It Began in a Tavern - Official Legacy Roleplay (Part 2)

Luxuria

Edgy McEdgeface
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ETA - As of August, 2025 - The GM of this roleplay is @ps102

***

Welcome to the Round Robin Roleplay game, It Began In A Tavern.

This thread is only for entries into the official story. Please post all comments and questions to the OOC thread.



Please remember each post must be between 300 and 1,500 words. Only members who have had their characters approved by the GM may post. Once approved, you name will be added to the rotation below.


There is room for 7 players in the game. Following the first post below, the order of writing is:

1. @ps102
2. @Louanne Learning
3. @SoulFire / @IgnitedxSoul
4.
5.
6.
7.
 
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Audiences with the Queen irritated Barnabas. Not only was Her Majesty a poor listener, she had strange ideas. “Controlling time is a worthwhile endeavor,” Melina said. “But more importantly, I must beat Gamma.”

Hemios was quick to jump in and support his idol. “The entire Alphabet Society is a scourge,” he averred.

“Come, now,” Barnabas put in, “let’s stay focused. We must recover the fragments.”

Melina continued with her own agenda. “I have dispatched Araspeth,” she said, with a roll of her eyes, “—but I do not put full confidence in her. I want you two on the case.”

“How so?” Barnabas asked.

“Go to Cliffcross. Bring me the head of the one who threatens me.”

“And the fragments?” Hemios asked.

“Those, too.”

Hemios and Barnabas exchanged glances. “I fear it must be,” Barnabas admitted, in a surrendering tone.

He and Hemios exited. Their footfalls echoed in the stone hallway, and then Hemios said, “The scriptures warn against such an expedition.”

Barnabas lightly laughed. “Better you should put your faith in logic and reason.”

“And be like you?” Hemios grumbled. “Have you no guiding principles? Nothing bigger than you?”

“Like what? Faith in an ancient text?”

“Sacrilege! But, being the open-minded person I am, I will not report you.”

Barnabas grinned. “The sooner you learn that it is all science, even your magic, the better off you will be.”

***

The woods were dense, but the bridle-path well-travelled. The horses of Hemios, Barnabas, and two stolid guards, trotted in the green, without much conversation, but some.

“I will do whatever it takes to gain the Queen’s favor,” Hemios said.

Barnabas rolled his eyes. “And what do you owe to yourself?”

“I am a gnat in her presence.”

“Well … even the gnat yearns to survive.”

Near sunset, ready to camp, they spied a fire’s smoke, and nodded in agreement that they should investigate. They came up to the small encampment. Two men in leathers and a middle-aged woman with hair severely pulled back looked up with curiosity as the four envoys of the Queen halted their horses.

The one man rose and announced, “I am Nalki, we want no trouble.”

“It’s not trouble we bring to you,” Hemios replied.

Barnabas squinted at the woman, unmistakable even in the firelight, and his breath caught in his throat. “Dusca,” he said, “is that you?”

***

Dusca stood, and effected a brave face. An anger such as she had never known seized her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing her true feelings. “Hello, Barnabas,” she said. “Life has been good to you?”
 
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The forest was so dark, Olive could barely see where she was going, but decided to trust Katara to follow the road ahead. But then, the other woman brought her horse to a halt.

“Do we keep riding or find a place to rest?”

“I am not sure,” Olive admitted, glancing behind her the best she could. Ravenna had fallen asleep some time ago, which might have been the best for her. “I don’t feel an inn is safe, but camping in the woods is not something I wish to risk.”

“Do we keep riding?” Katara asked, glancing at the stars overhead.

“No,” Olive couldn’t do that. Her legs, and behind were hurting. “But maybe…”

“What?”

“We could find an abandoned cabin or maybe a mage citadel would take us as pilgrims for a night.”

“No,” Katara did not want to use a mage citadel- where knowledge was kept for a town and rooms given to the weary. “It’s too risky. Besides, you are the only one who could enter. It is not a place for poets or… her.”

“True,” Olive wished she had a better idea, but couldn’t think of any. “But I don’t think sta—“

She heard something to her right and before Olive could search for her dagger, an old woman appeared, lantern in hand. She was dressed in a worn green dress and had a faded blue scarf over her head to cover her hair. “Excuse me. I don’t wish to frighten you.”

“Who are you?” Katara demanded, pointing her blade at the lady. She wasn’t going to kill her, but would leave a mark if this woman did anything funny. “How did you—“

“I am Alua of the Silent Woods,” the old woman continued, backing away from the dagger. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. But we must get off the road. I sense danger.”

“And how are you doing that?” Katara was too tired for guesses at this point.

“Ah, I know this forest. The trees, they speak to me. For I am an Earth Mage- banished, yes. But my connection has never faded.”

Katara was silent a moment before putting away her weapon. “Okay. We’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure?” Olive asked and she nodded.

“Show us the way.”

“I shall,” Alua smiled and began to slowly walk through the trees. Katara nudged her horse to follow and soon, they came to a small wooden cabin. Just like one Olive hoped to find abandoned. “It’s not much, but feel free to rest for the night.”

“What about our pursuers?” Olive asked, glancing into the forest.

“These trees will protect you,” Alua reassured her. “The paths change. The rocks and fungi move of their own will. Those following you shall be turned around and around until daybreak.”

“Thank you,” Olive said before asking Katara for help. Ravenna was still resting on her shoulder with her arms around Olive’s waist. After a few minutes of figuring out how to get free without sending the other to the ground, Olive dismounted. Then, helped Katara get the other down and into the house.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Alua said as she lit the candles in the small one-room cabin.

Olive thanked her again and went to get the bedrolls from the horses. There were only two now, though. The other lost when they rushed from the campsite. So, Olive gave one to Katara and placed a blanket over Ravenna before tucking into bed.
 
The sun was just starting to set upon the Wooden Ladle. Soon, the place would fill with farmers, mill workers, and drunkards. Araspeth planned on taking advantage of the emptiness of the early evening. She wanted to make as little of an audience as possible—the minimized paperwork was only a slight bonus.

Araspeth entered the tavern with an entourage of guards. Their prior arrest ended in the sudden death of one of her municipal mages, so she made mitigated as many risks as she could this time. They stormed in and were met with an impatient woman Araspeth did not recognize. “I have a warrant for the arrest of the impudent brat who interfered in the official act of detaining Roman Demid!” Araspeth shouted.

At the wooden counter, the woman, with a puzzled look, peered up from her tally sheet. “You mean—you mean Olive?”

Araspeth raised her chin. “The very one. Bring her to me.”

The barmaid looked around the empty tavern. “She isn’t here.”

Anger flared through Araspeth. Insolence, everywhere she turned. She approached the bar slowly, her hand rested upon the hilt of her sword. “You certainly wouldn’t want to be charged with harboring a fugitive now, would you? Once we could believe was a misunderstanding, maybe you truly didn’t know Roman Demid—though I doubt it—but twice you’re starting to show a pattern.”

A look of utter disdain passed through the woman’s face before falling away. “Like I said, she isn’t here. I’m trying to prepare so we can open tonight. If you wouldn’t mind, get on out of here. You’ll scare off our patrons.”

Araspeth raised a hand and snapped a finger. Her guards all stood at attention, their armor clanging with the sudden movement. “Search the tavern, head to toe. Leave no stone unturned.” The men all set out in different directions. Two of the guards set off up the stairs into the main living area and Araspeth relished the look of worry that flashed in the woman’s eyes.

Araspeth placed her hands shoulder width apart on the table and leaned down to be eye level with the barmaid. “What’s your name?” She asked.

“Dusca,” the woman said.

“When we find Olive—and I do mean when, not if—I’ll come for you next, Dusca. You’ll have the honor of seeing the girl’s head on a pike as I drag you to a cell.”

There was a muffled rush of steps coming back down the stairs. One guard, out of breath, stuttered out. “High Priestess, there are three young women fleeing on horseback. One of them matches the description of our fugitive.”

Araspeth cursed and slammed her fist on the bartop which cracked and splintered. “Go, after them!”

The guards set off immediately. Araspeth hesitated a moment, her eyes piercing into Dusca. “Expect to see me again.” Then Araspeth followed suite out of the tavern.

By the time they had all mounted their horses and set off down the path, the young women were out of sight. All that remained was a cloud of dust kicked up by their horses lingering in the air. They raced ahead anyway, following the main path. Araspeth scanned the woods and riverbank along the way. If the women did break free of the path, she would not miss them. She couldn’t, not with the pressure of the Queen already so heavy upon her.

They followed the path all the way into the city proper, and there was still no sight of them. Araspeth’s skin crawled, her face hot with rage. She turned to her guards. “Disperse, alert any guard you pass. We mustn’t let them leave the city.”

As the guard departed, Araspeth pondered where Olive and her entourage could possibly be heading.
 
That same night, Gamma appeared in the Oceania Archipelago’s largest island. Pine trees surrounded her. Their branches waved in rhythm with her auburn hair as the gentle sea breeze flowed past.

Gamma joined her palms in prayer. The leaf symbol etched in her forehead glowed orange and the forest slowed to a standstill. Everything around—the grass, leaves, branches and trees—became illuminated in azure. Little beams rose from the grass, and particles of various colors shifted in and out of existance.

The leaf continued to glow. Through Koyo, Gamma could view dimensions normally invisible to the naked eye.

She extended both of her arms and gently rose her self up in the air, eventually reaching the peak of those trees. The entire island was in view—along with that yellow spherical barrier she and the other Alphabet members formulated.

That was good. The queen hadn't stepped foot in that place. Or at the very least, she was unable to breach it. They all knew that it was a matter of time. But none of that mattered now.

Gamma descended back down and walked towards the largest pine tree. “I know you’re here, Yuuna.” She placed her palm at its large trunk. “Show yourself.”

But little Yuuna did not appear. Gamma’s green eyes narrowed. She had no choice but to force her out. With one sudden and swift release of Ether, she sent energy shockwaves through the tree’s own Ether network.

Some of its leaves instantly withered away and fell down one after the other. Little Yuuna still did not appear. “You’re quite persistent today,” Gamma smiled. “But I’ll do it again. I know you’re here. You can’t escape the barrier.”

Yuuna’s voice echoed through the cold air. “Your threats are of no meaning.”

Gamma removed her hand from the trunk. It made no difference whether Yuuna was right in front of her. “I mean no harm. Quite the opposite, I have a proposal that you might enjoy hearing.”

“No harm? You have trapped me in this island. I need not hear any of your proposals, human. They are probably of a violent nature.”

“You hate humans. I get it.”

“You are a faulty creation. You plagued this world.”

“A world that you so much love.”

“And a world that the architect is now displeased with.”

“Have no fear, Yuuna.” Gamma placed her palm over her chest. “I am here to tell you that this world has plenty of hope left. That there are humans who are worth the effort.”

“Impossible. All humans are the same—through and through!”

“No, you’re wrong. In fact, there is a certain someone I’d like you to meet. You will get along well.”

“I’m not interested.”

“That’s too bad.” She slowly turned her back to the tree trunk. “And here I was going to offer you a way out of this island.”

Instantly, Yuuna—a small black cat-like spirit—appeared in front of Gamma. “Wait!” she flapped her wings to come close. “For once, you said something of interest!”

Gamma smiled and waved her finger. “It comes with conditions.”

“What conditions? Tell me right now!”

“You have to fuse with a human.”

Yuuna’s red eyes and whiskers twitched. A sphere of light appeared around her violently. “You’re insane!”

“I’m offering you freedom—and a way to save this world from certain doom,” she said. Pure energy continued to gather around Yuuna. Gamma knew that if she felt like it, she could end her right on that spot.

But she knew that Yuuna, the spirit of light, could never possibly do that.

“You dare suggest that I waste myself on a human? How dare you—“

“Sssshhhh!” She put a finger over her tiny mouth. “I know you hate the idea. But hear me out for a second. You will like what you hear. I guarantee it.”

