Phoebe was adrift in a sea of uncertainty and fear. She didn’t know how long she wandered the endless corridors. Long enough that she counted the number of times she fell asleep. Long enough that she wondered how she was getting by without food or water.
She was dehydrated, and she was constantly hungry. Exhausted and barely capable of moving at times. Sometimes she carried Ghost, fearing for his safety. Sometimes she crawled along behind the excitable pup, unable to do anything else.
Still, the corridors twisted this way and that. She didn’t know if she was going in circles. Every time she saw a doorway, she had to make a choice. If she continued to turn the one way, she might just go round and around. So she alternated. Left and right. Crawling along the concrete, the cracks spotted with grime and dust.
The sand grazed her knees, irritated her burnt hands. Little specks of stone that dug into her, as she tried to just keep moving. Slowly swimming through her blind fatigue, until sleep would take her again.
Despite how the fatigue ate her, what felt the worse was the lack of sunlight. There was no fresh air. No breeze carrying the scent of the green. She had no world to escape to, she couldn’t escape at all. Maybe that was the point of this. The witch trying to punish her for existence, as she slowly died. If she could die.
Maybe the witch had cursed her to live forever, in an endless and winding maze.
The burning tongue of the wolf flicked her cheek. Pulling her back to the world, and to focus. She staggered upright, picking up Ghost, before stumbling along the corridor. Her shoulder scraping as she tiredly fell into it. The lack of sleep was getting to her.
She didn’t dream. That probably meant her sleep was too shallow. Or too deep, except she didn’t feel rested. She thought that was a thing. She couldn’t be sure of course. Her brain was a fuzzy cloud, floating and flipping upside down. Giggling and laughing as the hail fell downwards.
Phoebe slipped, cracking her chin on the stone.
She hissed at the pain in her teeth, before glaring down at her feet. Staring as she found a circle of ice where she’d been standing. Was that some new trick by the witch? Was she getting so used to the torture, that they needed to unleash some more?
She forced herself upright, using the wall to steady, before continuing to limp forwards. Ghost ran alongside her ankles, barking happily, and then barking angrily at the echo of his own voice. The wolf seemed to get more adorable, the longer that Phoebe saw him as a puppy.
Gruna had said that. He was all she imagined him to be.
Phoebe bit her lip, bursting into tears. She turned and punched the wall, just wishing that she could get out of the labyrinth that she had been cursed to. As her fist struck the stone, it warped and twisted forwards. Her fist hit wood, as a gigantic arched doorway twisted into existence.
Emblazoned gold filigree danced around the edges, illustrating symbols and plants that Phoebe didn’t remotely recognise. At the top of the arch was a picture of a witch. Standing atop a fallen figure, lifting up her hand, stretching out a wand that’s glowing tip was made by a glittering red gemstone.
She shrugged, and pushed open the door. Wasn’t like she had much to lose at this point.
The door swung inwards with a boom, slamming into the wall. Revealing a round room, with no windows. It was formed around some kind of altar in the middle, a stone the size of her head sitting on a black marble pillar. To add to the complete stereotype of the moment, the gemstone was also lighting up the room with a red glow.
Phoebe sighed and walked up to it, frowning at the rock, “Seriously? A red rock? If it had to be a stupid gemstone, couldn’t it at least be blue?”
The gemstone turned blue.
She flicked the stone, letting out a chiming sound that did not sound remotely like she thought it should. Phoebe rubbed her chin and considered the oddity of the stone, and then how freaking tired she was. She sighed heavily and put a hand on top of the rock, “This better not turn me into a witch.”
Phoebe wrenched the stone free.
She waited a few moments, waved it back and forth, and then sighed and looked down at Ghost, “Do you want to carry this thing? I’m guessing it’s important. No idea how, though.”
The pup whined and backed away.
She shrugged and walked out into the hallway with the object, yawning as she went. Ghost hesitated, before following a little ways behind. The small creature did seem to understand the thing that she didn’t, even though she had created the wolf. Phoebe really didn’t understand how this magic thing worked.
The hallway dinged as she entered it, the walls flashing a brief blue, before there was a crunch and grind as a new doorway appeared. A small display next to the door showed some text, surprising her with the science fiction feeling.
> BLUE CARD ACCEPTED.
> ACCESS GRANTED.
Phoebe nudged the door, and it flew open with a boom, just like the last one. She stared in horror as she found the chamber where Gruna had clearly been.
The floor was slick with black fluid, a running creek of the stuff. Swirling by and around a sort of metal chair, covered in straps. Pieces of green skin stuck to it, whilst the entire base was covered in still fresh and bright red blood.
Phoebe struggled not to hurl at the sight, before biting her lip and stepping into the black. She crossed quickly, trying not to think about the possibilities. Crouching by the chair to try and imitate a TV cop who could just spot and follow the trail of someone who had been kidnapped.
