Waking MomentsA Story by Riley Bray Those times that we live in death. “When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.” "Tecumseh
Chaste lay quietly that night, staring up at the ceiling as the thunder roared outside of her small hut, wind whipping furiously at the thinly constructed walls. She clamored for her too short blanket that seemed to have slipped off of her at some point unnoticed, carefully placing it around her bare, dirty feet and pulling it up to her waist, forcing it to stretch out not unlike a rubber band. She started as a violent gust of air burst through the window, the weak latch breaking loose from it and flying somewhere into the darkness of her tiny home. She stood with some exasperation, hurrying over to the window and pushing them closed. She leaned against them for a moment, surveying the room for something to hold them together with. After a few seconds had passed, her eyes came to rest on the only semi sturdy item she owned, the blanket. She pressed her hand against the cold window pane, keeping it closed, as she fumbled with the blanket, finally succeeding in picking it up by a toe and wrapping it around the window handles. Wide awake, she walked over to a small nightstand she had made by whittling down some random twigs and binding them together using tree sap and twine. On it sat a faded picture of the parents that, until recently, she never knew she had. She sat down heavily onto the bed, watching as lightning bolts streaked across the surface of the glass covering the photo. Chaste couldn’t help but compare herself to the woman in the picture. Couldn’t help but realize how similar the shape of the woman’s lips, color of her eyes, and tiny brown cheek freckles matched her own. Though, no matter how hard she tried, she could find nothing she had in common with the man, except maybe the hard line of a stubborn jaw, maybe. With a heavy sigh, she curled up on the cold, stained mattress, photograph in hand, and closed her eyes to sleep. Chaste awoke to the sound of sheep baaing frantically outside and a vicious growl erupting from her owner’s small sheepdog, a growl unlike any she was used to. She sprang out of bed; pulling a shawl over her shaggy nightgown and grabbing a poker from the tiny fireplace as she burst open the door. The sheep were all gathered in front of her home, eyes wild and white as they stomped the ground, creating a thunderous uproar. A little ways ahead, the sheepdog stood tall, each and every fur follicle poised in an attempt to make the animal seem bigger. His teeth were bared, and he stood facing away from her and the sheep. Slowly, after a vain attempt at calming the sheep down, Chaste approached the animal, fire poker held tightly at her side. Being that Chaste had been given to her wretched extended family when her parents died, she had been taught to do just about anything they wanted, such as jousting and sword fighting. Due to this, she had become very well trained, even more so when she would spy on her uncle. Though she feigned innocence and fragility, she had become one of the greatest warriors in her town, but had never revealed herself to anyone. She had no official weapons, but had learned that, if used right, just about anything could be. The poker was warm to the touch, proof of the fire she had burning the night before and further evidence that not much time had passed since she had fallen asleep. With another harsh growl, Chaste snapped back to attention, holding the poker steady and in front of her. She inched forwards, unable to see anything in the expanse of grass to her left, nor anything in the dense forest to her right. Her bare feet had begun to feel cold and wet, and looking down, she could see that her toes had begun to turn white and some places were covered with a dark liquid, undoubtedly blood from the sharp rocks. The pouring rain had dissolved into a calm mist by this point, so she turned to leave. Just as she did so, a horrible screeching sound came from the sheep behind her, and she spun to see a large, grotesque monstrosity chasing after them. Without so much as a second thought, she took off after it, running flat out to catch up. She launched herself in its direction, slamming the sharp edge of the poker into what should be its abdomen. It howled in pain, back arching violently as it spasmed and fought heartily for her to release her grip on it. Slime smothered her hands and arms, long, ropy coils snaking around her legs and bloodied feet. Reluctantly, she flipped off, brandishing her poker once again as it sized her up. Somehow, the sheep had been forgotten and had left in the few seconds the two had wrestled. With a sharp and decisive yell, she whipped the poker at the creature’s eye socket and ripped the skull from the beast, leaving it to explode into thousands of miniature diamonds, and then fade away with the sound of a muffled scream once again. “This again,” Chaste said quietly to herself. For the last two weeks now, a creature would appear to every night at 4:00 AM, and every time, she would kill it and it would explode into the same screaming crystalline substance. She had no idea as to why it came or what it was trying to do, but always its sockets would glisten with the type of pure, unalterable fury you can get only when death has tortured all other feeling to the point of no return. It was so incredibly soulless, vengeful, and homicidal, one could not bear to look into its empty sockets for too long for fear of losing oneself also to death. “CHASTE!” A high pitched wail came booming from the main house, and out came an outraged cousin, practically flying over the dewy grass in an attempt to reach her. Hesitantly, Chaste turned, lowering her eyes and bowing her head as she attempted to receive mercy. The girl was almost upon her now, flailing her arms with mouth gaping much like a fish, she thought. “ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?” the girl screeched. Chaste smiled, faintly, for she had allowed her mind to wander and had completely forgotten of the brat in front of her. Suddenly, Chaste was aware of a sharp pain on her cheek, and she realized she had been sent tumbling to the ground. It was burning, and she noticed that the opponent wore a smug grin, nose upturned and hand red from the slap she had delivered. She wore a ridiculously triumphant smile on her twisted face as her eyes met Chaste’s. Shocked, she touched her cheek lightly, feeling something sticky ooze through her splayed fingers. Her hand knotted into her hair as she pushed it from her face, taking small breaths to steady herself as she stood, leveling her gaze with her opponent. The girl, Shiso, towered over her menacingly, eyes silently daring Chaste to react. With a nearly indiscernible movement, Chaste had her pinned to the ground, hands on Shiso’s wrists and legs on top of hers. Chaste growled at her, for the first time, in a near animalistic response. Her fingernails dug into Shiso’s wrists, cutting the flesh and allowing her fresh blood to cake in her fingernails. “This is the last time you mess with me,” Chaste whispered alarmingly calmly, “Don’t you dare come looking for me, do not tell anyone about this moment, and do not, under any circumstances, treat anyone as you have me, ever, or it will be the last thing you will get to regret.” She reached for the poker, and easily lifted it, pressing the bar sidelong toward her throat as she straddled her. “Am I understood?” Shiso, too stunned for words, nodded her head feebly. Harshly, Chaste whipped the poker from the girl’s throat and stood, but with a decisive movement, brought the hilt down on her head, knocking her out cold and more than likely giving her a concussion. She walked hastily to her hut, gathering her few belongings, the photo, and blanket, and held them loosely in her arm. She next walked to the main home, pushing the door inside ajar and collecting all the gauze she could lay her hands on. She also found a sack, which she used to store the stolen items and her belongings. Then, realizing her lack of clothes, Chaste entered Shiso’s bedroom and took a pair of long, baggy jeans, along with a black tank top and camo jacket. Lastly, on her way out, Chaste stumbled upon the weapons vault, and she realized just how idly equipped she was. Being the drudger, Chaste knew of the whereabouts of many key items in the home, the vault key being no exception. She knelt to the ground and pushed the faded mat away from its previous resting place, where a tiny latch revealed itself. It was painted so precisely that, if you didn’t know it was there, it would have gone unnoticed. She pulled up on it, dust flying out of the enclosed space and rust flakes flying in all directions. It was obvious, from its state, that no one had come down in much too long a time, though she knew that there was little violence here in Fahro. Silently, Chaste lifted the key from its resting place and pushed it into the lock, turning it slowly as she listened to the bolts moan in protest and then slide open. With a soft push, Chaste stepped inside and surveyed the room. All the visible metal residing in the small 3 by 6 foot room had in some way deteriorated, leaving nothing but aged and useless shadows of what they had once been. She pushed away some of the junk metal on the surface of a pile in the far right corner and found a long box with golden lettering in a beautiful calligraphic handwriting that read, “To those who wait.” She sat for a moment, her hand brushing against the wording slowly. It feels cold to the touch, but somehow gave off a kind of pulse of its own. She found herself pushing the lid off, and her eyes came to rest on a beautiful samurai sword, its steel shining and pure as if it had been freshly polished, and its hilt