The light around Yuuna subsided. “Make haste. Do not waste my time.”

“I found a young woman. She is like you. And just like you, she once wished to set the world straight.”

“Once?” Yuuna did not like that. “What do you mean by that?”

“That’s complicated. It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is this woman’s song.”

“Her… song? What about it?”

Gamma locked eyes with Yuuna. “This woman knows your song.”




***​

Alua with her lantern in hand stepped out of the cabin. The full moon, shining over the dense forest that surrounded the clearing, lit everything in its silver haze. The crickets chirped their nightly songs and the distant owls hooted along the rhythm.

A few meters away from the cabin, sat on an old log, was Olive overlooking the silvery sea of stars that scarred the cobalt sky. She stepped closer and then stopped when a single tear ran down her left cheek. It deflected the skylight and dropped down the grass.

She went on and stepped closer. “Can’t sleep, young lady?”

In response, Olive immediately wiped her face clean. She dropped her gaze towards the ground and said, “Not really. I’m not really a huge fan of sleep.”

Alua sat next to her. “That’s not normal. Do terrors haunt you?”

Olive’s face drooped further. “My past is what haunts me.”

“Your past, huh? Are you a criminal? Lab rat?”

She shook her head rapidly in response. “I’m just a nobody.”

“That can’t be. You’re somebody.”

“I don’t know who I am.” Olive laughed to herself. “Now they’re chasing me. I guess I faulted someone in the past. I must be a terrible person.”

Alua laughed—much more than Olive. “It’s an honour for the royal government to be looking for you. That makes you someone special. A lot more special than the nobody you claim to be.”

“I don’t want to be someone special. I just want to live in peace.”

“Peace must be earned.”

To that, Olive didn’t respond. More tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just want to be in peace. I just want to find that coast from my memories. I don’t want anything else.”

“A coast, eh?” Alua set the lantern down and crossed her arms together. The candle light flickered on her wrinkly face as she descended deep in thought. All the while, Olive continued to cry next to her. “Well…” she released her arms. “I don’t know your full story. But that coast sounds important to you.”

“It’s all I want to find. I just know that I’ll be able to trace the real me then. I just know it.”

“And I hope that you will. But I have lived for a long time to sense that there is a hard road ahead of you. You must keep going. If you do, you’ll make it to that coast of yours.”

For the first time, Olive looked Alua in the eyes. “Will I really? What if I fail?”

“You will fail. But that shouldn’t stop you. Get up”—she clenched her fist—“and keep going. Fight and never stop until you have what you want.”

“And what if I fail again?”

“Then you get up again!” Alua stood to her feet and made a spin. “You don’t ever stop. Ever. No matter how many times you fall down, you get up again. Those who don’t are left behind. Do you want to be left behind?”

“N-no…”

“Then get up!” Alua pointed at her. “Get up and fight. Trust me, you can do it. I used to be sort of like you. A young troublemaker who could never quite digest those royal dicks up in their big and stupid castle. I hated them. I hated them to the core. All my life, I just wanted to live detached from their tyranny. And then“— she extended her hand and summoned a vine in an instant —“I became one with this forest. Nature hides me and I live in peace. It took decades to get to this point but I did. And so can you.”

“But what if—“ Olive thundered to her feet. Her tears flowed harder. “What if I’m not as strong enough as you? What if it was never meant to be?”

“Nothing is set in stone. Nothing is meant to be. You alone are in charge of your destiny! You! And nobody else. Stop believing that and you’ll loose everything. You’ll loose that coast. Do you want to loose that coast?”

Olive shook her head. “No!”

“Then fight.” Alua placed a hand on Olive’s shoulder. Her voice was now calm and kind. “You can do it. I promise it to you. I sense power in you.”

“I don’t know…” Olive averted her gaze. “I just—“

“You’re tired. You can’t think straight. Go and sleep. I’ll prepare you a special herbal tree that will help with that, okay?”

“Okay…”

Minutes later, when Alua ventured in the forest to gather the herbs, a green-hooded mage appeared behind her. Without turning to look, she called the mage’s name. “Good to see you, Delta. What brings you here?”

Delta took off the hood. Her glossy black hair reflected the moonlight, as did her crystal-blue eyes. “You’re hosting three important people. Be cautious.”

“I know that. The forest tells me everything.”

“You never change, teacher.” Delta smiled.

“I’m no longer your teacher. I’m just some old witch living her twilight years.”

“That’s not true. You are most wise. I trust you to keep them safe until daylight. Thanks for all you have done.”

With that, Delta vanished.
 
The firelight danced on Dusca’s face, and the gentle breeze raised whisps of her pulled-back hair, bringing recollections of the young girl he’d known so many years past to Barnabas’ mind. “I have been well,” he replied. “Very well … And you?”

“I take the days as they come.”

“Ah, a good philosophy.” He glanced at the two men who stood nearby. “What brings you out to the wilderness, like this?”

“We head for Cliffcross,” Nalki replied.

Dusca snapped her eyes to him, betraying a moment of alarm. Even now, Barnabas thought, she wanted to keep secrets from him. “You have family there?” he asked.

She affected a laugh. “My! So many questions! Am I under investigation?”

He dipped his chin. “Of course not … I apologize if I have been—unseemly.”

“It defines you,” Hemios muttered. He dismounted. “How lovely to see that you two are acquainted. We will camp here tonight. There is no magic cure for the ache in my bones.”

“Come,” Charin invited, “we welcome you.”

***

The men parleyed around the fire, with much laughter. “And then, and then,” Hemios sputtered, “she asked to see my spell book! You’ll find it here, between my legs, I told her. Come, show me how well you read!”

Dusca did not join in their ribald conversation. Eventually, Barnabas wandered over to settle down beside her. She did not meet his eye.

“I don’t remember you being such a shy, quiet thing,” he said.

“I am not shy,” she replied, with too much haste. “But I have no interest in the talk of men.” An owl hooted, toads croaked, and leaves rustled in the breeze. “And you, Barnabas,” she questioned, assuming an air of indifference, “I did not hear your voice raised much.”

“Ah, Hemios likes to brag about his conquests with women, but I have not known a woman since I was with you.”

The confession smacked Dusca upside the head. “Why would you tell me such a thing?” she asked.

His brows went up. “I’m not rightly sure myself. I just … I just saw you in the firelight, and it … it stirred me.”

She abruptly stood up. “You are twenty-five years too late.”

She charged into the forest, to relieve herself. Squatted, with her skirts pulled up around her middle, she peed. If only she could so easily void all thought of Barnabas.

With that speculation, she laughed to herself. She was being silly. She need only focus on Katara. Yes, Katara was her focus.

***

Alua’s cabin in the woods held so many questions, that Katara was ready to burst. The old witch pulled the lug pole out from over the fire and stirred the buckwheat porridge in the hanging iron pot. “We’ll send you on your way with a hearty breakfast,” she said.

Olive, in the rocker by the hearth, said, “You have been most kind.”

“Can I help?” Ravenna put in. She sat with Katara at the trestle table.

“Drink your tea,” Alua replied. “Fortify yourself. That is how you can help.”

“It is like you were an answer to a prayer,” Olive murmured, with a slight smile.

Katara narrowed her eyes. “How long have you been here?” she asked Alua.

“A long time.”

“How old are you?”

“Katara!” Olive chided. “That’s impolite.”

“Quite alright,” Alua responded, “quite alright.” She settled her old bones in a hard-back chair. “I am old, but not quite as old as the old things.”

“Old things?” Katara questioned.

“There are old things, older than the cities, older than rulers, older than humans themselves … as old as the stars.”

“Like what?” Katara asked.

“Magic and music,” Alua replied, with a twinkle in her eye. “And other things, forgotten, things humans have chosen to forget.”

“Forgetting has been my curse,” Olive said. “Why would anyone choose to forget?”

“When remembering is too hard. But I don’t see that impediment with you. Soon, you will remember more than your own life. You will remember the old things.”

“Why?” Katara asked. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“She will meet the source of her song.”

“In Cliffcross?”

Softly, Alua laughed. “All these questions! I’d wager you’ve the blood of a scientist in you.”

Katara recoiled. “I’m a poet!”

But the old witch’s words stimulated her. Had her father been a scientist? Katara decided she would welcome the possibility.

“Olive,” Alua beckoned.

“Yes?”

“You are destined for spirit magic.”

Olive’s eyes widened. “How—how do you know?”

“The forest tells me everything.”

Ravenna got up off of the table’s bench and went to Olive. She bent over and gave her a hug. “I’m here with you,” she whispered.

Katara sat up, at attention. “I’m here, too.”

“As it should be,” Alua said. “You all have your individual offerings. You all have your individual gifts. And when they come together, it will make a force to be reckoned with. It will change the world.”
 
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Hemios came to a halt in the middle of the forest. This morning when he awoke, he had planned to go his own way to Cliffcross with Barnabas. He was sure they could get there just fine, even if the forest was a bit disorienting. The more time Hemios spent outdoors, the more he realized how big the world was in comparison to the palace. It was a bit frightening. Thankfully, Nalki, who was so cheerful and enthralled by his stories the night before, offered to be their guide. The man did say he was an experienced traveler- so Hemios took him up on the offer; but now was regretting his choice.

Since he, Barnabas, Nalki and the other two set off down the road, Nalki had stopped several times to talk about the history of various trees or stare into the sky. Which, was most likely bad for the eyes, but Nalki said he was checking the time.

“I don’t want to miss lunch, after all.”

Which it was not as Nalki again stopped the group and they had a lovely picnic in the forest. With food, all of Hemios’ cares were forgotten as he told more of his stories he remembered while walking. When they were finishing lunch, Barnabas took him aside and demanded to know what he was doing.

“Can’t you see he’s attempting to stall us?” the High Scientist hissed under his breath. “He doesn’t want us-“

“That may be true,” Hemios couldn’t help but view the last few hours of travel with suspicion. “But without him, we would be lost in the wo-“

“We are lost.” Barnabas pointed out. “Or have you seen the road anywhere near here?”

“Not since we took that last shortcut.”

“See? He’s trying to lead us in circles so we never reach Cliffcross.”

“That may be,” Hemios wouldn’t discount the other’s concern. “But why would he do such a thing? He’s a mere traveler.”

“That he may be, but…” Barnabas glanced over to where Dusca was helping Charin put away the lunch leftovers. “She. She’s the daughter of the owner of the Wooden Ladle and is not to be underestimated.”

“Ah yes,” Hemios laughed at his fellow…whatever Barnabas was to him. Colleague? Co-worker? Rival? “A middle-aged woman- what terror she strikes into my heart.”

“No, you must listen to-“

“Barnabas, my dear…man?” Hemios paused and settled on that last word. “Please stop being so paranoid. If we are being led into a trap, I am powerful enough to save you.”

“But will you, is the question.”

“Perhaps. But for the time being, I see no reason for Nalki to mislead us on our journey.”

But six hours later, Hemios was not so sure of his words. Nalki had led them off the road again on another ‘shortcut’ and they were seemingly lost again. Even Nalki himself seemed confused. He stared into the night sky and after a moment, began to climb a tree.

“What are you doing?” Charin asked his husband.

“Trying to get a better view of the stars!” he called back and Hemios sighed heavily.

“I told you,” Barnabas said, making the other turn to see him standing behind. “Now, let me handle this.”

The man drew the sword he kept at his side and marched over to the others who were watching Nalki ascend into the trees.

“I have had enough of this ruse!” his voice made everyone turn toward him; even Nalki who was staring down from above. “You will guide us to Cliffcross properly or you will perish.”


~.~.~​

It did not take long for Olive and Katara to bridle the horses and pack their belongings. After Alua gave them a wheel of cheese, fresh bread and more healing herbs for Ravenna’s hand, the three departed. It was a pleasant morning to say the least. The birds were awake, the sun was warm and there was a light, but pleasant breeze. The three traveled on the old brick road through the forest- even though it was more dangerous. Because they did not wish to get lost. Every so often, Katara would bring her horse to stop and glance at the map to make sure they were going the right way.

