The Sapphire encampment loomed ahead. Wooden walls made a massive half-circle, securing Sapphire access to the Great Eagle Bridge. The walls were periodically blanketed by banners bearing the Horned Ape of Archlord Elagrimear and the Sapphire of King Gideon. Rising above the palisades, a series of watchtowers strived for the sky. From this far, rooted amongst billions of flowers and rows of fruit-bearing trees, Alexia could see archers in those towers and didn’t doubt that she had been spotted. Soon, she would need to face them.
Alexia’s fears began to dig into her, building trenches where anxiety flooded through. She would be the focus of attention and surrounded by people who just suffered a catastrophic defeat. They would want her to lead them, to give them hope, and to find the solution to their problems. Alexia wanted to soothe them, to offer hope, and to endear them toward peace. Alexia froze, unable to soothe herself let alone all those people who needed her. The prospect of talking to even one person in that encampment paralyzed her. To do what she needed to do, she would need to talk to hundreds. At once.
Her mind was a barrage of doomed prophecy. She looked forward and saw her weakness on display and picked apart by angry men. She knew that her words would fumble and then she would lose her tongue altogether. Her mind would be blank save for the terror of all those eyes upon her. Then, after failing, she would have to endure both her own shame and the loss of faith as others marveled at her deficiency. Her whole message would be lost and her incompetence magnified, burning a deeper hole into her heart as though a magnifying glass had been held between her heart and the summer sun. Deeper than all that, Leveria would take one more step toward demise. If only she were different, she could make a difference today and change course toward peace.
Alexia hated much about herself right now. Most of those hatreds were fresh cuts that bled raw. Yet, the deepest of them all was a scar that had never stopped bleeding and was cut anew each day. She wished she had inherited her father’s charisma rather than her mother’s crippling shyness. She wished she could deliver grand and eloquent speeches like the heroes in the stories her mother had loved to read to her as a child. She wished that she didn’t freeze and lose her wit every single time eyes were on her. She wished with every fragment of herself that she had the courage to stand tall and face these fears rather than cower. She wished she didn’t dream of hiding amongst the flowers of Mirrevar and never reemerging.
I can’t do this, her mind told her. I can’t speak to these people. I can’t be the hero they need. I can’t lead them to peace. I am terrified. I always will be.
Yet again, Alexia started to cry. Leverith! Would the divinedamned tears never end! Her time with Zander—and the massive intake of Leverith’s spirit energy their love had caused—had replenished her enough to be drained all over again. Alexia reached for the locket, reached for wholeness, and found nothing but emptiness and sternum.
Whimpering, she rolled off the side of Timmeck’s horse, dropped to the ground, and curled her knees toward her chin. Rocking, she cried, “I can’t do this. I’m no leader.”
Through trembling quakes of cowardice and the misted eyes of self-degradation, Alexia Bluerose looked toward the encampment. “I am sorry,” she whispered.
Alexia remembered all the people she let down as she hid in the flowers. Allison. Timmeck Eckhard. Theos Stormkin. Azurianna Sapphire. Her parents. Zander. The soldiers of the encampment. Leveria. Leverith. Even Maleon Stonebreaker.
Alexia closed her eyes, but the tears didn’t stop for their weak seals. How she wished to feel nothing ever again for Maleon divinedamned Stonebreaker. Yet, her insides twisted and turned, trying to find a way to be indifferent about the man who had profoundly impacted her life for better and worse. She wished he could be either the bitter man who betrayed and broke her heart in Ferrickton or the friend and mentor who had saved her life and inspired her in Mirrevar. Alas, he was both and both held power over her. His legacy was engraved on the scars and strongholds of her soul, determined to bolster or barricade Alexia on her path toward her dreams.
Alexia remembered a time not too long ago in this very land where she felt paralyzed by her shyness. The words Maleon had shared with her were etched on the tablets of memory, and through the fear, she recalled them, giving them a new voice. “Someday,” Alexia sobbed, staring toward the encampment, “you’ll lead these people. You’ll carry their dreams, and even though you’re afraid, you’ll rise and inspire them.”
Alexia uncurled herself, inhaled, held, and exhaled. She pressed off the ground, channeling Celegana as Maleon had taught her, and stood. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened. Panic threatened to thrash her and drive her back to the ground. Alas, Alexia was the ground, and she was the woman shaped by her mentor and friend, and she had to push forward because of the brokenness and betrayal.
