Title: Right
Character(s): Young Magnus, brief mentions of insignificant characters
Rating: PG, for dark mood and some slightly sacrilegious content
Word Count: 184
Disclaimer: Don't own Magnus. Don't own CC's ideas.
Summary: This wasn't right, right? (Wrong.) Young Magnus drabble.
A/N: Writing is my medicine.
Shortest thing I've written to date. Um… yay?
Only took me 15 minutes or so, so it's pretty lame.
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Everything's right. Everything's perfect.
That's all that Magnus can think as he concentrates, as he feels the light spreading out to dance in his palms for the first time, a swirling mass of blue glory. It calms his muscles, tense from the cold of the room where he spends his time in punishment. He wonders how he ever resisted, ever held himself back from the truth; nobody wants him, nobody needs him, it's all gone to hell.
Or, rather, he's going to Hell.
Whatever.
He can taste the power on his tongue. He can almost scent the blueness of it. It's everywhere, spreading throughout his body, the room, the world. He thinks of the people - the sad ladies, the angry men, the mean boys, and he wonders if they can taste it too. If they have any idea what their hatred is bringing about; his own.
Sitting in the darkness of the cellar, Magnus Bane watches the magic glow between his hands and thinks of what the man at the church said to him of the Dark Powers. This wasn't right, right?
(Wrong.)