60: Amy
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Zenith
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The redheaded girl, who is apparently named Amy, drags me through the large school complex. She eventually leads me to my class and sits us down next to each other. I guess we’re friends, then? The teacher is an elderly lady, who clearly has no interest in what the students are doing. I’m unsure why such an old person would be working, let alone teaching. The children throw papers and other things at each other all class.
Eventually the class ends with a horrible bell sound. I get more odd looks for covering my ears. What is wrong with these children, how can they stand that? This process repeats several times, each class being some subject or another. The only ones I really understood were math and literature. I didn’t recognize the names of any of the people in the writings, but the concepts are largely the same. History and science were completely foreign to me.
Amy once again drags me along, this time taking me to an eating space. We go through a line, picking foods we want from large, heated tubs and putting them on our plate. This doesn’t seem very hygienic. At the end is an angry looking woman sitting at a device. She looks at my plate and taps the thing a few times.
She then hands me a pad with numbers on it. I look at Amy, silently calling for help. She just looks at me, confused.
“Hurry up kid!” The woman croaks at me.
“Amy, I forgot my… number?” I say, not totally understanding the situation.
The girl goes wide eyed before nodding. She steps up to the pad and punches in a series of numbers rapid fire. After a few seconds, the machine makes a happy sounding noise and the angry woman waves me through. I wait for Amy so she can guide me. We then go outside and sit under the shade of a large oak tree.
Amy gives me a funny look. “Hey, Ajioahdwo… Why are you being so strange today?” I stare at her blankly, not sure how to respond.
“How am I acting strange?” I try to smile, but it just makes me feel gross.
“I dunno, you’re following me like I’m a mother hen. On top of that noises are bothering you real bad. I was wondering if you were sick but you look fine.” She sticks her fork in some mashed something or other. “So what’s up?” Her eyes are full of concern for her friend. The friend that is not me.
Before I can answer a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye distracts me. I look just behind me and see an arm reaching out of the shadow of the tree. The arms flails around, reaching for something.
“Amy, do you see that?” I point at the hand, but when I turn to look with her it’s gone. “What the hell?”
The concern deepens behind Amy’s eyes. “Hey… Let’s go to the nurse.” She stands up and offers a hand.
I grab it and follow her, just as confused as she is.
【〓〓〓〓】
Once we reach the nurse’s office my friend gives the woman some highly questionable reasons for bringing me. The nurse doesn’t seem to agree with me, as she thanks Amy and tells her to go to class. My friend shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone with a stranger.
The woman is sitting in front of her desk, leaning towards me slightly. I spot a plaque on the desktop that says ‘Ms. Surely’. She gives me a once over before beginning.
“So, Ajgafpjp, how are you doing?” Her face is calm but her eyes hold some worry behind them.
I shrug. “Fine, no pain to speak of.” Except the loss of my real bodies. The tough muscle and churning magic I’ve cultivated over the last year. I feel my expression fall.
She shakes her head. “Things can be wrong besides pain. Are things okay at home?” I look up at her, confused. Her expression is serious, and she’s studying my face closely.
“No, I’m actually unaware of that.” How should I know what this body’s homelife is like? I really don’t think she’s talking about the manor.
My words seem to startle the woman. “What do you mean?” Should I just tell her the truth? The option is dangerous, what if this isn’t a dream? If I’m stuck here long term, telling her could prove a mistake.
I’ll do a compromise. With a shrug I say. “I’m just not sure. My memory has been really fuzzy since this morning. I’m lucky Amy was there to lead me to school.” The woman’s eyes narrow on my face.
She walks over to me and starts moving my hair around, searching my head for something. After a few minutes she stops and sits back down. “There’s no signs of head trauma, but I would recommend seeing a doctor about this. Memory loss can have some serious causes.” Her tone is stern but caring. I just nod, unsure how I’d even meet a doctor.
“Have you told Amy?” Her eyes are intense. I shake my head, I didn’t really need to before now. “I think you should, Anlljkgne. It would be good for you to have a friend who knows the situation.” She lets out a sigh. “I was going to send you to class, but you don’t know where to go, do you?” I shake my head again. She nods. “Alright, I'll call Amy back.”
She rolls her chair behind her desk, reminding me of the King’s throne. She then uses a smooth object to talk to someone. After a dozen or so minutes the door to the nurse’s office opens and Amy walks in.