embedded with tiny diamonds and criss-crossed with miniature runes of strength and empowerment. Her hand closed around its hilt and lifted it to test its balance, which could easily have been an extension of her arm. She smiled to herself as she ran her fingertips along the blade, and stood, sliding it and its sheath into her belt loop. For further protection in case the sword was taken from her in battle, she picked up two decently made Chinese hook swords and strapped them to her back, walking out of the lot. Chaste took a deep breath as she left the vault, restoring its previous blandness and replacing the key. As she walked from the home, a fierce determination in her eyes, Chaste understood that this would be the last time she could look upon herself with confidence. She strode out into the woods, not pausing to look behind her, and disappeared into the trees. Hours ago the sun had risen, and still Chaste dragged her tired legs through the dirt and muck in the forest. She squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked up through the leaves to see the position of the sun. Due to a rough estimate, she decided the time must have been somewhere around ten to eleven thirty. To avoid the grumbling her stomach was making, she let her mind wander elsewhere. Behind her closed eyelids she could see vibrant and exotic colors unlike those in reality and beyond words. They each held a beauty to them, some brooding, others fare and delicate. She reached her mind out to a fragile flower, its stem winding and twisting as if it were trying to wrap itself in a warm embrace, and its petals pooling out from the center, seemingly melting away into luminescent teardrops. The reverie froze abruptly as Chaste stumbled over a fallen branch, lurching her body forward and into a ditch, from where she rolled continuously and could find no foot or handholds to stop her decent. Finally, as the hill leveled out, Chaste found herself bent in a rather awkward position, the two Chinese hook swords pressing uncomfortably into her back, her samurai sword lay half unsheathed across her chest and abdomen, and her legs caught under a thick root. This was a worrisome predicament, as the materials she had collected to heal herself with lay strewn about around her, but none quite in reach. After much struggle, she was able to rip her left leg free of the root, ankle and combat boot intact. However, her right foot was wedged so tightly beneath the root that no matter how hard she pulled, she simply could not free herself. She considered using the swords to help her, but due to the fact she could not sharpen them afterwards and could possibly damage her foot, she discarded that idea. Pure exhaustion kept her from trying any harder, so she lay on the ground quietly and let her mind run free. Chaste realized that she must have unintentionally fallen asleep at some point, as when she looked up at the sky, twilight had dominated the daylight and stars had begun to shine through. “Finally awake, are you?” Chaste whipped her head around and sat up like a bullet, letting her eyes adjust to the darker forest. She immediately reached for the samurai sword, but found its presence absent along with her other items. Reflexively she stood, also noticing that no longer was her leg pinned beneath the tree root. She approached the shadowy figure before her, noting how its back was turned. “If you were planning on attacking me,” the figure said, “then I suggest you don’t.” Quickly, curiosity got the better of Chaste and she approached the creature that had spoken to her. A fire had begun and on the log nearest her sat an elderly old man, his eyes set deep into his skull and wrinkles creasing his eyes from chronic smiles had dominated his features. “Sit,” he said not unkindly, “and eat.” For whatever reason, Chaste felt obligated to do as she was told, and chose a log near the fire with the man on the neighboring seat. She realized that her items had been placed near her spot in a faded messenger bag, swords propped carefully against it. A warm rush of relief washed over her, and quickly she brought the items into her lap. As Chaste got settled, a cup of warm cocoa was passed to her, along with sweet bread and ramen. The man looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to do something, but when she did not react asides from returning the look, he sighed and turned back to the fire. Chaste brought the liquid and food to her lips, practically pushing the food down her throat. She hadn’t realized how terribly hungry she had been, but the loss of food this day had taken its toll. “I am Archivold McIntyre, but call me Arch, if you will,” he began, “warlock, practicer of druidry, and lover of integrity.” The man, Arch, smiled warmly, though it did not quite reach his eyes. With an overly extravagant gesture, he pointed towards a shadowed figure Chaste had not even noticed until now, “And this is Miso Hokkaido, my lovely and loyal assistant.” “Wow,” Chaste thought enviously. Miso was beautiful, her lustrous black hair fell down to the small of her back, wrapping and hugging her curves so perfectly it seemed out of a fairy tale. Her lips came in full and red as blood, the angles of her cheekbones giving her a fierce, Amazonian texture, but the soft shape of her chin and jaw line made the angularity almost, lighter, to say the least. And her eyes, they seemed to be pools of the purest blue fading away into the green of the perfect clover, then diving into a small ring of hazel that reminded Chaste much of the golden wheat that swayed across the fields behind her mother and father in her picture of home, her actual home. As Miso smiled, Chaste became aware that she had been staring at the woman, and awkwardly avoided any more eye contact. From the look in her eye though, it seemed clear that this was nothing new to her. Arch stood up suddenly, the movement surprising because of how utterly spry he was despite the aged look. He stretched slightly and padded over to Miso, extending his hand to help her up much like a lover would, not a mentor. Delicately, she accepted his hand and lifted off the stump with the kind of grace Chaste wish she had. Much about the woman seemed catlike, it seemed, but she decided against mentioning that for fear of offending this oddly exotic stranger. “Come,” Arch said over his shoulder somewhat reluctantly, “tonight you must have a place to stay. Tomorrow we will begin.” Without any further explanation or conversation, the two stalked off in the opposite direction of which Chaste had come. Many things had been left unsaid, and there had been no reason for her to place any trust in either of these people, but she understood the intonation in Arch’s voice and a sense of familiarity had overwhelmed her, so there she went. She stood apart from the pair as they opened the door to a small hut, similar to Chaste’s old home but much, much larger. When you stepped inside, the tiny shack seemed to expand endlessly in either direction, each end shrouded in shadow. They led Chaste to a small room not far from the entrance, she thought, but winding around many corners and placed deeply into the corner. The two treated themselves much like deities, the way they held themselves and the way they spoke oozed arrogance, but for whatever reason, she chalked this down to being passionate. After all, that’s all they were, passionate about their trust and works and desires, about their meeting, the chance meeting, but overall, they seemed passionate about their faith in her. For the first time in a long time, she was able to feel the thrill of being cared for, of being wanted. The butterflies were panging against her ribcage violently, pounding, pounding, pounding. She turned to speak to the pair, to thank them, but realized that they had disappeared somewhere, leaving the door only slightly open. Chaste seated herself on the edge of the bed in the room, running her fingers over the silky surface and pressing down on the soft mattress. The pillow was fluffed and deep, allowing for her to sink her hand into it so far that it hid her hand from view. She sighed thoughtfully for a moment before she realized the long satin nightgown hanging on the mirror of the dresser. She stood, crossing the room in a few large strides before grasping the fabric. It had obviously been left for her, and it even had her name embroidered into it just above the left breast. As she changed, she couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of the airy substance against her skin. How soft and gentle it was compared to the scratchy and tight potato sack type clothing she’d worn before. After taking care of her teeth and hair, Chaste lay in the bed, cotton sheets covering her frozen body entirely and easily. Though despite the fresh dewy air and wonderful feelings of her new surroundings, Chaste could not close her eyes. Her mind drifted after a small while, lucid dreaming, she knew. She had the sensation of free falling, could feel the icy wind ripping at her with its unrelenting talons as she did, even as she clawed for something to hold on to. She could remember nothing, not her name, her friends, her foes, she just was. She wore the nightgown she had gotten into bed with, only it was shredded and bloodied where something had sliced at it. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she was in no pain. There was a sound she could only imagine a banshee’s wail making, something like a sorrowful howl so intense and painful that your heart shattered before your mind could so much as register it. Finally, the world began to spin and pivot until it froze on a picture of a woman in a long, tight fitting dress with a high collar. It was spindly and spidery, purple in color not unlike a bruise. Her face was babyish and pudgy, though smooth and without any blemishes or imperfections. She stood tall, reaching her hand out to something Chaste could barely see, even if she squinted. Before her knelt a man clad in knights armor, his shoulder length brown hair shrouding his face as he spoke in a low voice. “My beloved goddess and proud queen of all life, I will protect you from all that stand in your way. No harm shall come to you m’lady.” The woman seemed to be distressed, as she fidgeted with the multiple rings on her fingers. “There is a girl,” she said crudely, “her developments worry me, my Dormantine.” Slowly, she stretched her hand out, using it to cup the knights chin and raise his head so that she could speak with him face-to-face. “If things carry out as the man has planned, we may falter, my knight.” At this, the knight lifted his eyes to seek out those of his mistress. “As I said,” he whispered ruefully, “no one shall stand in our way.” Once again, the sensation of falling. The image blurred and swirled together until it was a mixture of indiscernible color. Again, the banshee’s wail erupted from the wisps, and there she was, clothing and skin intact, lying still on the bed, with memories waiting to greet her. She was sweaty, causing the satin nightgown to stick to her like glue. Her eyes were wide with terror, and above her sat a new figure. “Hi,” the blurry female figure said cheerfully, “I’m Nin Saxon.” Before her lips could even attempt to form words, she fell away into a heavy slumber. Chaste next awoke with noon light piercing her eyelids. It took a moment of disorientating confusion for her to ascertain her whereabouts, reminding her that last night had not, in fact, been a dream. Not entirely, anyway. She sat up, noticing the girl she could only assume as Nin sitting on the floor and reading a book, a rather childish one, with Arch bent over her, guiding her through the story. Her brows were furrowed with extreme focus, her face otherwise a mask. Every few words, her lips would curve slowly, as if attempting to silently sound out the word on the page before her. Her eyes were beginning to water over, turning red, evidence that frustration had gotten the better of her and she was on the verge of tears. Arch, realizing this, took the book from her and patted her on the shoulder, murmuring something reassuring in her ear that made her smile and giggle softly. As if just becoming aware of her presence, Arch turned and smiled to her. “Are you going to make a habit of fainting, Chastidy Verblue?” The smile was genuine, and elegant, but his words confused her. She had never known she had a last name, nor that her full name was Chastidy. She considered it was a possibility this warlock was trying to confuse her, but she was unsure. “No,” she began, “how do you know that name?” Her eyes were hard, she thought, too hard. Her statement had almost seemed to become an accusation, but she hadn’t meant it in such a way. “I know many things,” Arch said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice, “many things I can never tell you, and many I can, in time.” He sat back in his chair thoughtfully, his eyes wandering and lingering on nothing in specific. “I know the things you’ve done, but they also will be forgiven in time, if you work off your sins. Come now, Chastidy, sit beside me and be happy, for it is not good to dwell on the past.” Chaste sat there, awestricken and dumbfounded to the point of no return. Her lips spoke incoherent nonsense, though in her head she had found many things to say. Those words, they cut into her as if she were a frog that had just been dissected and used and utterly misunderstood in its lifetime. It was all she could do to sit there, wide-eyed and muttering gibberish, shell-shocked beyond repair. It felt like she was watching herself from outside of her body, and only when Nin grabbed hold of her arm did she snap back. “Come on!” Nin giggled, a contagiously impish grin spreading across her face. The girl had to drag Chaste out of the bed, simply pitying her because of the response she had just given. The response of someone with intense mental instability and yet a sense of humor, though something about it had been twisted. Chaste had to blink a few times before she could truly focus, but the smile on Nin’s face truly was infectious, as fairly soon she felt one of her own playing across her face. The three sat together, Nin and Chaste on the floor, and Arch in his chair, telling them stories of the past he had lived in, the things he had learned, and the thrillers of his lifetime as they ate their toast and drank their water. Chaste loved the way Nin’s eyes would light up every time Arch would speak of another journey he went on with Miso, especially when he had talked about her ability to naturally tame even the wildest of animals. Though they had never met before the previous night, Chaste felt welcomed and loved and a part of a family, especially toward this impish teenager Nin. Though Chaste knew Nin was probably a year or two older, she felt the urge to place herself as the protective older sister, and if she could help it, that’s just what she was going to do. Just then, Miso knocked on the door to Chaste’s newly inhabited bedroom, peeking her head in cheerfully. She must not have slept well the night before, as there were silvery shadows under her eyes and a small indentation had creased her forehead and stuck. She wasn’t sure, but there seemed to have been one or two strands of whitened hair as well. Just then it occurred to her that she had no idea how old these two were. She was aware that wizards lived forever, or at least for eons, and indeed there was an ancient air to the both of them, but she knew they were likely from an age centuries before her time. “Pardon me,” Miso whispered quietly. Her voice soft, silky, calming, the way Chaste thought could never have been spoken by a woman like Miso. It seemed almost to be shy, but the voice seemed strained as well. She realized, just then, that this was the first time she had ever heard Miso speak. It might very well have been Nin’s also, as she wore a surprised expression that Chaste imagined only mirrored her own. Miso hurried to Arch, leaning over the back of his chair to whisper something in a low voice in his ear. Arch raised his eyebrows slowly, a stunned expression dawning on his face. His eyes flicked to Nin, then to Chaste, and remained there. His response was merely a curt nod, and a flick of his wrist to dismiss some sort of idea Miso had. “Come with me,” she whispered, staring daggers at Chaste. “If looks could kill,” she muttered to herself, and Nin giggled. She stood, hauling Chaste to her feet excitedly. Every movement seemed to be flourished in Nin’s case, and Chaste wondered if this girl would make a good dancer. The two followed after Arch and Miso, who had already crossed the room to the door. They held it open for a few moments, chattering as adults did and looking over their shoulders. When Chaste and Nin had gotten over there, Miso stood rigid with Arch a narrow yet longing look in his eyes. They clouded over, his eyes turning a deep gray to match the color of a thunderstorm, but quickly the emotion vanished from the wizards face. He led Chaste and Nin down the long hallways, past turns and twists and upside downs. And somewhere along the way, Miso vanished and her absence went unnoticed. “To your studies, Ninaya,” Arch said in a dismal and low voice. Nin pouted, even more so at the name, but obliged, humming and swaying as she stalked off. “Now, child,” Arch beckoned, “We will begin.” “Begin what?” Chaste, rather bluntly, inquired, “So far secrets seem to be passing me by. Explain first Arch, please…” He laughed then. A long, drawn out, booming kind of laugh. His eyes sparked with life as he did, and Chaste wondered if this was the first time she had seen such pure joy, even if he was laughing at her. “You must be trained in the art of Misting, Chastidy. You are a warrior, but a dreamer first. I will teach you to control your dreams today, to live in them, and to rely on them. From this day forth, your destiny begins,” He smiled at her, but it soon washed away, and his eyes darkened along with his previous merriment. The wrinkles in his leathery skin seemed to grow deeper, and his eyes were drawn together, “Child, you will need to be the one to kill her, the devils seamstress, the demon queen. You, dearest Chaste, will be the one to slay Maleficent Fairchild. Either you strike her down with the heavens sword, or you will be struck down by the omens sword and die along with the hope of freedom in this world.” For the first time in her life, Chaste felt as if the burden she carried dug into her, as if it had made an incision down into her heart and filled her with an icy cold. She closed her eyes tight and bit down hard on her lip, a habit she’d had for many years, and tasted blood. As she opened her eyes, that also, was what she saw. The room was swaying, or maybe that was her, and was covered in a filmy red glow. “No, I’m not fainting, not now. I need to know more,” she thought. But she already knew, she knew all of it, it was as if it had been written plain as day on her forehead, and she was just now realizing it. She did know, and as she stood there light-headedly, she only remembered more. Thoughts, feelings, and memories crammed into her brain until it pounded against her skull. The dreams, the nightmares, they were her story. She sank to her knees, arms hanging limply at her sides, but Archivold made no move to help her. She fell forward, catching herself at the very last moment by bracing herself on her elbows, forehead being soothed by the cold wooden floor. She was breathing heavily now, so very heavy, making her even dizzier than she already