by Hugo Damas
“What’s the matter? You a mute? Is that your thing uh… The Mute?” Dazin snickered to himself, locking the cell. “You two ladies have fun, now.”
He left them there, safe in the knowledge that all their gear had been removed and so they wouldn’t be able to do much of anything to escape the cell.
Once he was out of ear-shot, the Sorcerer sighed and pushed her hands out of her sleeves. Morgana noticed the Hunter glancing at her in interest, but she ignored it.
Her thin-layered gloves had runes inscribed on them in the same color as the gloves, so they were invisible to the human eye, as much as they were still actually there. Magic didn’t care about what was visible or not.
They had but one use, and that was to summon the essence of her staff.
Magic was all about the unexplained, and nothing makes less sense than two opposite truths being true at the same time. In its case, Magic did not exist within the confines of space and time, but it could only be used if concentrated within a physical manifestation. The House of Magni had chosen staves, and Morgana had taken a step further by asking a question nobody ever had: why does magic need contact? The answer was that it didn’t, not with the body. It merely requires contact with the soul, since it is the thing that has enough willpower to direct magical power. When something is touching one’s body, then instinctively, they touch it with one’s soul, but it is not a requirement.
Morgana was the first mage in history to not require actually wielding a staff, even if that delayed her spells for a second. She was intent on making that revolutionary development become but a footnote on her pages of history.
Morgana stepped farther away from the Hunter, to make sure the girl did not upset her concentration, but she somehow knew what was happening. The Hunter lunged and grabbed onto her arm.
Morgana tried to shake her off, but she didn’t let go.
“I go too,” a quiet voice stated, her grasp growing firmer.
“Ha!” Morgana swung her hand to hit her face. “Unhand me, you jungle person!”
The Hunter took three hits but eventually grew impatient, and abruptly turned to grab the hand. She twisted it, and Morgana could but groan in pain, regretting her decision.
“You are not leaving without me,” the jungle woman said.
“I shan’t be aiding in your escape, that much I know!” Morgana tried to escape the grapple, to no avail. The Hunter would most likely be a lot more proficient in a fight, and Morgana knew she couldn’t fight her all that well with the rules of the competition in place. All her combative spells were pretty damaging, especially when cast by her.
She decided on another strategy. “You need me to escape this cell?!” Morgana asked, patronizingly. “How shameful!”
“Fastest,” she offered as an excuse which made the Sorcerer feel like it did matter to the Hunter as an insult. So she pushed it.
“How shameful indeed!”
Morgana tried pulling, pushing, spinning and turning, but the Hunter was far more agile than the Sorcerer could ever hope to be. Through it all, the girl just kept those gray eyes locked on her own, which were still glowing from inside the shadow that was her hood.
Eventually, Morgana scoffed and sat down, her hands still grasped by the Hunter, which left her arm hanging up quite awkwardly. “Fine, neither of us shall get out, then.”
The Hunter squinted down at her. “…stop being childish,” she said.
“Childish?!” Morgana reacted, her voice rising an octave.
“Helping me escape…” her voice sounded hoarse, like she didn’t use it much. “It means competition. Staying here presents you with defeat.”
“Well, maybe I care more about seeing you defeated than actually getting this win. Humpf.”
“…that is childish,” she said.
Morgana stood up in anger. “I am not acting like a child! I merely refuse to assist you in whatever way. You almost caused my defeat in the previous round!”
The Hunter continued to watch, wheels turning behind harsh eyes that had seen a lot. “…and you will allow me to do so again?”
Morgana flinched, innervated. The Hunter had a point, she had already cost the Sorcerer a lot just by staying in the cell longer than she really needed to.
“How do I know you will not simply beat me and steal my pouch as soon as we are out?” Morgana asked.
“You don’t,” the Hunter said, turning her head in thought. “That is a good idea.”
Morgana gaped. “Well!” She sat down again. “Shall I be happy to oblige!? No, I think I shall stay here until you come up with a way to leave, one which does not involve me losing my primary gear.”
