Dystopian Magic
Prompt: In a world where magic is dying, the last remaining sorcerers are hunted by a ruthless empire determined to eradicate all traces of the arcane. You are a former member of the empire’s elite guard, now turned renegade after discovering your own latent magical abilities. Hunted by your former comrades and struggling t control your newfound powers, you stumble upon an underground network of rebels who believe you are the key to restoring magic to the world.
Entry: Main character is a man with a family. Society is split into dystopian hierarchies and those with magic are the bottom rung. Maybe they’re associated with the devil and believed to have sold their souls for their powers so they are shunned. Could tie in religious hypocrisy. Lots of bias and misinformation are used to keep this group suppressed. Then the main character discovers he has powers and his world changes.
His power should be significant and have some sort of political application. Mind reading and persuasion? He keeps it a secret for a while but eventually confides in friends and family / is cast out and hunted. He’ll learn about the types of magic that exist, that people in the government have magic, and that magic without government oversight is a threat to society.
There should also be some kind of brand for people who are known to have magic, to keep them in their caste.
His journey will be trying to fix the dynamics of society and reconnect with his family.
Trial scene - Visiting a strip club with coworkers and discovering ability.
We don’t often visit establishments like this but the recent productivity boost meant raises, and that means celebrating. We keep it classy at least:" no getting sloppy drunk, no taking it out of the bar, no talking about it tomorrow.
Ed and Clarence take off for their seats at center stage while I go to the bar for a drink. The prole behind the counter is very pretty in spite of the tattoo marring her smooth pale face. She gives me a wink and leans over to ask, “what are we drinking tonight?”
She certainly knows how to work her audience. Her striking grey eyes look me up and down approvingly and I chuckle, aware she’s just earning her tips. Still, the attention feels good.
“A whiskey neat, please,” I reply, dropping my card on the bar. “You can leave that open.” For a split second I perceive a strong dislike of me, and I glance at her face to catch what I assume will be a scoff. Her expression hasn’t changed, though. If anything, she appears to be more blatant in her flirting. I shake off the feeling, take my drink with a thanks, and head over to join the guys.
“Augustus! You’ve been gone too long! This doll’s time is almost up and damn can she dance. I hope the girl at the bar was worth your time,” Ed grins wickedly at me and returns his attention to the girl on the stage. He’s right, she is talented. His eyes, and the eyes of every other official in the room, burn with desire as they watch her move.
I enjoy the show but can’t forget the odd feeling I had at the bar. I keep glancing over my shoulder to watch her as she pours drinks. The more I stare, the more I catch in her actions, her tone with customers, her facial expressions. There doesn’t appear to be anything off, but she radiates rage. None of the other patrons seem to notice, but I felt it so potently that I couldn’t look away. Then I hear a loud “FUCKING PIG” ring in my head and I jump.
“Gus, what’s up? Getting antsy? It’s early still but I bet we could find you a girl.” Ed says this without taking his eyes off the stage.
“Nah, I just need another drink.” I slam my whiskey, get up, and head cautiously over to the bar. I’m not sure how, but I think that I just heard the bartender’s thoughts. I have to see for myself if she’s having trouble with a customer.
I approach the counter and hear a slurred “-bet you could dance like that if you got up there,” from an older gentleman whose face registers clear intoxication. She smiles blandly and turns to grab a glass. At this movement, he reaches over the bar to snag a fistful of her shirt and jerk her roughly back, pressing himself against her.
“I said I want to see you dance,” He rasps.
I hear a very clear “I will fucking KILL you” in my mind as I step forward to intervene.
“Hey, sir, let’s leave her to do her job, huh?” I reach for his arm but he doesn’t turn to look at me.
“What you don’t want to see her up there? She looks like a good ti-” He cuts off his sentence as he turns to look me in the eye. He releases her with a robotic, emotionless gesture, and sits back down with his drink without a word.
I look bewildered over at the girl but see her watching me with a guarded, shrewd expression.
She manages a quiet “thank you” and disappears into the back, inviting no further discussion. I stand watching her go and return to my seat, feeling as if I’ve done something wrong but unsure of what.