“If we keep going this way,” she turned the map a bit to the left, “we’re going to hit the River of Beginning. I think.”

Katara had studied maps, but studying was different than using them for travel. She was sure they just came out of the Grand Forest in the Earth Region.

“Then, after the river, we angle North-west to Cliffcross.”

“How far is that?” Ravenna asked from where she sat in front of Olive on their horse. The two decided to switch for the time being.

“I donno. Maybe three, four days from here?”

“How are we going to cross the river with these horses?” Olive didn’t want to leave behind their noble steeds. The two horses had been a blessing to their journey.

“We’ll find a way,” Katara promised and rolled up the map before putting it back in the saddlebag. “Let’s go.” She nudged the horse and the three set off again, only pausing to let the horses graze a few minutes or for them to drink from a small pond they found. Otherwise, the three did not stop until nightfall.

“Ugh, I am so hungry!” Katara whined as she got down from the horse. “And my thighs hurt.”

“My butt…” Ravenna wished she had ridden behind Olive, because the horse was easier to sit on further back.

“Do you think we should stay here for the night?” After the bandits attacked the night before last, Olive was hesitant to sleep out in the open.
Sure, she had faced… she wanted to say what she had, but couldn’t remember. But she knew she shouldn’t feel this nervous.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Katara said, beginning to scout the clearing for twigs and other material to make a fire. “The horses are too tired and so am I.”

“Well, one of us should stand guard,” Ravenna suggested, finding a place to begin creating a firepit. “I will stay awake half the night and then wake one of yo-“

“Not me!” Katara yelled before Olive had a chance.

“Then, you will do it tomorrow night,” Ravenna concluded. “It isn’t good for all of us to be tired tomorrow. So, one of us-“ she grabbed a few twigs off the ground and snapped them into pieces. “Will get to sleep all through the night while the other keep watch. Then, then next night, one of the two people who didn’t sleep gets to rest. Now, longest straw sleeps.”

She held out the three twigs to Olive and Katara came over to grab one as well.

“Yes!” Katara cried as the others revealed their smaller prizes. “Looks likes it’s me!”

Olive and Ravenna shared a glance and threw their sticks away. Neither minded keeping watch, but both wished Katara would at least be more humble about winning.

But both knew that was impossible.

It was Katara.
 
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Wren woke to Olten’s snoring drowning out the soft sounds of the forest at dawn. His neck tense from the uncomfortable cot, he sat up and massaged the muscles. Their camp was laughable at best. Despite the supposed importance of their investigation, they were given little by way of supplies. Without even so much as a tent, they had taken to building their cots in a vague semi-circle around a fire pit Olten had constructed.

It was still dark, but Wren’s eyes had adjusted enough for him to make out the shapes around him. The young fire mage slept splayed across the cot, his arms and legs dangling carelessly over the edges. Pria’s cot was tidy, her bedding folded neatly at the foot. She was nowhere in sight. Wren didn’t panic, it was likely she had gone to relieve herself, but he was irritated. They had agreed to have one person keep watch each night in case of thieves or wild animals. She should have woken him up.

Wren opted to let Olten sleep, he only planned to be gone for a moment. He dawned his robes and set off through the cave’s entrance. Olten’s snoring faded in the distance as the forest sounds grew in volume. He paused and breathed deeply, taking in the hooting of owls and chirping of crickets. The moon glowed overhead, casting a pale blue light on the scene.

The music they had heard before was no longer present, but it played on repeat in his mind. It was an omen, a promise of desperation and fear. Whatever the music foretold, Wren did not know if he had the fortitude to withstand it. He worried even more for the younger mages he had brought out here.

A crunch of hooves in foliage echoed through the trees and Wren turned his focus toward the sound. He could not see anything and set off in that direction, toward Cliffcross. Along the way toward the city, Wren passed a fawn. It froze at the sight of him, eyes wide and spooked. Wren admired its elegance and as he took his next step, it darted off, deeper into the wood.

Cliffcross came into view as Wren passed through the trees, and in the distance he saw the figure of a person sitting in the grass, hunched over. He knew at once that it was Pria with her nose buried in her sketchbook. Wren walked up and stood beside her. She did not acknowledge him but focused entirely on the charcoal in her hands.

By Wren’s count, Pria was on her seventh drawing of the exclusion zone. First was the raven, then a handful of the raindrops, the cascading light upon the city, and some of the horses mid-stride. She had finally moved on to the people. Pria had drawn the scene of three young boys, all appearing to run madly away from a fourth. It was most likely a game of tag. If not for the scene visible before him, in the still quiet that the city had become, Wren would have thought the drawing serene. In the full context, it felt haunting.

“You really should get more sleep,” Wren said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. Pria shrugged it off, her scribbling on the paper intensifying.

“I’m not tired,” she replied. The drawing looked complete to Wren, it captured the scene in more than enough detail for their reporting. But she kept drawing as though to stop moving would be to suffer through a dissolution of time herself.

“It’ll all be there in the morning.” Wren regretted saying it as soon as it left his lips. Pria froze, her hand gripping the charcoal so tight her knuckles turned white. A silent moment passed, then she let out a great sigh and relaxed.

“You’re right, Wren. They will all still be here, and it drives me mad.” Pria looked up and over her shoulder at Wren. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, it was obvious she had been crying.

“It does no one any good for you to suffer their pain for them.”

“Do you think they’re still aware? Do they know that they’re frozen still, their minds racing, locked in a formless prison? Or is this merely a momentary blip for them, and once they’re free it will be as though no time passed at all?”

“You can ask them when that time comes,” Wren said. “For now, you’re honoring them by keeping this record. Take pride in that. Do not mourn a loss that, perhaps, they won’t even experience.”

Pria closed her sketchbook and pocketed her charcoal. She stood, faced Wren, and embraced him tightly. Wren stayed still, stunned at first by the intimacy, then he returned the hug. She sighed and released, taking a step back.

She looked Wren in the eyes. “I hope what we’re doing here helps.”

“Me too,” Wren replied.

After another moment, Pria nodded solemnly, and set off toward their camp.

Wren knelt down and channeled his ether through his fingers. He compressed a small clod of dirt, forming a solid stone the size of a tossing ball, its shape smooth. Tossing the stone from hand to hand, Wren tested its weight. He reared back, and threw it full force toward the city. The stone arched through the air, its velocity slowing more and more despite its descent, before it came to a halt, suspended mid-air.
 
A bell echoed in the distance. Its chime, banging every three seconds, was followed by a long and slow hum. It was the only sound in the dining room, drowned in a silverily glow. A family of ten was seated in the long, round table, etched with golden markings.

And as the bell continued to wash over them, they all held their hands joined in prayer. All but one looked like blurry shadows blending in the silvery light. The one, young girl with olive coloured hair.

The tallest figure in the table seperated its palms as soon as the bell’s final chime faded into silence. “Let us be well,” he announced, “today, tomorrow, and beyond.”

In sync, everyone repeated the same prayer and seperated their hands.

Then, this figure, almost as tall as a tower, turned its neck to this one young girl. “You didn’t say it right. Be louder next time, or your prayer won’t be heard.”

Several of the other shadows grew glowing smirks. “She can’t do anything right, father.”

“She is useless!”

“She burned a huge hole in the floor today.”

“Yeah, yeah! And yesterday.”

“Our keeper had to patch it up. But it didn’t look right. It will never look right, he said.”

The young girl’s palm tensed. “No, father. He said—“

“Liar. You’re a liar!”

“A big liar.”

“All of which you say are lies!”

A loud, womanly voice cut through the cacophony. “Silence!” She shouted. “I will hear no more over dinner. Do not disrespect the lord with your quarrels.”

The bright, glowing smirks vanished, replaced with little frowns and yet more silence. Everyone resumed their supper. Everyone but that one little girl.

And the loud woman, the entire time, watched over her silence. Today, tomorrow, and beyond. Day by day, she became thinner and thinner.


The loud woman, with that one little girl by her side, discussed with the heavily robed witch. “You will correct her appetite,” she demanded, “And for that, you will be rewarded handsomely.”

The witch looked at the little girl, casting her long face at the floor. She turned back to the woman slowly shook her head, capped with a pointy hat. “That I cannot do.”

“You will,” shouted the woman. “It is not a request, but a demand. You must realize who I am.”

“And you must realize that it is a matter of practicality, not will. This child is not physically ill.” The witch toned her voice heavily. “The problem exist within her psyche.”



The days and the months rolled. The child, standing before that same tall, shadowy figure, had her body tense and straight. She brought her palms close and formed a ball of twitching fire. The ball grew larger, more deformed, before it imploded and sent the girl flying towards a wall with her back.

Her spine cracked and pain surged through her body as she slid flat on the floor. The burning sun rayed clear through the sky before it became obstructed by that tall shadow’s eyeless glare. In the background, a mixture of laughter followed.

“You are no good,” said the shadow. “You will never be any good even with me training you. You’re cursed with inability. You bring shame to our family.”

The girl’s tears rolled down the scorching pavement. “It hurts. My back hurts.”

The shadow shook its head and turned to someone. “Heal her at once. We will try again then.”

“No, please. No more! No more!” She cried. “I don’t like magic. I like… I like… I like m—“

Before she could finish her sentence, she was kicked in the side by a powerful spell that sent her rolling. “I will hear no more! My daughter must master my own magic style. It cannot be any other way. How else will you pass it to your children otherwise?”



The witch, kneeled before the little girl, ran her hand over her scratched up forehead. Her eyes then narrowed. “She is a hard worker. That is for sure. It is not her problem.”

“What is her problem then?” The loud woman demanded to know. “Her siblings advance rapidly with half the work.”

Without an answer, she stood up and shook her head. “I am not sure.”

“You’re never sure! How dare you name yourself the greatest healer of the country?”

“Calm down. I am not without answers.” She went and removed a hardback from her wall-sized library. It had a cross etched in gold in the center. “This is a record of what I have encountered through the years. If you review it, you will see that it isn’t the first time I have come across this problem.”

“Yes, and? What is your point?”

“It’s a rare syndrome with no name.” The witch looked at the girl, who for the first, time looked at her back with wide eyes. “It cannot be healed, and it cannot be treated. You will hear this no matter where you go. Most aren’t even aware of its existance. It is of unknown origin and of unknown cause. In other words”—she paused—“I am afraid this child will never do magic. She should give up.”

The word give up loudly echoed. The witch faded in darkness, followed by an exchange of screaming that blended in both darkness and silence.



Her siblings then circled her. “You are magicless!” They chanted. “Magicless and powerless. You will die in an alley by yourself one day.”

“That’s right! Power is everything in this world! It’s eat or be eaten, kill or be killed! And you will be killed!”

“You’re prey!”

“Dead meat.”

“A lion without teeth and claws!”

The little girl covered her ears. She drowned them in the void of a darkness she rapidly sank into. Words, various words that she’s heard over the years, then echoed and stabbed her.

Useless.

Powerless.

Helpless.

Lost cause.

Lion without teeth and claws.

Dead meat.

Sick.

Naive.

Stupid.


And everything in between. Her father zoomed into view. “You must grow powerful. How else are you meant to survive in this cruel world? Everytime you fail, and everytime I make you cry over it, remember those words.”

She clamped her ears harder, shut her eyes tighter. “Then I don’t want to live in this world.” She tried to overcome their voices with theirs. “I just want to live in peace. If not, then I’ll just—“



“Olive! Wake up!”

Her dream became shattered by a shout. Ravenna stood before her, drenched in panic. Behind her, lights shifted closer and closer as a group of horses marched forward. “What’s this? What’s happening? I—“

“You fell asleep. They’re coming for us! We must wake Katara.”