was, but she was in no way going to let this weaken her resolve to stay awake. She coughed, a few drops of blood spattering on the ground, but she managed to stand, leaning heavily onto the wall for support. “You cope well, when you must,” Arch noted, his eyes watching her warily, “that will only help you.” She hated him now. Hated him in the way children hated their parents for divorcing each other and never seeing one of them again. Hated him the way a girl would hate a man after her heart was broken by him for the last time. Hated him the way one would when their best friend had left them as dumpster trash. An illogical hate, a blind hate, but an intense hate indeed. “You will get better,” he said gently, “I shouldn’t have told you the way I just did, but you must understand, I do care for your well-being, and knowledge will only do you good. Its best to know what you’re getting yourself into before you get into it. Besides, this will make or break civilization for years and years to come. You have always been a woman who puts duty first and leaves caution to the wind, but I would like to help you, refine you, and accept you as my student, if you would take me.” Chaste, having calmed down enough to think rationally, stared the elderly wizard down. She hated him so very much for telling her something like that, but someone would have had to eventually. Maybe she didn’t like this man, but she knew she felt drawn to him, and she knew she needed his help. After all, he really was right, she would do what was in the best interest of those around her, and leave herself as an afterthought. She needed him as much as he needed her, and she would be there. Arch seemed to have sensed this change in heart, as he bowed his head respectfully, showing, on a small scale, submission, and on a much larger caliber, gratitude. He brought her to a lone chair sitting in the middle of the room and sat her down. Chaste, immediately, felt meditated and relieved, though she could not grasp why. She thought she had heard him explain something, but after he told her to close her eyes, she drifted away into her own mind. Again, she was falling. It was pitch black and all around her people were screaming as if their life depended on it, and she wondered if it did, or if maybe it was her own but she simply couldn’t feel herself doing it. She felt detached this time, whereas she last felt very much aware of her own essence, even if she hadn’t known who she was. That too, was different. She remembered everything, vividly, entirely, but she had no recollection of her emotions. She landed on something wonderfully comfortable, and she had to fight the urge to stay there limply, but her body rose of its own accord, and dragged her forward. She noticed she was walking on a green hill devoid of animals or trees, or, anything really. Her toes curled into the knee-high grass, smiling as they drew themselves across her legs like a butterfly just briefly visiting a new flower. Then a horrendous pain enveloped her, forcing her to clutch at her stomach and squeeze her eyes shut. A pressure grabbed at her shoulders, forcing her down. She fought against it, but lost and fell hard to her hands in knees. Amazingly though, as soon as she was down, the pressure and pain receded, and she saw why. Above her and to the left stood the knight, Dormantine, that she had seen the day before in her dream. He was facing her direction, eyes sweeping over her and the horizon, and she breathed out in relief. It seemed he didn’t notice her, which didn’t surprise her for some reason. Clearly she was not visible to him as she would have been spotted right away. The man turned away from her, and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “If you do not think I see you,” said his unmistakably tortured voice, “then you are sadly mistaken.”He whipped around then, blindingly fast, and it was all Chaste could do to jump and fall backwards on to her back. She found the tip of a blade at her throat, pushed just hard enough to let some of her blood trickle out. Her hands were both pinned, one under her back and the other beneath his foot, crushing it, as his eyes glistened with yet another tortured decision. “You should not have come, Chastidy Verblue. You already know too much of mistress’ decisions, meaning I am aware that you were spying on us last night. You know that I am under orders to kill you, and so coming here was not a wise decision.” Chaste knew not what to do, asides from let out a strangled gasp and whispered in return, “I will not die today, not by your hand. If what my mentor said was true, and I believe it was, then I will not let you bring death to me.” His eyes flickered with sadness, and she recognized that his features were those of Arch’s and Miso’s. “You’re…his son….aren’t you?” A tense moment passed and he lifted the sword tip just a few centimeters from her throat in hesitation. She took this moment to kick upwards, effectively hitting him in the hand and knocking the sword free. She rolled to the side just as his fist landed where she had been only moments ago, and he roared in outrage as he got only dirt. Chaste, remembering her training, somersaulted over to the felled sword and lifted it from the ground, but it shot through her hand like a bullet through air, dispersing it in tendrils of mist. “What-” and then all she was, was drifting, curling wisps of colored smoke. Colors whizzed by, accompanied by the outraged yell of Dormantine McIntyre, Archivold’s, and Miso’s son. The few shapes she could decipher stretched out into mock replicas of ‘the scream,’ and then she was floating in a kaleidoscope. She had no idea how, if she truly was made merely of colored smoke, she was able to see and think, but she could, and it was overwhelming. The shapes then replaced themselves with new ones and colors rearranged. She landed roughly, a harsh booming sound erupting from her hit, and she lifted her head to see the woman from last night, Maleficent, staring down at her in amusement. “Hello, child,” she said silkily, much like the temptresses in her books, “I understand that you and my little Dormantine had a run-in just now, didn’t you?”Chaste made an attempt to move, but found she couldn’t so much as flinch, and when she tried to speak, she found she could not do that either. “Hush, child, you are in my presence, and that question was not one for you to answer. My darling child, I would have let him kill you just then, but when the odds turned in your favor, well, I couldn’t lose my knight. I came to offer you a proposition. If you choose to obey me, and to follow me, then so you shall, and you will live. If you choose not to, then you, along with all your loved ones, will die at my hand.” Chaste felt her jaw unhinge, and it felt rather like loosened putty. She needed no time for her answer, and belt it out with pride and ferocity, “I will sooner die than let you do as you will. I will kill you, and that will be the end of it!”Anger flared Maleficent’s eyes, but she just as soon regained her composure. “My, my, child. You speak quite irrationally for your position currently. In fact, if you choose to disobey me so entirely already, then I should strike you down where you kneel. But I am, in fact, a merciful queen, so I shall spare your life, and even offer you my guidance, my very own mentorship, even answers about your family. How could you disagree?” Knowledge is everything. Archivold’s voice rang true in her mind, but she knew that this was not the way to gain it. She knew what side she was fighting for, didn’t she? This queen imposters entire essence oozed distrust and evil intent. She would hold on to what she believed in. After a small, hesitant breath, she spat at the queens feet and bowed her head, covering her eyes with her bangs and casting a shadow over her face as she whispered menacingly, “I refuse to be your puppet, or anyone else’s. I will make my own decisions and guide myself to my own path, and I will fulfill the destiny I was meant to. I am stronger than you, in mind, in spirit, and in passion. I promise that when next we meet, you will no longer hold your head so high. All empires eventually must fall, Maleficent, some before they have even begun.” With the last bit of effort Chaste could muster, she dispersed herself again and blacked out just as the familiar shapes and colors bled back into the scene. She was home, she had done it herself, gotten her own self home. “Maybe,” she thought,“maybe if I can do that already, I’ll be able to save the ones I care for the most.” Chaste awoke a few hours later with Arch leaning over her with a worried expression etched on his face and Nin curled up in a tight ball on the chair Arch had earlier that day used to tell them stories, with a quilt on her lap and that same, impish grin plastered on her sleeping face. Yes, even dreaming she had it. Miso, however, lingered in the corner of the room, her nose pressed into a red leather bound book with golden calligraphy proclaiming it to be “Medicine for Morons,” a rather odd title for something so regally clad. It took her another few moments before hearing returned, and she realized that not only had Archivold been speaking to her, something she chose to ignore anyway, but also that a beautiful music box sat on her dresser, playing gorgeous music with a slight Celtic hint to it. After a few seconds, she couldn’t help but to hum along with it as well. The song filled her with bliss and calm, but it also twisted her gut to the point that longing seemingly embedded itself into her soul. Lights will guide you home, it had said. The words reached her and her alone, she didn’t know why, but she just knew the message had been told to her ears only. That it had touched them like a delicate, lingering kiss