A sense of guilt washed over her. She hadn’t paid enough attention, and had lost her girlfriend to the witch. Now… Now she knew the entire time she’d stumbled around and failed to find her, Gruna had been tortured. Only plucked away at the last moment, as the witch enjoyed torturing them both.
Gruna’s fate was uncertain. She might still be dead. She might be dying. There might not be a single thing that Phoebe could do to reach her, save her.
Wasn’t like she could kill a dragon with a snap of her fingers.
Phoebe shook off the doomed feeling. Her knight was alive, and her knight would never give in. She would fight, even if she knew it was hopeless, because Gruna was the most determined bitch that Phoebe had ever known. Breaking her will was just as impossible as blowing up the entire planet.
Her tears of despair turned to tears of hate, and Phoebe tensed her fist. She looked down at her access token, and dropped it into the black. The gemstone vanishing into the liquid instantly. She raised her gaze, looking around the room, and reached out.
She saw the walls not collapsing, but falling. Saw them sinking down into the ground. The entire maze unravelling.
Phoebe pushed her will, and felt another push back against her. She gasped, finding herself unable to breathe at all. Her mind went blank, and she slipped to the floor. Her face falling into the inch deep liquid, unable to do a thing about it as it leaked down her throat.
The beautiful forest that she’d walked in, whispering to the trees and watching Gruna walk so proudly through, all that was gone. All that remained was a world twisted and corrupted. A hell spawned as a testament to suffering. The wrath of a woman who thought the entire world belonged to her.
She killed without regret, and she walked around as if everywhere should be thankful that she let them keep breathing. She wasn’t a natural part of any world. She was an infection.
The witch needed to die.
Phoebe slapped the water, her arms moving jerkily, as she forced herself upright. She glared into the room, and instead of coughing up the black bile, swallowed it down. Taking the magic of the witch into herself, binding them together.
She set her jaw and raised an eyebrow, challenging.
The walls sank into the floor, along with dozens of surprised and slack faces. The controlled, the damned. All the other traps that the witch had set up, but hadn’t a chance to use before conceding defeat. Only one figure remained.
It wasn’t Gruna.
Phoebe walked over slowly, and glared, “You’re going to give her back to me.”
“You are a curious little thing.” The witch chuckled, and then pointed upwards, “Do you see that?”
“The moon?” Phoebe asked.
The woman nodded slowly, and stretched tiredly, “Yes, the moon, pet. It’s an important sort of thing. It was the moon that was used, to bind me to this place. I’m not from here.”
“You fell through a portal?”
She shook her head, “No, pet. My name is Viviane. I wish you knew it, but I doubt it.”
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“Nope. Sorry, means nothing. But… Not from here.”
The witch turned to look at her sadly, “But you will know his name. He bound me here, between the worlds. So I… I created my own. That’s why the portal, pet. I was trying to escape, as I have tried a thousand times before.”
“You created a world…?”
Viviane nodded, “Yes. Several, in fact. Destroyed them and started over, as well. The world exists, because the moon still does. The power of the lunar cycle binding me to this place, so I can never find freedom. Even though he is long dead. His name bound to my triumphs. Bastard.”
“Cool. You got a guy you hate. Can I get home, now? With Gruna?” Phoebe asked.
The witch sighed heavily, “No. You’re not understanding. Not yet. You will, and for that I am sorry. I never meant for any of this. The paths left open to me are… Limited. It is for freedom.”
“You butchered entire tribes for freedom?”
“Yes.”
Phoebe blinked, “Don’t… Don’t their lives matter?”
“Of course, they do.” The witch replied, “I have wept for every life lost. The magic their deaths granted me wouldn’t have been, if their lives meant little. It is through death, violent and abrupt, that I am granted the power of their lives remaining. They have to matter, or there would be no magic.”
“I’m gonna puke.”
Viviane sighed, “But aren’t you enjoying the magic you stole from the dragon’s death? The wisps you snagged before I took them. That is how you brought that beast back to life. How you broke through my defences. The holy aura of a beast that was there when I forged this world.”
“The Black Gate.”
The witch blinked, and then laughed, “No, pet. No. The Battle of the Black Gate, was where the elves very nearly made the orcs extinct. A battle that changed much of the cultures and civilisations of this world. Allowed many little witches and wizards to grab a taste of my power. Before I took it back.”
“You’re completely fucked up.”
Viviane shrugged, “Blame Merlin.”
“M-merlin?” Phoebe stared, “Like… King Arthur? He was real? Of course he was. Sheesh.”
The witch shrugged, “Merlin bound me here. So I bound him to die. Forever. Every time someone passes on his story, he is forced to relive it. Quite the entertainment, if a reminder that I cannot yet leave this place.”
“I wanna go home. Can I?”