Olive narrowed her eyes. Among those horses was one person whom she never wanted to see again: Araspeth.
 
Olive's body froze solid. “That’s not… good.”

Ravenna looked outwards to the approaching laterns. “I know. We must act quickly.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Olive shook her rapidly. “We’re screwed. We’re screwed. We’re not stronger than them. We’re weaker. We’re done. The weak can’t defeath the strong.”

“Don’t say that!” Ravenna pulled her into standing position. “We may not be strong, but we can out smart them. Never say never. Now, quick!” she said, but Olive didn’t move a pinch. Her feet trembled and she started to visibly sweat.

Before anything more could be said or done, a ball of fire sweeped through the cobalt sky. Ravenna rapidly analyzed its trajectory. It was heading straight for them. She grabbed Olive’s arm and pulled her by force. “It’s—“

The ball rapidly accelerated at hyper speeds. It hit the ground near them and exploded into a cloud of fire. Olive and Ravenna were pushed far into the ground from the shockwave. Farther away, Katara woke to the sight of a fireball and approaching horses—now mere meters away.

Araspeth and her crew assessed the scene. She had a large spear in her hand. Olive watched as she locked her eyes at her. The ball of fire burned brightly behind the smirking High Priestess. She wipped her jet-black horse and came forward to Olive, still frozen on the ground.

“Well, well…” she dismounted her horse. “Look at who we have here.”

Olive trembled in silence. She made no reply. In her head, this was the end of the road. Araspth was strong, and she weak. The shadowy figure briefly replaced her.

“The queen wishes to have your head,” she pointed her sharp spear at her. “So I must take it. Any last words, little miss?”

Last words? Olive’s body lost her tension. Her heart beat slowed down and she tilted her head to the side. There were no words to be had. Her life was nothing but a catalogue of bad memories.

But, something did flash in her mind. “Just… just don’t kill my friends. They’re not dangerous.”

Araspeth smiled. “I see how it is. What a good samaritan you’re. I am almost sad to do this to you but it must be done.” She readied her spear, which caught flashy fire. “If there is an afterlife, I hope you find peace. Goodbye.”

Peace. The word calmed her more than anything. The golden coast and the violin flashed through her mind. Is there peace somewhere beyond? Olive closed her eyes.

And then, Araspeth stabbed her.


Olive stood before a golden coast, wrapped in warm sunset colours. The sea waves rolled back and forth, almost reaching her feet. A warm, salty breeze ran through her, and she spread her arms to have more of it.

She lowered them and looked around the blurriness. As usual, only one portition was visible. The rest was buried in the depths of her memories.

A shadow stood behind her, holding a violin. A sea wave washed into the shore, louder than the others, and the shadow spoke. “Are you happy with this?”

Olive speechlessly lowered her head.

The shadow put its hand in her shoulders. “I’ve been watching your dreams. You want to find this place one day. You want to find the real identity behind this shadow.”

She nodded.

“But I am not that someone. You just can’t see my real form.”

The coast disappeared. Darkness envolved them. All of a sudden, a white-winged cat floated in front of her. “I am Yuuna, the spirit of light, and I reveal myself before you.”

Olive stared, then broke the silence. “Are you here to… take me?”

Yuuna shook her head. “That isn’t my job. Long ago, I simply brought light into the world. Since then, I’ve been watching over you humans, fightning and killing each other. It disgusts me. This world is beautiful. There is no reason to stain it.”

“I— I feel the same way!”

“Many have said so. I do not trust you. But there is something enticing about you. That human wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, you are a true follower of peace. You appear to want it more than anything. But—!” Yuuna shouted. “It might be so because you’re weak. Because you’re scared of the strong. If you were strong, would you still desire peace?”

Everything Olive saw, the latest set of memories, rolled over her mind in a single second. “Yes,” she said without hesitation, her face as solid as stone.

“So you say. But I do not trust you. I do not trust humans. Still, I think it’s a shame for you to die.” Yuuna extended her paw. “I will lend you my power. With it, you can escape. Hurry and join hands before I change my mind.”

Olive raised her hand and then stopped. “I-Is it gonna hurt?”

Yuuna stared with her jaw half dropped. “You’re strange. Just do it. A spear hurts a lot more!”

She extended her hand further and a ring of light enveloped both of them. Thus, for the first time in millenia, Yuuna joined with a human.

“There is something about you,” said Yuuna with her eyes closed. “Something in you. You can’t shape magic. You can create it but you can’t shape it. Yes, I clearly see the problem. You will never be able to use magic the way others do. But I will be compensating for that. You’ll use magic. My magic. You will now have control over Ether but you it will be long ways to go. You can’t defeat Araspeth but you can scare her off. Now, listen closely.” Yuuna opened her eyes. “This is what we have to do.”


Araspeth removed her spear from Olive’s heart. She stared at its blood-coated tip. Nobody can survive that. She looked down to Olive’s heart, expecting a pool of blood, only to find that she didn’t even have a scratch. There was only a hole in her clothing.

Then, something glowed brightly in Olive’s forehead. The light faded to reveal a symbol that represented a set of wings. At that exact moment, Araspeth’s smile faded completely and her eyes went wide.

She jumped several meters back and placed herself in a defensive position. Olive opened her eyes as if nothing ever happened and slowly rose back to her feet. Araspeth stabbed the ground with her spear and coated it in aggressive blue fire.

“You—!” She pumped even more Ether to assert her power. It made perfect sense then, the reason her mother seemed to favour her. Everything started to add up. Araspeth removed the spear and pointed at her. “You don’t scare me! I’ll kill you right now!”

Olive brought her palm close to her heart and clenched it. She then extended it slowly, forming a rod of light. Solid light. Araspeth, in all her years, had never seen anyone do that. Even with her advanced knowledge of magic, she couldn’t wrap her head around it.
 
The stone Wren had thrown toward the frozen-in-time city arched in the air, and then, on descent, came to a halt, suspended in mid-air. To his amazement, the stone pulsed once with a beat of amber light. Then, it went dark again. He questioned his eyes, then quickly glanced over his shoulders, to see if he was alone—and he was.

But something was coming, of this, he was sure. The pulse of light was the harbinger.

For it was written in the Scriptures—Timeless light shall free them all.

***

Araspeth’s eyes widened with panic. “Retreat!” she screamed to her courtiers. “Retreat!”

She took a step backward, but could not peel her eyes from the raw power emanating from the strange young woman named Olive, who said not a word. Her magic spoke for her. She aimed her shaft of solid light towards the ground, scorching the earth, and Araspeth gasped. The other two—Katara and Ravenna—came and stood on either side of the extraordinary mage, a little behind, assuming an offensive rather than defensive posture.

Araspeth and her courtiers quickly mounted their horses, and dashed away. The knowledge that Olive could have sliced her into pieces, if she had so desired, chilled Araspeth to the bone.

At a safe distance, they brought their horses to a trot. “What now?” one of her men asked.

“We must discover her weakness,” Araspeth replied. “She cannot win. She has prevailed in this battle, but the war is not over. Our time will come.”

***

The shaft of light dimmed, and Ravenna and Katara, both wide-eyed, turned towards Olive. “You are one to be reckoned with,” Katara murmured, in awe.

Olive furrowed her brow. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“No! Not at all. I am glad to have you on my side.”

Olive held out her hands, and Katara and Ravenna each took one of them. Then, Katara and Ravenna joined their free hands, to complete the circle. Overwhelmed, the three glanced at one another, finding security in the shared touch. They needed to be closer, and their bowed heads met in the middle. Something powerful had happened, and they shared the experience. They had had a glimpse of something bigger than them—forged in the deep currents that run through existence.

Trembling gave way to comfort and easier breathing. “I don’t have all the answers,” Olive whispered.

“We trust you,” Ravenna whispered in turn.

“I am grateful.”

“Whatever you need to do, it must be pretty important, to have the queen after you.”

“I’m beginning to get an idea of that."

“I think—” Katara offered, “—it’s not so much what you have to do, but who you are.”

“I’m beginning to get an idea of that, too.”

“We all want to know who we are.”

“We’ll find out together,” Ravenna said.

“Together.”

“Yes, together.”

Olive’s chest began to rise and fall. “There will be danger.”

“There’s only danger in not knowing,” Katara said. “We must find the whole truth.”

“Yes … the whole truth.”

***

Nalki came down from the tree and stood before Barnabas. With a finger, he pushed aside the sword Barnabas has brandished. “There’s no need to get uppity,” Nalki said.

Barnabas let the tip of the sword fall to the ground. He sighed. “Indeed,” he replied. “It was our own folly to lay our trust in you. We shall correct that error now.”

He beckoned the guards. “Can you get us back on the road to Cliffcross?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm replied.

Angus added, “You can count on us, sir.”

Barnabas nodded, then pierced Nalki with a glare. “Here’s where we part ways.”

Dusca looked upon this exchange with apprehension. She could not risk having Barnabas get to Katara before her. She preferred to think that Nalki had not got them lost on purpose, but he had led them astray. Surely, he knew how pressing was her need to get to Katara. And it now seemed her best option was to join with Barnabas and his company.

“I’m going with you!” she called to Barnabas.

He turned an unreadable face. “As you will,” he replied.

Hemios grumbled. “Will we ride much more today?”

“We must make up for lost time.”

All the travelers mounted, except for Nalki and Charin. They stood, pictures of dejection. The horses began to move. Barnabas halted his horse and twisted in the saddle, to address them. “You may join us,” he called. “But be aware—we lead.”

They nodded assent, mounted and brought up the rear.

Where the bridle path widened, Dusca pulled up beside Barnabas. “So, science has been good to you?” she asked.

He glanced at her sideways. “Ah,” he remarked, “the cat has no longer got your tongue.”

“What?”

“You’ve not spoken two words to me all day.”

She dropped her eyes. “I’ve not spoken a word to you in twenty-five years.”

“And, has the time been good to you?”

She cast hooded eyes on him. “All I have to say about time, is that, it passes.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Was he making an allusion to his feelings for her? Dusca rejected the assumption. “What do you mean?”

‘There is a way to stop it.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“No, my dear, I speak in science.”

Dusca pursed her lips. “Ah yes,” she hummed, with a sarcastic eyeroll, “your first love. But you and I both know that what you do you do for your own ambition, and to please the queen.”

He glanced at her. “The queen affords me opportunity, but I am my own man.”

She laughed. “No one in service to the queen is their own man.”

A satisfaction warmed Dusca, that her admonition should leave Barnabas speechless.

***

The three women, ragged by now, walked the shaded bank of the River of Beginnings. Out of the blue, Olive said, “With power comes great responsibility.”

Katara and Ravenna turned sympathetic faces to her. They did not say anything, but waited for her to complete her thought. Olive, her eyes full of uncertainty, glanced at each of them, then went on, “How will I know if I am doing the right thing?”

“You’ll know,” Ravenna quickly replied. “You’ll just know.”

“Besides,” Katara popped her brows, “it’s not about getting it right. It’s about finding something. We’re on a journey of discovery, not a test.”

They came to a dock with a solitary ferry tied there. A plain wooden vessel with low sides, the boat was large enough to accommodate them and the horses. Katara negotiated a price for the crossing with the ferryman, a white-haired, skeletal poet with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m Cornelius,” he said. “I will see you across the river, without a shiver, without a quiver.”

Nova and Pippin reared their heads as Cornelius led them in, and then he took the hand of each woman in turn, as he helped them step into the ferry. First Katara, then Ravenna, and Olive was last. He happened to look at her face for the first time. He recoiled, then dropped down on a knee, and lifted a reverent face. “You are she,” he whispered. “A prophecy fulfilled.”

The girls glanced at one another, question in their eyes. Olive, blinking with confusion, said, “Get up! What are you doing?”

“The mark—the mark upon your forehead—the winged one—”

Olive touched her fingertips to her forehead.

