```---13 AO (After outbreak)---
~Chicory~```
Somewhere to the north of Fort Syon, there was a city.
The city was just like any other that had existed before the fall of humanity, empty, broken, and populated only by the undead that roamed the streets even after thirteen years. The scents of humans had faded to nothingness after all that time, and so most of the zombies didn’t remain in the city for long, they wandered the streets, flowing in and out of faded traffic cones and long-forgotten vehicles.
Inside the city, someone moved. Someone alive. She snuck through the mostly empty streets, past unknowing zombies, and through broken-down doors. It would have been more dramatic to describe had it been nighttime, but Chicory could barely see five feet in front of herself when it was dark. She would have been more like a stumbling rhino than the graceful wind that she currently resembled.
She didn’t really have a goal, mostly this was practice. As well as a way of blowing off some steam. Chicory found an intact window and took a moment to admire the abilities of the world that was now lost to her. She looked out at the city, more a town really, and thought about the battlefield she’d seen yesterday.
She thought about the blood, the carnage, the sorrow that she’d seen in the eyes of the dying. Chicory wanted to take them all and force them to get along, but when famines came, so did conflict, and she was only one voice among hundreds.
The only good thing in her mind was that Syon wasn’t part of the killing. She never would be. Syon was a place of peace and might, she had no need of the resources that the others squabble over, but she would heartily defend her borders if anyone tried to take what was hers.
Chicory still saw death whenever she closed her eyes, even though she hadn’t held the spears or swung the swords. There was a special kind of irony that she came here to get away from death, in a place where only zombies roamed.
She could have gone home already, back to Syon…but the Guardian was becoming more insistent lately that she was finally going to give Chicory a job. That is, once the sparking spirit decided what she wanted.
Hearing a pained yowl, Chicory turned away from the window and backed away from the noise cautiously, peering toward it. That hadn’t been a zombie sound, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t out to kill her.
Chicory went toward it anyway, deciding that the Tempest would probably be plenty of a match for whatever it was.
She found herself a couple of rooms over, peering down at a ginger ball of fluff and claws. A cat. It had been a bit since she’d seen a cat, the ones back at Syon weren’t much for people. This one yowled when she approached and tried to flee, but one of its legs gave out, leaving it a trembling mass of orange fur, bright green eyes glaring up at her as a low warning growl began at the base of its throat.
Chicory stared at it, not sure exactly what she should do, she could help the cat, and generally there wouldn’t be any problem with that, but she didn’t want to scare the poor thing any more than it already had been.
She sat down a decent distance from the cat and rummaged in her bag, she knew most cats preferred live prey, but she found some salted jerky and tossed it toward the cat, which continued growling as it first ignored the thing and then sniffed at it curiously before greedily gnawing on the tough meat that was too big to swallow whole.
Chicory waited patiently as the cat ate and then finally moved forward with a smaller piece, setting it beside the cat this time. She didn’t get clawed for her efforts, so she stayed where she was, leaving her hand there.
After a bit, the cat finished the second piece and decided to pretend it didn’t want anymore by ignoring her, but when Chicory got out another piece, the orange cat watched it attentively as she slowly moved it closer.
She dropped the piece in front of the cat and gently rested her hand on its head, stroking the dirty fur and pulling at her Tempest. “It’ll be alright, little one.”
Chicory started singing, it helped her to focus. The other healers did it differently, but she knew a couple who agreed with music helping. “Everything’s fine in the morning, the rain will be gone in the morning, but I’ll still be here in the morning…”
Chicory sang for several minutes, stroking the fur, gently touching the small creature as the Tempest rose and began the healing process.
--
Chicory continued to hum a half-forgotten tune and left the sleeping cat, entering a different room, opening a couple of drawers, and noticing a spray-painted symbol on one wall indicating that this room had been cleared a long time ago. Sparks, was that the symbol of the old alliance? Her humming paused with surprise, that was the one that fell apart less than five years after the outbreak. Maybe there was still something of worth in here after all. Older raids had been much less thorough.
Chicory got to the floor and looked under the big ornate chair, took off the cushion, and found exactly sixteen cents. At least, Chicory assumed it was sixteen cents because it was in a little baggie with a big number sixteen on it.
She left the bag where it was and kept searching, blinking as she found a large wooden box with a bike lock on it. What the sparks? She sighed and examined the lock, frowning at the tumblers inside and the sturdy make of the bar. Well, she could see why a group of raiders would have just ignored it, it probably just had guns or money in it or something equally useless.
