Abigail Fredrickson

The story behind this cutscene is actually a bit different from the others. This one is the entirety of Chapter 34…which was originally written from Kelly’s POV instead of Terry’s. This scene was one I had looked forward to writing from the moment Kelly had introduced her character to me.

The issue was that in editing, her first appearance in a POV had been two chapters away from the end. Rather jarring.

However, I still wanted to include the scene since it was so important to setting up the magical aspect of this. That left me to rewrite the chapter from Terry’s POV. I do personally prefer Kelly’s for this, however, as she is much closer to the central issue of this chapter, and I had originally wanted this to be her POV’s debut chapter.

---

Kelly

The encounters between the Resistance and samurai started a couple weeks after Tigress and Captain Lunn began training.  So far, none of them were extremely huge.  Quite a few were brief skirmishes between scouting parties.  Others were closer to mini battles.  At least, based off what I’d heard.  I hadn’t gone with any of those groups yet.  Until now.

I was surprised when Terry and I were chosen to go with this one, but I suppose that because we’re so low on numbers compared to Saber’s forces, we do need to have everyone working who can.  Also…this mission is returning to my hometown.  Searching for anything that escaped the destruction that could potentially help the Resistance.  And to keep said things away from Saber, because if it could help us, it could likely help them as well.  We’d been in a hurry the first time, Tigress explained.  They’d been looking for survivors then, not for unharmed magi belongings.  I was probably chosen to come because I could recognize if something that had remained intact would be useful or had value of some sort.

It’s a riskier mission than the others have been.  The journey to and from Sabaibā and Yōsai is a few days’ time.  Anything could happen while we’re out here, and the rest of the Resistance may not even know.  It’s risky.  It’s also extremely important.

The only person here that I’m familiar with is Terry.  He seems to know at least a couple of the adults though.  I know one of them is named Kevin.  He’s kind of a serious person, so it’s interesting to watch the two interact.  Sometimes Kevin doesn’t seem to have any idea how to react to the things Terry says.  Takes a prankster to understand a prankster, I suppose.  They do get along though, even though they’re extremely different.  And I suppose that even Kevin isn’t nearly as serious as Dylan.  I’ve barely interacted with either, but I can tell that I’d much rather be on Kevin’s bad side than Dylan’s.  Dylan is just plain intimidating.

Terry’s chatter stops abruptly.  I glance at him curiously, only to see him look back at me in the same moment.  I don’t understand why he looks so concerned until I focus on what we’re approaching.

My home…  I swallow, struggling to hide the fact that my eyes sting, that my chest feels tied in knots.  Terry only looks away from me when Kevin calls for the others to stop here.

“It’s already dusk.  We won’t be able to find a thing at night,” he says.  “We’ll spend the night outside the town.”

“The longer we take on this mission, the greater risk we have that we’ll be intercepted by Saber,” a bearded man states with a frown.

“And we’ll do our best not to linger, but it will be useless to search in the dark,” Kevin explains.  “If it means we’re intercepted, then I hope you all remember your training.  It’s kept quite a few of us alive this far.”

“He’s right.  So stop your grumbling and get ready to sleep on the ground for one extra night,” a blonde woman snaps.  “We’ve all got family back at Yōsai that we want to safely return to, but it’s a hard life, and we have to live in it.  So deal with it or you get no food tonight.”

I let my horse stop next to Storm and mumble just loud enough for Terry to hear, “Does she actually mean that?”

He grins, “Nah.  Kenzie wouldn’t actually do that.  She’s all bark and no bite when it doesn’t actually matter.”

“What about when it does?”

“She’s as short as me, but you better hope your neck stays attached to the rest of you.”

“Noted.”

=

We didn’t make a fire.  Therefore, it is freezing.  Therefore, we all decided to huddle close by to each other, horses included.  Why didn’t we make a fire?  Kevin said something about the smoke being too obvious.  It’s ridiculous if you ask me.  It’s night, nobody could possibly see a little wisp of smoke.  But I guess I’m not quite as used to hiding from the samurai as the others are, because they all agreed with him.  Except for the grumbling guy, that is, who said he’d rather die by a samurai’s sword than get hypothermia while asleep.

