by V. A. Lewis
"Allow it? And who, pray tell, asked for your permission?"
"Nobody," she said. "But I won’t stand idly by as I watch someone get hurt. I’ve had that happen to me too many times, and I hate it. That’s why I freed them. And that’s why I want to speak with you— to ask you to stop what you’ve been doing."
The Dark Acolyte cocked a brow. He sighed deeply, and looked away from her.
"Ah, but Melas," he started, "you don’t seem to realize that although no one asked for your permission, I told you not to interfere."
Victor pulled out his other hand. The one he was hiding behind his back. A glowing magic circle was already fully formed on it. Then it expanded rapidly as he said the spell’s name.
"Fireball."
"Wh—"
A dense red sphere of flame shot out. The girl raised a hand, but she could not dispel it in time. That was the beauty of keeping a spell at the ready. It drastically lessened the time required to cast it. Victor was glad he chose not to teach her how to do that. She could only react by sending a Magic Missile back at him.
The ball of energy impacted the Fireball mid air. But it was far weaker. The explosion blew in the direction of Melas and Victor grinned as she went flying back.
The blast slowly cleared, with wisps of smoke dancing away to join the raging storm of gas gather atop. Victor squinted as he saw something glowing. It was not the orange glow of fire, but a blue color. The signature color of pure magical energy.
The Force Barrier protected the girl. It was cracked, already breaking apart. And it finally collapsed a moment after Victor saw it. Yet it still took the brunt of the attack. Melas got up as he looked on in disbelief.
"I don’t want to fight you. I just want to… compromise. That’s all. Please."
The Dark Acolyte stopped to think. He raised his head for a moment. Then he lowered it back down.
"No."
Flaming projectiles flew at Melas. They came from all around the room. From the raging fire that surrounded them.
She started in a panic. She dodged to the side, sidestepping the volley of attacks.
"I’m not asking for much," she said, panting heavily as she kept moving. " I just don’t want you to hurt others without a reason. It’s not right."
"It’s revenge," Victor said nonchalantly. "You, yourself, wanted it."
A bolt of fire struck Melas on the shoulder. She flinched. It was not a light singe— almost a third-degree burn.
She rolled under the hail of Firebolts, as she sent her own bolts of energy back at Victor. He only grinned as he dodged her attacks with ease.
"If you believed revenge to be without suffering then you are the fool, Melas. I am not at fault for your error in judgement."
"I know," she said. "It’s obvious— revenge is bad. There are so many stories which say the same thing. But I forgot about that. I was a fool."
Victor scoffed.
"Stories are not real life. And these ideas are perversions of the Goddess by the Church."
"I’m not talking about your stories." Melas shook her head. "But none of that matters. I wanted revenge because I lost my reason to live. Because my mother died, and I was bound and broken. She was the world to me and I had become a slave. I needed something to cling on to. But I realize now that that is not what I want, nor is it what I need."
"So because you’re an enlightened child now, you believe revenge is wrong?" Victor asked sardonically. "Congratulations, but I disagree. I was wronged, and I deserve my justice."
There was a crackle, as the flames raged on around them.
"I know, I know," she sighed. "And I won’t stop you from getting your… revenge. If you’re going to kill someone who has terribly wronged you, then I will let you. I won’t condone it, but I can understand where you’re coming from. It’d be hypocritical for me to condemn you for that."
The girl took a deep breath, then she continued.
"But what you’re doing is not even revenge anymore. It’s pointless, unnecessary suffering. You’re hurting those whom you’ve never met before, just to feel better about yourself. That is not right."
"Do I not deserve to feel good? To be happy. What is the point of living if you are not content? Why must I suffer while the world goes on to enjoy itself without me?"
"Perhaps," Melas hesitated. What she spoke next was not some sage wisdom. But it was the natural instinct ingrained into every living being in the world. "Living is its own reward. It is not wrong to want more in life— to seek some sort of self-fulfillment. But there’s nothing wrong with simply being alive either."
"Ah, of course. What a beautiful philosophy," Victor remarked. "And you want me to assimilate into your world view."
"No— I just want you to stop doing this. For you to change. I can’t agree with it. There’s nothing more to this than that. And I’m willing to do anything at all for it. Help you get further up in the Infernalis, or just disappear if you don’t want me around. Anything at all— just a compromise so you’ll stop. That’s all."
A burning wooden beam crashed into the ground from above, but neither man nor child reacted. Melas stood her ground, meeting his eyes.
The Dark Acolyte waved his hand in the air. "And I suppose you’re going to try and stop everyone else you disagree with too? By talking to them and making countless compromises."
"Only those I can." Melas took a step forward. "And I’ll... kill if I must. But I believe in you, Victor. You’re not a bad person."
"I am not, indeed," he agreed. "But do you really think you can stop the Holy Xan Empire? The Dark Crusaders? All the powers in the world. If they’re committing what you believe are, ah, wrong? Are you going to fight them all? How are you planning to defeat the world? How are you going to change it all?"