“That may take a while.” The Hunter seemed inconvenienced by the fact she had to say words. “My usual instruments, which I have hidden, were found out. They are with the rest of my gear, and thus beyond my reach. I have no means of escape.”
“Ugh, of all the incompet--”
Morgana’s whining -- and she knew she was whining, it was part of why she was so upset -- was interrupted by the wall bursting open like exploding cardboard.
Both she and the Hunter took pebbles to the body and were pushed away from said wall, the one opposite to the cell door.
“Ow…by the nether realms of the void, what is--” The Sorcerer opened her eyes to see a formidable beast in front of her.
Black spheres stood as pools for the big white cylinders that made its eyes, and the darkness of its metallic body dwarfed any other shadow in the room. Its widening spine, and the claws for feet and hands. Everything about it reminded the Sorcerer of the legends.
Morgana noticed the Hunter was still grabbing onto her, and both of them were half under a pile of debris. The monstrous beast coiled its claws on the ground, ready to pounce.
The next course of action seemed obvious.
The Sorcerer closed her eyes and felt the displacement caused by her teleportation spell. Morgana didn’t even hear the words coming out of her mouth, so natural was the action of teleporting out of trouble.
She suddenly found herself on the outside of the jail. Mist filled her vision as she felt her body fall and then land on a flat roof.
A moment later, Morgana heard part of the debris being pushed off onto the ground. The Hunter stood up, already having released her.
“That beast…is it them?” The Hunter meant to ask if the Shadow Conclave were somehow behind the beast.
“Foolish girl.” Morgana lifted herself, wiping the dust and debris off her robes, “they are not of the Shadow Conclave, they are the whole reason the Shadow Conclave exists!”
The Hunter looked back at the Sorcerer, clearly turning the gears in her mind. A realization came to her, and her eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Exactly,” Morgana said, pointing down. “The beasts of legend…they have finally returned.”
Morgana walked out to the edge of the rooftop, and she could see nothing past the mist, but the point was that it was the mist she was looking at. A scream erupted into the air, echoing from beyond the silent reaches of her surroundings.
Morgana closed her eyes, sensing her heart growing full with purpose. The Dark Runner was dead, the Shadow was a rookie. She was the Sorcerer, the one and only successor to the original founders who was truly ready to fulfill the prophecy.
Morgana opened her eyes.
“And I’m the only one who can stop them,” Morgana said, smiling.
After she was done holding her pose -- she held it for a few encouraging seconds -- Morgana turned to face her competitor.
“Will you assist me, Hunter?”
The Hunter judged her with careful eyes. She looked around questioningly.
“We must make history repeat itself,” Morgana calmly and quietly explained. “We must find whatever vessel they traveled in, we must infiltrate it, and we must steal whatever rock is powering it. You are the Hunter, surely you can track better than anyone?”
“…my sight cannot pierce the mist. And I do
n’t know of this vessel,” the Hunter said cautiously. She did everything cautiously, it was as if all her actions and thoughts were second-guessing themselves.
“Oh but I do not need you to find the vessel, I need you to find the one person that will be able to find it,” The Sorcerer said, “I will be able to get us inside and you, Hunter, will take the place of the Dark Runner. I dare say you are even better suited to the job, silent and swift of feet as you are.”
The Hunter didn’t look convinced by the plan, but it was clear to Morgana she was begrudgingly convinced she needed to do something. Another yell surged from another direction, and crashing noises were getting more pronounced, coming from a street near them.
The Hunter clenched a fist and hid her mouth behind her collar. “I lost my gear,” she said.
“Why do you need it? Your darts will ill-serve you against these beasts.”
Morgana saw the Hunter thinking about it, looking out and away. “…I do not like this situation.”
The Sorcerer almost laughed. Why would she feel the need to relay that? She but chuckled instead. “Who would?”