then flown away when she leaned on it too heavily. But there it was, ringing in her ears. Lights will guide you home. “Chastidy Verblue!” She jumped, completely having tuned Arch out for the longest time and just having been snapped out of it with quite the opposite of a warm welcome. Arch was standing now, when had that happened, and his finger was pointed at her like a parent scolding its young child. “Like I’ve been trying to ask for the last ten minutes now-” Ten minutes? Really? “-How. Are. You. Feeling.” Ah, the pronunciation. Not only that, but no longer was it a question, he was demanding. Wonderful, now she was really in for it. She laughed at herself when she realized just how fatherly Arch had gotten towards her, but the laugh died in her throat as she considered the punishment Wizard stepfathers could, and would deliver. Hmm… “I’m feeling alright,” Chaste half lied. It was true that she had regained most of her wits, and no damage was done to her memory, she was sure, but she still had the pounding headache from the night before, and the things the woman had offered seemed nailed to her mind. What if she truly wasn’t fighting on the right side? What if they all weren’t? Things had gotten so complicated already, and she could tell that only more confusion would follow. Her mind drifted, forming the words to a song she vaguely remembered. A song, she felt, that now referred to her… Never, Ever, In a million nightmares, Not in a billion waking moments, Or a trillion wistful melodies, Have I felt this warm bonfire, This sensation of rising higher, And higher, And higher….. (Bridge to Never have I Ever by Jessica Andrews) Next it flew to the song of shredding, of tearing, and of rebirth… Then I see your face I know I’m finally yours I find everything I thought I lost before You call my name I come to you in pieces So you can make me whole (Chorus to Pieces by Red) What role did she play in all this? What could she be sure of anymore, if anything? Her resolve to protect Ninaya? Her ability to stand through this? Simply, who was she? If you’ll be my star I’ll be your sky You can hide underneath me And come out at night When I turn jet black And you show off your light I live to let you shine I live to let you shine But you can skyrocket away from me And never come back if you Find another galaxy Far from here With more room to fly So leave me your stardust to remember you by If you’ll be my boat I’ll be your sea The depths of pure blue just to probe curiosity Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze I live to make you free I live to make you free But you can set sail to the west if you want to And past the horizon Till I can’t even see you Far from here Where the oceans are wide Just leave me your wake to remember you by Stardust to remember you by (Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk) There. If she was anything, Chaste decided, she would be the hero. What was the point in asking herself worthless questions that only ripped her apart when she knew what she was and who she belonged to? She was Chaste, just Chaste, and she belonged to herself. This was happening because she was letting it, and she would see it through to the end. Nevertheless, her thoughts stayed on the night before and her eventful morning well through the rest of the training that day and through dinner, until she lay curled up in her bed, images of beautiful lights being waved behind her closed eyelids, singing “Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try, to fix you.” (Chorus to Fix You by Coldplay). Chaste’s eyelids flew open and she sat up abruptly, dizzying herself slightly from the rushed movement. All around her, the blankets were tied into knots around her body and the pillow had fallen to the floor. She threw the sheets off of herself, fearing the worst, and rightly so. Misting, that’s what Arch had called it, the craft of relying on your dreams and following impulse. Well, if there was any time to apply that, it would have to be now. She had been trapped in her dream, unable to wake up though she fought so hard to do so. She couldn’t bear looking at the sight of this lovely cottage she had come to call home erupting in the smoldering, ashy flames as it had in her dreams, setting all its contents alight and burning what was left to rubble. Shards had been raining down on her, the same as the ones the slimy, lizard like monsters that she killed turned in to. But worst of all…..no. No, it would be best not to say it, to jinx herself…She could bear with everything else as long as that part of it didn’t play out, but a small yet growing pain in her stomach was suggesting otherwise. Chaste’s thunderous footsteps reverberated down the long corridor, a technique she was using to calm herself down by disrupting the silence. Her heart pounded violently against her ribcage, triggering her ears to fill with the sound of running blood, a river of such, as in her nightmare. She drew her samurai sword just as the door to her left erupted in screams of agony. She stopped abruptly, turning to face the door before slamming her body in to it, but that was to no avail. The door didn’t so much as budge, but the screaming continued. “No,” Chaste screamed in her mind, “No! This isn’t happening, Chaste…it can’t be, Arch must have put you in a simulation, that’s all. You have to use your brain, Chaste, you have to!” Something about this imagined self speech connected something inside of her, and she slowly, carefully, reached her hand to grasp the doorknob. The knobs here were all made of gold, and as it happened, she had had a handy matchbox hidden in the pocket of the jeans she had forgotten to take off when she went bed. She had been taught earlier that night that when a mister was in a state of emergency, a simple burning match and piece of gold could create an explosion big enough to unhinge a metal holding cell from the wall, he knew from experience, or so he had said. She quickly placed the match to the door, the room behind it having gone eerily silent in the seconds she had been there. It burst open, flying backwards and skidding across the room. The room behind the door was barren except for a bed and a few stacks of children’s books beside it. It was tiny, but looked like it was well loved. The window was wide open, drapes dangling rather solemnly. On the floor lay scuff marks and a black liquid that Chaste would have thought to be ink if this was anyone other than Nin’s room. She rushed to the window just in time to see a figure disappear into the underbrush, leaving Arch lying still outside the door. It was beginning, her dream, she had been right. The smell of smoke reached her nose, and she spun, eyes widening in shock as she saw the blaze creep its way in to the room she was in. She grabbed hold of the drapes, dropping out of the window and dangling two stories above ground. The fabric, what could she do? It was ripping, even now, the seams popping seeming like salt on a wound. The fire would engulf the drapes if she did not plan something soon, but she couldn’t just drop from this height and live, could she? She gulped, and let go. Her knees bent reflexively as the ground neared, and her forearms went up to protect her face. As she landed, something in her leg splintered and she was forced forwards onto her arms. Searing pain immobilized her, and she gripped and clawed at it as if that would force it to leave. When nothing worked, and her mind had cleared to some extent, she thought of Arch lying still just mere feet from her and the disappearance of Miso and Nin. Wherever they were, there absence was troubling. Chaste stood slowly and blanched as her right leg touched the ground, evidence that she had broken her leg. Nevertheless, she hobbled herself towards Arch and stood over him, watching as the swarm of demons came towards her. This was one of many moments she would have to be the heroine, not the first, but not the last. Chaste fought valiantly, sword swinging in wide arcs and meeting the demons metal with her own, flashing golden sparks fitting for the burning building behind her. The world had drained of all color but those, fiery orange and yellow. It seemed the world was nothing but fire, the blaze consuming her, cradling her as if to say that she would be nurtured if she stopped fighting, and laid her weapon down. “Maybe,” she thought, “I would do that if I were alone, but my fate is Arch’s fate and I refuse to let him dissolve from this life now.” The thought seemed to fuel her, and the sword as well. The strange pulse returned, matching that of her own, and she wasn’t sure if it was the reflection or not, but she could have sworn that the sword had caught the fire. The demons fell, one by one, as she advanced on her one good leg, and in that moment, Chaste truly looked like a soldier. Her hair fall about her in loose, golden ringlets. Her eyes were fierce with determination and her hands gripped the hilt of her beloved weapon with the passion she felt circulating in her veins. Blood and slime dotted large amounts of her, but she did not give up until the last demon had died. There had to have been at least five dozen, and that many, many creatures crystals rained down on her with the fire bathing her in a ferocious light. The last of them gone, Chaste made a move to pursue the person who had faded into the woods, but the words she had to say died on her lips as she crumpled to the ground in exhaustion. Nin was gone. Arch sat silently beside her when she awoke, his eyes stormy and distant. Though he was watching her, it seemed as if he didn’t see her at all, that she was simply nonexistent and that’s all there was to it. Chaste could see, from the corner of her eye, a pile of charred rubble littering the ground where the house had