“—as it is written in the Scriptures.”

***

The river crossing was silent. On the other side, Katara offered coin to the ferryman, but he refused it. “I’ll not take money from the bearer of the Angel Mark,” he said.
 
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Once the horses had been led off the ferry, the women mounted and began down the nearest road toward Chesli Town. As they rode, Ravenna decided it was time to share what had been on her mind since the ferryman had recognized Olive.

“We need to blend in, not hide, but blend in.”

“How would we do that?” Olive asked.

“Well,” Ravenna smiled and glanced at Katara who eyed her with suspicion.

“What do you want, Ravenna?”

“You’re a Poet, right? You know how to sing?”

“Of course I do!” Katara said, demonstrating a smooth, rich singing voice with a scale of notes. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Ravenna continued, strangely joyful. Which made both her companions rather wary as she was usually far more reserved, if not sullen. “From now on, we are just traveling musicians. Three sisters who lost their parents in the northern mountains.”

“And?” Katara’s voice was uncertain.

“We are traveling on a pilgrimage on visit our parents graves. We promised we would honor them by returning every year,” Ravenna said. “And to pull this off, we need new clothes, which I am sure we can find. Also, a few instruments. I know a little bit about the lyre. Do you know any instruments, Olive?”

“I don’t—“ The woman’s eyes changed to a glowing warm white and the voice of Yuuna spoke through her host. “I brought music to this world in the ages past. I can play whatever instrument is given to me.”

“Good,” Ravenna said, not at all flustered by the sudden possession. A moment later, Olive returned. Her eyes changing back to their usual color.

“That…was strange,” she said and Ravenna continued on.

“We also need new names. We can’t use the ones we have now,” she said and Katara immediate chose the name, Rosa. Then, assigned Olive the name of Clara.

“And you,” she said to Ravenna, “can be Lily!”

“I would rather not,” the other said, making Katara frown.

“Why not? It’s a perfect—“

“It was my sister’s name. I don’t… want to remember her.” She knew her words were a lie. Ravenna never wanted to forget Lily or Rowan. Especially Rowan. Her twin brother who was hopefully resting more peacefully than she.

Katara was silent a moment before asking, “why don’t you want to remember your own sister?”

“…because I don’t want to believe she is suffering.” It was easier to pretend her family didn’t exist, than it was to face the pain of the past and present. “I… think I want to be called ‘Bella’. It has an ‘A’ at the end and sounds cute with the other names.”

“Okay,” Katara relented and the group fell silent until she said, “we need to come up with songs. We can’t pretend to be traveling musicians if we don’t have any songs! I say we come up with at least six.”

“Can you do that?” Olive asked and Katara nodded.

“It’s easy. Just give me a few hours and I can have some simple songs ready.”

“I am sure Yuuna could help, too,” Olive offered and Katara smiled.

“That would be wonderful! Thank you.” She brought her horse to a stop to grab the small notebook out of the saddlebag. Then, Ravenna moved to ride with her and they set off again. Over the the next three hours, Katara wrote lyrics and basic melodies. As they rode along, she tested out a few, which Olive and Ravenna found to be enjoyable.

“She wasn’t lying,” Ravenna muttered to Olive once they stopped to let the horses rest. “She can sing. Like, really sing.”

“And best of all, she sounds nice,” Olive added with a smile.

A few hours later, the three stopped in Chasli Town where Ravenna went into a shop to buy some clothes. She was the least memorable of the three and was skilled at blending in. Not to mention most would not pay attention to a grungy tavern maid. For a few silvers, Ravenna picked out a rose-colored dress for Katara and a yellow one for Olive and green for herself. They were all similar in style, but she figured musical sisters would want to be somewhat matching. Then, some new shoes and a hair pin for each one of them to complete the look.

Following, Ravenna reserved a room at the town inn. There, the three bathed and changed into their disguises.

“What do you think, Bella?” Katara asked as she showed off her new look to Ravenna. “I hate the ruffles on the bodice, but like you said, I am an actor!”

“Yes,” Ravenna was grateful she had been able to convince Katara merely acting a part. It made all these changes easier for her to follow. “I think it looks, good Rosa.”

“Why, thank you, Bella,” Katara said and Ravenna sighed. Her earlier request that they start using their fake names was clearly being misunderstood. They didn’t need to use the new names all the time, but she didn’t want to get in an argument; so Ravenna let it be.

“I don’t think yellow suits me,” Olive said as she entered the small room they had rented for a silver. “Can I have your green dress?”

“Nope.” Ravenna said.

“Wh-why not?”

“Because Olive is another word for green. I want to confuse everyone and it’s better to not wear colors associated with names or previously
known outfits. I agree though, yellow is not as flattering as blue. But I think it will throw off a lot of people looking for a mage in blue robes. Now, do we want to figure out what to do with our hair?”

“I’m not cutting mine,” Katara immediately said and Olive agreed with her.

“Fine, then you two can cut mine. I just want us to look as different as possible. Katara though, you need to braid yours. Olive, wear it in a bun.”

“Uh, okay,” Olive nodded and Ravenna smiled. It was all going so well. But that didn’t mean something could go wrong. Once their outfits and hair were changed, Ravenna went out to buy a few instruments. Two exactly. Katara needed to focus on her singing, so did not need one. Olive could play anything, so Ravenna chose a flute. It paired nicely with the lyre she bought. When the man asked why she wanted an instrument worth a whole gold coin, Ravenna began to cry. She told him her lyre had been stolen on their trip north and she needed a replacement.

Then, she invited the man to visit the tavern for a performance as she and her sisters would be in town for a few days. When she returned to the inn, Ravenna handed Olive the flute and asked Katara if she had the songs ready.

“Yes,” she said happily, “and you’re gonna love them! I wrote about all the wildlife we saw on our trip and—“

“It’s going to be a song about beavers, isn’t it?” Ravenna asked and Katara nodded.

“It is and you’re going to sing it if you like it or not! Now, let’s get practicing.”
 
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Araspeth and her courtiers maintained a substantial distance between themselves and the three young women. As High Priestess, knowledge of the scriptures were among her many responsibilities. Despite that, and the plain evidence of the angel mark upon Olive’s forehead, she could not bring herself to believe the prophecies were being fulfilled now, right before her.

During her studies, Araspeth had grown confident that she was born too soon to bear witness. All of the strife, her mother, Gamma, seeking righteous rebellion, and Araspeth seeking stable clarity, would be for naught if it is to be as was written centuries ago. Of the very few times Araspeth had felt genuine fear, the light expelled from Olive topped it all. The woman held power that Araspeth did not know how to defeat, and she doubted the queen herself knew.

They watched from the tree-lined hill as the women boarded a ferry and Araspeth cursed. “We will lose them, again.”

One of her guards spoke in a confident bravado. “We will find them. They cannot travel far in one ferry’s journey. We can strike at their next encampment, finish this while they are sleeping.”

Araspeth shook her head as the ferry departed. “We will maintain our distance, for now. We must observe, look for a weakness. If they get the better of us again, we may not live to see the next day.”

The guard scoffed and took a seat amongst his brethren, his back propped against a tree. He picked a twig up off the ground and preoccupied himself peeling away at the dying leaves. “She’s just a wench with fancy lights and a tattoo. You scare too easily. Had we stayed and fought this would all be over with already.”

With a resonant thwack, Araspeth’s spear pierced the tree half a hand’s breadth from the top of his head. His face went pale, and Araspeth was certain he had nearly lost his bowel. He sat still, a slight tremble passing over him as Araspeth walked over. She leaned down, her face inches from his, as she effortlessly pulled the spear from the bark.

“I will hear no more of this, understood?”

The guard nodded fiercely and all the others averted her gaze.

“Good. When that ferry returns we’ll take the next trip. And we will maintain our distance until we understand the depths of her power.”
 
The royal palace’s eastern courtyard was at a complete standstill. The moon cast its rays upon the perfectly trimmed blades of grass, drenched in nightly dew. Queen Melina, clad in her silver armour, clenched the crescent moon emblem that hanged around her neck.

Behind her, a shadow drew close, and she opened her eyes to the starless sky. “Well, well…” she turned around. “Look who showed up.”

The shadow, with its metallic voice, made reply. “Yuuna is on the loose.”

In front of Queen was nobody. Just a shadow stretching over dried blades of grass. A shadow she could only describe as darker than dark itself. She smiled and crossed her arms. “But of course. The scriptures predicted as much.”

The shadow spoke up with a harsher, more coarse voice. “She is with a human. This cannot be allowed.”

“That, I know, dear friend.”

“Do not associate us!” The shadow’s form bubbled, deformed, and grew in size. “Friends we will never be. We merely share a goal!”

“As you wish.” She mellowed her smirk.

The shadow’s bubbly appearenace subsided. It drew closer to Melina, sucking away the light cast on her. “Speak of your plans immediately. Have one of your underlyings gone to erase her? I hope you realize that now is the time.”

“Of course. But it’s not that simple.”

“It must be. She is only human.”

Melina swayed her finger around. “So you’d think. So would anyone think. But it isn’t that simple. Her connection to Yuuna runs deeper than you could ever imagine.”

The shadow bubbled once more, wrapping itself around Melina. At that moment, Melina lost her sight. The purest darkness enveloped her vision. But she did not move. She stayed still as a rock. “You will stop being enigmatic,” demanded the shadow, “and you will explain yourself with great haste.”

“I certainly planned to.”

“Then speak.”

“Olive is the daughter of Cassandra, ruler of the southern peninsula. Long ago, I received intel that they ditched her from the family, and brought her here. She was a stain to their social image, discarded as nothing more than garbage.”

“Just as you humans all are!”

“But you’re wrong, dear Kurai.” She was not afraid to smile in response to that. “For you have no idea who Cassandra is. You’ve spent your eternal existance hiding in the shadows to know. She and her family have Ether reserves the likes of which you have never seen. They’re greater than even mine.”

“How much greater?”

In response to that, Melina raised all of her ten fingers.

The shadow crawled on her. “I will erase every particle of light in your sight if these impossibilities you speak of turn out to be just that!”

“They are not. But please do not worry. My priestess is out to get her, though that fool is too afraid to do much of anything. Not that I blame her…” she smirked. “Even you are.”

“Silence, human!” The shadow strangled her. “Mention this once more, and I will do something worse than take your light.”

“That wouldn’t suit you. Only I can erase Olive. You need me. So, how about you let go? I have something interesting to show you. And we have much to discuss. About Olive, about her abilities, and about who she really is.”

At once, the shadow unraveled itself from Melina, and her eyesight was restored. As if nothing ever happened, the queen turned around and lead the shadow inside a stone chamber deep under the castle.

There, by the candlelight, was the exact thing that the shadow never wanted to see: An old and beaten violin.

The shadow shrank, stepped back, and crawled away from the room. And the queen, nothing but smiles, said to the tiny blob of darkness, “I told you’d be impressed.”
 
Araspeth and her guards proceeded at a canter through the greenwood, providing ample time for reflection. With spite, Araspeth thought—Gamma was no better than Cassandra.

Cassandra, the ruler of the southern peninsula, had turned her back on her daughter, Olive, just as Gamma had betrayed Araspeth. Not all were made to be mothers. Araspeth wished she could shake off the insidious effect of her mother’s disapproval, but only bold action could provide relief, and at the same time put Gamma in her place.

Dusk approached and they came upon a small, shady clearing in the forest. Araspeth was shocked to find Barnabas, Hemios, four strange men, and the woman from the tavern—Dusca—sitting around a fire.

“Barnabas!” she hailed, as she dismounted. “We cross paths, both of us on the Queen’s errands!”

All in the group stood. Barnabas glanced apprehensively at Dusca. “My errand is my own,” he insisted.

Araspeth laughed, in a mocking tone. “Yes, by all means, if you say so.” She narrowed her eyes on Dusca. “The last time I saw you, it was not a pleasant encounter.”

