Irony
Bartimaeus was gone. I dismissed him to the wicked swamp of horrors were demons reside.
…I wished him well.
I wished a deceitful, wicked, disloyal dem... djinni well.
What the hell? Everything that I believed was in tatters. What happens if I wished a loyal servant… close to a friend, well? Irony.
The arch demon Nouda approached. I started the incantations. Breaking the staff's binding spells.
The Staff. Gladstone's legacy. My childhood hero's legacy. Ten long years have taught me one thing: There were no hero magicians. There were only cruel and mighty magicians. Lovelace's words echoed though my head.
A strange dying thought.
"…" I am dying. I promised kitty I will see her again.
I sigh. Another promise broken. What do have in this world? When it spins, when it sworls, when it whorls? Another broken promise.
I complete the incantations. The demons sense the end nearing. The staff vibrated. The demons whispered wicked things in my ear.
They told me to end it.
Nouda approached; blinded by rage and pain, he didn't see his end. His physical form; the traitor Makepeace distorting, revealing its essence. The very reason he was in this world. Another Irony.
The Staff was reaching critical mass. I was about to destroy the destroyer of Gladstone's legacy with his very Staff. Destroying it in the process.
Profound irony. I'm sure the grand old man is crackling in hell.
My strength ebbs. I bang the staff on my knee; it shatters into dust. One of the greatest magical weapons of all time is revealed for what it is: a strip of termite ridden wood.
For this we die?
Blinding light… as if of… heaven.
The power of the staff cascades towards Nouda. It hits him; I took savage pleasure in his end. The Magic exploded outwards.
Can't anyone see
the irony?
Can't anyone see the irony? Laugh
…
Third Drabbish fic in a row.