By Kate Aton-Osias
I was born in the First Age of Creation, when mountains swam in the oceans and the skies grew unencumbered from earth. Most of the first people took on the burden of unraveling the entangled landscape by giving things their first names, allowing the young world the means to commit into memory what would have been temporal accidents of creation. But even then, there were a few who were unsatisfied with the current profusion of wonders and sought to become gods themselves by creating marvels bound to their spirit and the spoken word.
My creator was one such man. His name was Glatizperal, which meant in the Old Tongue, He Who Speaks and Makes True. And while I, like many of my brethren, would like to believe that we had existed even before our current incarnation – perhaps as demons, or humans, or one of the timeless ones cursed and blessed with the gift of sentience – the truth was that I remember nothing before the moment Glatizperal seduced me into leaving the void.
My first memory was of a whisper of a touch, Glatizperal calling me from a distance. I wanted to ignore the intrusion – I was at peace then, content in my desireless existence – but the seductive onslaught of words continued. I found myself drawn closer to Glatizperal’s voice, as he urged me to awaken with promises of wonders and delights beyond my imagining. And when the temptation of his voice was almost too much to bear, to real to ignore, he bid me to open my eyes and fall.
I remember little of the fall itself. It was dark and long and I was afraid. What I do remember was the embrace afterwards. Glatizperal held me in his arms and lead me into an intimate dance. Unable to resist, I allowed myself to follow, allowed his spirit to encompass my entire being until I was completely cocooned in the safety of his presence. And then I heard his command. I began to flicker, then flare, before bursting into a brilliant rapture.
In the effulgence of light, I wept; wept with joy, with relief, in pain as I continued to emanate radiance. Glatizperal used words then not to command, but to bind; to hold me to rhythm and breath and sound. Even then I knew I could have returned to the void where he would not have any power over me. And yet I chose to stay, unwilling to trade the pleasure of completeness for the unencumbered peace from where I came.
That day, Glatizperal gave me my first name, but I would simply come to be known as Light.
#
It’s difficult put a label to everything that Glatizperal meant to me. Most certainly he was a father, but especially during the embrace, he was also my master, my friend, my brother, my lover, my better self.
The tragedy was that Glatizperal and others like him, did not acknowledge our sentience or our existence. Except for one instance, Glatizperal treated and used us as tools, to be invoked on demand, and the words of our binding to be taught to others at his leisure. It was this tradition thankless utilization that has caused many to mistake us as common cantrips. This was a persistent and irritating insult to our sentience, for cantrips though popular, were just rhymes empowered by people’s stubborn belief in their efficacy.
Of course, there were exceptions. A precious few saw us, acknowledged us, treated us as lovers and friends. And for those of us they had sired and loved, I feel no envy, just a diffused sense of gladness that not all of us had to endure the horror of ignorance.
“Not all of them can see us, unless we are invoked. And even then, they think we’re simply a figment of their imagination,” Charm had explained.
Charm was my older sister, though I use the word ‘sister’ carefully, for gender is not really important to our kind. It was the female form, however, that she favored, and that is how I remember her best – as a young, beautiful woman, with flowers in her hair and green, cat-like eyes, smelling always like a lush forest after the rain. She was the one who taught me to erect walls to prevent anyone I did not choose from gaining access to my core, to keep myself intact though many invoked my name. She was the one who comforted me the first time several casters had called for me simultaneously, making me feel stretched and violated. And most importantly, she was the one who listened to all my angry questions – why we were always subservient, why we allowed ourselves to be consumed by the will of humans, why we took the abuse of non-recognition as if that was all that we were owed – and answered them with the wisdom of an all-encompassing answer.
“It is our way,” Charm had simply replied.
One of my deepest regrets was that I wasn’t able to become the sibling that Charm was to me, to my younger brother Spark. By the time he was born, Charm’s core had left. With enough users invoking her presence, she had decided to travel and explore, to see the rest of the young world humans had written poetry about. In truth, I could have gone with her, but secretly, and perhaps foolishly, I had dreamed that I could still gain Glatizperal’s recognition, perhaps even his affection, through dogged determination and unwavering loyalty. But there were dreams so private and so precious, that even to my closest sibling, I dared not air them, fearing she would voice reasons that could cause them to disintegrate into dust.
