Both Roxy and Grace roared as they cast their spells simultaneously in an explosion of colors and dancing streams of light that made utter confetti of the loose papers and bed sheets alike.  Flashes of open flame, bitter snow flurries, and every possible shade of electricity blasted from the fingertips of each young enchantress and into all corners of the room, forming a violent tapestry of bolts and unfurling energy.

            Allen dove away from the direct line of fire and into the mattress, burrowing under blankets.  He covered his head, knowing how little of a difference this would make, and watched as the two squared off with all their might.  The possibility of racing through the conjured carnage to reach the call stone downstairs crossed his mind, but as the volume of dancing sparks increased, it occurred to him he’d be cut to ribbons or possibly transformed into an amphibian if he attempted to pass the line of fire.

            From both witch’s lips poured a limitless tongue-twister of varying spells and curses, or at least all the ones that could come to mind.  Grace’s declarations were screeched rapidly, almost sloppily but were made up for with power, while Roxy’s were more patient, quieter, and formulated conscientiously.  The latter’s emerald eyes glowed so brightly Allen could hardly stand to look in her direction, and Grace, in turn, seemed to have the sun blaring from the back of her head as she coiled her hands into fists and swung them about in air, sending a barrage of smaller crackling orbs between the ever-burning streams of the binding curses.

            These all popped like fireworks against Roxy’s legs, and though she flinched in pain, she held firm, smacking her hand to the side as though slapping her foe.  Instantly Grace reacted as if she’d been dealt a blow to the face with a block of wood, staggering backward and nearly delivering a serious case of whiplash as her head was forced to the side.

            That was when Allen, even through the blinding crossfire of rebounding curses, witnessed the twitch in Grace’s eye.  Something oddly familiar and bizarrely human to see glinting in the prodigy’s countenance.

            Doubt.

            There was a crack in the smug brat’s armor of unflinching confidence.  In a flash the younger enchantress had turned back to face her opponent, casually swiping aside a crackling follow-up bind that Roxy had instantly sent after the slap.  A grimace clawed its way into her lips, her carefree attitude jostled enough to let a little more of the real Grace come to the forefront.

            And that was when her fingers suddenly reached out for Allen, tethering him around the waist with a warm green light that made the eighteen-year-old mortal more tired than he’d felt in years.  He flopped over like a ragdoll as the girl pulled him from his defensive barrier of blankets.

            “Let go of him, you BITCH!” Roxy snarled. Slashing her clawed hand through the air, the tie between Grace and her miniaturized victim was easily severed, but this momentary distraction was all the powerful witch required as she released her grip on what was clearly intended as a dirty move rather than an actual attempt to retake Allen.

            Grace thrust her fist through the sputtering energy field.  Light cut across the space through all their ricocheting spells and buried itself in Roxy’s torso with an atomic light that forced Allen to avert his eyes.

            Crying out in surprise and loss of air, Roxy was flung backward into her room again, where she was slammed against the back wall and crumpled to the floor.  This time, she didn’t rise again.  Allen’s blood turned to ice.

            “Oops.  Hope that didn’t hurt too bad, Roxanne,” Grace gasped with feigned concern.  Turning back to Allen on the bed, she pressed her palm to his chest, scooping him back up and hugging him to her stomach as she clambered over the hole in the wall into Roxy’s bedroom next door.  “Especially since I kinda want you still awake and stuff for whatever I do next to you and your baby brother here.”

            On the ground, the purple-streaked brunette was struggling to reopen her eyes as she laid on the ground, still working through the full brunt of the prodigy’s walloping assault: clearly a specialty for the power-drunk sixteen-year-old.  She whimpered wearily.  A few lingering beams crackled like inchworms across Roxy’s tired body as she remained slumped in a heap next to her closet door.

            Allen felt such a mélange of rage, fear, and worry that he could hardly open his mouth, though the option was quickly put aside as Grace’s fingers snaked their way up higher onto his body, purposefully covering up his lips to prevent vocal rebellion as she tapped an index finger against his forehead again.  The shield around his body was siphoned away in the intervening seconds as she broke through to make him susceptible to her psychic tricks once again.