"I’m not saying I’m right. And I’m not going to challenge everyone in the world. I just want to live. I want to live free from suffering and free from a guilty conscience. So if I see anything truly wrong, I’ll try and stop it."
Melas paused for a moment. She considered her next words carefully.
"And there’s this thing, from my— where I come from. They’re called [Witches]. They’re considered evil and ugly, just because they do magic. If someone thinks you’re a [Witch], they’d burn you at the stake. But that’s in the past. Now they aren’t seen that way anymore. They just… do magic. Whether it’s good or evil, depends on who it is. Just like everyone else in the world. So it’s possible for things… to change. But I can’t just let evil happen in front of me."
"How naive," he said. "That’s nothing more than a fantasy."
"But it’s true," Melas said firmly. "Things can change. And they always do. That’s just how life works."
"I’d be inclined to believe you, Melas. If not for your lapse in judgement."
She blinked. "What’s that?"
Victor grinned savagely.
"You can’t stop me."
He lunged forward, as Melas backed up. She sent a dozen flaming arrows flying at him, but they bounced harmlessly off a barrier.
He pointed his staff at her as her eyes widened. A blade of wind shot out at her. It moved fast. Almost impossibly so. The girl barely reacted in time, ducking out of the way.
The Wind Blade briefly cut a path through the fire, before striking the back wall. For a second, the wall stood strong. Then it collapsed entirely.
Parts of the roof rained down around the two of them. But Victor ignored all of it. He sent a gust of air at Melas, sending her back.
She tried stepping to the side, but it still clipped her. She stumbled, caught herself, and was knocked back by Victor’s staff.
Melas fell into the fire. It gave way for her as she found her back against a wall. The Dark Acolyte followed after her. The flames rose, enveloping them as he stopped right in front of her.
The girl tried circling around him. "I don’t want to kill—"
The fire behind Victor stopped rising. And suddenly, it rushed forwards at her
. But she was ready for it. She aimed the direction of the magic circle, and it vanished.
The Flame Wall dispersed, and Victor clicked his tongue.
"How troublesome."
He found that annoying— not because she was negating his attacks, but because she should not have been able to do that. He was the superior at spellcaster— her Dispel Magic should have failed against him.
Yet it worked.
So Victor ran forwards, a ball of flames building on the palm of his hand. But Melas pointed yet again, and it, too, dissipated. However, this time, he was expecting that.
He brought his hands down, balling it into a fist, and punched the little girl. She barely saw it coming. She ducked under the fist, trying to pivot around him—
And was kneed in the face.
She flew back, landing prone on the ground, The Dark Acolyte was on her in an instant. She tried getting up, but his staff smashed her across the stomach.
"Take that you, little—"
Victor pulled back for another swing., and saw a flash of light. A snare wrapped around him. His arms stuck to his sides.
"Victor, if you don’t—"
The bindings vanished. Melas blinked. The magic circle glowing on Victor’s hands faded away.
"You’re not the only one who can do that trick," he sneered.
Then he kicked her.
Melas tried to crawl away, but he was all over her. Victor grabbed her arm, stopping her from escaping. She tried raising her other hand. But he was prepared for it this time. He would dodge the snare—
And he did dodge. But he froze for a second. For it was not a snare or even a Magic Missile that came flying at him. Instead, a Fireball whizzed past his face, exploding the roof, collapsing even more of the building.
How?
Victor snarled. He grabbed the girl’s other arm, and headbutted her. She recoiled in pain, as he pinned her down.
How is she doing this?
He held the struggling girl. She was so weak. Why was she able to cast spells so easily? Why was she able to overpower his magic and dispel it like it was nothing while he had to struggle to do the same to her?
"I will kill you."
That was right. He miscalculated. He thought he could use Melas to rise up in the Infernalis. But that was a mistake; she was only going to bring him down. Even without freeing his prisoners, she would have made him look weak— bring his place in the Dark Crusaders down.
Victor brought his hands to her neck. The girl gasped for air, trying to pull him off. But she was still a child. And even if she had the strength of an adult, his grip was too tight. She was going to die here.
The young man callously stared down at her. She reminded him of Elena. So childish. So foolish. And only ever a burden to him.
He watched her punch weakly at his chest and he wanted to laugh. But suddenly, he paused. For a moment, he saw the fear in the girl’s eyes. He saw his own reflection in her silver eyes. He saw himself, as he stared down at her, grinning like a madman.
Victor hesitated. He thought his grip would loosen for a moment. But instead, it tightened. Harder than it ever was before.
"No," he said softly to himself. "I spared Elena because I was weak. But not anymore. You die tonight."
He was a Dark Acolyte. An exemplary student of magic. He learned from his mistakes.
As much as it pained him to do this. He had to. It only made sense. If he wanted to get his revenge on those who have wronged him, he had to get rid of every obstacle in his path. And Melas was one of them.
He did not want to. Truly he did not. But it was necessary. Logical. It made sense.
And yet, he felt pain. Pain in his chest. A warm feeling in his heart.
It was a weakness. One that would go away.
He told himself the feeling would go away.