Spark was different. He was curious, excitable, almost never still. He would often change forms – sometimes he was a young athlete he had taken a fancy to, other times he was an exaggerated version of Glatizperal, still others he was a young, angry bull that snorted out lightning – and always, always, he questioned why we obeyed as we did, why we allowed ourselves to be subjugated in such a manner, why we didn’t dare allow ourselves to explore the breadth and magnitude of our abilities. Though the questions were familiar to the ones I had also asked, Charm’s undeniable truth was never sufficient to quench his thirst for justification.
For a while, I had convinced myself that Spark’s behavior was attributable to his age and nature of his abilities. And though I had seen glimpses of his rebellion I had intentionally blinded myself to the depth of his bitterness. Until the day Mestarillizen died. By then, it was too late.
Mestarillizen was Glatizperal’s most precious human apprentice. He called her ’daughter’ and I knew that this blatant favoritism was one of the reasons that Spark never liked her, never gave more than what was absolutely necessary whenever she called.
The day was like any other. The heat of the midday sun was streaming through the open windows as Glatizperal spoke intently to a class of young men and women about the art of invocation. Several of us had already been cast; some, like me, had allowed their core to attend. As such, the coruscating forms of my kin lent a palpable air of tension and magic that had us and our human casters brimming with excitable energy. And then, it was Mestarillizen’s turn. Glatizperal bid her to demonstrate how to speak Spark’s incantation. I was talking to Heal about the sullen young student maintaining me when Spark first became tangible.
Immediately, my kin and I sensed that something was different.
It was in the way Spark stood, smiled, then moved. He took Mestarillizen’s spirit and swirled her one way and then the other, forcing her to speak the words to give him even more freedom to encompass her being into his core. Ruby red light refracted out of them, that quickly changed into bolts of jagged lightning streaked outward, aimless and unrestrained. It was both an undeniable display of power and a declaration of sentience. More importantly, it was a battle of wills. And as we stood there – trapped into inaction by our own surprise – our worst fears came true when we heard Mestarillizen scream.
I should have done something. But in the riot of actions that followed – Glatizperal calling Negate, students mumbling invocations left and right, panicked humans coming in and out of the room searching the root of the chaos – I did nothing but stand as morbid witness to the horror that was unfolding before me. Instead of allowing the sullen student who had been maintaining me to disengage, I should have kept him tethered to me and perhaps in that state, I could have done something to prevent the tragedy that occurred. But I let the student’s spirit slip away and by the time Negate appeared – large and overwhelming – I had grown ephemeral and useless.
I stood there as Negate barreled past me to take down Spark. Spark – already diminishing from the effort of subsuming Mestarillizen – did not stand a chance against the angry determination that fueled Negate. When Negate had landed his first punch, Spark released his hold on the young woman to stumble back, grunting in pain.
The next few moments had been excruciating to watch. Negate continued to pound Spark to the ground, relentless, unforgiving, as these had been the commands given to him by Glatizperal. At that moment, I saw my last opportunity to make a difference; to take a stand and help either my brother or my master, but shamefully, and to my eternal regret, I did nothing.
By the time Negate let up, Spark was nearly dead, though he still had the gall to smile victoriously. But when Heal, after looking over Mestarillizen, whispered ever so softly, ‘There’s nothing I could do,’ there was a flash of anguish in Spark’s face. Whether it was because he truly did not intend to kill her, or because there was such despair in Glatizperal that all of us who loved him could not help but share in his pain, I would never know.
What I do know is that Glatizperal had looked up from holding Mestarllizen, looked straight at Spark even though he had become just as invisible as I was, and said two words that dripped with hatred.
“Get out.”
And then, he looked at each and every one of us
“I hate you all, get out!”
It was the first time any of us had ever been acknowledged outside an invocation. It was the last time I saw Glatizperal.
#
The next few decades I spent lost. I encountered neither Spark nor Charm during those years. In retrospect, perhaps I was avoiding them, though it was never my conscious intent to do so. But the world was wide, my guilt ran deep, and there were many places to hide and grieve.
Despite my sadness, I grew stronger with each passing year. With the number of humans invoking my abilities increasing, I found myself growing more powerful until I was no longer pained by the multitudes who demanded for my attention. In a way, their constant intrusion helped me deal with my own demons. I could be everywhere but in my core, and I allowed the distraction that used to frighten me to keep my own guilt at bay.
