“Why am I in—” I started to say, but Witch Aimes shot me a scathing glare.
“You’re wasting my time,” she snapped, “and that means people are getting killed. If you try to poach someone’s girlfriend during wartime again, I’ll lock you in a slow room until the war’s over.”
“I didn’t try to—”
“Your word against his, and I’m not losing a capable light-wielder over a useless first-year. Now get to safety, you imbecile.” Before I could defend myself, Witch Aimes flicked a hand at me, and space twisted to swallow me whole.
###
Witch Aimes’ personal dimension was… bizarre. There was no air save for what she brought in with me; somehow, she’d anchored a spell of freedom to my soul, serving the twin purpose of keeping me breathing and pushing me forwards through the endless plane. That was good, because even though I could still see the chapel grounds around me, my body phased through them like they were cheap projections on smoke; I had no ability to do anything but flail in useless panic as Aimes’ spell sent me hurtling towards the theater. And for some reason, there was absolutely no sound save for the rushing of Aimes’ wind spell around me, leaving me with nothing to do but watch helplessly as buildings fell and soldiers died, all in total silence.
And I got a front-row seat to the entirety of the Battle of Silentfell.
In the sky, a fully-grown riftmaw whipped its sinuous body from side to side, slapping aside the tiny hearth dragons that were dive-bombing the monstrosity. I wasn’t sure why the poor, dumb reptiles were so intent on sacrificing themselves to irritate the beast, but I silently thanked them—if the riftmaw got off a breath attack, whatever it had aimed at would become nothing more than rubble. Arrows flew up at the aerial battle, exploding into fire when they broke, but some kind of spell was wrapped around the riftmaw, knocking aside the hail of enchanted munitions like snowfall in wind. Every now and then, a beam of light that outshone the sun would strike the riftmaw, so pure and intense that it left patches of scales burned and smoking, and the riftmaw would writhe in mute agony.
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On the ground, the battle wasn’t looking any better. I blurred by scenes of frozen, brittle ruins and shattered corpses, and for a heartbeat I was on another battlefield, the bodies falling with I forgive you on their lips. Then I shot past Jiaola’s house and snapped out of it, just in time to see the old witch snarl in defiance, straining with concentration, as he defended his house and the civilians inside with a twenty-meter-wide dome of solidified air.
The people of the Silent City weren’t taking the invasion lying down, either. The militia had mobilized, and squadrons of disciplined, armored soldiers that hurled heat from their spears pushed back roving packs of Redlander witches, scattering when a heavier hitter came and holding what ground they could. Non-combatants ran damage control and defended civilians as they fled, sometimes paying with their lives. An old, determined woman slowed a falling boulder as dazed children fled from beneath it; a school nurse grimly healed what was left of a half-frozen soldier; a cafeteria cook dragged a wooden beam off an unidentifiable body.
As I neared the theater, I even saw Iola himself stride into battle, despite the admonishment of the teachers at the door. His face was twisted in a sadistic smile as he cast a spell that had no apparent immediate effects other than some mild skin burns—but the Redlands witches that he pointed at fell ill minutes later, vomiting and bleeding and dying a painful death.
Finally, Aimes’ spell spat me out at the other end of the portal, hurling me into the cramped interior of the theater. I materialized in a sealed, warded box—perhaps they were wary of enemies launching a sneak attack?—but after a teacher confirmed my identity, I was hauled out of the box and into the theater proper.
Lucet found me moments later, and her words tripped over themselves as they sprinted out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, Iola gave his version of the story first and Aimes wouldn’t listen to me, and he looked so smug until Aimes said she was going back to get you, and I didn’t want you to die, and—”
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s out of your hands, okay?” I flinched as something exploded nearby, but other than a slight rain of dust from the ceiling, nothing happened. “Whatever happens from here on out, there’s nothing we can do.”
Lucet gave me a shocked look, then laughed. “Is—is that your idea of comforting? What about, like, ‘everything is going to be okay?’”
I gave Lucet a pained smile. “I’ve been here before, Lucet. It’s not going to be okay. People are going to die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. All we can do is survive, and we’ve done that much so far.”
Lucet drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Survive,” she whispered. “I can do that.”
We held each other in the darkness of the theater as destruction rained from the sky.