Anyways, I am here now, staring up through the trees’ leaves at the starry night sky, my back pressed against my horse as she sleeps.  I’m fairly certain I’m the last one still awake.  I should definitely be getting some rest so I’m not sleepwalking everywhere tomorrow.  I can’t though.  Knowing I’m so close to my destroyed home…so close to the last place where I saw my father, my friends, my horse…

It’s the place I’d lived in for my whole life.  I grew up there.  Nearly all my memories take place there.  Everyone I knew and cared about lived in our town.  I went hunting one day, thought it would be normal enough.  At the most, the biggest difference when I came back would probably be that the rest of the Resistance had just arrived.  I’d said bye to my father just like I always did.

When I came back, there was nothing and no-one left but dead bodies, crumbling buildings, dying fires, and smoke, ashes, and dust hanging in the air everywhere.

I’d just stood there for a second; I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.  How could all that have happened in a couple hours’ time?  Yet somehow it did, and I hadn’t been dreaming.  It was all too real in a way that was horrible.

I’d cried for what must’ve been at least an hour, trying to find someone, anyone who was still alive, still okay.  I’d been half blinded by my tears and everything hanging in the air, half suffocating by my inability to breathe evenly plus everything in the air, plus the stench.  I’d finally stumbled out of there and collapsed on a broken wall, barely able to stand as it finally sunk in what had happened.

And then the Resistance came.  I never even got to learn exactly what had happened.

I close my eyes and sigh.  I want to go back, if only to see my home one last time.  It had all happened so fast, it was such a blur, that I hadn’t really processed that I was leaving my home, possibly forever.  But at the same time, I don’t want to see the corpses that were too many to bury in any short amount of time.  I don’t want to see the destruction and death where there used to be so much vibrance, life, and joy.

Whether I want to or not though, tomorrow I’ll be going back.  Somehow the thought is actually comforting.  I don’t have to make that choice.  I don’t have to figure out whether or not I want to go back because I’ll end up going either way.

I turn over and murmur a spell under my breath, the one my father would say whenever I came to him late at night, head spinning with too many thoughts to sleep.  Even as the last syllable leaves my lips, I feel my turbulent mind calm, and it no longer is too much of a battle for me to fall into sleep.

I open my eyes, surprised to find myself standing.  I’d fallen asleep lying down.  Also, it’s the middle of the day, apparently.  I overslept?!  I turn around and pause.  Right, okay, yeah, I’m dreaming, actually, I’m not awake.  Why do I say that?  Well the fact that my town is standing before me, whole and alive, is a pretty big clue.

I slowly walk forward.  It’s a dream town; it’s not real.  That means that it’s pointless to go in.  I’ll only get homesick and probably wake up in tears, and I don’t need that in my life.  I’ve accepted what happened; I don’t need to make it worse for myself.

I keep walking anyways.  I don’t exactly want to, that’s not it.  It’s that I feel compelled to.  Like someone is gently trying to explain something I’d done wrong to me.  Not quite a good analogy because I didn’t actually do something wrong, but the feeling that I don’t want to listen to a hard truth is what I’m trying to get at here.  It has to be done, I have to listen.  I may not want to, I may feel uncomfortable because I just want the lecture to be over so I can continue with my life, but it’s something I need to pay attention to all the same so that I don’t make the same mistake twice.

Here I don’t want to go in Sabaibã, I’d much rather leave it all behind and continue with life the best I can, but somehow I know I need to.  There’s something about all of this that is much too real to just be a dream.  I can smell, feel, hear, see everything exactly the way I used to.  I can smell the meals being made, the smoke from the chimneys.  I can feel the brisk, chilly air.  I can hear the leaves crunching beneath my feet as I walk, the distant laughter and murmur of the magi, old and young in the streets.  I can see the town exactly as it was before, not a detail out of place, not a single added.

I walk into town, and after a moment of weaving my way through everyone, I realize none of them know I’m here.  They can’t see, hear, or touch me like I can see, hear, and touch them.  So…maybe it really is a dream…just a really detailed one.