By the time the Golden Age of Magic had arrived, I had learned to live with my own private despair, and on the surface, had begun to celebrate the glorious era for my kind.
Of course, most humans were not aware of the period as anything but a testament to their own greatness. To them, the Golden Age was a time where human achievements reached new heights; where kingdoms and empires were built; where wild dragons, lamias and gorgons were defeated and tamed; where old secrets were revealed and forbidden texts were deciphered. And yet behind each of these successes was the influence, if not the outright aide of one of my brethren. There was Mend, with his clever hands, who repaired tools for construction; Shield, who bravely took the blows for her summoner in battle; Identify, who unerringly brought enlightenment and knowledge; Message, who spoke in numerous tongues at various speeds; Lift, whose large brawny arms provided additional strength.
But while we gloried with our expanding abilities, humans become more addicted to the power they wielded. Wars dotted the landscape – burning villages, fortresses under siege, hordes of armies marching from one kingdom to another – as people battled each other for supremacy in a clash of wills and ways, religion and righteousness, bravery and madness.
It was during one of these conflict-ridden years that I was invoked by a woman who had once been a favorite of mine. My invocation had been the first she had learned, and often in her youth, she had called for me to combat her fear of the dark. In spite of the crudity of her pronunciation, I had gone to her side, finding the innocent bravery she possessed – fragile yet unyielding – irresistible.
We had long conversations, she and I, when she was much younger. As she had grown older, however, I was labeled as an ‘imaginary friend’ and then, eventually, a mere, fond memory of an innocence foregone. When she had become queen and married her Prince Regent, she stopped calling for me all together.
When I felt her spirit calling for me some decades later, I did not hesitate in allowing my core to be drawn into her embrace. But even as I headed toward her, I could sense there was something terribly wrong, something worse than intruding darkness. It wasn’t in her words – she pronounced them perfectly and not even the most experienced wizard could fault her intonation – instead, it was hidden beneath the reverberation of her voice, revealed only by the slightest tremor, the subtlest of pauses in her invocation.
When I finally stepped close enough to begin the dance, I felt her relief so palpable and so achingly familiar, I was slightly disoriented upon seeing the regal woman seated at her throne who had replaced the little girl I had once known.
She had changed. And though she had born the scars of time well, innocence was no longer in her eyes. Instead, there was a sense of tired acceptance. Beside her stood the Prince Regent, his right hand on her shoulder, the other on his sword. Despite the fierce frown he wore, I could sense a depth of emotion between the two of them. I was glad. It was good to know that she did not have to endure the past decades alone.
As she commanded, I let myself slowly illuminate the throne room, the corridors, the surrounding halls, the stairwells, turrets and even the dungeons, until the whole castle was lit not by yellow candlelight but with white brilliance. I saw servants and musicians in every room, jesters and performers, a multitude of tables filled to the edges with a feast that could feed thousands. Courtiers in colorful robes, soldiers and generals in their uniforms, bejeweled scholars and wizards and their apprentices, citizens in their best frock, lords and ladies in their most handsome gowns, filled the halls with their somber expressions and hushed conversations. Only the children laughed boisterously, running in between the adults, finding pleasure in the cramped spaces and in being able to take treats unnoticed from the crowded tables.
And then I heard the explosions outside.
Curious, I went out to explore the fortress’ outer walls. Immediately, I sensed a presence that seemed vaguely familiar. Acting on instinct, I called out Spark’s first name. But there was only the answering bombardment of catapults as thousands of soldiers outside the fortress’ walls continued their siege.
And then from the sky, I saw a human, a young beautiful boy with golden hair and pale skin. As he drew closer, I saw lightning in his eyes as bolts of angry electrical bands flashed around his arms and legs, like chains. That was when I knew that I had found my younger brother Spark.
“What are you doing?” I asked, horrified to see the boy smile at me, and sensing none of the human’s spirit within the boy’s body.
“Light, Light, Light. Is this the welcome I get after all this time? Come, won’t you embrace your brother?”
“Let him go! You’re going to kill him!”
“A pity, that. Humans do tend to be rather weak, though this boy does seem hardier than most.” The boy drifted closer to me. “How have you fared, Light?”
“Why are you doing this? What has happened to you?”
“What has happened to me?” The boy raised his hand upward and immediately, red lightning spread out like fiery spider webs. The soldiers outside cheered. “What has happened to me is that I’ve found my place in the world. A place where I’m adored and worshipped, as is my due.”