“I imagine,” Dusca replied, with a haughty upturn of her chin, “pleasant encounters are not very common for you.”

Araspeth recoiled at the insolence. Yes, she thought, mothers were rather useless, but here before her was a mother who could be quite useful, indeed. “You are the mother of Katara,” she said.

Dusca blinked. “Yes.”

“Katara is one of the chosen three. She rides with Olive, the one who threatens us all.”

Barnabas took a step forward. “She does not threaten me—”

“Shush!” Araspeth raised a firm hand. “The bearer of the Angel Mark must be subdued! Do not forget our main goal!”

“Our goals differ,” he replied, remaining calm. “I seek the fragments of the legendary gear, not some harmless waif.”

“Harmless! Oh my dear Barnabas, how wrong you are! This woman here,” she looked Dusca up and down with distaste, “is our ticket to Olive. I will take her now, as my prisoner, as my hostage. She’ll have value in my getting what I seek. If I calculate correctly, Olive’s nice feelings will do her in.”

***

Hemios finger-combed his wild, white hair, looking upon the exchange between Barnabas and Araspeth with growing disquiet. The situation nearly tore him in half. Certainly, he would do anything for the Queen, but something in Araspeth’s attitude sounded alarm bells. He had grown fond of Dusca, and was loathe to give her up to be used as a pawn. In his gut, he knew it was wrong. If the circumstance had not been so serious, he would have laughed at this semblance of conscience that tumbled inside of him.

Araspeth and her guards stood there with imperious expressions that he wanted to smack off their faces. He gambled that Araspeth was acting more so on her own account, than for the Queen. Without further ado, and to act before he thought better of it, he raised his hands and called upon his greatest stores of magic.

It had been a while, but his commands, fortified by desire, were answered. Thick ropes of glowing essence burst out of the ground, and curled themselves quickly around first legs, then torsos and arms, imprisoning Araspeth and her guards in tentacles of Hemios’ creation. They struggled, but could not get free. One vine curled around Araspeth’s neck, pushing her chin up. “Release me!” she gurgled. “Release me, or die!”

“You think too highly of yourself,” Hemios replied. “The queen would never let you harm a hair on the High Mage’s head.”

“Hemios—” Barnabas began.

“Go!” he called. “I should be able to hold them like this for an hour.”

Barnabas and Dusca exchanged a glance, and then did not delay. In a rush, they mounted their horses and the two of them rode off into the coming night. Hemios’ cry sounded at their backs. “God! I need a drink!”

***

There was only one bed in the room at the inn, and Olive and Ravenna shared it. Katara was comfortable enough curled up on the settee.

Morning broke, and she roused herself up from the small sofa to go and pensively peer out the dirty window. People passed by in the street below. It seemed everyone had somewhere to go. She dropped her eyes. They had somewhere to go, too, and it was time to face up to that.

She was startled by Olive appearing beside her. “Couldn’t sleep?” Katara asked.

Olive put her arm around Katara’s waist. They looked out the window together. “It’s time to wake up,” she said.

“Humph. In more ways than one.”

Then, Ravenna was on the other side of Olive. Framed by the window, the young women put their heads together, arms around one another’s backs. “I feel a wonderful sense of peace with the both of you,” Olive said.

“Me, too,” Ravenna whispered.

“Me, three,” Katara added.

“What do you think it meant?” Olive asked. “When Gamma said that the Architect of Time puts his trust in us?”

“I can answer that,” came a familiar voice behind them.

The three turned about, and there stood Gamma in her yellow robes, a smile in her green eyes.

“Gamma!” Olive cried. “I am so happy to see you.”

“I understand that you have questions,” Gamma replied. “But yes indeed, a great trust is put in you. You’ve been entrusted with no less a task that to put time back together again.”

“I feel—I feel like time has come to a stop, here, in this place. I know it hasn’t, but a great fuzziness weighs on me.”

“Nature’s way of calling you to your destiny.”

Katara put a hand to her face. “The path ahead is riddled with so much uncertainty,” she said.

“Yes,” Gamma replied, “and I know it is difficult to trade certainty for uncertainty, but you girls must follow the song—the song of Yuuna, the song of Olive, the song of light, the song of time. It is time for you to be on your way. It is time to move on from this place, and not allow yourselves to be distracted anymore.”

They all dropped their eyes.

“Girls,” Gamma bade, “come, join with me.”

They made a circle, holding hands, Gamma, Olive, Ravenna and Katara. “Do you hear it?” Gamma asked.

The ethereal strains of a violin sounded. The song, inviting closeness, sweet and enchanting, fragile and filled with longing, relaxed each and every one of them. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, their feet rose from the ground, and they levitated like spirits in their intimate circle. They became blind to everything but to one another, to everything but presence, and the music played on, and the words, drawn from memories they did not know they had, came lilting from their lips.

We do not fear the dark, we do not fear the light. We are eternal candles in the flow of time…
 
The rivers of time, seemingly never-ending, shall one day freeze.

In time, with greatness only in mind, a warrior shall grasp the very gears of earth. She shall cease them and seek what no being ever has. In time, light and darkness shall void lands and oceans.

And in time—


“Princess Melina!”

The irritating sound brought the then fourteen year old Melina back to her senses. She took her eyes away from the musty scroll. Behind her, Bea—the personal maid—stood behind her half open door.

She set the scroll down and stood up with a grumpy expression. “Is something the matter? I’m busy reading, and you did not knock.”

Bea respectfully bowed her head. “I apologize sincerely, m’lady. But you were so absorbed, I had to raise my voice.”

“You must not repeat this ever again. Am I clear?”

Once again, her maid bowed before her. “Of course. May I now tell you the reason for my visit?”

“You may,” she said with a sigh.

“Your father requests your immediate audience. Please dress accordingly and attend the throne room.”

Melina narrowed her eyes. Folded neatly in the embrace of Bea was a hefty-looking blue and white dress. She tilted her head. “What’s this? Am I to wear it?”

Bea nodded. “The occasion is rather formal, so it calls for it.”

Formal. The word struck her as strange. What was with the sudden formality? None the less, she accepted it with a hefty heart and proceeded to prepare herself accordingly.

It took the maid half an hour to finish. She stepped aside to let the mirror reflect her fully. Her luscious red her, tied to a perfect braid, run down her shoulder. The golden earrings sparkled just like as her forest green eyes did—and even her flawless skin.

Melina looked perfect. Yet, in the midst of that doll-like beauty, there was no smile. No heart. She looked away and got up. “Let us go—see what is so important.”




At the gate to the throne room, the two guards—clad in armour of heavy steel—retracted their weapons to let the princess pass. “You’re to go alone,” the taller one on the left said. “It’s a meeting of utmost confidentiality.”

Melina shrugged after she and Bea exchanged a brief gaze. The gate lit up with bluish magic as it split apart and opened to welcome the princess. There on the other side was her father—King at the time. And before him was none other than her brother, Arthur.

She proceeded inside stone-faced and stopped beside her brother. Unlike her, he did not inherit any red hair. His was a chestnut brown just like their father. And he didn’t wear any fancy suit. He wore his black steel armour, customized just for him by the royal smiths. The royal symbol was engraved at its center in colour.

Arthur smiled. “You look mighty fine today. Does the occasion have to do with you?”

“No,” she said simply. Meanwhile, the gates slowly closed behind them. They shut off with a reverbarating thud that followed silence.

It didn’t last long. Arthur broke it. “It crossed my mind that you might marry.”

She preferred not to answer that and to look straight ahead to her father, who continued to observe them from high up in the throne in silence. Not that this was unusual. He always took his sweet time—observing the two siblings.

But this time seemed different. His gaze fell on Melina—and Melina alone.

The King stood up. His ash-grey hair fall down around his waist. “My children,” he began. “As you have undoubtedly noticed, I’ve been highly observant of your selves these past few months. May any of you know the reason?”

Arthur raised his hand. “You observed our worthiness,” he said with a loud and confident tone. “Our worthiness for the throne.”

Melina’s expression remained unwavered. She, too, figured that this was the reason. “I believe he is correct. You wanted to know who is more worthy to rule our land.”

The King made a genuine, bright smile. “That’s correct. I will be announcing my decision to the public later this week during my next appearance. But those are just formalities. I will announce the answer to you now.”

Arthur stood there in silence, solid as pillar, as did Melina. The air grew heavy with suspence.

Then finally, he made the call. “It’s you,” he pointed towards Arthur. “You will rule after me.”

Melina remained still. Still as a stone. That’s how she appeared on the outside. Inside, her heart shattered, fluttering with disappointment.

“And you, Melina,” he continued. “You will marry into the Cromwell family. They rule the Northern Peninsula. You will be a link between that country and ours. For our land will be stronger that way.”

Her hand twitched. But she continuted to remain still and stone faced as ever. “Yes,” she answered. “Yes, father. As you wish.”

“Good.” He took a seat. “You will meet your future spouse later this afternoon. That is why I had Bea prepare you. This marriage cannot happen soon enough. Not when the Southern Peninsula’s threats towards us. Now,” he raised his hand. “You’re dismissed. Back to your duties.”




Bea continued to work on Melina’s appearance until the meeting to further perfect it. “We’ll re-do the braid,” she said as dilligently untangled it. “It’s good but we can do better.”

The princess did not reply. She continued to gaze down her lap, letting her maid do all the decisions and work.

“I’ve seen Prince Silas, I’ll have you know,” Bea said as she carefully combed every imperfection out of her hair. “A portairt of him, to be exact. He looked like a fine man. I’m sure you’ll be happy with him.”

Melina clenched her dress. “Hey, Bea.”

“Yes, m’lady?”

“I want to be alone. Hurry and finish quickly.”

“But— but we must make you look as perfect as possible. It’s an order from your father.”

“Please—“ a single tear ran down her cheek. “Just do me that one favour.”

Bea stopped her combing. She stared at that tear, now a stain in her otherwise perfect dress. Her hands tighened around the comb handle. “As you wish, m’lady.” She resumed at a quicker pace. “I won’t be long.”




As promised, it wasn’t long after that Bea left. Melina reached for her drawer full of those old, musty scrolls. There was always something about them. Something that drew her to them. And at that hour, this feeling was especially strong.

She went to a random verse and read on.

The warrior, who’s internal flame always burned with rage, shall unlock the key to everything. To everything that is and isn’t. The warrior, so full of ambition, shall reach beyond the greatest reach.

And this warrior, even when that Light—the Angel’s Light—attempts to conquer her desire and her ambition, she shall go on. Go on and unfold land and oceans, skies and planets.

It’s this warrior who will bring about the end. The end to the end, the beginning of new dawns.


Melina held the scroll tight. Below those words was a painting of that warrior, standing behind the sun and the moon. The oceans, the skies and the mountains all at once. Melina cried and held it all tight.

Why couldn’t she be this great? She wanted it more than anything—to unfold lands and oceans, skies and planets. It sounded so much better than marrying someone whom she never even met.

But she knew all along. Melina raised her two shaking arms and attempted to do magic. She concentrated and created a little ember between them. It was nothing though. Her brother could breath fire and burn entire villages. How could she compete?

She was not good enough. She cried harder, careless for the stains that appeared to her dress.

Then, it happened. A whisper passed her ear. An omnious, distorted whisper. “Yr hr,” it said. Melina stopped and thundered to her feet. There was nobody around. Outside, the rain picked up, pattering at an increasing pace against her large window panes.

She turned and gripped its foggy surface, mouth half open. And then, it happened again.

Y r.”

Melina turned around sharply. She neither understood the words and nor where they came from.

And once again, they said, “Hr.”

She spoke up. “Is— Is someone there? Show yourself!”

Nothing moved, nothing spoke. The only thing that moved was the candlelight by her reading desk, piled with those old scrolls. It flickered in sync with the shadows of the objects around it. Almost all objects.