I spot my friend gathering in our corner to study together.  Right, I’d missed out on our last session before everything happened…I’d gone out hunting instead, believing I’d be able to do it later, though I wouldn’t be able to go hunting later.

How wrong I’d been.

I quickly pass my friends, only to find that my path is leading my habitually towards my old home.  My father stands just outside, speaking with one of the town elders.  His rich, blue and silver robe hangs to his knees, shoulders squared.  His sash is tied firmly and professionally.  His black hair falls over his shoulders and down his back, though a portion of it is pulled into a neat braid in the center.  A couple streaks of gray show, but otherwise he looks as young as he did when I was only five.  His dark eyes seem to flicker like starlight, and his dark face seems chiseled from stone, set and determined.  His whole stance exudes authority and confidence.  I’d always believed that he could move a mountain if he wished.

Seeing him again, so real and present…I feel my vision blur and run forward, not caring if he can’t see or hear me.  I barrel into him, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his robes, biting back the sobs that shake my body.  He doesn’t return the hug, of course.  He can’t if he doesn’t know I’m here, but just being this close to him is a relief beyond anything I could imagine.  I can smell the herbs he often has to work with, exactly how he always smelled.  It was always so soothing when I’d come to him, upset, and he’d pull me in close.  Even if we’d never talked about what was bothering me, that alone was enough to calm me and clear my mind.  I can feel his chest vibrate as he speaks, just like it always did when we’d curl up at night and he’d let me fall asleep with him when I was younger.

“The Resistance will be arriving shortly,” he’s saying, “I trust that everything is under way?”  Oh.  Oh no.  This is the day…the day it happened.  I squeeze my eyes shut, No no no, I don’t want to see this.  Please let me wake up, I didn’t want…I didn’t want a vision, I don’t want to see them dying… Yet…I wanted to know what had happened.  I really did, and I still do.  What was it that had overpowered them like that?  The samurai on their own wouldn’t have been able to cause damage of that extent, and some of the people had died with no marks on them at all, as if they’d simply died in place.  It didn’t make any sense.  So what had happened to them?

I slowly pull away from my father as the elder replies, “Yes, everyone is packing up their own things and preparing for them to come.  Their own supplies should be restocked for the last bit of the journey to Yōsai, and we should all be on our way about five hours before nightfall.”

“Good, then let’s-” he cuts himself off abruptly as a horn sounds, turning to look in the direction of it.

The elder’s brow wrinkles, “Samurai.”

“We won’t let them get far,” my father states grimly.  “Gather every magic wielder together and-“

“Aryon!”  I recognize my father’s closest friend racing up to them, breathing heavily, “They’re already upon us.  There’s-there’s something different about them, they- magic doesn’t affect them the way it did before and-“

“What…?”

“The queen, Aryon.  The queen is here.”

That’s when I hear the screams.  A building crumbles in the distance, sending up a cloud of dust.  The elder stares in horror, “What kind of devilry was that?”

My father steels himself, gaze darkening, “Dark magic.”  He starts in the direction of the fighting.  I run alongside him, otherwise unable to keep up with his long strides.  The other two hurry to keep up as well.

“That’s impossible,” the elder murmurs.  “Dark magic was eliminated at least a century ago.  Nothing remains of it.”

“No.  There were traces left behind,” Aryon growls.  “But back then our people would rather have ignored them and believed that they had succeeded in destroying the dark arts than face the truth that it was just hiding, waiting to return when we’ve forgotten how to fight back.  By our time, those traces were mere vague mentions in historical schoolbooks.  The briefest of warnings that the dark magi, the sorcerers, could return, and no clues or hints as to how to stomp them out once and for all.”

I stumble back as we turn another corner, staring in shock.  The samurai’s armor and weapons seems, for the most part, to absorb magic, leaving our people defenseless, barely able to block or parry, barely able to fight back.  But that’s not what stopped me in my tracks.