“That is not –“
“Still holding on to the same line, Light?” The boy smirked. “Times have changed. People have changed. Even our legendary sister Charm has changed – ah, I see you didn’t know that. I’m glad to have passed along some of the family gossip.”
“You’re wrong, she’s, she’s –“
“Irrevocably different. Even changed her name. Admit it, Light, in this era, humans are the pawns and we, we are their gods. Why can’t you accept that?”
“There has to be another way. You can’t just subsume people as if they were nothing but –“ I stopped.
“Were you going to say, ‘tools’?” The boy laughed.
“But you can’t treat them the way we had loathed to be treated. There has to be another way.”
“When you find one, let me know. Right now, I have a fortress to destroy.” The boy clenched his raised fist and took the spider web of lightning and hurled it against a large part of the fortress wall. Another cheer rose to the air as attacking soldiers poured into the large opening.
“I can’t let you do this, I can’t -”
“I’d like to see you try and stop me. After all, what is it that you could do, Light? Shine brighter?” Laughing, the boy floated and disappeared.
I went back to my invoker. Though her face seemed unchanged, her right hand clutched tightly at the arm rest of her throne. Beside her, the Prince Regent was whispering something furiously in her ear, but she kept on only shaking her head. I could have listened into their conversation, divined the sentiment from her spirit, but I was distracted. I had other matters to take care of.
I took my invoker’s spirit and led her to visualize her wizards. Her head jerked in surprise but she did not resist. Letting myself expand, I showed the wizards the purest form of Negate’s incantation, even going as far as whispering to them his first name. The wizards too, were surprised, but they did not question the provenance of their new found knowledge. Instead, they quickly passed on the casting of their protective rotes to their apprentices and began Negate’s incantation.
In the meantime, screams in the outer hallways called for my attention. I urged my invoker to let me expand further and again, she did not resist. I began to flare more brightly, focused only on blinding the attacking soldiers to give my invoker’s own army an advantage. But the hordes kept coming in, and each time I pushed my invoker for more freedom, to allow me to explore the limits of my abilities.
I knew the wizards had finished the summons for Negate when briefly, he appeared before me and nodded a curt greeting, before running towards the outer walls. For awhile, it looked like we had a chance of winning. The generals and their soldiers, even the city folk fought with all their strength, maximizing every advantage I had provided them. There was even a momentary silence as the bombardment of explosions ceased outside, and I could only presume that Negate had been successful in what he had set out to do.
But there was just too many of them that for every soldier I had blinded, five more would come in ready to do more damage.
And then, I heard Negate scream. When I found him, he was being bludgeoned to the ground with angry bolts of electricity before the will of the wizards who called him failed and allowed Negate to dissipate.
“Payback,” said the golden-haired boy. But before I could confront him, he again disappeared.
I forced myself to grow even more brightly, to not only blind, but to burn. I burnt through armor and robes, continued my assault until the stench of burning flesh saturated the air. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to show Spark that it was possible to have power without consuming a human’s will.
And then, I heard her whisper.
“I command you to stop.”
I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t she understand that I was fighting for her? Didn’t she understand that if she stopped now, her people, her way of life, would die? I felt her spirit trying to slip away from mine, but I refused to let it disengage.
“I command you to stop – please, please stop.”
Furious, I went to confront her spirit in her throne room, ready to demand an explanation for her inexplicable command. She was still seated, but her face no longer looked regal. Instead, she was heaving, though no tears fell from her eyes. Surrounding her were armored guards and loyal courtiers, all attempting to relieve her of her burden. She was shaking her head furiously at all of them, refusing to give up the body of the Prince Regent who was sprawled on top of her, with several arrows sticking out of his back.
Looking straight at me, still without letting go of her husband, she continued to command me.
“I command you to stop. I can’t cry – I can’t even remember how he felt like if you keep holding on to me. Please – please stop.”
And I knew I had to let her go.
As the palace began to grow dimmer and I began to dissipate, I heard even more screams, but it was her whispered last words, that broke me.
“I just wanted one last night of happiness.”
#
Even the world has its own boundaries. What had once seemed wide and endless, now seemed small and limited.
