Felluck: The Curse of Fortune

The morning sun crept over the horizon, its golden rays illuminating the ruins of a once-bustling city. Felix stood amidst the devastation, his bare feet crunching against broken glass and ash-covered debris. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and death, yet an eerie silence enveloped the world around him.

He tightened his fists, his knuckles turning white as flashes of the previous night flickered in his mind-screams, fire, chaos. His heart raced, but it wasn't fear that consumed him; it was a heavy, gnawing guilt.

Felix had always been special. Born in the small city of Greystone, he had grown up under the shadow of tragedy. His mother had died giving him life, and though his father and siblings tried to fill the void, the air around him always seemed heavy with loss. Over the years, Felix had discovered his innate talent for magic-a gift that made him revered by some and envied by others. It was as if the universe bent itself to his will. He could conjure, manipulate, and create with ease. Yet, for every marvel he performed, something dark lingered in its wake.

People close to him often met untimely ends. Friends disappeared without a trace; loved ones were struck by inexplicable misfortune. Felix tried to ignore the pattern, convincing himself it was coincidence. But now, standing in the heart of the ruined city-the only survivor-he couldn't escape the truth.

The faces of his family flashed before him. His father's warm smile, his siblings' laughter. They were gone. All of them. And he had no one left to blame but himself. Deep down, Felix knew that the destruction wasn't caused by raiders or invaders, as the scorch marks and shattered homes might suggest. No, it was something far worse. It was him.

A cold wind swept through the streets, carrying with it the distant sound of something stirring-a reminder that the world outside still moved on. Felix took a deep breath, his jaw tightening with determination. Whatever had been unleashed within him, whatever force had driven him to this moment, he would find a way to master it. And he would make the ones who had pushed him to this brink-those who had hurt his family, his city-pay. Even if it meant facing the monster inside himself.

The burnt remnants of Greystone's market stalls provided little cover as Felix crouched low, his heart pounding in his chest. The guttural laughter of the pillagers echoed through the ruined streets. They were close-too close. He pressed his back against a half-collapsed wall, clutching his staff as he strained to hear their movements.

"Fan out! If anyone survived, we'll find them," a gravelly voice barked.

Felix's breath hitched. He couldn't let them find him. Not now. Not after everything. He tightened his grip, a flicker of wild magic sparking faintly at his fingertips. He wanted to fight, but his power was as unpredictable as the wind. If he wasn't careful, he might make things worse.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer. A shadow passed over him, and before Felix could react, a strong hand wrenched him up by his collar.

"Got one!" the bandit snarled, dragging him into view.

Felix struggled, panic surging as three more pillagers closed in. One of them-a tall, scarred man wielding a jagged blade-grinned cruelly.

"Well, well. Looks like we missed a rat."

Felix's mind raced. He needed a way out. His hands trembled, but he managed to whisper the incantation for Silvery Barbs. The jagged blade's wielder raised his sword, but as he swung, his strike faltered, the blade clattering harmlessly to the ground.

"What the-?" the bandit cursed, confusion in his eyes.

Felix didn't waste the opportunity. The chaotic energy surged within him, and he vanished in a blink of shimmering light, reappearing twenty feet away thanks to Misty Step.

"He's a mage!" one of the pillagers shouted.

Felix turned and sprinted through the rubble, his pulse hammering. Behind him, angry cries erupted as the bandits gave chase. He flung out his hand, muttering the words for Darkness, and a swirling cloud of impenetrable black enveloped the alleyway. He heard curses and the sound of bodies colliding as the pillagers stumbled blindly.

Still running, Felix's wild magic surged again, unbidden this time. A strange crackling energy built up around him, and he felt the pull of chaos just below the surface. His hand instinctively shot forward, releasing a Chaos Bolt into the air. The magic lashed out in a streak of green and violet, striking a pile of debris and sending it crashing down to block the path behind him.

For a moment, silence fell. Felix stopped to catch his breath, hidden behind a crumbling building. His chest heaved as the adrenaline wore off, but his mind remained sharp. He had escaped for now, but he knew the bandits would regroup. He couldn't rely on luck alone.

"I'll survive," he muttered, staring at his sparking hands. "I have to."

