He tasted magic in the air. It never got stronger, but steadier, like a beating pulse. He followed it, running. Through the park. Over two monitor lizards. And then it ended.
The taste ended at the water’s edge, and he knew he was too late. He thrust his hand into the algae-covered water anyway, a black hand at odds with his tanned skin.
Here, they called out to him, and he dived.
When he pulled her out, she was blue and cold. But her heart still beat. And when she coughed, the moon shone in her eyes.
The magic yet lived.