Viviane smiled sideways at her, “That depends, pet.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
The witch stretched, “I had thought that the trauma of losing everyone in this world who meant something to you, might be enough. A pain to teach you of magic. Yet, you have barely touched it. So… If you can land a single spell strike against me, then I will return the orc to you.”
“Fuck. You.”
Viviane shrugged, and snapped her fingers with a flash of purple sparks.
Ghost shoved through Phoebe’s legs, knocking her out of the way as a ball of fire toasted through the space she had just been in - and over the canine’s head. The tiny wolf puppy ploughed forward, launching itself towards the witch with a snarl - hitting nothing but a stream of black liquid.
The wolf hit the ground, rolling and pawing at its snout, as the liquid leached directly into the fur. Extinguishing the flames of his existence as it ate into him. Phoebe reacted instinctively, throwing out her hand towards the wolf and forcing herself against them.
The liquid evaporated into steam, and Ghost fell onto the ground, kicking out his legs in all four directions and let out a tired little snort.
Phoebe walked over and petted his head, “You stay out of this one. Not losing you again.”
She still wasn’t a witch. If any of them were going to get out of this though, she was going to have to pretend to be. The magic came from her necklace, not from Drektanion’s death. A necklace that was still around her neck, albeit empty the gemstone.
Phoebe blinked and looked around, spotting the “access card”, lying on the dirt. It had stayed when the rest of the dungeon had disappeared. The black was gone, leaving the stained object in plain sight - which was as obvious a trap as could possibly be achieved.
Her own gem had given her power, or something. She had no idea how any of it worked. Something weird had happened, and if she really tried, then she could act out. Phoebe knew she’d have to confront her denial at some point, but that time was not yet.
She held out her burnt hands, and pictured the flames. Unfolding and blossoming, little seeds of ash into trees of fire. Blue and ravenous, filled with all of her growling stomach’s hunger, and her mind’s wrath. She rolled her jaw and screamed out, trying to force the moment.
Nothing happened.
“Oh pet, is that all you’ve got?” The witch reappeared, laughing at her and shaking her head. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you truly aren’t a witch.”
“I’m not a motherfucking witch!” Phoebe snapped, tossing a hand forward and ripping up the ground. Slamming stones towards the witch. Striking nothing but black ink as the witch melted out of sight. Reacting without surprise, even before Phoebe got over her own that something had actually happened.
She spun around, seeing the ink reforming into the woman and flung out her hand. Rocks and stones striking into the semi-solid image. Destroying it. She took the picture of horror, that terrified the land, and tore it apart before it could fully form.
The grass around her sprang into life. Green threads rising up off the dirt, and surprising Phoebe. Her concentration slipped, and the witch reformed to the side. The woman grinned at her with pride, “Now, that… That is a true witch.”
“Fuck you!” A pillar of flame slammed down out of the skies, twisting the sky into smoky clouds until lightning flared down and struck the same spot. Exploding the ground outwards in every direction as she tried to rip the witch into individual atoms, scatter them -
A delicate hand rested on her shoulder, and the witch kissed her cheek, smearing black lipstick onto her. The woman smirked and snapped her fingers.
Phoebe screamed as her head exploded. Skull, bone, brain and blood scattered in every direction. She felt her soul knocked free of the body even as it fell. She hissed and grabbed wildly for all of the pieces of herself. She didn’t understand how they went together, but it didn’t stop her trying.
She forced the skull together, fusing it with lightning even as she papier-mâchéd her face back into place. She gathered the liquid and swirled it into pearls before popping her eyes back in. She stitched her tongue back together, before finding herself falling over backwards.
Viviane looked down at her with disappointment, “Really? Not even the simplest of healing spells? You’re not a mortal, begging for help from the gods, Phoebe. You’re a witch. This world belongs to you. Magic belongs to us. Show me your wrath, I want you to rage!”
There was a chomp, and a hiss from the witch, as Ghost’s jaws locked around her ankle. His burning fangs sinking through her pale white skin, before leaking out black ink. The essence of the woman. Not blood, but magic.
Phoebe dove for the wound, smearing the blood into the cuts on one of her hands, before clenching it into a fist. She glared up at Viviane, who looked surprised, but unafraid. “I bind you. Trap you here.”
“Good idea, pet, but I’m already bound. Took the moon to do it, not a little blood.” Viviane shook her head, and then snapped her fingers.
Phoebe fell backwards, grabbing for her face as it burned from the impact. Screaming as her skin melted and her hair smoked. She kicked and writhed, her mind filled with nothing but the blistering pain. The flames didn’t die. They ate her, turning her into wax, with her hair and skin the wick.
This was the trap the witch had planted. They’d wanted her to take the stone, to think it was linked to them. If she tried to channel their magic, it didn’t work. Phoebe didn’t understand enough magic. She’d tried to avoid the trap, and then just ended up doing the same thing. She’d opened the doorway for them to use hers.