Chicory dug into her side bag and found her multi-tool, and then proceeded to simply bypass the lock by unscrewing the hinges. It took a bit since the wood was so stubborn, but eventually, she was able to open the thing, frowning at the contents.
It was filled with books, packed in so thoroughly that Chicory almost thought the storage folks from Syon had done it. It was like a puzzle with barely any space for air, as corroborated by the dead spider she found at the bottom after unpacking all of them. She was very sure that she could never replicate the feat, so there was no way that the books would be going back inside.
Her humming picked up again as she went over the books, skimming through a couple to see what was inside, wondering how many she could bring back. The librarian would probably appreciate them, at the very lea-
Chicory jumped to her feet, feeling a stack of books as it fell over at her sudden movement. The Tempest inside her was spiking, waving all over the place, her blood heating up, her heartbeat increasing concerningly. She looked around for the problem, as, usually this only happened when something was wrong, but…there was nothing.
At least, that’s what she thought until she heard the voice, melodious, feminine, familiar in a deeply subconscious way that Chicory couldn’t describe, and yet still somehow imperceptible and quiet, easily ignored.
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‘Are you seeking knowledge? There won’t be much you don’t know in there.’
Chicory wavered, as any sane person would, and then forced herself to relax, there was no point in freaking out, even if it had been a while since she’d heard this voice, “Guardian? I didn’t realize you still contacted people outside of Fort Syon.”
‘I never lost the ability, I just haven’t had the need for it.’
“That makes sense, ah…are you doing well?”
‘Interesting question, very philosophical, I have a home, I have people. For you, that would be designated as ‘well.’ But I digress, Chicory, do you know why I’m here?’
Chicory nodded, and clearly, the Guardian could tell because she continued speaking, ‘You are correct, I am here to finally finish our deal. I saved your life with my Tempest, now you help me with something. Now you find a true place in my legion.’
Chicory swallowed the slight bile that had risen to her throat, nervousness, “I will serve. What will you have me do?”
The Guardian sent a mental probe and directed Chicory’s attention to the piles of books. What did that mean? Would Chicory become another librarian? ‘To your left, on the bottom of the stack, there is a book of maps. To your eyes and the eyes of any other with my Tempest, you will be able to see the central locations of all my siblings and a vague idea of the routes of the traveling ones. You understand, correct?’
Chicory nodded, “Magic maps, got it, and this is part of my calling?”
She made another mental prompt and guided Chicory’s hands to a specific page, the world map. It had over twenty locations that pulsed softly to Chicory’s eyes. ‘I would like you to travel to as many of these locations as you can, and try to help the people there.’
Chicory stared at the map for a long moment, daunted, until something occurred to her, a terrible thought that refused to leave. “Is this an exile?” She asked softly, feeling terror at the idea, of never again setting foot in the beautiful land of Syon? That would be worse than a hundred battlefields.
The Guardian sent her warmth, a long trailing chasm of it, enveloping Chicory in what felt like a hug, ‘No, you can come back as often as you like. Like the traders. In fact, I demand a regular check-in. I thought for a very long time about this, and I know that you can do it. I will call others to this soon, you won’t be alone.’
She stared at that map for a long long moment, wondering how to even start. She felt her heart throbbing at the continued effect of the Guardian’s attention. “I…thank you, thank you Syon. I’ll try. Is there anything else?”
‘You should take a team with you, ones without my Storm yet. I will inform Patch of who to send.’
Further gratitude warmed Chicory’s heart as the Guardian’s presence began to fade.
‘May the heavens watch over you, Chicory.’
--
Chicory was there when the cat woke up, just as she’d promised. It was still strange to her after so long of possessing the ability how most people fell asleep when she used it on them, perhaps it was the body's way of making sure that the incoming energy would be used for the right thing.
Regardless, she waited in the room as the tiny leak in her own energy steadied down to a trickle and then barely a dribble. Once that happened she closed the map book and quietly slid it into her bag along with the three other books she’d taken from the box. The more expensive and interesting ones she’d returned to the box so they’d be protected in case someone else stumbled upon them.
Watching the cat for a few minutes, she slowly put a full stopper on the energy she was providing and a moment later the cat stirred. It wasn’t long before Chicory found herself watching a surprisingly happy cat bounce around the room. Apparently, it knew who to thank because once it was done making certain it was healed, the cat climbed onto her lap and started purring.
Chicory was fascinated by the sheer volume of the purr. She hadn’t realized it could get so loud.