Eventually.
He just had to get the job done.
.
.
.
It did not go away.
The pain in his chest stayed. The warm liquid continued dripping off the wound on his heart.
"H-hgh..."
Victor stumbled back. And the sharp feeling— no, the sharp object went away. Melas drew back her dagger as she clasped at her neck, coughing and panting.
"H-h— wh—"
Victor tried to speak. But nothing came out. Where did that dagger come from? He did not know. He did everything right. He won that fight! She should not have had that! He did not give it to her. He should’ve killed her.
Unless…
Someone else gave it to her.
That was right. Someone gave Melas a weapon to fight with. He did not know that. So it was not his fault he did not consider this. It was the fault of whoever gave her the dagger. It was their fault for not telling him.
He was not to blame.
The young man collapsed on the ground. And he saw the girl turn away from him. For a moment. But she mustered the courage to face him.
And as she looked at him with pitiful eyes. All he could do was curse her. And curse whoever it was who gave her the dagger. And finally, curse the world for letting him die.
Everything was to blame.
Everyone else was at fault.
Everyone.
Except for him.
***
I watched Victor as he slowly bled out. As the fire around me slowly stopped burning. The ceiling collapsed, and the silver moonlight of the night sky was the only thing illuminating the night.
And then—
I threw up.
I could not hold it in anymore, and I vomited in disgust. But I wiped away the bile and saliva from my mouth. And that was it.
I did not cry; I was not going to cry anymore. And if I did, it was not for Victor. I thought he was a good person— that he could have changed. But he did not.
So I did not mourn him. The only thing I mourned was the outcome— that he did not change. Maybe in some alternate reality, we managed to reach a compromise. And I could return to the Dark Crusaders; maybe face a punishment for freeing the prisoners, but nothing more than that.
Karna would be mad at me for a few days, but we’ll make up eventually. Gerritt would express sympathy for me, and Ihsan would not care too much. While Victor would train me as a Dark Crusader. To maybe become a Dark Sage.
However, it did not happen.
It was only another thing that never came to be. Just like if I never ran from Rin, Shang, Theodore, and the others. If I stayed with them, maybe they would have protected my secret.
It was just another possibility in this world of endless possibilities.
I hesitated for a moment. If my mom never died—
It would not have been a happily ever after. She and I would have been on the run from Inquisitors and the Church. But at least we’d be together— and that was all that mattered to me back then.
Now, however, I was alone again.
And I was not the same person as I would have been in those alternate realities. I had different priorities. Different goals. So I gathered whatever I could from the fort and from Victor’s body, and walked away.
There was no one to stop me. Fort Conon was completely deserted. I stumbled out of the broken gates that were haphazardly repaired, and out into the darkness.
Live.
That was what I wanted. I realized that when I was a slave.
Live, and help whoever you can.
I made that decision when I saved Karna. When I gave him my freedom in a bottle.
It was a simple goal. Not grand. Maybe not even good.
But it was enough for me.
And as the darkness of the night crept up on me; as I trudged through the forest, surrounded by only shadows; something in me shone.
There was something. Inside of me. Outside of me. Beyond me. And it all came to me.
I fell on my knees as the light glowed brighter. As the magic circle formed around me. It lit up the night with its blue light.
Onl
y at first.
Then it shifted.
Its color changed. From blue, to red. From red, to purple. It increased in intensity. The lines in the circle weaving into itself, forming nebulous symbols I wouldn’t recognize. And then it blurred.
It was no longer a shape on my feet. It engulfed me like a sphere. The purple lines crossed around me. Forming a three dimensional design. I saw the world dying around me. Outside of the magic circle, grass, trees, and bushes all began to wilt as minutes passed.
I did not want that. So I pulled it all back in— back towards me. It stopped expanding as I slowly reached deep inside me.
Then one of the purple lines touched me, and—
I shone.
Where it connected to my body, the purple lines spread out. It forked off multiple times, going around me, until it covered me in my entirety. It was…
A miracle.
I felt everything grow lighter; as if all the stress and worries I had momentarily vanished. And I touched something. Not inside of me. It was… beyond me?
No. I did not understand what it was. But it felt so close, yet so far.
Then the purple lines. The magic circle. Everything began to move. It began to shrink, warp, change into something else.
At first, I was in a lot of pain. More than I had ever felt before. But the feeling went away, and I felt more alive than I had ever been before.
And when I looked down, all I saw was a light. A light so bright, it reflected the world on it; I could see myself in that silvery light.
I closed my eyes, and I could still see it. It calmed me. Made me feel powerful. It healed me.
I exhaled slowly, reveling in the moment. But just for a moment.
Because, after that moment passed, it was gone. The light vanished. I was all that was left.
I opened my eyes, and looked around. There was only the moon and the night surrounding me. But I knew that I was stronger. I knew that I was finally free.
And that from this moment on, I was going to live.
I watched the night turn into day. I watched the sun replace the moon. The dark blue skies brightened overhead into something new. Into a brighter day.
So I picked myself up, and finally entered the world.