Felix crouched behind a crumbling stone wall, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His side still ached from the fresh wound he had barely managed to bandage, but the pain was nothing compared to the guilt gnawing at him. He had failed once already. Failed to stop the pillagers from destroying his home. Failed to protect anyone he cared about.

But then, a scream pierced the silence, sharp and desperate.

His heart skipped. He knew that voice. He'd know it anywhere.

"Lila..." he whispered, dread rising like bile in his throat. Slowly, carefully, he peered over the edge of the wall.

There she was-Lila, her auburn hair wild and tangled, her wrists bound as she struggled against the grip of two rough-looking pillagers. She was dragged toward a group of captives tied to a wagon, their faces hollow with fear.

"Let me go!" Lila shouted, her voice defiant despite her tear-streaked face.

The leader of the pillagers, a towering man with a scar slashing across his face, sauntered toward her, his cruel grin gleaming in the firelight.

"Well, now. You've got some fight in you," he said, tilting her chin up with the edge of his blade. "Pretty, too. The nobles will pay a fortune for you." He turned to his men. "Put her with the others. We leave at dawn."

Felix's fingers dug into the stone beneath him. His stomach churned as he watched the men drag Lila toward the wagon. He should do something. He had to. But the memory of his last attempt burned in his mind-magic misfiring, the pain of steel slicing into his side.

His hands trembled. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't good enough.

A part of him whispered to stay hidden, to wait for the pillagers to leave and hope for another chance to rescue her later. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from Lila's face-the same face that had once smiled at him on quiet afternoons by the riverbank, the same face that had always lit up with laughter when she teased him for his clumsy magic.

He closed his eyes, the weight of guilt and fear crushing him. "What would she do if it were me?" he muttered.

The answer was clear. She wouldn't hesitate.

Felix exhaled sharply, his resolve hardening. He had to try, even if it meant failing again.

He crept closer, weaving through the rubble with painstaking care. The bandits were preoccupied, laughing and boasting about their loot. Felix's heart thundered as he positioned himself behind a collapsed cart, his hand tightening around his staff.

He whispered the incantation for Silent Image, conjuring an illusion of another Felix sprinting out from behind a nearby wagon.

"Over here!" the illusion shouted, its voice echoing in the night.

The pillagers turned, startled, and chaos erupted. Some charged after the illusion, while others barked orders in confusion. Felix took the moment of distraction to focus on Lila, who was now bound and seated among the other captives.

His hands trembled as he whispered another spell, this time summoning Mage Hand to untie the ropes binding her wrists. He saw Lila's eyes widen as the spectral hand worked quickly, but just as she was about to slip free, a shout rang out.

"There's the real one!"

Felix's blood ran cold. A bandit lunged toward him, and he barely managed to conjure a Shield spell in time to deflect the blow. The force sent him stumbling backward, and pain flared in his injured side.

"Run, Lila!" he shouted, casting Chaos Bolt toward the bandit. The wild energy struck true, sending the attacker sprawling, but the spell's chaos surged unexpectedly. A sudden burst of harmless sparks erupted around him, drawing the attention of the entire camp.

More pillagers closed in. Felix cast Misty Step, reappearing near Lila, but another blow caught him in the leg as he tried to shield her. He stumbled, his strength failing.

"Felix, no!" Lila cried as she was dragged away by two pillagers.

Felix gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. "I'll come for you!" he shouted, pain lacing his voice as he limped toward the shadows.

In the quiet of the forest, Felix collapsed against a tree, his body battered and his spirit weighed down by failure. But as he wrapped his wounds with trembling hands, his resolve only grew stronger.

Felix collapsed in a secluded grove outside the city's ruins, his breaths ragged and uneven. His tunic was soaked with blood, but he refused to give in to despair. Drawing on the knowledge he'd absorbed from countless books, he gathered medicinal herbs and used his Shape Water cantrip to cleanse the wound.

He ground the herbs into a paste and applied it carefully, grimacing as the sting jolted through him. He wrapped the injury with torn strips of cloth and leaned against a tree, willing himself to rest. Long rest "Regain all spells slots"

This wasn't over. He'd heal. He'd regroup. And he'd track them to the ends of the earth if he had to. Lila was counting on him.

The trail of wagon wheels and hoofprints would lead him to their hideout. And when he found them, he would make sure they paid for everything they'd done.