As the Golden Age ended, I found myself deteriorating in both power and spirit. All the old questions I had asked refused to be quieted down by the wisdom I had held on for so long. The frustration I felt was only intensified whenever I was invoked. Each time a caster began to lead me to the dance, I felt tempted to refuse, to deny the caster any part of myself to be consumed into his will. And yet I was bound to the words, and no matter how many times I had wanted to take over my invoker’s spirit, I always stopped short and reminded myself of Mestarillizen’s scream, of the golden haired boy’s lightning chained body, of the queen’s need to mourn. Instead, I endured the lack of recognition, the endless, inconsiderate demands for my abilities, and my frustration festered and grew even as my powers dwindled.
In the Second Age of Creation, cantrips and rotes rose in popularity, not because they were powerful – they were extremely limited in use, not being sentient as we were – but because they were predictable. Humans in general had sensed the volatile nature of my kind. And though for the most part they still did not acknowledge us, they had begun to avoid our incantations, learning their lessons from the wizards of old who had died unable to master the powers they had wielded.
I grew weaker with each year, as fewer and fewer casters called for me. Humans too, lost some of their abilities, but they responded by creating automatons and artifacts, questioning the validity of the old ways and changing them to suit the difficult times. And all I could do was become a witness to the deterioration of my kind, as the opportunity to choose a path, to take a stand, to make a difference, grew smaller and smaller in the years that followed.
I was weak and old, but still very much alive, when I heard a young woman mangling my incantation. During the Golden Age, I wouldn’t have even paid heed to her. She was mispronouncing the words so badly, most young children of the era gone by would have shook their heads in shame. And yet so few call for me now, that, just like someone miscalling your name in an empty street, she was able to gain my attention. Having nothing else better to do, I went to her side.
And found her cornered against a wall.
She was in a large, dark cavern filled with even darker monstrosities whose only intent, it seemed, was to devour her. She had been staving them off with cantrips for flame and flash, rotes on banishment and blessing. When I had finally arrived, her spirit was exhausted, her voice hoarse, her body bruised from running and tripping on uneven ground and all the physical strength she had left she used to fiercely hold on to the small lamp that was moderately, if temporarily, preventing monsters from dog piling her.
The dance she led with her words was awkward, the commands she gave illogical. I wondered who taught her the summoning, if indeed someone did teach her my invocation, or if she merely picked it up from some bard or read some miswritten inscriptions on how to cast me. Though I felt pity for her, there was little I could do without taking over.
Regretfully, I began to move on when I heard her speak to me.
“Don’t leave me. I know you’re there –don’t you dare leave me.”
Though I knew there was little chance of her hearing me, especially in my half-cast state, I replied anyway.
“I can’t. Your words are not making any sense.”
To my surprise, she acted as if she heard me. She jerked her head towards my general direction, her arm still waving the lamp in wide arcs to maximize its meager light. “Teach me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I argued, feeling foolish for pursuing the conversation when this could all just be my imagination. “You could die.”
“Right now, you’re my only hope, whatever you are. None of my cantrips and rotes worked and my lamp is dying.” She pressed herself harder against the stone wall. “If I have to die, I will choose the way I die. And I definitely don’t want to die by them. I’ve seen what they do to their kills.”
“But I’m old and only a fraction of what I used to be. I don’t know how effective –“
“Right now, I don’t have time to flatter you about your age.” One creature from the side seized the opportunity and grabbed her arm. Furiously, she shook the monster away. “As you can see, I’m a little busy trying to survive. I know I’m not saying the words right, and I know I’m asking too much, but will you please help me?”
Not quite sure how to react to her arrogance and even more uncertain whether or not the entire scene was just a product of my lonely imagination, I reached out to take the lead. I whispered the words in her mind, taught her how to guide her thoughts, told her not to be afraid of the rise and fall of the dance. She was a quick learner. But while I expected her spirit to be molded against mine, to be cocooned and completely subsumed by my core, she surprised me yet again by meeting me as my equal, matching my movements perfectly without bowing down to my will. I began to flare. The light started out as a mere flicker, and then it grew brighter until I was emanating white brilliance. I thought I could do no more, stretched out as I was, weakened as I was. But her spirit prodded me to expand further and this time she took the lead. Just like her spirit did not bow down to mine, she dared me to meet her as a peer, to follow her movements without need of subservience. With everything I had left, I took up the challenge. I let all the walls I had built crumble, giving her access to all that I was, all that remained of me. And she, in turn, revealed all that she was and everything she had wanted to be. For a few moments, we knew each other perfectly. And the whole expanse of the cavern burst with radiance of a million suns.