The nurse looks at Amy. “Alnkfesd here has some things they need to talk to you about. I told your teacher you wouldn’t be coming back to class.” Amy’s eyes grow to the size of saucers at the woman’s ominous wording. “I’ll give the two of you a hall pass, use the rest of the period to talk.”
The woman rips a piece of paper off of a pad and hands it to Amy. My friend walks out of the office, somewhat confused looking. I get up and follow after the dazed girl.
Amy starts rushing through the tiled halls, leading us to an outside section of the school, where there are some benches scattered around. She drops down on one of the wooden seats and looks at me expectantly. Plopping down next to her I mull over how to word this.
After several minutes of careful thought I figure out the easiest way to explain the situation. “Amy, I don’t remember anything. I woke up today not knowing where I was. If you hadn’t shown up at my house I’d have never made it to school.” Excellent. I think that was clear enough.
Amy stares at me, her already pale face a bit paler than usual. “So, how’d you know my name?”
I shrug. “I didn’t until one of the other children called you that.” The girl runs her hand through her red locks.
“So you just followed a stranger to who knows where?” She glares at me, almost protectively.
I nod at her worries. “Yes, it’s not like someone could hurt me anyways.” Her face switches back to one of puzzlement.
“What do you mean, Ameifsp? Why couldn’t someone hurt you?” Her voice is raised.
I’m not sure what she’s getting at. I can just beat them up or hit them with ligh— …Right, I forgot. I can’t do that. …Or maybe I can? I look at my hands, their shape unfamiliar and pathetically scrawny.
Muscles tense as I try to summon my blessing to enhance my physique. Nothing appears, no rush of energy, no bolstering of strength. Nothing. Amy says something but I ignore her, panicking over my loss of ability.
Magic, I’ll try the magic. Mentally I reach down into my core, searching for the warm fluid sensation that feeds my spells. My blood runs cold as I find nothing, just a cold and empty sense of self. I reach deeper, desperately, anxiously, it has to be there.
In my panic I claw deeper and deeper into my psyche, ignoring outside stimuli completely. There has to be something, even the smallest shred will do. And eventually I find something, a small glowing pinprick. I redouble my efforts, dragging myself towards the light. Someone is touching me, but that doesn’t matter right now. I have to reach that light. The light that is within reach, a small flickering flame. I stretch out and grab it.
I’m suddenly pushed backwards, the light exploding outwards. The explosion of magic and warmth pushes me through my sense of self again, back towards reality. Or whatever this place is at least. I open my eyes and feel the familiar sensation of my magic leaving me, weaving into a spell.
And the fireball slams into Amy’s chest.
】〓〓〓〓【
Iota
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My vision gets covered up as my stupid helmet slides down in front of my eyes again. I’m wearing the smallest one the knights had in the storehouse and it’s still slightly too big. I shove the damn thing back up and contemplate freezing it there.
Quill laughs from in front of me. “It’s hilarious. I can tell when yer mad without even looking. Whenever the temperature behind me sharply drops something pissed ya off.” There he goes, cackling over my passive traits again. Throughout my training I’ve learned to control almost everything, except the air getting colder when my emotions spike.
I keep following my large mentor through the street. It’s far past sundown, so all of the day-lights on the second tier have long since turned off. Why Father insisted that I must experience nightwatch is beyond me. So here I am, wandering the roads, late at night, doing the routine patrol with Quill.
The street we’re on is in a safer neighborhood, but recently there’s been people loitering around shops at night. No robberies yet but the shopkeepers are nervous.
Or so Quill told me. For all I know he told me all that to keep me paying attention. If that was his intention, it worked, but I would’ve been cautious anyway.
So far our rounds have been totally quiet. There was a cat that scared me pretty bad earlier. …Quill is never going to let me live that down.
A small mote of light flies from one of the adjacent alleys, fluttering across the cobble main road towards us. The mote lands in my hand and a surge of loneliness seeps through my skin. I toss the mote back into the air and grab Quill’s attention.
He looks back at me. “What is it, kid?”
“Alpha… I mean, my blessing told me there’s something wrong nearby.” Quill narrows his eyes a bit. He’s obviously not buying my explanation but he follows my lead anyways.
I run down the side street, following the emotions the small soul gave me. Eventually I slow down and peer around the corner. Down the adjoining alley two men are standing. A dark shape is on the ground between the two of them. The duo is facing the wall, so I’m pretty confident we could sneak up on them.