A tall woman strides down the street, her eyes cloudy.  Long black hair seems to float around her shoulders, a simple, white robe flowing around her, accented with silver armor.  Without needing to say a word, I see her magic arc through the air.  Black mist strikes buildings and homes, bringing them down even with their inhabitants crying out inside as they’re crushed.  Some of my people are lifted in the air, struggling, and, I realize in horror, unable to breathe.  They’re not set down until they’re limp and have been for only too long.  Some of her spells strike my people right in the chest, even as they fight back.  Those freeze, eyes glazing over in death, falling to the ground in unnatural positions.

This magic…this…dark magic…is nothing like anything that I’ve ever seen or been taught.  Magic isn’t supposed to do this.  It’s not supposed to take life, it’s not supposed to harm and destroy.  Our magic is a gift meant to let us serve others, meant to let us protect and aid others.  But this…this is all of that turned on its head.  I feel sick.

One father stands between this-this witch and his family, summoning a shield.  A cruel smile plays around her lips as she sends her own magic his way, piercing through his defense and leaving him dead, taking the very breath from his lungs.  His wife cries out, catching him as he falls, the children burst into tears that quieten unnaturally as their lives are taken as well.

My own father darts forward, “Kiyan, help me.”  His best friend stays right by his side.  I can’t looks away as their combined magic cuts off the queen’s, saving a life at the last second.  Her apparently unseeing eyes turn slowly, landing on them.  She raises her hands.

Their battle is brief and barely visible.  I can hardly make out the three figures through the haze of magic.  The black of the sorceress, my father’s midnight blue, Kiyan’s rich magenta purple…

Kiyan crumples to the ground as my father cries his name, eyes open, yet unseeing, glazed over in death.  I look at my father.  He lashes out, desperate to win, desperate to protect his people.  He doesn’t see the samurai.

I scream, even though I know he can’t hear me, “FATHER, BEHIND YOU!”

The sword pierces his back and comes out of his chest.  He gasps, shuddering, and sinks to his knees, staring up at the witch.  She smiles, letting her lower arms be enveloped in magic as she slowly approaches him.  He breathes heavily, coughing.  She flicks her hand and the samurai roughly pulls the sword out, leaving the blood to gush out of the fatal wound.

Before my eyes, my father closes his eyes, falls to the ground, and lies still.  I can’t tell if I’m screaming or crying or both.  I feel my feet carry me to my father, even as the witch queen continues on her way, and fall at his side, instinctively murmuring every healing spell I know.  But this is a dream world, and this had happened in the past.  A vision telling me what I wanted to know, and more than I feel like I can handle.

Everything becomes fuzzy and distant.  I can’t touch my father anymore.  No.  I grab for him, desperately trying to cling on.  “No, Father, please, PLEASE!  NO!”

My eyes snap open.  I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my cry, then sink back down, breathing heavily.  My face is wet.  I don’t bother wiping the tears away.

I feel eyes on me.  I hesitate, then slowly look up, glancing around until I spot a pair of gray-blue eyes peering at me.  Terry’s sitting up, watching me.  I wonder for a second where Storm is, then feel something nudge my shoulder.  Of course.  I absently reach up and pat him, averting my eyes from Terry.  He moves, getting up and coming closer, sitting next to me.

“A vision,” I murmur after a moment.  “I know what happened to them all.”

“I’m sorry, Kelly.”

The words don’t change anything.  They can never change the past.  It’s not even something he has to apologize for.  Even so, they soothe my mind nearly as well as if my father had used that spell.

=

I nearly burst into tears when we actually entered Sabaibā this morning.  It took all my strength and a moment leaning against Storm (that horse is unbelievably empathetic) to collect myself enough to continue on.  It’s beyond hard to have to rummage through the ruins, even more so now that I’m no longer in the dark.

It’s a comfort though, when I realize that Terry and Storm are never far away.  Always within sight, within hearing.  I hadn’t expected to find comfort in them.  When I did, I wasn’t sure how to react.  Now though, I’m just relieved.  It makes me feel less alone.  I know I have someone to lean on now should I need it.