Alexia clenched her jaw and nodded toward the encampment. Fear was like a hurricane pushing her away, but she strode forward, tethered to the earth and to her dreams. “I won’t let fear get in my way, Maleon.” She closed her fists. “I won’t!”
The myriad of techniques she learned to control her emotions as a cognitive-affectomancer returned to her. She inhaled, held, exhaled, and repeated. Alexia briefly retreated into her inner peace and meditated upon everything that gave her strength. She imagined her parents, Azi, Theos, Zander, Timmeck, and even Maleon supporting her and holding her hand. Their touch, their words, and Celegana’s divine energy drove her forward. She actively changed her stream of thoughts. Yes, I am terrified, and I can do this. I will lead them to peace. I will not let fear get in my way. I will rise above this fear. I will do this.
Alexia held the reins and guided Cally toward the encampment’s large wooden gate. With each step, she rallied against her fears, recycling images of the people who believed in her and the words that empowered her. Most of all, she looked ahead and saw more than the wooden spikes of war that had been driven into this land of peace and love. This fear wouldn’t stop her from making her dreams come to life.
She did halt when a horn-helmed knight shouted for her to identify herself. Alexia inhaled at the sight of an archer line taking aim at her, held her ground, and exhaled as she focused upon the knight rather than the arrows. “I am Master Alexia Bluerose of the Arcanium. I offer whatever assistance I can.”
The wall guardians lowered their bows and burst into murmured conversation. More of them were women than men and almost all of them gazed into the encampment behind them. Alexia heard a shrill howl of pain from within.
“You are the light of dawn after endless night,” the horn-helmed man answered. He was already turning the gate’s wheel. The mechanism grinded and the gate lowered into a drawbridge, slamming against the ground over the encampment’s trench.
Alexia nodded, tried to hide her nervous heart, and walked forth as though she were in the world’s thinnest tunnel.
Her vision expanded with horror. She had expected a triage area with medicans working away at the few dozen wounded that made the journey back from last night’s battle. Instead, a few dozen medicans worked on hundreds of dying Leverians. Blood and viscera blended with sorrow and agony in a quantity that exceeded Alexia’s imagination. Missing from the sight was Master Elianor Silverglow, who should’ve been leading these efforts.
Alexia strode into that role. This fit her like the locket, like Zander’s love, like Azi’s friendship. Her confidence in her bond with Leverith banished everything else. She attuned her thoughts and feelings with the Divine of Love and Dreams.
Alexia cared. She cared whether the people here lived or died. She cared whether love filled their hearts or hate. She cared whether they strived for vengeance or peace. She looked forward and saw all the children of Leverith here moved toward ending the Gemstone War so scenes like this would never happen again. Leverith answered her and her spirit energy flocked to her, flowing in massive torrents and streaming blue light around Alexia’s acacia staff and emitting a moon-blue glow from her as it overflowed the staff and filtered into her body like a salve for the soul.
Alexia took in a breath, held, and exhaled as she focused on her task. Her eyes were not for the crowds of people watching her. She had a purpose and that was all she could see ahead of her. Purpose gave her a drive to action. Action overrode self-consciousness. She heard people saying her name, but she tuned it out and became one with Leverith, giving all of her attention to the wounded bodies right in front of her. In that moment, she wasn’t Alexia Bluerose, the crowd-shy girl who hid in nooks and hoped the world wouldn’t find her. She was a conduit of Leverith and she was exactly where she had to be.
Alexia assessed the situation. The medicans scrambled from person to person with no leadership to guide them and they shouted and screamed at each other asking for supplies or a hand with an injured soldier here or there. Soldiers littered upon the ground begged for help, called for their loved ones, groaned in agony, or whimpered as they felt the world spinning out of control. All of this pain and panic went straight to Alexia’s heart and pulled at her.
She chose not to get lost in the sea, instead focusing on the first drop of water in this ocean of misery. The man looked up at her, emitting weak gasps. Medicans had bandaged a deep gash in the soldier’s torso, but his life was fading nonetheless. Alexia relied on years of studying the body and diagnosis. Her training answered her summons just as Leverith had and in the space of five rapid heartbeats, she analyzed the wound. His bloodrivers would likely be carrying infection and the wound itself cut near the vital areas that housed the heart and lungs. Alexia noted the symptoms of hypoxia: short, irregular breathing, rapid heart rate, feverish sweating, and pale, bluish skin. The internal bleeding was an imminent threat to his life.