All around us, the monstrosities started to wretch and scream before dissolving into black pools. As they did, there was a foul stench that permeated the area, underscored by a hint of an achingly familiar scent. I thought it smelled faintly like a burning forest, but I could be wrong. I wanted to be wrong.
Before my mind could roil over the possibility, I felt the young woman’s spirit slip. Instinctively, I held on to her, keeping her tethered in my embrace. In the physical plane, she had already slumped against the wall, but her eyes remained alive and victorious. She looked at me directly as she gave me a weak but triumphant smile.
“We did it.”
And with her spirit pushed passed exhaustion, she died.
#
From the beginning, I knew that I could always return to the void. It was an option open to all of us and yet the repercussions were unknown as no one was ever heard to have returned from it. After the Golden Age, many of my kind chose to return to where we were taken from, preferring to take the risk of death rather than facing eternity in their weakened states. I had personally lost good friends to the void: Mist, who was sometimes Fog, whose obscuring presence had kept me from shattering after so many years of questions, guilt and sorrow; Detoxify, with his colorful litany of curses and exaggerated camp fire stories; Detect, who had made me promise to remind the humans if I had an opportunity to, to never interchange her with the cantrip of the same name.
I never thought I, myself, would ever return to the void. There were too many things in my life unresolved, too many questions unanswered. But I had come to a point where I’d realized some things may never get closure and there was nothing left but to come to terms with them. I would never know why Glatizperal never deigned to acknowledge us, even though it seemed he was capable of doing so from the beginning. I would never know what could have happened if I had been a better sibling to Spark. I would never know if the episode with the young woman in the cavern was isolated or if, all this time, the possibility of standing as equals with the humans we served had been right there all along. I would never know what had truly happened to Charm. And I would never know if anything I had done in this world had any merit, or if I had simply wasted away the opportunities and the power that had once come so easily for me.
My last few weeks awake were bittersweet. Despite the difficulties of finding a human who could see me and hear me – there were so few who clung to the old ways, and to find someone who was already rare then, in an era of automated inventions, seemed almost impossible – but eventually, I did find someone who had an approximation of the special talent. He was a cleric named Fogen, who had a penchant for casting a blessing after a long night of drinking to keep himself safe in his journey back to his chapel. The combination of the rote and alcohol allowed him to see me and hear me, though I could only presume that I appeared as nothing more than a phantom before him, an apparition who needed closure. It didn’t matter what he thought I was. What mattered was that, through my urging, he wrote my incantation down correctly and accurately, word for word. It was to be my tombstone and it was important that at the very least, the words of my binding be remembered correctly.
A few others had heard about my plan and had come to gather around the aging cleric. I didn’t ask if they too, had decided to return to the void and had wanted to leave something tangible in the world. It was enough that I got to spend time with them, no matter how brief. There was Shield, with her ribald jokes and colorful escapades; Mend, and his love story with a craftswoman that spanned fifty years; and even Negate, who had become more talkative in his old age, endlessly recounting the provenance of each of his battle scars.
By the time my inscription was finished, we had talked about almost everything. We talked about our youth, our sires, those of us who had changed, those of us who had remained the same, those of us we could no longer find. There was nothing left but to say goodbye. I bid my friends farewell. Without much fanfare, I let myself imagine the void, the feeling of absence, the absolute peace. And then, I was gone.
The next thing I remembered was of someone slowly stroking my cheek. Unlike the first time, I had all my memories intact from the life I had led. And when the caress became more insistent, I knew that that someone was very carefully and precisely calling out for me.
I was not dead. Uncertain if I truly wanted to awaken, I let myself drift slowly to the voice, more prepared now to the seduction of the words spoken out to beseech me. From outside, I heard the rumble of voices.
“Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Shhh, you’re distracting him.”
“The Ebonites are closing in, we just lost Mireil awhile back and right now, we’re stuck in an abandoned chapel with no food or supplies. I just want to know if this is worth it.”
“The Wise Woman was very specific that we needed this particular spell. Now shut up, we didn’t come all this way to have you distract Restal from casting it.”
“I’m just saying -”
“Shhhh!”
I opened my eyes and let myself fall.
**The End**
Tags: Kate Aton-Osias