I use a spell to lift a large piece of rubble, digging through one of the elder’s houses.  Or rather, what used to be one of the elder’s houses.  If anything of use to the Resistance can be found here, it will be in there.  They kept the oldest books of magic, the oldest and most powerful spells and potions.  Often they were hidden from sight as well, and would be well protected against the queen’s powers.  Dark magic can only get one so far.  Though of course, that can also go for all magic.  I recall Yan’s paralyzed legs, stuck that way from birth.  Magic isn’t necessarily a crutch to lean on, like a lot of people assume.  It has limitations and weaknesses.  It’s useful, but it can’t do everything.

Once the majority of the rubble is cleared away, I use every bit of searching magic I know of.  At first I don’t see anything, then a portion of wall shimmers lavender, in the shape of a door.

I trace it, murmuring, “Apertum ostium.”  The glow dims, a crack forming in the wall, and it swings open outward, revealing a thick, closed book on a stand.  I cautiously touch it, then open it and flip through the pages.  Beautiful illustrations shimmer on the ancient, fragile parchment, purely held together by binding and preservation spells, likely renewed every so often.  Spells of every sort for so many purposes, advanced, middle, simple, lifting, healing, preserving, defense…Even an entire chapter on potions.  I smile slightly.  Potions was always one of my strongest areas when learning to use magic.  And at the very back…I suck in a breath.  Spells for use against Dark Magic.

I quickly close the book, hugging it to my chest and running to the others, “Hey!  Look what I found!”  The group clambers over the rubble, crowding to me.  I hold out the book.

The grump eyes it skeptically, “A book.”

I roll my eyes, “This is one of the oldest and most precious spell books ever.  It has everything, from the least spells to the greatest and most powerful there are.  Now are you interested?”  He snaps his mouth shut and steps back.  Terry snickers.

“Perfect,” Kevin smiles slightly.  “Now-“

“Now you hand it over,” a cold voice states.  I clutch the book to my chest, the others whirling.  The queen stands atop a pile of rubble, eyes scanning each of us before landing on me.  “A young mage.  How tragic.”  She begins to walk slowly towards us, a group of samurai appearing where she was just standing.  The others jump into defensive stances.  “I must have missed you.”

“I’m never letting you get your hands on this,” I hiss, white hot fury flaring up in my gut and throat.  Her white robe seems to make her pale complexion even paler, cloudy eyes still fixated on me.

“I was hoping you would say that,” she murmurs, red lips forming a slow smile.  “It gives me an excuse to practice.”  Black swirls above her hand.

“RUN!” I yell.  We scatter just as the spell explodes where we had stood previously.

“The horses!” Kevin shouts.  Before we can reach them, however, several samurai do first, sending them running or killing them where they stand.  Storm alone is left, never having left Terry’s side.

“We have to fight!” Mackenzie yells.

“We can’t fight magic!” Mr. Grumpy protests.  For once, he’s right.  They can’t fight magic.

I can.

I grip the spellbook, “Take out the samurai.”

“What?” Kevin turns to me, brow lowering.

“I said take out the samurai!” I repeat, “I’ll have to hold her off.”  I don’t give anybody the chance to argue, knowing the moments are precious, whirling and throwing up a magical shield.  The sorceress’s magic tears through it easily.  I’m only a novice of course.  I expected that.  The shield gave me just enough time to duck behind a piece of rubble though, as the others engage the samurai.  I summon distracting illusions around the witch to give me a little more time.  A child’s game, but it’ll have to do.  I flip straight to the back of the book.

I read the spell over several times and repeat it in my mind, slamming the book shut and hiding it away, then I jump out.  A Resistance woman finishes off her samurai, but before she can take a step, black magic whirls around her, and when she’s visible again, she crumples to the ground, eyes empty.  I throw myself between her and the grump, forming the strongest shield I know of.  The black magic pauses, and I shove it back.  A crossbow bolt nearly goes through the queen’s head, but it suddenly disintegrates midair.  She aims a spell in Terry’s direction.

I raise my hands, summoning all the magic inside of me to the forefront, “Prohibe!  In nomine domini nostri Jesu Christi!“

The queen screeches in shock, white light filling my vision and cutting between her and everyone else.  Sound becomes muffled, and I feel myself falling, suddenly tired.  So, so tired…

I close my eyes just as a horse’s hooves distantly meet my ears, along with a scared cry, “Kelly!”