I look up at Quill, who is also judging the situation. I start to sneak forward but he grabs my shoulder and shakes his head.
He loudly clears his throat. “Excuse me, lads, what you doing down there?” He projects confidence through his tone.
The duo spin in place, quickly stepping in front of the dark shape, to shield it from view. The taller one is wearing a mask that has a simple smiling face on it. His cloak is pulled tight, covering everything. His pants have patches sewn in places. His posture is straight and confident.
His friend, however, is totally different. He’s much shorter, barely taller than I am. He’s also wearing a mask, also a smiling face, except his looks like someone who’s never seen a human made it off of a description alone. The mouth is a rough gash, and the eyes are strange off kilter shapes. The man is wearing a hat as stout as he is and a dark green suit. He’s as wide as he is tall, and I can’t tell if it’s from fat or muscle.
The tall one is the first to talk. “Well, hello there, good knights! What brings you to this out of the way place? I thought we’d be out of everyone’s way here.” His voice sounds like smooth butter, and he seems to know how to use it.
Quill grunts, clearly unimpressed with the man’s words. “We came here to ask you what you’re doing.” His tone is rougher than usual.
The man does an unconvincing fake laugh. “Well, you see, we actually are here because our friend said she’d meet us here.” The man’s head moves slightly, giving away his glances to the sides.
Quill grunts again. “She’s meeting you here, at three in the morning?” During this entire exchange the short man in the alley hasn’t moved. Not in a hasn't gone anywhere way. He’s physically not moved at all, like he’s a statue.
“Hmm… that is a little far-fetched. I suppose it’s my loss.” The taller man says with a laugh. “I really didn’t expect a knight patrol to come this far into the back alleys, what are you doing back here?” The man shrugs. “Anyway, our backup has arrived.” He points upwards.
I look above us for the threat and hear a bang in front of me. Quill’s huge sword is in front of me, blocking a… playing card? The small paper card is partially embedded into the godsteel weapon.
“Damn! I got so giddy when he fell for it too!” The taller man laughs at me. “Oh well, that was only my one of stones, I got twelve more to go!” His tone has shifted from before, excited and jovial instead of polite. I feel stupid for falling for his obvious trick.
My anger whirls around inside of me, a frozen tempest of frost and sleet. Pushing out my arms to my sides I channel the frustration. The cold quickly fills me, like pouring water into an empty cup. Then it bursts out from me. Ice quickly spreads from my feet, growing out in every direction. With a bit of focus I shift the growth towards the duo down the alley. The ice billows down the alley, hungrily moving towards the taller man.
Warmth rapidly fills the area, and my ice gets melted instantly. The water is pushed away by whatever melted the ice, drenching Quill and me. When the water stops falling the figure of the taller guy is revealed. He’s doing a pose, his one foot up behind him.
“I don’t really like the cold. I’m not a good matchup for you, kid.” He pulls cards from his sleeve and drops his foot. “Which one, which one? Three, four, or five of flames?” He turns the faces of the cards towards us, showing the appropriate number of small burning spheres on each of the cards.
I groan, of course he’s a fire mage. The warmth from earlier is finally chased out of my body. Water puddles around my feet freeze over.
Suddenly Quill lifts his sword above him, grabbing the blade with one hand. Then in a tremendous roar of cracking stone, he’s buried up to his hip in the ground. The shorter, green suited man is standing on top of the large blade, his fist smoking.
“Oh, just a bit too slow, Smirk, do try to speed it up,” the taller man taunts the smaller one. The shorter guy says nothing, doesn’t even react.
I whip up my arm instinctually to block another incoming card. I didn’t even see the bastard move! I’m able to block the small rectangle with the ice blade I create. When the card actually lands on the ice it doesn’t act like a card. Instead, my arm is ripped backwards, pulling me with it. It feels like I tried to grab a thrown spear midair.
I fly backwards a few feet to the wall of the T-junction. Stone cracks under my frame as I slam against it, arm first. Splintering wood sounds come from within my arm. That’s broken for sure. The calming, familiar cold from my heart quickly focuses on the limb, numbing any pain I might feel.
I fall forward and detach myself from the wall. Before my feet touch the ground I sense another projectile. Kicking off with my leg I turn my fall sideways, just in time for another card to fly past my head. Horrible sounds come from behind me, but I focus on my opponent.
