The first time you could do magic was incredible...it wrapped around your shoulders and enveloped your head like warm water in a bath. It dulled every emotion, thought, and feeling, blurred away all but the rush of power coming from the tips of your fingers, up your arms and into your mind. With nothing but the flick of your eyes houses shattered into a rain of clutter, trees burst into billions of shards. Rivers run red with the blood of the creatures unable to stay whole from the pressure of the pounding waves. Streets ran red from those who were unable to flee quick enough. Birds bursting feathers and blood like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

The first time you could do magic was incredible. It was declared the day of red to those who survived. The barren land that once was home stained red, unable to be washed away by rain or misplaced memories. Your story of magic and the fear it caused scarred into minds of witnesses and the like. Never to be forgotten and always to be shared. The first time you used magic was incredible, but it’s a good thing it was also the last.