Leverith’s divine energy resonated within her as Alexia allocated her love of all people to love for this specific man who needed her. He was a piece of the whole and his wholeness would help make peace. Emotion alone wouldn’t save this soldier. Alexia needed vision too. She used her inner eye to visualize Leverith’s divine energy cleansing the tainted bloodrivers, mending the viscera and bone that had been sundered, and closing the gash on his chest. She released her focus and Leverith’s spirit, a brilliant blue light, flooded toward the man’s wounds. Within another three turns, the wound was closed and the man stood up.
Tears in his eyes and trembling with overwhelming emotion, the man clambered to his feet and gave Alexia a hug. His touch awakened something in her and she felt echoes of Maleon’s lessons. It wasn’t cold professionalism and distance that mended misery. It was her, soul and heart bared, sharing Leverith’s love with others that would light the way forward. Disinhibited by purpose and action, Alexia lowered her stoic mask and returned the embrace.
Leverith’s Loop, reciprocal love that established a cycle of love and peace, spun against Leveria’s cycle of hatred and vengeance. Alexia felt it and knew then what she must do. Shockwaves of ethereal blue pulsed from her, sweeping over the medicans, the wounded, and all the helpless onlookers. Wounds wouldn’t be healed by these waves of blue. Instead, Leverith’s divine energy tethered everyone it touched to Alexia’s love. She exposed her fragile heart, knowing that her compassion might give a dying man the strength to hold on a little longer.
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Eyes were on her, but she saw only the path forward. Alexia took command of the medicans, ordering them to work together to guide her toward people most in need, to keep them alive, and to be prepared to provide her with an assessment of their wounds as she arrived. “Leverith’s love will guide us all,” she promised them.
Alexia opened her heart to each person she healed. She smiled at them, tears of compassion glistening on the edges of her eyes, as she gazed into their eyes rather than avoiding them. Sometimes she would reassure them softly, other times a silent smile was more than sufficient. Alexia’s love attuned to Leverith’s love and both the girl and the goddess mended body and soul. Alexia felt the reciprocal love of each person she touched. Their eyes lifted and widened, mouths turned upward, and tension released. Many shared words of gratitude or blessed her. Some complimented her, touching on topics as varied as her eyes or her kindness. Their love pushed her forward, giving her the strength to give more of herself and keep her compassion strong.
Alexia continued to emit shockwaves of Leverith’s divine energy, giving those who waited for her something to hold on to. In her periphery, she could hear the once demoralized observers sharing words of encouragement with the wounded and making promises of hope on Alexia’s behalf. The medicans gave their diagnoses with increasing confidence and calm. Alexia worked faster than she ever had before. She was driven by love but also by need. She needed to do something good, something loving, something so opposite to what she had done in Ferrickton. She needed to believe in herself again.
Not everyone could be saved and those losses cut into her, but she kept moving as long as there was still one more person she could reach in time. The encampment cheered her on, believing in her before she believed in herself. With their faith and love to lift her up, Alexia wielded Leverith in her heart, reclaiming hundreds of souls from Zamael. At last, after at least two angles of ceaseless channeling, one of the medicans told her that they had done everything they could.
Alexia glanced at the medicans that had become a fluid team as the sun rose higher in the midday sky. “You make Leverith proud,” she told them, wiping at her eyes. “I couldn’t have done this alone. You make me proud.”
Ever a team, their lips quivered, and they nodded at her. Most began to wipe at their own eyes. One-by-one Alexia moved to them, embracing them and thanking them by their name. Many clung tight to her. Others leaned into her and cried tears of pride. Around them, the encampment celebrated. Their walls lowered by Alexia, soldiers rushed to meet each other and share embraces. Several pockets of chanting formed, and Alexia’s name echoed in Mirrevar.
Alexia watched the scenery that was more beautiful to her than Mirrevar itself. Her compassion turned inward, and confident thoughts flowed through her. Hers was a feat of endurance and skill that would be lauded in the Arcanium as one of the finest demonstrations of Leverith’s spirit in the Third Leverian Era. She estimated that she had healed five hundred in a space of two to three angles. All the lives those five hundred touched were spared from the pain of their passing. The dread and hopelessness of the encampment was vanquished. Now, these were people caught in Leverith’s Loop, and they looked forward and dreamt of better days. With Alexia in their midst, they saw those futures not only as a possibility but a certainty. No words could ever adequately convey how their renewed dreams empowered Alexia.