been, taking its place as a solemn graveyard of broken memories. Arch, she realized had been crying, as his face was tired and grim and his eyes were ringed with red and severely sunken in. It hurt Chaste deeply to see this man so torn, so beyond repair in this moment, so opposite of the strong and independent man she had come to rely on. It was selfish, really, to forget that he, too, shared the same feeling she did, but it was too painful to watch. He opened his mouth slowly, but just as he was about to speak, fresh tears littered his withered cheeks and a rough croak emerged from deep in his throat. Yet he turned away from her, ashamed, as she saw him this way. Chaste began to cry silently, and dragged herself up into a sitting position. Her swords lay bloodied by her side, but her leg had been newly wrapped in gauze, with some type of medicine that was soothing her pain. Though it was not the pain that ripped at her vulnerable heart, it was the catastrophe that had befallen them, the loss. Gone was their home, Arch’s home, Chaste’s home. Gone was their fighting spirit, and gone were Miso and Nin as well. To where? The destination was clear, if first they were not slaughtered. Chaste gripped at her heart, clutching it in her hand as sobs racked her body. She may not have known these three long, but they had undoubtedly become her family, and they were either dead or on their way to it. Arch made no move to console her, nor she him, and they just sat there in grief acceptance that the tides had turned on them overnight. Not much time passed in actuality, but it seemed decades before Chaste rose from the ground, lifting her swords and placing them back into their sheaths and reattaching them to her clothing. Her fists were clenched into tight balls, knuckles white as the falling snow, and she raised one high into the air with a prayer. “Let this failure guide us to our future, and may we be granted prosperity in our journey to the heart of hell. May the sun rise each day in our favor, and fall each night as such. A promise we make shall be seen through to the end, so together, we will ensure that our friends shall survive, with light left in their souls. Yesterday was a battle, but today is the war.” Chaste’s fingers slowly uncurled as it stayed extended towards the sky, accepting tiny snowflakes in her palm as she did so. The sun, after that, seemed to shine brighter, alighting the smallest flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could see this through. “Come now, Arch, we have a war to fight.” Arch had been watching her say her prayers, and could see the glow she let off as she spoke those words. Faith ran through his old bones and he, too, stood and moved to be beside her. The teacher had now become the partner, as he had foretold, but far quicker than he had expected. Already he owed her his life as once she owed him hers. He would follow this girl, he knew, until there was no breath left in him. They each turned away from the burned home, and with flakes of pure white snow falling down on them, they walked away, following the few of which had earlier fled into the heart of hell on earth. The cold no longer seemed to touch these two, as the heat from their souls reverberated through their essences as never had they ever before. They followed the foul stench that lingered in the air after last night’s invasion. It was strong and utterly putrid, the kind of smell that made your nose wrinkle in disgust as it wafted into you. It smelled faintly of rotting corpse and very much dumpster garbage, so much, in fact, that it had made Chaste’s knees buckle and almost faint the first time she encountered it. Arch remained distant and sour, but stayed with Chaste despite the many times he had to leave. He truly seemed inspired by the frail sixteen year old warrior. She stood with her shoulders squared and hand never straying from the hilt of the heavens sword, which seemed to be glittering of its own volition somehow. The scene seemed picturesque, her standing in contrast with the sun with a halo of golden light shining down on her strong frame, hair whipping in the wind with snow falling all around her. The way she stood, legs slightly apart and head held high, gave her the same intense air as a predator biding its time as she watched her prey. She was a leader, that much was clear. Arch too, though he stood a way in a much more subdued stance, he looked strong and like he was not meant to be approached or bothered with anything he deemed even remotely unimportant. They both trudged onwards, taking care to make sure they never strayed from the path, though once it began to rain after a few hours of walking through muck and trampled woods, they set up camp to eat and relax their muscles for another few hours the next day. The two sat across from each other, a small fire burning between them, reflecting in their eyes. Embers flew in the air around them, illuminating the darkness that had fallen. Aside from the prayer Chaste had earlier recited, neither of them had spoken. It was a comfortable silence though, confidence where confidence hadn’t been, and strength enveloped in their faith in each other. They had an understanding amongst this, and in it they were thriving. There was a tone of uneasiness there though, however miniscule it may have been, and the tension only seemed to grow the longer Miso’s and Nin’s capture went without vengeance. After a while, Arch chose to pull a small music box from the sack he had been carrying, one he had stuffed with any salvageable items from the fires wreckage at their home. It was wooden, with golden designs encircling it. Chaste recognized it immediately as the music box from earlier, or a near exact replica, and the thought saddened her, as they had all been there with her to share the moment even though they didn’t experience what she had. “I found this in the rubble,” Arch said quietly, sadly, “I thought maybe it would be of use to you, seeing how much you loved it the other day.” He put it gently in her lap, returning his hands to his own. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept since the day he was born, he looked, quite literally, ancient. “This music box guides those that listen to the words between the lines to their destiny,” he said wistfully, “it has guided me to mine, and I imagine it too will help you yours.” Chaste, having understood the tone in his voice, stared at him intently, “Arch, don’t do that. You talk as if you’ve already given up.” He smiled then, a sad smile that seemed to linger on his face only a short while before fading away. He stood, moving to sit beside Chaste instead of watching her from across the fire. That’s all he did for a few long moments, just sit there, shoulder to shoulder with her as he contemplated what to say, so he began with all he could say, “Chastidy….Chaste, you have waited long enough to hear what I have to say now. My duty, the same as all wizards, is too live only as long as it takes to fulfill my fate. There have been many who go against this natural occurrence and fight to live on for all of eternity, but I feel I might as well sing my death song and die like a hero while I still believe I am one. My job was to see that when the dark queen arose she also would fall, but instead I fell in love. With Miso, to be precise. For many years she has stood by my side as I hers, but last night I realized she, like Dormantine, has fallen victim to Maleficent’s forces. She left me for dead on the ground, sure that if she hadn’t killed me the demons would, and just when I thought I would meet my untimely end, there you came, and I knew then that you really were the girl I was meant to take under my wing. This past day has shown me how strong you are, how capable and willing to put yourself out there for sake of a better world. I admire that in you, Chastidy, so much so. In these past days you have become like a daughter to me, and Ninaya as well. I am meant only to guide you to the path of a true warrior, a succession you’ve already taken on. Asides from that, I was meant for nothing. I have done my duty, and so slowly I will begin to die, like a human. The more power I use the faster my life will be pulled from under me, so I want you to know that I care for you deeply. Even after I have died I will care for you, and I will wait in the dream plane. You can see all those you’ve loved in the dream plane, as there we will be living a new life without the pain and bloodshed. If you so desire, you also can find your parents there. If you find you need us, there you will find us, and when we can, we will lend you our strength. You must defeat Maleficent, Chastidy, but first you must defeat my son. And if Miso stands in your way, she too, must fall. I don’t know when I will lose myself Chastidy, but I hope I can see this through to the end, yet I will always be by your side.” Tears were streaking down Chaste’s face, and she flung her arms around Arch’s waist, pulling herself into him. “No….” Chaste said, “No! If all that’s true….then….then you need to go! Live the rest of your life away from all this! Please, don’t….die….” She pulled herself tighter into him, burying her face in his stomach. “Chaste, honey, everything dies eventually, it is the way of things,” he whispered, wrapping his frail, elderly arms around her and patting her on the head. “But…not because of me. Arch, you will always be my hero! Please…leave this place and hide! Die a happy man many years from now with grandchildren, maybe even great-grandchildren. Be their hero, please, just don’t, leave me like that….please,” her voice was muffled by his shirt and her sobs, but her message was clear. “Shh,” he whispered reaching over to the music box and flicking it on, “listen to the music and be happy.”
(Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams) A sad and shattered night was to ensue… I hear the wind across the plain (This is where I Belong by Bryan Adams) Healing must happen if the war between the queen of demons and crusader of heaven was to succeed… Yesterday, a child came out to wander (The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell) Chaste cried herself to sleep that night, there in Arch’s slowly dying arms. After all, what was she to do when she had no one? But…she supposed…she didn’t have no one as long as Nin was alive and she could see those she cared for whenever she dreamed. She hoped even that tonight, maybe her parents would pay her a visit. Again, the nymphs and druids flow into her dreams, dancing fluidly and singing along to a tune she had long since memorized. Lights will guide you home Lights will guide you home Lights will guide you home The same words swirled around in her dream and crashed against her skull, getting louder and louder until it begun to drive her crazy. “Leave me alone!” she screamed at them, “Can you not see I wish to be left alone?” But instead of stopping, they smiled, long crooked smiles with pointed, razor sharp teeth below. The singing got louder, more sinister, and their skins melted and peeled away to reveal more of the demon monsters to terrorize her, but in a much different way. Pieces you come to us in pieces In pieces Pieces, pieces She ran from them, hair flying out behind her as she tried, but it was no use. She was caged in to her own dream by her own mind, with no means to escape. She hugged herself, shrinking down into a fetal position against the bars. “Make it stop…please….” Colors whirled all of a sudden, flying out around her and seeping into her. Relief flooded her, as she remembered this being protocol for misting, but the feeling was soon replaced with one of dread as she realized that safety was not where it was bringing her, but to the cell in which Nin lay. She was in the dirt, bloody and with soot covering her head to toe. Chains lay about her feet, one end tied to the wall and the other ends to her ankles and wrists. On her forehead read ‘illiterate’ and ‘idiot,’ along with many other cruel and damaging words. Despite the sorry appearance, she looked strong, stronger than she had before, and as if she was ready to take the world on by herself. Although Chaste knew she wouldn’t be noticed, she sat beside the sleeping Nin and placed a comforting hand on her back, rubbing it in small circles. She was rewarded with a content sigh that hinted that her subconscious knew she was there, which was something. She was having mixed feelings, overwhelming joy to know that this girl was, in fact, unharmed, but undeniable rage for the condition she was in. “I vowed to protect you, didn’t I?” Chaste said to herself softly, “But I have done nothing to better your existence, have I?” She lay on the floor beside Nin, on her back so that she could look up at the ceiling full of stalactites. She couldn’t help but think of all the ways she would get revenge on Dormantine and the queen for not just allowing this, but doing it themselves. “Don’t worry Nin, please, don’t worry. I want to see you smile again, just a small one, like the ones id see before all this happened to us. There’s no need to be sad is there? Soon enough we’ll have each other back again and everything will go back to normal, right?” but it wouldn’t. Things could never be the same without Miso, the one who betrayed them. Without her, there would always be that hole that could never truly be patched up. “Speak of the devil,” she thought as Miso’s unmistakably dainty footsteps perused down the hallway and her shoes came in to view. Despite being a dream projection of herself, Chaste reflexively moved to stand in the shadows of the stalagmites near the wall. “Ninaya,” Miso said silkily, “wake up, please, I have only now to speak with you.” Nin opened her eyes slowly, as if she had been expecting this for a long while and had come to accept it. “I don’t wish to speak to someone who would betray her family to the queen for such measly compensation.” Miso feigned hurt, as if the comment had gotten to her, “Don’t say that Nin. I brought you here, and you’re safe aren’t you? I did it because I care about you.” With that, Nin stood and jerked violently at the chains that didn’t quite let her reach the bars, screaming, “do you think THIS is helping me? Helping YOU? I saw what you did to Arch! I saw you try to kill him and I know you left Chaste to die in that fire! I will never forgive you if they’re dead! And I will not believe they are dead until I see their corpses myself! Get away from me! Leave, now!” She was yanking so hard on the chains that bound her to the wall that they had begun to cut into her wrists and ankles, allowing the shallow cuts to trickle out small amounts of blood. “SHHH! Keep your voice DOWN Ninaya! Archivold and Chastidy have placed themselves in the middle of this war, and they will die against the queens army! You love my son, I have known it for many years. This way you two may be together, and you both will live,” Miso shot at her harshly. “I choose Arch and Chaste over Dormantine. My love for him was broken when he made the decision to side with the queen, as he was no longer the man I loved. He chose a path that I can’t follow him down, and now, so have you. If Arch and Chaste die, then so be it, I too, will die with them. I believe in them, and I won’t give up, no matter what you do or how hard you try, I will still believe in them, and that will never change,” she spit back. Her voice was like acid, burning your insides thoroughly to the core, and pure, unadulterated shock was written all over Miso’s face as a result of it. Miso’s face darkened, and she looked away, speaking slowly, “If that’s how you want it, then so be it. If you die, remember that I had given you the chance to live. Goodbye, Ninaya Evermore.” The colors returned, whizzing this way and that as they transported Chaste back into a dreamless sleep. But before it could finish the deposit, all she could think, is of what Nin had just done. It was all up to her now, the game had definitely begun. The black of her dreamless night lasted only as long as it took for her subconscious to find Maleficent, and again she was plunged into the scenery, this time was different though, as the colors remained the same, but slightly warped, and Arch stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, with a grim look on his face. “It’s now or never Chaste,” he said softly to her, “You will be dreaming in reality. Anything that happens to you here will also happen to your sleeping body. I have cast a spell on the both of us so that we may fight while we have the upper hand. This will have to be the first and last battle; it’s now or never, Chaste.” She turned to him, and his words from the previous night returned to her, “the more power I use the faster my life will be pulled from under me.” The lines of worry were noticeable, and his hands looked mangled and arthritic. The feeling that surged through her seemed surreal, but accepted. “You won’t be arriving there with me, not inn body, will you?” She whispered quietly as they proceeded in the dream state towards the castle. “Not in body, but always in mind,” he said, almost too quietly for her to hear, “Are you ready?” She looked forward, towards the rapidly approaching castle on the horizon, where Maleficent resided, and sighed as the effort made her feel many years older and as if she were looking through someone else’s eyes. This story, her story, though hours ago haunted her and wreaked so much of death it made her want to scream, she had accepted it as inevitable, which it was. Though she said nothing, it was clear in the set of her jaw and the narrow glint in her eyes that she was. There was nothing left to say, so that waited the few more moments it took to appear outside of the castle. Chaste watched sadly as Arch hesitated, leaning in to hug her goodbye, for the last time in a long time. “I believe in you, Chastidy Verblue,” he whispered, “I will always believe in you.” He shimmered then, glittering and shining so bright that you could see nothing but him. He looked like a thousand burning torches in an unlit world, but somehow, only Chaste could see him. Below the layers of light, he stood, arms wrapped around her with a smile on his face as slowly his skin deteriorated. The deterioration sped up to a rapid pace the older he aged, until eventually he turned into a pile of dust and bones that swirled around her. The dust was golden, and blue sparks were flying from it, and out rose his spirit, nearly translucent with devil horns and angel wings. He spoke to her, but the words were in a language she didn’t understand, a language long since dead and lost to time, the language of his youth, perhaps. He brushed her bangs away, and caught a tear on his finger as he smiled down at her, and when he leaned in close, he planted a kiss on her head in much the paternal way he had come to present himself, and vanished from this world. There she stood for a few moments, grieving and mourning the death of such a saint. She would return here after and make a proper send off, but for now that would have to wait. In the dust from which he had created, she drew out her sword and traced a small cross inside it. To rise to the dreams he had created in heaven, was her only wish for him. A horn sounded from the castle, one of battle, but it seemed distant and echoing, as if she was hearing it through a long tunnel. She sheathed the heavens sword, adamant that she only would produce it when she fought Maleficent. The castle erupted in what sounded like thunder as many warriors raced to meet her, and there she stood on the middle of the bridge, by herself, with nothing but two Chinese hook swords gripped in her hands and the hope that Arch would lend her his strength. Demons of all colors, shapes and sizes flooded through the door to the castle, but paused as soon as they got to the first peg on the bridge about four feet from the door and fifteen from Chaste. She stood her ground, swords leveled and ready to reap. From among them, a man stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. His shoulder length hair and old fashioned chain mail made it clear to her who it was, Dormantine. “If you choose to stand in my way, then you will fall,” she said angrily. “I beg to differ,” he said satisfactorily. She then noticed that there was a small figure hidden by his bulky left arm. The person was malnourished and pale, but her hands were clasped to his arm with a vice-like grip. She was shaking, whispering something into his ear as tears streamed down her face. He didn’t so much as acknowledge her aside from attempting to brush her off. Before long, though, his face contorted in an angry grimace and he shoved her forwards towards Chaste, causing her to stumble and fall on her hands and knees, still sobbing. Nin. “You….” Chaste said, eerily calmly, “You, what have you done to Nin?” She screamed the last part, surging forward to stand over the girl. Nin reacted slowly, as if she knew what was happening but couldn’t believe as much. She stood, reaching out to grab a hold of Chaste’s tee shirt the smile, impish, and comforting smile spread across her face. She wrapped her arms around Chaste slowly from behind, burying her face into her back. “I missed you Chaste…” she whispered, “I knew you’d come back for me, I never gave up on you.” Chaste’s heart shattered as she saw this girl so weak and tired and utterly finished. She seemed half dead already, which, in theory, she could be. Chaste gripped at the hilts of