by Danny Bell
A final vision of me materializes, and now I see myself sitting cross-legged as competing balls of light and dark dance in the air all around me, creating brightness and shade and occasionally erasing themselves out of existence when they collide.
“Spirit,” the voices said. “I see someone immensely powerful, but also someone with the thoughtfulness to use or deny the power as needed, someone who respects what that power means and waits on it with patience and reverence.” It was almost impossible to describe how paralyzed I was with this sort of power; this knowledge that when things ended, something new would grow in their place while remnants would always be there to shepherd them in. I felt as if I could create with one hand and destroy with the other, but the balancing act would keep me from doing either.
I stared at them all now, not as fractures of my vision but all in full view and began to understand each of them.
“Which will you choose?” the voice asked with a hint of expectation. “Which will you embrace?”
“Fire,” I said without hesitation. “I’m here for a reason, and I accept that. It feels like something is wrong in the world, like something has to change. I accept that I might have to burn it down to save it.”
“Then take it!” The world shook as the voice roared, and I was pulled into the vision of me by the fire, my spirit melding violently with the image of myself that looked me in the eyes in the moments before the collision.
And then I stood before it and knew. No more visions of me, no empty sky, or cracked wasteland.
“My tree,” I said out loud, reaching out toward the mighty oak before I remembered myself. This was another rule. When I found my tree, I would immediately know, and I was to not touch it until the sun was rising upon it, and I would labor until the carving was done for the day, and I would know when that was as well.
Instead, I sat cross-legged in front of it, and studied it, thinking about what this meant. There was a part of me that knew this was too soon, a big part of me if I was being honest. It was only a couple of years ago that I even found out that I could access magic, let alone what was possible with it. Finding out its source, or at least the source that I drew from, had been just as big a surprise. And now I’m lost in an infinite void of possibility in front of a possibly magical tree, about to make a decision that I could never take back.
Abarta had told me that creating a Wizard’s staff was a precious experience but one that was off-limits to me. An experience I was not prepared for. Even the suggestion that I have a staff repulsed him in a way that I didn’t pick up on at the time. And there was something else he had said, something specific. He had said that possessing a staff was far more power than I was capable of handling, and right now, that’s striking me as significant for one very good reason.
He can’t lie.
So, if I wasn’t ready then, what made me ready now? I turned the knife over in my hands, feeling a twinge of guilt. The oak was lovely, and given where we were, it was also probably alive; the thought of putting a knife to it felt wrong. But I remembered the fire and my choice. Taking what I needed from the tree wasn’t destructive for its own sake; it was a necessary change.
Thinking about the knife was just distracting me from what I really was worried about. I was rushing to power, immense power if everything I’d read was to be believed. With all her help, even being a goddess of sorcery, Freyja never thought to even prepare me for this moment. By all accounts, I shouldn’t be here, and if I was really holding myself accountable, I didn’t even need to be here. The situation with the Orochi and the flooding was dire, but I was offered another path, and I said no. I knew I was coming here long before I had to say it out loud.
Not because I needed this. I wanted this. Maybe I always did.
The oak tree really was beautiful. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a sun now, and the light shining behind it felt like sundown. I wanted to stay awake, but my eyes were quickly becoming too heavy to manage, and I yawned loudly enough that I was embarrassed despite the lack of an audience. I tried to rest my head on the ground before I passed out, keeping my eyes toward the rapidly setting sun.
Maybe this was also part of it.
There was no dreaming here, thankfully. I was afraid of what that might look like. There was only sleep and waking. The branch of the tree laid in front of me however, displayed almost like an offering; it made me question if maybe the oak had understood me. It had given me plenty to work with, the branch seemed nearly the same size as me. There was something majestic about it as it towered over me, and I was grateful to not have harmed it.
I didn’t hesitate in my work. This part was explicit, and I began to carve away at the branch and quickly realized I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never done woodworking before, but it almost didn’t seem to matter. It was like my hands knew what to do, and though it was tiring and my arms and shoulders ached from the work, it was getting done. Thirst came for me pretty quickly, and as the sun began to set, the ground parted near the tree and grass sprung up alongside it, and miraculously, water started to flow in the trench, creating a stream. When the sun had set entirely and the last of the light was gone, a bonfire appeared with two flat rocks serving as seats, and it occurred to me that I’d seen this before.
Water before rest, I thought, and I plunged my hands into the gentle stream and gulped down my fill. As I sat at one of the rocks, eager to dry my hands, I felt a pang of hunger, and a rabbit, fat and wild, hopped right up to me and stared at me expectantly. The knife in my hand was suddenly heavy, and even if this was just the Knowing providing for me, I didn’t feel up to killing my dinner no matter how tempted I was.
“Get outta here,” I hissed, kicking a foot in the jackrabbit’s general direction before I could change my mind.
“I’m scared all the time, you know,” Olivia said, staring into the fire as she sat on the other rock. I nearly fell over in shock at her appearance.
“Oh Jesus!” Startled, I caught my breath as I looked at the image of my friend. “Another vision or whatever.”