She wasn’t just burning.
She was fire.
“I… Am not… A witch.” She groaned, pulling her hands away from her burning body. She staggered upright glaring and nearly breaking. There was nothing left of her, now. She was an empty husk, just barely clinging onto life. A tortured soul steering a melted wreck.
Viviane blamed Merlin for binding her. Gruna worshipped Myrrdin for creating the world. There was a truth in myth, but it wasn’t something that Phoebe gave a shit about. She was being burnt alive, not for any purpose she cared about, but because Viviane was a callous bitch.
The fire burnt her, but it shouldn’t. It might burn her up, use her, but the flame was her own creation. It was a piece of her. A piece of her magic.
The ground cracked and rumbled beneath Phoebe’s feet. She rolled her jaw and gritted her teeth. Feeling her shoulders tense, her spine scream at the pressure. She could feel something different in it all, this time. Everything before was instinct and luck.
She couldn’t bind Viviane. Not surprising, considering the one who had managed last time was a multi-world hero. Myrrdin, the guy who had backed up the King Arthur. Merlin, the inspiration for just about every wizard in every story, ever.
Phoebe didn’t need to bind Viviane, though. That wasn’t the goal here. What she needed to do… Was bind herself. Take every little spark of magic burning through her and the air around. Channelling it, and turning it to ash, as instead of reshaping the world, she reshaped the thing she had the closest connection to.
Herself.
The flames rippled and spread out, covering her skin in all direction. Turning the remnants of her clothes into ash, until she was standing alone. She stood there, across from the witch, as she left her humanity behind. The other witch had let her magic turn her into some evil black liquid.
“Oh, oh pet!” The witch stared in awe and smiled, “An avatar state, this early? Now, that I understand! You are definitely worth a prophecy or two, now. You are becoming the Child of Destiny. That’s fantastic, pet.”
“Fuck. You.”
Viviane shrugged, “Fair enough. Though… I do hope we meet again, pet. But a promise is a promise. I’ll be letting you go.”
“Give her back to me!”
“Already did, pet.” Viviane smiled, and then melted out of existence.
This time as the witch disappeared from sight, Phoebe could actually feel her leave. She could trace some invisible aura as it shot across the landscape at the speed of a bullet. Leaving behind nothing but the ashes of their fight.
Phoebe rolled her neck, and looked at her flaming form. She wasn’t sure she was entirely comfortable as an avatar of flame and destruction. She still wasn’t a witch, magic be damned. She was just an accountant.
The flames dripped off her, like water, falling to the ground and extinguishing with little hisses of smoke and steam. Ghost whined and tried to lick the little sparks up, pacing around her and limping. He really didn’t look like he was in one piece.
She grabbed the side of her head as the ground suddenly tilted sideways, and she nearly vomited. “I think… I think that took something out of me. Sorry.”
Ghost whined and rubbed his face into her thigh, which was enough to make her lose her balance. Phoebe stared as the world went sideways, tilting up and slamming into the side of her head. Shoulder and neck groaned and ached, teeth chattered at the impact.
Which was when Phoebe saw it.
A fallen green body, laid bare to the elements, looking not the noble creature she’d imagined, but something pathetic and abused. Phoebe started crawling instantly, tears springing into her eyes as she knew that Viviane had completed the destruction of Gruna’s people with one last murder.
Shaken to the core by the sight, Phoebe forced herself into kneeling beside the motionless form of Gruna. Tears didn’t stream down her face. She had no more tears to shed. This was a horror beyond anything. It left Phoebe completely empty inside, nothing but a chasm, broken and forgotten.
The once-bright green eyes were a shady white cloud, her green skin pale and cold. There was no strength in those arms, not anymore.
Phoebe stroked the cold and lifeless cheek delicately, staring in disbelief. The witch never did play fair. That bitch had taken so much of the world, and now she just had to take Phoebe’s from her.
“I… I didn’t want to go home.” She croaked, “I wanted you.”
A shudder jerked through the body and Pheoebe squealed and fell backwards. Gruna’s head hung sideways as she jerked upright, before letting out a long and hollow groan.
“Fuuuuuuuck!” Phoebe screamed and jumped to her feet, and into what she instinctively thought was a fighting position.
The zombie in front of her jerked and spasmed to its feet, but it didn’t stumble towards her. It stood and swayed, just watching her. Even if it wasn’t really looking at her.
“Motherfucker.” Phoebe’s jaw dropped, “It wasn’t enough to kill you? She had to curse you, too?”
In that moment, she decided two things.
First, in a world of magic, there had to be a way to bring someone back. Zombie or not, there had to be a way to revive her, resurrect her. Phoebe was going to find it, and use it, no matter the cost. Nothing did matter, not without Gruna.
Secondly, she was going to find Viviane, and grind every atom of the bitch down into nothing.