She pet the cat for a minute until it got tired of the idea and left her lap, sitting on the floor and watching her expectantly, Chicory sighed, “Yeah I know, gotta figure out what to do now. You wanna come with me? Probably not, you might not find it fun, though I can’t say it’s much more dangerous than a little cat living in a city filled with undead.”
She frowned at the ceiling, thinking of the map book, “How about this, you can come if you want, but I’m just going to leave now since it seems like you’re okay? You can follow me if you want, just don’t get hurt again either way, alright?”
The cat just cocked its head at her. Yeah, she probably sounded like nonsense to it. She shook her head and opened the door to the outside, following the hall and heading down the stairs.
It didn’t seem like the cat was following, but Chicory wasn’t devoting all that much energy toward finding out.
She snuck past the undead again, out of the city, and back toward the war camps.
--
Chicory smiled nervously as Kairah scrutinized her with that unreadable stare that was her default. “And where have you been? The battle ended hours ago but I didn’t see you helping any of the wounded.”
It was more a statement of fact, and indeed, she seemed more curious than accusatory, but Chicory still grimaced, glancing away. “I was…tired of watching the fighting so I left. I’m sorry, I should have been here.”
Kairah nodded and turned back to the various wounded lined up in the tent, walking along the line. Chicory followed her, watching as the old nurse paused every so often and touched one of the wounded, giving them more energy, or even just a hand of support for one who didn’t sleep during the healing process. “Well, are you going to help now? I need more runners to find the wounded that shouldn’t be moved from where they fell.”
Chicory hesitated, she wanted to. She wanted to go out there and save lives as was the duty of any healer without a calling. “I don’t know. While I was gone, the Guardian came to me.”
This was the only time that Chicory had seen Kairah lose her focus, she stopped and turned fully toward Chicory, folding her arms. “Please elaborate.”
And so Chicory told the story. She told her about the old city, the book of maps, and the call that Chicory had received. “And so I came to tell you that I think I have to head home now? The Guardian wasn’t clear on the timelines.”
Kairah frowned slightly, “Well, we’re almost done here, it seems like Wistforge and Tumbleton are done with their spat for now. They already left, taking anyone that could walk. Why don’t you help out for the rest of this run and then you can head home in front of the group.”
Chicory blinked, feeling a slight smile across her face, “I…yes. Thank you Kairah, I like that idea.”
The head nurse nodded curtly and continued down the line of quickly healing patients. They would still lose a couple, some didn’t take healing well or didn’t take it at all, some were simply coherent enough to refuse the healing, and so they tried to make them as comfortable as possible, using more traditional bandages and casts. Many of those lost their lives anyway, they would be buried.
The healers of Syon always found their way to every battlefield they could reach, saving who they could; anyone who wanted to come with them at the end of it was taken back to Syon, the land of peace, the land of soft might. The land of seed.
Chicory began to sing as she found her own people to heal, as she served humanity, and as she brought life to the dying and healing to the sick.
One man grabbed her arm as she held it toward him, his eyes were pools of pain and sorrow. “Those eyes…the angels? The angels are here?”
Chicory nodded, “Syon is here, it’s alright, everything is alright.”
He cried out with what looked like joy but sounded like pain, “Save me, please. I’m tired, so sparking tired…I see their faces in my nightmares, I see their death, I feel my death…help me.”
Chicory knelt beside him and began to sing again, “Short steps, deep breath, everything is…alright…” She gently pressed a hand to his forehead, he slumped down amid the song of quiet storms. The healing took hold and he fell into sleep.
She poured her energy into him and finally stood up, motioning for the tempest-less nurses who were following her to take him to the sleeping tent. They did, and more appeared in their place, helping her search for the wounded among the dead, the dying came first, they always came first.
“When the stars all fall down, they empty from the sky, but I don’t mind, if you’re with me, then everything’s alright.”
Chicory felt an indescribable love pour through her as she healed them, a love that couldn’t possibly be her own, it was too perfect, too eternal and infinite.
After the hours had passed and the amount that needed doing was almost nothing, Chicory finally felt the soul-deep exhaustion of channeling that much energy and she knew that she would do it again and again wherever there were battlefields.
But…it wasn’t her calling. At least, it wasn’t going to be all she would ever do. Chicory felt a quiet but powerful thrill at the idea of going out into the world and finding its people, finding the broken, the lost, the people that needed her. Healing those that needed her specifically, not just another healer of Syon.
It was a beautiful dream.