[ WP ] You are a real magician who has made a living convincing the world you are the best illusionist alive . Recently , you performed a inexplicable trick and people are starting to catch on .

No one believes in real magic when it's staring them in the face. Gods and miracles, sure, you can believe in that. But as soon as someone sees real magic; the kind of magic that sparks through your bones and sets your blood alight, suddenly it doesn ’ t exist. Suddenly their brain has to find a rational explanation for whatever they just saw. 
 
 A rabbit can ’ t just be pulled from a hat, there must have been a hole in the table. 
 
 There's no way the assistant in the skimpy, sparkly suit just disappeared, she must have gone through a trap door. 
 
 People only believed in the type of magic that seemed too impossible, too extreme. 
 
 It ’ s how I made my living for so long. By selling magical shows under the guise of illusions. No one thought i was a real wizard. Four years of magical education just to spend it showing cheap, ‘ explainable ’ tricks to non-believers. It wasn ’ t much of a surprise when one day I snapped. 
 
 Imagine you had a near never ending supply of magic at your fingertips - that you could create storms from thin air and topple countries, if the magical council didn ’ t have their wands stuck so far up their robbed asses - and you were reduced to sawing your assistant in half over and over and over again. 
 
 On the night of my last show of the year, hundreds of people had lined up outside my theatre for hours to see the greatest illusionist alive. Backstage, I pulled a small lump of clay, and set it on one of the prop tables. It oozed and spat as I pointed my oak wand at it and muttered ‘ reformabit lutum ’, my face pinched in disgust. 
 
 The clay began to rise and form, colouring and solidifying as my assistant ’ s naked shape grew from the lump. 
 
 ‘ Go get dressed, ’ I said, stuffing my wand back into my robes, ‘ you're on in 5. ’ She jumped down from the table, careful not to get too close to me and scampered off to the changing room. Golems may have been disgusting, but they didn ’ t have to be paid and had no choice to obey their creator, which was the only reason I kept them around. 
 
 I could hear the hear the excited babble of the audience as they trickled in and found their seats. Simple magic didn ’ t give me the same rush as it had when I had first started out, but hell if I was n't going to give them a show. 
 
 I tacked a charming smile onto my face and stepped out onto the stage. 
 
 *** 
 
 ‘ Master, I don ’ t think the council will be happy about this, ’ my golem assistant said, careful to avoid my billowing robes as we rushed off stage. 
 
 ‘ You don ’ t think I know that? ’ I snapped. I flicked my wand at her and she dissolved into a pile of clay that I hastily stuffed into one of my many pockets. 
 
 The awe inspired whispers as I performed my final trick had grow into a full blown panic as the top half of the layered theatre seemed to realize that the bottom few hundred weren ’ t coming back. If only they knew how similar the spell to disappear and the spell for disintegration were. 
 
 But they didn ’ t, and they would n't, as their puny, insignificant minds tried process what I had done. 
 
 I stuffed as much as I could into my extendable robes and banished the rest of my things to a secret pocket dimension. I ’ d get them back when this had all blown over. If it ever did. One thing people seem to accept less than they did magic, was when someone accidentally murders half an audience of arguably innocent people. 
 
 To my credit, they did die spectacularly. They ’ ll be cleaning that theatre of colourful human glitter for weeks. 
 
 The council weren ’ t going to like this.