Because beneath a particular scroll—the scroll of Kurai as it was titled—bore no movement. Something was there. Something not just black, but blacker than black.

The candle went out. Then, the shadow crept forth like a snake. “You—“ it spoke clearly now— “It’s you.”

Melina’s hands trembled as her back hit the wall. There was no way for her to go. The shadow moved further, crawling down the floor and towards her. As it did, more and more of the world darkened until there was nothing. Nothing but her, a void, and the shadow.

She could see it even in its darkness. The shadow crept up like a snake and grew to her size. “You,” it said again, “You’re her.”

You’re her. Melina realized that this is what it’s been trying to say since the beginning. You’re her. What could this mean? Her mind flashed back to that warrior from the scrolls.

“That’s right,” it wrapped itself around her being. “Realize it. You’re her. This warrior whom you so much admire. It’s nobody other than you.”

Melina’s whole being froze in trembles. “No,” she quietly said. “That can’t be. I am not as strong as my brother.”

The shadow tightened itself around her. “Realize it!” It screamed. “Realize your father’s plan! You were never intended to be stronger than your brother. Your father did not give you the training. Your father preferred you to be nothing more than a children-bearing wife. He never saw you as anything more than that. Henceforth, that’s what you became.”

Melina’s eyes went wide, her whole body tense. She breathed heavily as her whole life flashed through her eyes in seconds.

“Look inside!” The shadow demanded. “Not the past, but inside! Inside! Inside you! Do you see it?”

As it demanded, Melina lowered her head and looked deep into her soul. There, a little fire burned. A flame of Ether. The magic inside her.

“It’s bigger than that!” Screamed the shadow. Melina’s whole body trembled in shockwaves. And the flame of Ether trembled. “Realize it,” it repeated. “Realize it. Realize it. Realize it. Realize its true strength. Do it!”

The flame burst and grew into a fire. Melina started to realize it then. “I am her…”

“Yes, you’re her. Realize. Realize your power!”

Her fire burst and became an inferno. Melina’s body no longer trembled. “I am her. I am her!” She shouted. The world around her started to appear. Everything around her quaked. The walls developed cracks and the ceiling was shedding dust. Her rage was shaking the earth itself.

Melina smiled. For the first time in years, she smiled.

“There is more to those scriptures. The Angel of Light threatens your destinity to cease the world. You must not let that happen. You must end her before she appears. To do that, you need the whole country to be in your fingertips. You must rule. You must take the throne.”

“The throne belongs to my brother. But I can’t let him have it. They’ve stood in my way long enough!”

The shadow bubbled happily. “Yes, Melina. They did. You know what to do. It’s for the greater good. It’s for your destiny.”

She smiled even wider and raised her hands up in the air. “From now on, those who stand in my way—“ she clenched her hand “—will perish.”

In mere seconds after that, the palace collapsed. And with it, everyone inside. Melina spared only herself. She stood in the ruble as rain beat her and smiled. “I am her,” she said. Lightning boomed behind her. “And I will cease everything.”
 
Sandglass in hand, Wren inched his way closer and closer into the Exclusion zone. With each step he raised a hand, tipped his glass over, and looked back at Pria who did the same with her matching glass despite the concern painted across her face. The timer was only for thirty seconds, but at this point Wren only counted to twenty-five before Pria’s glass completed the cycle.

Wren was perplexed. He had expected the sensation he felt when first approaching the zone to persist, to experience his own time slow down relative to the world around, but the inverse felt true. With each growing step the rest of the world seemed to move ever-so-slightly faster, the initial resistance fading. He pondered if it that discontinuity was due to how much of his person was within the zone, or perhaps which parts?

Olten, a few strides right of Pria, sent streams of fire into the zone. Wren watched as a blast of heat shot rapidly from Olten’s hands only to slow down with distance and dissipate the further in it went. Where he stood, Wren could only manifest a fraction of the ether he could on the outside. It formed weak and slow and he was barely able to create so much as a pebble. The feeling was horrid, like life itself was draining away from him.

Wren marked the ground beneath him with a small parting of the soil. He would go no further, at least not that day. His circadian sense of time did not falter as he ventured back towards his protégés. He watched as they slowed down to match his pace until time was equal across all three. Had he experienced less time than they had? Did he age less? He didn’t know.

“Well?” Pria asked, her voice eager, curious.

“I need to rest, let’s discuss over a meal,” Wren said.

Olten cheered at the mere mention of food.



Later that night, as the sun began its descent towards the horizon, a new sound started in the distance. The three mages halted their discussion and listened intently.

It was horses hooves and wagon wheels, and they were approaching fast.

Olten stood but Wren stuck out an arm.

“No, you two wait here. I’ll scope it out,” Wren said.

Olten Pouted, but stayed put. Wren walked slowly out of the cave and saw the wagon headed full speed down the main road to Cliffcross. The thought struck Wren that they might not know about the Exclusion Zone, and he ran out to flag them down. He stopped in the middle of the road frantically waving his arms, but there was no sign of hesitation.

Eventually Wren could tell the operator of the wagon was a middle aged man with wild graying hair, a determined look set on his face. If this man noticed Wren, he showed no sign. Wren held his ground as long as he could, but jumped aside once it was clear the man would run him down if he had to.

Wren looked toward Cliffcross, to the wagon and its deranged operator, and then back at the campsite where Pria and Olten had made their way out.

“Stop him!” Pria pleaded.

The wagon careened faster and faster toward the city. Wren cursed and pooled his ether. He formed a stone a hands length in diameter and, with an extra pulse of ether, launched it at the wagon. The stone collided with the back left wheel, shattering the wood. The wagon rocked, the back end crashing into the ground and tearing through the soil as the horse continued to pull. It was no use, though. With the wheel destroyed the horse tired out and stopped, mere paces from the first marker the mages had made that morning marking the edge of the zone.

Wren sprinted toward the man, shouting out to him. “Stop! It’s not safe!”

The man did not heed him, instead dismounting from the wagon and sprinting into the city. It was difficult to discern, but he seemed to be ranting about his children, spitting vulgarities at Wren for trying to keep him from his family. Wren followed up to that final mark he made that morning, but dared go no further. The man, clearly in full sprint, moved at a snail’s pace. He was gone, and by morning he will be as still as the rest of them.
 
The doors to the throne room opened when one of the Queen’s platinum-ranked mages—Salem—thundered inside. He bent down to his knee and bowed before Melina, whom was calmly seated high up in her throne.

“Your Highness,” he began, “I am here to report that Hemios has restricted Araspeth’s movement. I am not sure of his intentions. But Olive and the rest of them are yet to be captured. They’re on a steady course to Cliffcross.”

Melina looked down on her henchman and smirked brightly. “That so?”

“Yes. How may we proceed?”

In response, she rose to her feet. “I vainly hoped that those fools would capture that woman before she fused with Yuuna. But it’s too late for that now. Prepare me a carriage to Cliffcross. If I can’t get them to come to me, I’ll go to them.”




The bright, silver moon hang above the horizons of the distant sea. Pria, sat on the edge of a cliff, captured the scene in her sketchbook as waves calmly rolled on the bottom. Her pencil detailed the bright line of light that traced across the ocean and over the moon. And then, her pencil came to a halt. Pictures of that man entering the exlusion zone flashed back.

She looked up the vastness of the starry sky and wondered about its infinity—the mysteries that it harboured. Time, and space? What is it all really? And how does one control it? She pointed her finger down the rocky ground and created a small gust of wind.

Dust blew in the air, and pebbles rolled down the cliff, splashing inside the water. She could manipulate space in a way. But how does one manipulate time? Who, or what, could cause the city to freeze in time?

The wind picked up, swaying the dried rock cress around her feet. Owels hooted, the sea whispered softly, and behind her, something rustled.

At once, she spun around and put herself in a defensive stance. But Pria was only faced with the emptiness of the path that brought her there, carved between the wavy, pointy rocks. Merely the dust moved in rhythm with the breeze.

Then, she noticed it. One of the rocks cast a shadow. A shadow darker than the rest of them. Darker than the night sky, and darker than everything she’s ever known. The shadow moved forward right before her eyes.

“Hello, Pria.” It bubbled fervently. “Or should I say Priscillia, daughter of a farm woman?”

In response, she swiftly blew a gust as sharp as a sword at the shadow. The ground exploded and a cloud of dust blew into the air, followed by rock splinter that rained down the cliffside. Pria remained sharp as the dust slowly cleared. The splinters stopped and the wind came to a complete standstill.

The dust lifted and revealed a void crater, free of that shadow. Pria built up Ether and scanned her surroundings. She looked left, right, forwards, backwards. But she couldn’t find that spot of pure darkness.

It was then when she noticed her own shadow, bubbling like a pot of water underneath woodfire. She immediately aimed right below her feet, but the shadow crawled up her body just as quickly. “Do not be afraid,” it whispered raspily. “I am only here to let you in on a little secret!”

Still, Pria stayed still and composed. But she started to panic when the world around her started to fade away. She was slowly losing her light.

“What… what are you?” she could only ask.

The shadow, now next to her ear, spoke loud and clear. “What I am is not important. What’s important is time. You wondered about time. Because time affected those people. You’re sad for them. You want to know who caused it all. Don’t you?”

She didn’t reply. But her silence was telling enough.

“Well, I do know. And I’ll give it straight to you. It’s the Queen herself. The one whom you all call Melina.”

Pria’s rapidly beating heart skipped a beat. “No. You’re wrong. Why would she do something like that? It makes no sense!”

“It makes perfect sense!” exclaimed the shadow. “The queen doesn’t want to stop time. Rather, the affected flow of time is a consequence of the removal of a fragment. That fragment is part of something very big and powerful. The queen wants that for herself. And she doesn’t care if the world itself crumbles away to make that happen.”

“But… but—“

“No buts! It’s as I say. Now, listen up, and listen well. The queen has the fragment. To put an end to it all, you have to put an end to her.

Pria’s eyes went wide. “I can’t defeat the queen! That’s impossible!”

“You can, little Priscillia. And you can use one of the fragments to do it. There are several, and I have one. Didn’t I tell you that they’re powerful? You can make yourself powerful. You can end the queen. You can restore time to what it was. What do you say about that?”

The image of that city, frozen in time, appeared in her mind. A group of children in particular did, stuck playing inside a sandbox with smiles on their faces. She wanted to see them finish those smiles and go on to live just as she did.

When she finished that thought, her light returned. The shadow was gone. And in her palm, there was a piece of something. It looked just like an ordinary piece of blue crystal, but she could tell there was more to it than that.

The shadow from a far distance said, “The Queen will be here soon. When she does come, consume it, and your ability to produce Ether will increase to unimaginable levels. Until then, wait, and say nothing to anyone.”




Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta appeared around their conference table. Beta clicked his gloved finger and lit all the candles in the room at once. “That time is soon,” he said. “The girls will arrive at Cliffcross.”

Gamma replied, “I have intel that Melina is on her way there.”

“Yes,” said Alpha. “It’s all going according to the scriptures.”

Delta joined her hands. “And it’s at this point where the scriptures start to divert in direction. This is where we must do everything in our power to make sure that what the Scroll of Kurai foretolds doesn’t come come true.”

Gamma quoted—“Light and darkness will clash for dominion.”

“All scrolls predict so. But after that, they differ. It’s the turning point. That’s why now is the time to act.” Delta rose from her seat. “The queen plots, but so do we. And I have come up with a plan that will see us through this.”

Delta produced a parchment sheet from her robes. She proceeded to go through it with the other mages, whom all were nothing but smiles throughout. When finished, they all nodded, joined hands, and uttered—“Death to the queen!”




With Katara leading, Olive and Ravenna walked through the dirt path made in the wild meadow, brimming with a blend of violet and golden flowers. “Supposedly,” Katara pointed to the map, “we’re on our way to Cliffcross.”