Someday, she thought, glancing toward the area of tents where she had hidden beside Maleon a few days ago. Before that conversation with the Stonebreaker, she would’ve never imagined she could do what she was about to do.
Alexia strode into the eye of the crowd, the center of everyone’s focus. They chanted her name and titles. The Second Great Wizard. The Savior of Tenacity. A new moniker arose from somewhere in the crowd and the encampment rallied around it.
The Hero of Leverith.
Flashes of Ferrickton intruded and her mind struggled to distinguish this chanting crowd from the mob in Ferrickton. Alexia felt them both, calling her villain and hero. She didn’t batter away reminders of Ferrickton nor did she lose this moment to the intrusion. She was the villain who had destroyed Ferrickton just as she was the hero who saved hundreds today. Today did not erase the atrocity of last night nor did last night render today meaningless. Ferrickton gave her purpose to change course and to remember the evil she was capable of. Mirrevar reminded her that her bond with Leverith was still powerful and gave her hope that she could heal herself and this world. She held both the hero and the villain in her heart and mind as she stood in the heart of Leveria, trying to cleanse the infection at her core.
Alexia was terrified. She trembled and her throat seemed clogged by primordial shyness. Her eyes darted from face to face, registering the hundreds of eyes focused on her. For a moment, she slipped the mask back on and forced her facial expression to flatness. Then her eyes fixed once more on where she hid from these people last span.
Someday.
A large part of her wanted that someday to be another day. Her scared, shy, self-conscious soul wanted to pass this responsibility to future Alexia. She could don the mask and strategically retreat. She could wrap her tender heart in a shell of stoicism.
They continued to chant her name and crowd around her. Leverith’s divine energy drew them to her and opened their hearts. Alexia couldn’t have dreamt of a better opportunity or place to make someday into today.
Never let fear get in the way of my dreams.
Alexia tore the mask from her face, opening herself to these hundreds that had opened themselves to her.
“My family,” Alexia called.
As one, they stopped chanting.
Alexia had no premeditated speech and no experience in public speaking. Her enemy was hatred buried deep by over seven hundred years of fighting and freshly sharpened by last night’s horrific battle. She wasn’t innocent. Alexia knew that love didn’t always prevail over hatred. Yet, she knew that it was the only thing that could and the only thing she had to offer. Heart and mind—Alexia’s internal antagonists—agreed that peace was the most important thing to her; she needed to speak her dream in order to inspire others to live it with her. Through her paralyzing terror, through the shades of self-doubt, and through the haze of physical and mental exhaustion, she let her dreams bleed out of her unfiltered and unfettered.
“Last night, many of us nearly died and all of us lost friends.”
Alexia kept her mask down and shed tears for Sir Timmeck. She gazed at the crowd, rotating and witnessing hundreds that mirrored her sorrow with tears of their own. Just as many muttered or hollered condemnation of the Ruby. Alexia understood their anger. It was the wrath she felt toward Maleon last night and it was Allison’s rage. The anger spun the wheel of vengeance, and the hatred for the one who harmed you overshadowed love for the one you lost.
“You are angry. You hate those that hurt us and killed our friends. You want to see them hurt the same way you are, or dead the same way our loved ones are.”
The head nods and the amplified condemnation of the Ruby startled her but didn’t surprise her.
Alexia inhaled, held, and exhaled. She elevated her voice, forcing power and confidence into it. “Your pain is real, my loved ones. Your anger, your sadness, even your hatred, all of that pain is justified. We all have wounds that I cannot heal with magic.”
The crowd continued to take up rallying cries. Like a rising tide, they shouted for Alexia to lead them back to the Ruby walls and finish what they started last night. They chanted her name once more, confident in her ability to guide them to victory and vengeance.
Doubt crept into Alexia; she felt her dreams slipping away. Judgments about her inability to speak poked at her and led to urges of running away from the crowd. Yet, Alexia stared toward last span’s hiding place. Someday, you’ll lead these people.
Breathing heavy and tears flowing freely, Alexia pulled the wooden doll out of her pocket and held it high to the crowd. “Hear me!”
