Wes, who used to be a library

With a flick of the wrist or flash of a reflective vest, the Highway Magician can safely stroll across busy motorways and interstates with ease and grace. Highway Magicians are constantly in demand by construction companies and transportation departments for the ease at which they can manipulate tar and concrete. However, few take up that calling for very long, as many prefer traveling great distances on waves of asphalt over the countryside. What excitement is there in assisting a contractor to build a roadway two months faster and thousands of dollars cheaper, when there's an entire world to see? As the saying goes, "Open roads are better than closed cubicles."

Notable Highway Magicians include:

• The Autobahn Apparition, who flies by with such speed that nobody is sure what they witnessed
• Rogue 66, who hides from law enforcement beneath the roadway and inside bridge decks
• The Roman, a leader and mentor in the community that all Highway Magicians get acquainted with eventually
• The Solid Stripes, a collection of apprentices who practice the craft by fixing small neighborhood potholes and repairing cracks in concrete driveways
• Guardrail, a protector and advocate for Highway Magicians across the world

The day the world ended, I was 16 years old, and sitting at a table in a Waffle House.

Nobody knew exactly how it was supposed to happen. Nuclear war? Asteroid? A sudden cessation of all life? Regardless of the impending end, I was determined to see it through while enjoying my plate of hash browns (scattered, smothered, and covered as always) and with my writing notebook out on the table. Being published was a dream for a later date, one when I would finally be convinced that my scribbles were worth something.

But then again, it was supposed to be the end of the world. It was marked on the calendar, after all. No more days followed this one. If I was lucky, future alien archeologists would find my corpse and decipher my ancient texts. And, like I do today, they would recognize the inexperienced wordsmithing of an anxious adolescent with big worlds stuffed into his small head.

The world never really did end that day, though. Things have kept moving forward as they always have, and yet another doomsday prophesy was left in the dust. If the world really does end, I'd still choose to enjoy one last plate of Waffle House hashbrowns, scattered, smothered, and covered. If I'm feeling adventurous, maybe I'll get them chunked, too.

"The initial assault was a score of thunderclaps followed by a great sound of rock splitting and shattering, underscored by a faint, collective shouting of the citizenry. I thanked what gods were listening that our ship had paused the evening prior instead of pushing through the night. After forcefully dispelling the magics holding the city together, the assailants retreated in full haste, not bothering to take notice of our Seashackle-flagged vessel levitating in the sky below them. It was all for the better; everyone from the cabin-youths to the captain was awestruck that the rebels followed through with their treasonous plots. The city was doomed to fall from the air and into the sea, and all the souls on board bound for a waterlogged grave.

"The magics holding the city aloft were sufficient to keep the earthen mass afloat for another hour or so. Once our initial daze had passed, the captain ordered the ship at full speed for rescue efforts. Despite the overdriven engines, the space between us and the city closed all too slowly. Debris had begun falling as half of the city failed first, splitting the land in two. Rock, building, cobble, animal, person - it was all impossible to tell what was what from afar. We landed with a hard thud in what remained of a small town square and threw open the doors for the panicked townsfolk. Evacuees overloaded the docks in an attempt to board what vessels still remained at port. Those who could fly of their own accord, whether by magic, wings, or other means, had already fled with whatever they could carry.

"At least a hundred souls clung to our small ship as we departed. It lurched in protest as the arcane mechanisms pushed us up from the shuddering ground. I assisted in directing the sails as always; the crowd collectively shouted in surprise as the wind erupted from my hands. There was no space to maneuver properly. We took the easiest course that I and my fellow aerothurges could manage without our usual space to work. The evacuees who were able to look out over the edges cried out in distraught agony as our collective home crumbled below us. My subordinate, Truestin, described it to me as watching clumps of damp sand slip between your fingers.

"We landed on a nearby mesa to provide the ship with rest and assess our next steps. Scores of ships were resting nearby as well. Captain Klaine and First Mate Wren conferred with the others and set a course for Avis, as that city had made its way only two days flight away for trade. Wren and other winged persons took an advanced flight ahead of the ships to parlay with Avis and prepare for the receiving of refugees. Four ships, including ours, remained behind in an attempt to rescue any that survived the fall. Alas, as the sun goes down tonight on our fourth night of searching, the only things we have found are broken bodies and lost hope."

-Chief Aerothurge Winslow Bragorio of the Gold Heron