The Hunter sighed, convinced, and looked at the Sorcerer. “What about the others?”
“The others?” It had not occurred to the Sorcerer, but yes, there were eight of them there, outside of how many other thieves were acting as patrolling guards. “There are more important things right now.”
The Hunter further turned her head down, hiding her face up to her nose in the scarf. Only her eyes were visible through the bangs of her silver hair, and even then, not completely.
“I dislike this,” she repeated.
“Yes, well,” Morgana said, a bit more flustered than she intended because her patience was running thin. “And so you should. After all, we are invaded by ruthless beasts. As we have before. And as soon as you wrest control of yourself, we will deal with them, as we have before.”
“…I know the story,” she said, a bit offended.
“It does not sound like you do,” Morgana insulted.
The Hunter’s eyes squinted suspiciously. “…Tell me, Sorcerer. Who will be left behind to die this time?”
The Sorcerer frowned from inside her hood, not appreciating the Hunter’s lip all that much.
“No one. I am more powerful than my predecessor, all respect due to her. You are stealthier than the original, as well.. And we know what we must do. We shall perform better this time around.”
The Hunter stared off in the distance once again, still thinking. Morgana frowned deeper.
“Stop being so disagreeable, Hunter, will you be helping or not? I can always search for another,” though that would be far from ideal.
More sounds of violence sounded out two streets to the side of them. The Sorcerer opened her arms inquisitively even though the Hunter wasn’t looking in her direction.
“Well?” Morgana inquired.
The Hunter betrayed none of her thoughts, nothing but the fact they were there, wrestling each other.
“…there is someone nearby. I can smell the sweat. Whether it is the Shadow or not, I do not know.”
“Lead the way, tracker,” Morgana said.
The Hunter nodded and, at last, moved to purpose.
The Sorcerer followed her. While she wasn’t specifically trained to physically traverse environments like the others, she was no stranger to superbly physical prowess. The Hunter wouldn’t be a world-class thief otherwise. They jumped roofs, to one lower, and then down to the ground. She followed the Hunter as she was gestured to, turning a corner and going into a room to find their prey.
It was the Don. That much was obvious from his appearance. He had a red suit, an overcoat, but most importantly, the old seasoned face and matching cigar. They found him angled behind a closet, holding a gun in hand.
“Ah, friends!” He greeted.
“He cannot help us,” the Sorcerer quickly said, “let us move on.”
“Oh, but you will help me, doll.” The Don left the closet and didn’t even keep the gun on them, he just approached, imposing and intimidating. “You’re that Sorcerer woman, right?”
“Yes?” Morgana looked right back at him, meeting his mortal glare with her supernatural one, and yet, he did not even blink. The Don just smirked contently.
“This’s a grand opportunity for you, see? You take me outta town right now, and I’ll owe you big, honey. The entire Infeperio family will owe you big time.”
The Sorcerer scowled. “I care for none of your favors, Don. We seek to put an end to this invasion, we have no time to lose. Now if you’ll--”
“Now, pumpkin,” the Don said, turning his friendly smirk into an angry one. “You don’t really want’a walk out on me now, I promise you. You want to have any kind of life after you’re done with your mission, you help me out, see?”
The Sorcerer winced at his glare.
“Are you threatening me?” Morgana was so confused, “in these circumstances?”
The Don frowned impatiently. “I’m tellin’ you, stop wastin’ time and gemme out. Right now. Or I swear on my sweet, lovely mother, that I will get out by myself just so I can make you regret leaving me for dead!”
Ordinarily, the Sorcerer would just ignore it. Anyone else and she would, but she felt her stomach tighten before his words. Inexplicably, her mind could not conceive of any future for her if she did not heed his command. She swallowed all her pride and spoke side-ways.
“I shall be back momentarily.”
The Hunter nodded, apparently understanding of the situation for some reason that escaped the Sorcerer.
Stepping forward, Morgana touched the Don’s shoulder. “I suggest you close your eyes.”