“Elana, I’m serious,” Olivia turned her gaze to me as the shadows from the fire danced across her face, and I began to question everything.
“How are you…?” the words caught in my throat, and I didn’t know how to finish what I wanted to say. This was Olivia! She was here! “You shouldn’t be here.”
Olivia nodded, something about the gesture said she knew that didn’t answer the question I hadn’t asked. “Neither should you.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just sat there, letting the cracks and pops of the fire fill the silence.
She was probably right.
“I know you think I’m fearless,” she began again. “You probably don’t know how bad you are at hiding your surprise whenever I do show any fear. But I’m pretty much always afraid.”
“I think I knew that,” I said after a moment. “I just don’t like to admit it.”
“Well, now you know,” Olivia said sourly, looking back into the fire. “You’re not the only one who has to worry about your friends. Do you think I got that gun just for my sake?”
The gun. I’d nearly forgotten about it, and even now, I felt ashamed at my reaction to it.
“And now there’s this part of me that knows that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” she continued. “But what I do know is that maybe we can’t count on any of the old comforts we used to rely on. Doors and walls can’t keep us safe, the people I love aren’t guaranteed to be there when I need them or even make it through Christmas. It feels like we can’t rely on the old standards.”
“I mean, we’ve never been safe, though, right?” I asked. “No one’s ever completely safe. You’re just more aware of it now.”
“I get that, but doing what I can, understanding everything that happened and why; it only ever makes sense in hindsight. And yet, I still have to live my life now and move forward. Just one leap of faith after another.”
“I don’t want
life to be hard for you,” I replied, searching for words. “And I hope you don’t mean our friendship when you say that you can’t rely on old comforts. I would do literally anything for you, you know that. I am so sorry if I’ve ever made you think I wouldn’t.”
Olivia nodded again. “So maybe there’s just what I’m supposed to be doing. Allowing myself to be afraid, not worrying about not being afraid because maybe if I do that, then I’m not giving power to fear. There’s always going to be something new to be afraid of, so Que Sera, Sera, right? Does this sound crazy?”
I shook my head. “There was a poem I read recently because of all of this, by Miyamoto Musashi.” I tried to recite the words from memory, “‘Under the sword lifted high, there is hell making you tremble. But go ahead, and you have the land of bliss.’ Maybe it means that we can be scared, but we can’t make things better without facing our fears head-on because, deep down, we know what they are. Or maybe the other half of what you had to say is true, and we really don’t know anything, and it’s all just through faith that we’re making the right choices now. When we look back, hopefully we did it the right way. I honestly don’t know what the right answer is.”
“Yes, you do, Elana Ruth Black,” Olivia said, suddenly stern. “How are you going to deal with your fear?”
It hit me suddenly, and it was a level of shock and confusion I wasn’t prepared for. “You’re not her, are you?” I asked, leaning a little closer to her. “But you are her at the same time, at least in a lot of the ways that matter. What are you?”
“You have to choose!”
“How can I choose something like that?” I asked helplessly. “How could anyone expect me to—?”
And just like that, I had chosen. Somewhere deep in my heart, an answer hidden away from everyone was given. Olivia softened and looked at me differently now with sympathy in her eyes. She stood and stepped toward me, and as I rose to meet her, she gave me a hug that felt like a goodbye. “I’m only the first. You’re going to be visited by people that you need to speak with. You’re ready for this,” she spoke softly into my ear. “It’s going to get tough, but you’re ready.”
“I’m glad you were first,” I clutched her tightly, all of a sudden afraid to let go as I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and that tightness was returned for a moment longer before she was suddenly gone, and I was alone. The only sounds left were of the crackle of the fire and the slow-moving water.
I screamed in frustration hard enough to feel it down to the tips of my fingers. Something primal was welling in me, and I didn’t like it. Or, more accurately, I didn’t understand it, and I wanted to rebel against it. But the night didn’t care. Nothing moved, nothing reacted, and before I could do anything else, all the fight left me, and I collapsed.
The sun came up again, the fire and stream were gone. I almost wanted to laugh at that, but the first hint of a chuckle made me double over. I hadn’t eaten, and I was paying for it now. Part of me still wanted to rebel against whatever was happening here, to not play any more games, but then I saw it. Near my knife was the branch and out of it, the makings of a staff. I didn’t do this, at least not with my hands. Near the top was a small symbol of some kind burned into the wood, but when I tried to focus on it, it became blurry.
I put aside those negative thoughts and got back to work. Whatever happened here, I chose it. If the Knowing or magic itself or the universe or whatever was going to make me face core beliefs through a manifestation of my friends, so be it. I wasn’t giving up now; I wasn’t even sure that I could.
The spring and fire and rocks came again at the end of the day, and even though I’d been ready to gut that rabbit if it came back again, namely because I might die without it, it turns out I didn’t have to. Thankfully, a pile of vegetables appeared at my feet as I sat, and I’ll be forever uncertain if those were just the best carrots ever or if I was just that hungry.