            Oddly, Allen could feel her hand quivering, as though she’d just been carrying a great deal of heavy weight.  Despite being the one still standing, she clearly had poured her all into that last cheat of a spell to put Roxy on the ground.

            An improbable but nonetheless faintly possible gambit of a move crossed Allen’s mind as Grace began to invade it once again.  A faint hope to get out of this with some of their dignity intact.

            The same cool, earthy sensation flooded his skull as the witch peered into his fragmented memories and emotions: a skill she herself admitted to not having mastered yet.  Focusing as never before, Allen blotted out all other senses of the world and began to create something.

            “I hate to leave the lil’ boy out of the games for too long, though,” Grace commented down to Roxy, who was watching helplessly as her brother was probed again for information by their attacker.  “So we’re gonna go to him for ideas this time.  It’s sort of like the humans’ lottery, except it ends with me playing with you both, and probably neither of you liking it very much.”

            Allen, for perhaps the first time in his life, allowed himself to break completely from reality, imagining something not only vividly, but with the absolute understanding in his own mind that it was real.  That nothing else was the truth.

            “Hmmm,” Grace sighed as she cycled through his brain, at last stopping on this newest emotion of determination that had fought through the others.  A smile crossed her weary lips.  “Clothes, huh?  For my dollies.  Right in there?”  Her eyes darted to the bedroom’s closet doors as she considered this invented option of Allen’s, unaware of its fiction.

            Roxy’s gaze whizzed between her brother and the doors.  Without changing her expression, she gave the tiniest nod of recognition in his direction, and flattened her palm unassumingly against the ground.

            “I think giving you two a nice little makeover will be the perfect place to start,” Grace simpered as she stalked toward the closet, her hand outstretched for the handle.  “Maybe we’ll finally put a nice skirt on Roxanne so she’ll look like a girl for once.”

            Rather than pulling the door open with a spell, Grace chose to do so physically: another sign, Allen could tell, of her weariness in this moment after the clash with Roxy.  His heart pounded, and he willed himself to think of one single image with ultimate clarity.

            The doors opened, and there was a blinding flash of white light as though a stun grenade had gone off in Grace’s face.  She yelped, defensively throwing herself back from the door, her hand releasing from around the doll-sized and unprotected Allen.  He tumbled through the air toward the ground below, but rather than meeting a messy impact, was caught on a materialized green pillow as Roxy grunted with the effort to simultaneously catch her sibling and give Grace just enough of a push to topple her into the engulfing trap spell Allen’s counterfeit thoughts had fooled her into activating.

            Forced to the ground under the weight of the all-encompassing magic bubble that had once innocently entrapped Allen in its claustrophobic and enchantment-free zone, Grace screamed, pounding her fists on the floor in hopes to break out.  Roxy’s immaculately plotted spell remained resilient, though, leaving her down for the count at last.

            “Good thinking, nerd,” Roxy breathed with exhaustion as she scooped her brother up and hugged him to her shoulder, running her fingers over his cheeks to ensure he hadn’t been harmed in the fall.  “Literally.”

            Unlikely as it was after the violence they’d just witnessed, Allen managed a relieved chuckle, and relaxed in her grip, hanging onto the purple-dyed strands of her hair for better support.

            Grace had given up on outright screaming, as the bubble dampened her voice anyway, and seemed merely to be sulking inside, attempting spell after exasperated spell only to find none of her skills were of any use in the older and more experienced witch’s defensive measures.

            “Is it okay if I request we don’t try to do anything else to her on our own?” Allen sighed as he and his sibling silently watched their fallen foe inside her wobbling blue energy cage.  “Not that I don’t have faith in your fancy pants moves, obviously, but if any more walls get knocked down today, Mom and Dad are never letting us leave the house again.”

            “Yeah, agreed,” Roxy deadpanned.

            “The call stone is down in the living room,” Allen said, not entirely sure of the proper protocol in situations involved magically-charged criminal activity.  Dialing up the police didn’t seem quite the correct option in these circumstances.  “Who do we call?  Just Mom and Dad?”

            “In a little while,” Roxy said after chewing it over.  She held out a hand and mouthed a spell, causing the gem-plated call stone to hover up the stairs and into the ravaged wreckage of a bedroom, where it plopped into her open palm.  “I think I have an even better idea first.”