Name: Marc Moshcatel
Title: END OF MAGIC
Genre: MG Fantasy
Word Count: 29K
My Main Character’s Most Fearsome Obsession is:
My MC is obsessed with never unsealing his ship’s cargo—crates which contain all the magic of the kingdoms. If he opens them, daunting magical power will be at his fingertips, but he knows it will only drive him to corruption.
Twelve-year-old Denry dreams of learning at the elites-only Academy, but in reality he’s a peasant who spends his days with only his imaginary friend, sweeping streets of rubble caused by the magic war. When the battling kingdoms agree to outlaw magic due to the excessive destruction it’s caused on both sides, all of it is physically stowed in crates aboard a secret ship. Always curious, Denry is caught spying on the vessel.
He’s given an opportunity to gain elite status, if he’ll become captain for the ship’s perilous mission. With no one else willing to go near the ill-fated destination, Denry must sail to the dark land of Rothsos and dump the magic there, where it will never be found.
Joined by his imaginary friend as well as a dethroned king, he traverses the ocean and fends off those who seek all the magic for themselves. The weeks are filled with venomous sea monsters and ruthless pirates, and to worsen matters, someone or something already on the ship is trying to steal the cargo for itself. Denry must uncover the truth and find a way to Rothsos before he and his crew are slain.
The guard’s gaze was glued on me. He stood at the golden gate of the Academy a few paces away, watching me sweep the rubble in front of the school for the past half hour. The road was cleared well enough, so I pretended to clean the edges. He saw right through my act.
“Scram, wretch,” he said, standing taller to be more threatening. “The rest of the town needs sweeping too.”
“I’m not done here yet,” I lied.
He laid a hand on the sword at his side. “I said scram. Need I remind you again?”
I hesitated, retreating a step and a half, but leaving altogether wasn’t an option. I turned to Ilister, who was sitting on a hunk of war debris I’d cleared away. He wasn’t sweating like I was.
“Stay for now, Denry,” he whispered.
“How? He’s going to chase me away.”
“That’s not your fault. It’s the cursed silence.” He glanced at the sky, expecting glowing magic to streak across the horizon like it used to do. “The guard usually never pays attention to you but it’s so quiet today. He’s got nothing else to hear.”
“Just like the past few days.” Why was there silence, anyway? What happened to the shrieks of magic missiles soaring overhead, explosions, buildings being magically rebuilt? There was nothing now. “What should we do, Ilister?”
“Who are you talking to?” the guard asked. He squinted at the pile of rubble Ilister was sitting on, snorting in distaste. “There’s no one there.”