She waited for them to quiet before continuing. “Last span, I infiltrated the Ruby Kingdom to sabotage a mine in a town called Ferrickton. While I was planning the assault, I was befriended by a Ruby girl. Allison.” Alexia choked on her emotion. She let out a sob but found her voice. “Allison was a twelve-year-old who worked with me in the town lord’s manor. She told me stories, listened to my songs, and invited me to her hearth. Her family welcomed me just as well as anybody has ever welcomed anyone. When she saw my sadness, she hugged me and told me everything would be alright. She gave me nothing but love as I plotted how to destroy the livelihood of her town.”
Alexia’s jaw tightened. She refused to wipe away her tears. She didn’t have to be either the Second Great Wizard or a dreamer of peace. She could be both. She could be a powerful leader capable of phenomenal magic and a loving, vulnerable, imaginative girl. The crowd was silent. In her mind, Alexia saw Allison on the ground outside The Rusty Pickaxe, fading into darkness. She held the doll aloft. “Her father told me that Allison hadn’t smiled the way she did around me since before her mother had died. She cared for me so much that she decorated one of her only possessions to look like me.” Alexia’s voice broke, “Do you know how I repaid her?”
Most of the crowd lowered their eyes, knowing where she was headed. A few soldiers shook their heads while others said “no” or asked “how?” Among them, none brandished open judgment of her vulnerability. She found the courage to continue.
“Last night, I killed that innocent girl’s father and dozens of people who fought to protect their homes from a monster. Last night, I ruined the life of a child! A sweet girl who only wanted to love me.” Alexia’s tears clung to her eyes and covered her cheeks. She sobbed several times before reclaiming enough of her composure to speak. “That girl has every right to hate me and wish for my death!” Alexia paused. She inhaled, held, and exhaled. “Are your wounds any different from the wounds of Allison of Ferrickton?”
Silence. Only the distant rushing of the Eagle River and the squawk of a giant eagle flying over the encampment ventured into that vast quiet.
Alexia sniffled and scanned the crowd. Many had somber, tearful countenances, and that inspired her. Some of them mouthed “no” or shook their heads. She couldn’t find a single face that seemed angry with her and that kept her from losing momentum. Sure, some looked skeptical as they resisted the possibility that the Ruby people could be just as human as themselves. Alexia couldn’t fault them, but she would help them see and feel the truth she had learned last night.
“The people of Ferrickton who surrounded me and screamed for my death are no different than those of us who call for us to march on the Ruby encampment. The Ruby people have every right to hate us just as we have every right to hate them. We have all been wounded. We have all lost our innocence. Yet, I ask you, my dear friends, where does this lead us? What will our lives reap if we sow naught but vengeance? That path of hatred holds naught but death. I ask you, what path would Leverith have us walk?”
Alexia forced herself to look forward. She put the doll in her chest pocket and took the hands of the people closest to her and waited until the whole encampment was connected in a chain of hands. “We can choose to keep hatred in our hearts. We can choose to pursue vengeance. We can choose to hurt the children of the people who hurt our parents. We can choose to allow this war to go on and pass the torch of vengeance to our children and let them suffer just as we have!”
Alexia closed her eyes and looked forward in her mind. She inhaled, held, and exhaled. She opened her eyes and tried to look into the eyes of as many people as she could. She felt exhilarated. Her anxiety was banished by passion and purpose as she became one with her words and one with the emotions of the crowd. She didn’t find judgment or hatred in their eyes. These people loved her, not despite her words of peace, but because of them.
Without her bidding, Leverith’s spirit rushed into her in torrents and blue light spiraled around her like a cyclone. Leverith’s Loop, she realized. Just as hatred begets hatred, love begets love. Her words rang loud and left her throat sore from the passion and the power of her song. “I say that we choose to end the endless cycle of hatred! I say that we choose to embrace peace and love! I say that last night was the last night that we choose vengeance!”
Alexia didn’t know how the army would react when she decided to share her dream. She doubted her ability to speak and thought herself devoid of charisma. She knew that hatred and vengeance were mighty foes that so often crushed love. She knew that these people had just been battered and would want retribution. For all of that, she knew she had to try. She couldn’t let her fear get in the way of her dreams. As their resounding sounds erupted around her, she looked toward the nook where she had hidden several days ago and recalled the words Maleon had spoken to her.
Someday.
As the crowd applauded and called for an end to the Gemstone War, Alexia knew that someday had arrived. She knew, for the first time, that Maleon was right about her and that she had the capability to lead Leveria to peace. Alexia believed that someday this would be remembered as a turning point. Not only for Leveria, but for her. Someday, peace would return to Mirrevar and to Leveria. Someday.