the hook swords, nails digging in to them. She indicated for Nin to run away from this place, but all she did was take a few steps back and press her back against a wall. Chaste lunged at Dormantine, meeting his sword and elated face with her own rage and metal. Golden sparks flew through the air as they clashed, going back and forth. The demons and Nin watched intently as they fought, knowing the first to get the upper hand likely would be the winner. She spun away from him the exact moment he brought his sword down in another vicious ark, and this time managed to drag a shallow line from her belly button to her abdomen. She clutched at it, staring at the redness that came off on her fingers for a few moments in pained shock. This only seemed to fuel her anger, and she whipped the sword in her right hand out at it in a flash, he stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding getting struck by the sword and slamming his back into the side of the bridge. Chaste spiraled again, knocking his sword away and holding it even with his chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. She saw his father in him, the man she had come to think of as her father. She knows that he had to fall today, but it could not be by her hands, not entirely. She flipped the blade, and slammed the dull edge into his right side, making him teeter, and with the last decisive blow, she hit him with the hilt of her sword and sent him into the river below. The demons turned on her then, all at once, seeming to realize that their captain had been outdone. Claws and teeth and razors of all kinds swung at her, but the same blue sparks that Arch had died as erupted around her, zeroing in on the closest and most dangerous monsters and crumbling them into the same crystalline substance. With this boost of confidence, Chaste’s swords found a mind of their own and cut through the monsters as a fish through water, effectively destroying them. Nin, too, found the courage to fight, and utilized the demons lack of interest in her to her advantage. Chaste hadn’t ever seen Nin fight before, and had thought she was incapable of it, but she was very wrong. She gripped the sword that Dormantine had dropped and swung it ferociously, never missing her target. She was exhausted though, thoroughly so, and in dire need of rest. She seemed so strong to battle these demons as well as her own though, screaming chants and reaping retribution for the pain caused to her emotionally and from unjust incarceration. In short, vengeance was reaped. After the demons had been properly disposed of, sweat glistened on both Chaste and Nin, who crumpled to the ground of dehydration. Chaste rushed to her side, clasping her head tightly as she panted in rhythm with both of their erratic heartbeats. Adrenaline coursed through Chaste’s veins, and she could feel her pulse everywhere, but Nin was weak and clearly unable to continue. Chaste prayed silently to anyone and everyone that would listen, and kissed Nin’s hand softly. Her hand brushed the hair from Nin’s face and mouth, and she lifted her slowly, wrapping one of Nin’s arms around her shoulders as she dragged her into the air conditioned castle. She pushed Nin into a dark corner where she should be able to go unnoticed, and handed her what water she carried. Nin smiled and hugged her, burying her face in Chaste’s chest. The message was clear to the both of them, come back. Chaste left her then, along with her hook swords for protection. She carried Dormantine’s soul sword, a long sword, in her left hand and the heavens samurai sword in her right. Her movements were silent and filled with purpose as she strode up the winding staircase, already aware that that was where the queen resided, and it was. She sat comfortably in a throne made of burnt wood, an effervescent liquid in her hand. She seemed teeming with nothing but leisure, the omens sword laid out lazily on her lap. “Welcome, Chastidy, darling,” she said exaggeratedly, flourishing her hand in a presumptuously welcoming gesture. Chaste stood stock still in the doorway, weapons as her side as her eyes swept the room. Although she could see no one lurking in the shadows, she knew someone had to be. Cautiously, she stepped inside of it, eyes never left lingering in one spot for two long. Her body was on high alert, poised and ready for whatever may be sent your way. “Oh, posh darling,” she said, rolling her eyes as she did so, “Come now, sit down and eat.” She gestured to the table laid out in front of her, covered in exotic fruits and vegetables of all kinds, but Chaste chose not to comply. “Draw your weapon, demon spinster. The time has come to fight and I am ready to do so. I challenge you, devil woman. Fight or fall, your choice,” Chaste announced assertively. “Beyond reason, I see. Well, if that’s how you will have it, prepare yourself, darling Chastidy. I shall make this quick and painless, maybe,” she whispered slyly. Slowly, she pulled the omens sword from its sheath, resting it on the throne where once she sat. Chaste hadn’t even seen her move aside from that, but in the next moment, she was directly in front of her, swinging the sword down in her direction. Immediately, she blocked the omens sword with the reapers and heavens sword crossed over one another in an X shape. She shoved forward and swung them each outward, knocking Maleficent backwards as she flipped forwards, twirling the swords so that always the tips were aimed at her. Before she could swing at the woman any further, she spun, the deafening sound of metal grinding on metal screeching throughout the castle. Chaste grimaced from the noise, and Maleficent took this to her advantage by cutting in an upwards ark, reopening the area where Dormantine hit and deepening the wound. Chaste cried out, sent sprawling to the ground and reapers sword spinning out in the other direction. Maleficent cackled, a disgusting, hysterical cackle, and moved her hands so she could plunge the omens sword into Chaste’s back. Chaste squeezed her eyes shut as the sword came down, guessing that Maleficent would aim for her heart and holding her sword over it, but the blow never came. Time slowed, and through her closed eyes Chaste’s misting ability shone through. She saw Miso, unarmed, her body flying over her as the sword came down. Miso was smiling at her as she threw herself over her, as if she knew Chaste could see her. She saw the exact moment all the light began to seep from Miso’s eyes, but saw also when she mouthed her apology. “I’m sorry, Chaste,” her lips shaped, “live on for all of us. Live on and be happy.” And she was gone. She, and Arch, gone. Never had Chaste and Miso really connected, but Chaste had cared for her on some level. She felt utterly destroyed when she heard tell of Miso’s disloyalty, though she had expected it, but now she felt that destruction healing inside of her, only to be crushed again as she understood that this would be the last action Miso ever did. Rage surged through her as Miso’s lifeless body slid away, sword still left in where it had struck, and Chaste jumped to her feet, cutting at the stunned and disarmed queen. The movement struck home, and as Maleficent’s eyes bulged, and she fell backwards, breaking away into millions of black and red spiders, her reign came to an end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Epilogue~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ January 21, 1910 Dear dream diary,
It has been two years since that night at the castle. Two long and very lonely years. I live in Archivold’s old house now, with his guidance I was able to rebuild it and restore it to its old glory. I remember that day so clearly, and every night I dream that I’m going through it again and again and again, watching the faces of my friends disappear from view. I remember the dead and dying faces of all of them. Arch, Miso, Nin, even Dormantine. I remember bringing Nin back to the hut where my sleeping body was, remember merging with it. Nin and I slept together in the tent that night, back to back so that we could feel each other’s presence. I also remember when Dormantine came, sopping wet and begging for forgiveness. He still loved Nin, or so he said. I didn’t trust him, didn’t want to let him stay, but Nin was still in love with him and anyone could see it in her eyes. With intense hesitation, I agreed. I don’t think I slept much that night; I just lay still with my eyes open as I waited for Dormantine to do something. Eventually though, I had to sleep. So many hours of fighting for my life the way I was, well, I needed it. I wasn’t out long though, only a few hours, and when I opened my eyes it was daybreak. No one was in the tent asides from me and where Nin and Dormantine had slept, the blankets were cold. One of them, most likely Dormantine, had to have been waiting for me to sleep. I was so scared, knowing that Nin was in no shape to fight him, and unsure if she’d even try to if she was. I followed them though, their tracks weren’t hard to find. And find them I did. They were lying at the base of a cliff only a ten minutes’ walk from the tent, eyes closed and arms and legs spread wide, the only parts of their bodies touching being their overlapping fingers. I don’t know how it was they died, but they were long gone by the time I found them. I remember I cried, so long, cradling Nin in my arms and begging her to come back to me so that I would have someone left. Of course though, she never did, not in that way anyway. I remember I stopped only when a hand touched on my shoulder, a small, gentle hand, so warm and delicate. It was Nin, or her spirit anyway. She was smiling at me in that impish kind of way that was unique to her, and behind her, looking over each of her shoulders, was Arch and Miso. They too, smiled at me, nodding their heads. It all seemed surreal, and everything was silent, or so it seemed to me. Holding Nin’s other hand was Dormantine, who met my gaze and nodded his approval, I think. They let me go that day, not that I wanted them to. I haven’t seen them since, but I feel their presences every hour of every day. I’m writing this so that I may be remembered. By using my misting abilities, I know that I will die sometime this year, at age eighteen. Mister’s don’t usually last long, or so it says in my advanced studies. I don’t mind though, I’ve lived a full life. I shall leave this diary in the George Peabody Library in Baltimore, Maryland, USA, hidden amongst the novels, and I want the person to next find this book to know, that you will be the world’s next mister, protect it well. Best regards, C.V. Chastidy Verblue When you try your best, but you don't succeed When you get what you want, but not what you need When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face When you lose something you can't replace When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below When you're too in love to let it go But if you never try you'll never know Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face When you lose something you cannot replace Tears stream down your face And I...
Tears stream down your face I promise you I will learn from my mistakes Tears stream down your face And I...
Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you (Fix You by Coldplay)
© 2013 Riley BrayAuthor's Note
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Added on April 18, 2013 Last Updated on April 19, 2013 Author
Riley BrayAbout"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you."---Maya Angelou "I'm not even going to get mad anymore...I'm just gonna start expecting the lowest from the people I thought h.. more..Writing
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