head. "Have it your way." Raising a crossbow, he took aim and fired a bolt straight at Katrina.