Quill is gone, so is the man with the hat. I’m on my own. I push against the ground, launching myself forwards. This guy is a ranged fighter, I need to close the distance. He throws a card and I dodge out of the way. Unsurprisingly the first card was his attempt to lure me into the path of the next one. Instead of blocking the card I angle my ice blade. As the paper makes contact I’m hit with much more force than a card should produce. But I’m ready this time, and the card screeches as it slides along my arm before being pushed to the side.
The card slams into the ground behind me, making a horrible crunch. Mask guy didn’t expect to miss so there’s no third card coming my way. He reaches into his sleeve, but I’m too close, he has no time to throw it. Instead of throwing it, he just lets go of it.
The second his fingers leave the rectangle, a large milky white wall appears. With no time to stop myself I slam into it. The wall shatters under my impact, but all my momentum is spent. The transparent bricks that make up the ethereal wall fall on top of me.
More bricks tumble to the ground as I stand. I feel bones grinding in places they shouldn’t. I’m not sure how much more I can take. A thwack sound rings out as a card hits my forehead. Another milky white structure appears, this time a dome. The dome is centered around me, trapping me inside.
The masked man puts his foot on the dome. “Well kid, that was fun. I think you should take a timeout in this little zone I made you. You’ll run out of air soon and then I can take you and the little lady.” He thumbs over his shoulder at the dark shape laying on the ground. “Between the two of you I’m sure I’ll make quite a bit of coin.”
I drop to my knees, the pain starting to bleed through the cold protecting me. It must be bad. My strength slowly leaks out of me as I look for a way out. I need help. Looking inward, I search for the source of my chill. It doesn’t take long before I find the swirling mass.
I float in my mental space, where a massive pillar of white smoke spins in front of me. The pillar goes up and down forever, farther than I can see in this endless space. I reach out to the spinning column. Ask for help, beg for help, I’ll take anything. Please.
The source responds. A second small column sprouts from it before turning towards me. The smaller channel of misty white slams into my chest, filling me with a foreign sensation.
I open my eyes. The dome still traps me, the mask man is still watching me slowly succumb. My body is no longer cold. The frost that was sitting on my skin is gone, replaced with white fog. Wispy tendrils of smoke drift off of me, playfully exploring my surroundings.
With monumental effort I pull one foot out from under me and place it on the ground. Kneeling is aggravating one wound or another. Pain radiates through my body, but it’s distant, muted. Like music from far away. Ignorable.
I pull the other foot out and shakily stand up. The fog swirls around my body, covering it protectively. The masked man watches with interest, unworried. We’ll fix that soon enough. One foot in front of another. I feel like a newborn learning to walk. I’d laugh but I’m pretty sure that would rupture my lung. The edge of the dome lies just before me, within arm’s reach.
The masked man is watching me, his head tipped in curiosity. I glance down at my hand, it’s buried under the swirling mist. Balling it into a fist I throw a punch at the barrier. A large man’s arm, made of the swirling white mist, projects off my own and slams into the wall. It punches through with no resistance, leaving a gaping hole. My face painfully stretches into a smile.
He’s startled now. The curious tendrils worm their way through the hole my fist made, corroding the dome further as they go. Masked guy backs away from the white smoke in fear. He throws a few cards at the encroaching mist but they sail through harmlessly. I push my way through the dome easily, well, the dome is easy to get through, moving is close to impossible.
For a second one of the tendrils brushes the man’s leg. He screams in fear, like something horrible just lunged at him. I notice some white light coming from his mask’s eye holes as he screams. He falls backward and scrambles away on all fours. Eventually the light dims from his mask and he looks around. Then he jumps to his feet and runs the way I entered the alley from.
I guess during the fight we somehow got all turned around. Luckily that means I’m near the dark sack. I try to open it but I just fall sideways. My head bounces on the cobblestone, making my vision go black for a second. When I come to I feel the fog pulling back inside me, the spirits spent. The pain begins to flood my mind, roaring in anger, making up for the time it’s been ignored.
I’m going to die. If I don’t do something I’m going to die. My mind is pretty tranquil for being about to die. How strange. If I’m going to die, I’d rather not feel the pain. Reaching into my core one last time, I pull at the deep cold within me. This time I don’t just channel it, I pull all of it out. Relief washes over me as the bitter winter within me spreads.
My eyes being frozen feels weird.