I kept staring at the rock Olivia had sat on, wondering who would appear next, and I was sort of hoping to catch them in the act. Olivia, or whoever or whatever that was, had said I needed to speak with those who were coming. I imagined that could be a lot of people, but my conversation with Olivia hadn’t gone the way I might’ve imagined it would if I knew it was coming. I looked away for the briefest of moments, biting into a red bell pepper like it was an apple, and then I heard him.
“You must be Ollie’s friend.”
My blood ran cold hearing that voice. The one at the start of it all, someone who was ready and willing to take people from me, the first one to try and kill me.
“Remember that one?” Jason chuckled. Not my Jason, not Jason Kelly, my kind and supportive friend. No, this was Jason Harris, a Gardener. A remorseless killer.
I picked up a spare piece of wood about the size of my fist that had been carved away earlier in the day and dove at him, swinging the block at his face with every ounce of strength I could muster. I must’ve surprised him because he didn’t move as I brought the block of oak square into the bridge of his nose with all my weight behind it.
The impact was gratifying, though he must’ve somehow caught me in return. It felt like maybe I’d taken an accidental elbow to the face along the way. Jason toppled over like he’d been punched by a boxer. I pinned his chest to the ground with my knees and pulled the block of wood over my head, ready to swing again.
“Calm yourself!” Jason commanded, accomplishing nothing.
“I’ll do it again!” I yelled back.
With surprising speed, Jason snatched the wood from my hands, and stood up without effort, shrugging me off of him. “I know you will,” he grunted. “But that’s not what this is. Now sit.”
His nose repaired itself as he did, even the blood spray removed itself from his familiar white suit, and I realized he was right. I had to get this over with, and besides, I suddenly had a headache.
“It’s not bad enough that you killed me once already?” Jason mocked.
“I didn’t kill you, this place did. The Knowing didn’t seem to like you.”
“But it was you that hit me with a bolt of lightning, wasn’t it?” he countered. “That’s at least attempted murder. You going to eat that?”
Jason picked up one of my carrots and began to casually nibble at it. “So, you’re here because what?” I asked. “I’m supposed to say sorry?”
“You’re not sorry. You think I had it coming. Cold-blooded, you are. Killing me on my first assignment—”
“It wasn’t your first assignment,” I interrupted. “You were lying about that the way you lied about everything.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’ve learned a few things since then. The stone shaping? That sword? All those complex spells you were throwing around? Hell, even the way you spoke to Bres; you were a heavy hitter, and as far as your organization was concerned, I was a big deal.”
Jason held the carrot between his teeth at the side of his mouth like a cigar and clapped at me with mock applause. “Well, look who graduated? And that’s probably why I’m here, isn’t it? To find out what else you learned.”
“I learned what a disgusting roommate you were,” I shot back, remembering the state of his room.
“Please, focus,” Jason said gently. “You killed me because I was threatening your friends, I understand all that, but really, I was just doing my job. You understand by now that what my organization does is important, and yet you declared war on them anyway, even as they could’ve helped you save lives.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, what are you going to do the next time you come across someone like me? Or better question, what are you going to do when you become me?”
“I’m nothing like you,” I spat.
“I’d argue you’re closer than ever, though,” Jason added. “Think about it. Doing what you decide is the right thing, threatening and taking down those who see it differently. You think you’re the good guy in all this?”
“You’re twisting t
he situation.”
“Probably.” He chewed thoughtfully on a big bite of carrot. “But what happens when someone else sees you the way you see me? How are you going to enforce change? Because right now, your weirdly prominent friendships aside, you’re just one person. Maybe you can keep making a lot of noise, rally for big sweeping change, and keep planting those seeds until you die. And long after you’re gone and forgotten, someone more competent might take up your cause and do something worthwhile with it. Take your ideas outside of LA, you know, just a whole world tour. It’s a nice hope to have, isn’t it?”
“So, you think I’m just chasing windmills?” I asked skeptically. “Still negging me? Trying to convince me I can’t actually solve any of the world’s problems?”
“Maybe you can solve them, maybe not,” Jason mused. “But have you considered the new problems that rise up every time you solve a problem? What the unintended consequences of your actions are? Think about where you’ve been. You saw that innocent people were in danger, and you had the means to help. So, you did, only you attracted the fiction police, that’s us. And I mean, we were coming for you eventually, sure, you just sort of sped things up. Still, we show up, we start to hurt people that you love. You didn’t see that coming, did you? But you made it worse. You threatened everyone in a room who wasn’t like you, got the attention of a couple of gods in fact. It’s like you went straight from kindergarten to the World Series overnight. And even then, you were offered a way out, but you’re not reasonable, are you? You had to Sinatra the whole thing and do it your way. And fair enough, you got it done, overcame the odds, but you paid for it. Your little Scooby gang shrank by one, and you bit off more than you could chew. All of Los Angeles, just to yourself, and now there is more bad shit there than ever because you and your goddess kicked out everyone who could help. More people than ever are dying or going missing, and again, not what you expected, is it? So, you get into it with another big bad, another god, and now you’re here with me. Trying to play Wizard. So, what’s going to be the next consequence? Who’s going to get hurt next?”