“You’re doin’ the right thing here, see? I’ll make it worth your--”
The Sorcerer didn’t wait for him to stop talking, she concentrated and whispered the words. Thankfully, the teleportation spell had always, since the beginning, been her primary focus of practice. She had done so to avoid sharing her predecessor’s weakness. She did not wish to ever get tired of teleporting.
Still, stamina was spent, and only time would tell if it had been key or not. Because it might, Morgana wanted at least to make him feel bad for what he had made her do.
“We are outside Prusnia,” Morgana said, letting go of him. “I hope your life is worth it, Don, you have likely cost us our mission.”
“Uch, stop with the drama and get to it, woman,” he said, smiling victoriously. “Get it done and get out, and remember! Lazaros Infeperio is in your debt.”
We can only hope that will carry any significance, Morgana thought, bitterly. And then she thought better of it. Well, might as well.
“I require nothing from you but this one thing. Should we fail, you must stop them. No matter what.”
The Don grinned, slightly biting into his cigar. Slowly, he took it out and winked at her.
“You got it, doll.”
Morgana rolled her eyes, not replying. He would simply see her eyes closing, and then he would see her body whisked into oblivion as magic essence spiraled into being. Nothing would remain but the purple hues of that magical energy, which would dissipate like hot breath on a cold day.
* * *
It took them a whole hour to find the Shadow, and they found her lying down on the edge of a roof. She reacted quite startled when they appeared on the opposite end of the rooftop.
“Wha?” She turned her head but did not move. “Sorcerer. Hunter.” Her voice was coming out in a whisper, and Morgana found herself once again surprised by her appearance.
She had seen the Shadow in a previous match, confirming the rumors that the Shadow Morgana had come to know, and against whom she had faced in the previous conclave, was dead. Morgana had not expected the replacement to be such a young girl, especially when the vast majority of her predecessors had been men. Japien wasn’t known for promoting the idea of having a woman perform physically charged roles.
It wasn’t as much that
her outfit wasn’t completely black that threw Morgana off -- it had a blueish tint to match her hair -- or or the presence of white bandages covering from elbow to shoulder. It was her red eyes that surprised Morgana the most.
The Shadow had been known to use a full mask, eyes hidden behind lenses that were darker than black, the renowned Shadow Lenses. All the Shadows had had that visual cue so, even after a generation, it was still hard to remember that the Shadow no longer possessed them. That it had been left behind with the Shadow of legend, upon his sacrifice to send the invading beasts back.
However, the Shadow Morgana had faced in the past had had very dull brown eyes. The girls’ were stunning and easily spotted in the dark.
Why would she be picked to be the Shadow?
The rest of her head was still covered, the bottom part with a piece of cloth that fit tightly against her mouth and nose, serving as a mask, but her hair was long enough to frame her face at the front, and still be tied into a wide ponytail on the top of her head. There were more details that made her more easily discernible in the dark. It looked elaborate but Morgana had the slight impression she was just too lazy to cut it properly. That was why it was so long in every direction.
On the other hand, Morgana shouldn’t be judging her on the length of her hair when one would be hard-pressed to find a living being that let their hair grow longer than her own.
“Shadow.” The Sorcerer nodded her head in respect. “I assume you have noticed the Beasts have returned?”
The girl nodded and looked forward, pointing ahead.
“Their vessel,” she whispered in response, and her voice betrayed how scared she was.
The Sorcerer opened her eyes in surprise and looked at Hunter to find a lack of any reaction other than to approach. Morgana walked up with her.
“You have already sought it out. I was afraid you would be trying to escape,” Morgana said.
“It did cross my mind,” the Shadow admitted a bit timidly, “but I am the Shadow. I have to act accordingly. At the very least, I wanted to see them.”
The Sorcerer nodded. She was every bit as inexperienced and young as she had expected, but she was, after all, still a child of the Kagekawa. That attitude was likely part of why she had been selected.