Olive and Ravenna studied the parchment map’s terrain. They were on the mountainous edge of the country. And indeed, both sides had tall, majestic mountains reaching up the starry skies. They were in a valley just like the map showed.

Their feet crunched through the wet grass. “I’m curious about something,” Olive said. “About the Queen, to be exact.”

Without looking away from the map, Katara replied, “What of her?”

“Isn’t she, like, a royal? Isn’t she supposed to be part of a royal family or something like that? Isn’t that how it works? But I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone but her.”

Katara didn’t need to think too much about the answer. “She used to have a brother named Arthur. But he died a long time ago when the old royal castle mysteriously collapsed.”

“It wasn’t just the brother… it was her father too—the previous King,” Ravenna added. “And everyone in the castle. Melina was the only one who survived.”

Olive couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s so strange…”

“Maybe a little too strange, if you ask me.” Katara narrowed her eyes and put the map away. The path to Cliffcross was just the valley itself now. “She is a ruthless ruler. A psychopath through and through! And she can make the earth quake. What do you think all those things add up to?”

Ravenna didn’t react much. But Olive’s eyes went a little wide. “Isn’t that extreme even for her?”

“No, not really,” replied Ravenna after a second of silence and with her eyes on the ground. “There is no too much for her. Anything goes. That conspiracy is well known throughout the nation, but you’d be a fool to publicly talk of it.”

Olive took a sudden halt. “And I’m supposed to do something about her? I just don’t understand it. She sounds like a demon.”

Katara stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Well, yeah. That’s why you should put a stop to her.” She turned and bumped her clenched fist. “You should pulverize her!”

“No, that isn’t what I mean. I just don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?” She furrowed her brow. “We’re in the scriptures. We’re meant to do this!”

In response, Olive raised her open palm and produced an orb of pure, warm light. “I’ve got this power now. But I don’t really understand it. It is simply light.” She clenched her palm. The orb shattered and scattered all over. “It can’t defeat someone who can literally open up the earth.”

“Well, be smart now!” Katara raised a pointy finger. “Before, any of your attempts at magic ended in disaster. Now, you can actually do it, and that’s progress.”

Ravenna nodded. “She is right. Have some faith.”

“Yeah, now let’s go!” Katara turned around. “The Queen stands no chance! None!”

Olive’s friend march forward at full speed. But she herself at a much slower pace. Was this really possible? For starters, she hadn’t spoken to Yunna since they met. She looked at herself and wondered.

Then, she thought of that coast—and the violin. It all etched closer as Gamma promised. It made her pick up the pace.




The white horse galloped through the countryside roads as it dragged the shiny, golden carriage that harboured the Queen. Inside, she had her eyes peacefully closed, and her arms crossed. It wouldn’t be long now. All she read of was soon to be.

She opened her eyes to the sight of Kurai on the other side of the carriage’s bench seat. “Well, well,” she said. “Look who’s here.”

“I’ve done it,” it said. “I’ve tricked the girl.”

“You truly are the only one I could count on. Thank you.” Queen Melina made a genuine smile. “With her, we’ll have ourselves a nice little showcase of just a fragment of the gear’s power. It won’t just be a lousy experiment that stops before things get too crazy. This time, we’ll let anything that wants to happen, happen.”

Kurai bubbled. “The gear is terrifying. You will see why those in ancient times hid it away.”

The queen looked at her palms. They trembled. “I can’t wait. I’m so incredibly close to the key to everything there is. My whole life has been about this. For the first time,” she frowned, “I am nervous.”
 
The memories had been hidden deep in the recesses of his mind for many years. The trauma was buried. Then, one night, he dreamt of a great tumble of jagged rocks raining down upon him. As one slammed into his head, he woke up with a start. The sensory detail—he could taste the dust—and the consistency in the images, told him the nightmare was more than his imagination. It was something he had truly lived through. But he put the recovered memory aside. He’d been living well enough with his family and need not revisit the forgotten past.

He remembered nothing of his life before dragging his beaten body out of a pile of rubble and crawling into the woods, where the woman who would become his wife rescued him. She nursed him back to health, and then he put his whole entire attention on her. They moved to the Northern Peninsula. She became his safe place.

One day, while watching his daughter, another recovered memory burst into his mind. The tilt of his sweet Emma’s head as she spoke, the uplift of her chin, so like one he once knew, brought on a startling recollection of a beautiful young woman confronting him. A shiver ran up his spine.

The woman in his memory had not the kindness of Emma. “The throne will be mine,” she cried. “I will unfold lands and oceans, skies and planets. Neither you, nor anyone else, will thwart my ambition!”

Waves of recovered memories followed from that, threatening to drown him. He relied on his routine to keep his head afloat. The reason why he found so much satisfaction in his stonemason occupation came to light. He wanted to build, instead of tearing down.

He kept it all to himself, until one night, cuddling with his wife in bed, he whispered, “Joan.”

“Yes?”

“I remember my real name.”

***

Every muscle in Hemios’ body was tightened to the point of tearing. Sweat sheened him all over. He could hold it no longer and, with a great exhalation, dropped his hands. The thick ropes of glowing essence that had wrapped around the torsos and limbs of Araspeth and her guards dissolved. Set free from her magical imprisonment, Araspeth charged at Hemios and slapped him across the face. “What do you mean by this?” she yelled.

Startled, he brought a hand to his reddened face. “There is a method to my madness—”

“How dare you? I will have your head for this! I always knew you were a scoundrel!”

Hemios pouted. “Your lack of faith in me hurts my feelings.”

“Explain yourself!”

He swayed a bit, and then leaned over, with his hands on his knees, huffing and puffing, trying to recover. “I came to understand,” he said, in staccato speech, “that Barnabas and I, were at cross purposes. I do not trust him, not to do the queen’s bidding, but I could not very well let him know that. Let him believe that he is safe.” He swivelled determined eyes up to meet Araspeth’s. “But you and I, together, will win the prize for our queen.”

Araspeth brought her hands to her head, as if it might explode. “We could have dashed them both!”

“Have you no sense of strategy? It is better if he still believes I am on his side.”

“You let him go!”

“Of course I let him go. He is nothing without me. I have the magic.”

***

The horses trotted at a good pace through hardy growth and shady nooks bowered in vines. Eventually, Dusca and Barnabas came upon a small body of dark water. The motionless pond, ornamented with bulrushes and lily pads, centered sweeps of low-hanging tree branches. “We make camp here,” Barnabas said.

Dusca dismounted, into this place of shadows. The absence of her daughter was felt in her bones. “Cliffcross tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “We’ll make Cliffcross tomorrow.”

Her sorrowed eyes followed the dragonflies zigzagging from lily pad to lily pad. Quietly, she said, “I go for my daughter.”

He came and stood before her. “How much have you heard of Cliffcross?” he asked, concern in his eyes. “What do you know of the strange events there?”

She searched his eyes. “My father—”

“Bossman.”

“Yes, Bossman. He gave vague hints. He said that Katara had to go with the other two, in order to fulfill the Scriptures.”

Solemnly, he nodded. “Then you know that among them is the one with the Angel Mark.”

A stab of panic shot through Dusca. “Has the queen sent you, to seize them?”

“No, No. My interest here is scientific. I go to recover the fragments.”

“Fragments?”

“It is my ambition to reassemble the gear of antiquity.”

“To what purpose?”

He recoiled, as if the answer was obvious. “Why, to master time, of course.”

The irony stuck in Dusca’s craw. All those wasted years! She narrowed a discerning eye on him. “Time? You want time? You’ve had time, forty-five years if I recall correctly. Tell me, what have you done with it?”

He blinked, speechless. She did not wait for him to form an answer, but brushed by him and went into the trees.

“Where are you going?” Barnabas called.

“To gather firewood!”

***

Joan came and placed comforting hands on her husband’s shoulders. He sat at the trestle table, having just finished his supper. “Do you want me to call you Arthur, now?” she asked.

“No, that would be too strange—”

“Not strange at all. It’s who you are.”

He peered up at her. “It’s who I was.”

Gently, she brushed the hair from his forehead. A slight smile curled her lips. “Then or now, I have a feeling that you have always had the greatest heart of any man I have ever known.”

He pushed his chair away from the table and pulled her to sit on his lap. Arms around one another, their faces a breath apart, he drank her in with adoring eyes. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he said.

Her grin grew. “You’ll never have to find out.”

A rap at the door sounded, and Joan dashed up to see who it could be. She opened the door, and there stood a middle-aged woman with antlers in blue robes. Delta strode in. “I’m really not used to knocking,” she muttered.

Arthur, surprised, sprang to his feet. “I remember you,” he said, as if he could not quite believe it. “I remember you from the castle.”

“Yes, well, hello again, Arthur. Those were the days, indeed. Lots has happened since then. We’ve waited for this day, when it would all come back to you. God knows we’ve tried to get inside that head of yours, but to no avail. And let me tell you, your memories could not have come back at a better time.”

Joan took a step forward. “Welcome to our home. Please have a seat at our table. Would you like some tea?”

Delta waved away the overture of hospitality. “No, no, thank you. I have only come to deliver a message.” She levelled a pointed look at Arthur. “Your sister threatens us all,” she said.

Arthur blanched. “She is not my sister, not anymore.”

“If only it were that simple.”

“And I’m not Arthur.”

“You are Arthur,” Delta stated, as if she would brook no argument about it. “Whatever name you have been using does not belong to you anymore.”

He furrowed his brow. “Who are you, to come into our home, and make demands—”

“We are at a junction, Arthur, the junction where light and darkness will clash for dominion. If we don’t act, the prophecies of the Scroll of Kurai will come true. And then do you know where we will all be, including you and the nice little set-up you have here. You must come do battle with us against your sister, or we all perish.”

“I have no desire to seek the throne.”

“I am not offering it to you. You will be the servant of the one who bears the Angel Mark.”

“I’ve been living a good life, making an honest effort, and—”

“Arthur!” Delta cut in, raising her voice. “Enough. He who denies his destiny lives to regret it forevermore.”

Light-headed, Arthur fell back to sit in his chair. Joan, wringing her hands, watched with worried eyes. Then Delta withdrew a violin that she had hidden in the folds of her great cape. “Here,” she said to Arthur, “here, take this.”

Arthur screwed up his face at the nonsensical offering. “What for?”

“Play it.”

“I don’t play violin!”

Delta strode to stand directly before him and extended the instrument. “Take it,” she said, this time with kindness.

Without expression, he looked from the violin, up to her, and then back to the violin again. He put one hand around its neck, and with the other took the bow Delta produced. Once the instrument was in his hands, an eerie stillness came into his blood, a wash of peace and love and belonging, as if he had returned home after a long time away.

He tucked the violin under his chin and he played as if he were born to it. No shock rattled him, only the ethereal strains of a lullaby of longing and sadness.

***

They sat in the saffron glow of firelight. Dusca was confused. Why did it feel like sanctuary sitting here with Barnabas?

He broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he began, “—I’m sorry about that whole encased in ice thing, back at the tavern.”

She tilted her head in his direction. "That was scary.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Your daughter has a real brightness about her. You must be very proud.”

Dusca pulled her legs to sit cross-legged. “Oh, she’s tested me on occasion. From the time she was little, she’s butted heads with me.”

They met eyes. “She’s as beautiful as you,” he murmured.

Dusca felt the import of the moment, and went with it. “Barnabas … do you recall telling me that you had never been with a woman since me?”

With astonishment, he recoiled. “Yes, I, that’s true—”

“Well, you are the only man I have ever been with.”

His face glunched with perplexity. “But, you have a daughter.”

She gave him a how-can-you-be-so-stupid look out of the tops of her eyes.

The realization slammed him. His gape-mouthed glance shot around as if looking for sense, only to settle back on her. “What are you saying?” he asked.

“What do you think I am saying?”

“Is Katara—is Katara—?”

“Yes, Barnabas, Katara is your daughter.”
 
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