AELLARIA
Aellaria stalked into the room, staring daggers at Callo. She pulled out one of the orange potions and drank it. The red dragon tongue potion burned her throat like poorly made, high-proof alcohol. The potion made breathing difficult, and Aellaria could feel the innate connection with fire grow stronger.
Callo smirked, “No potion can save you from what's coming.” He was standing near the far entrance from where Aellaria entered. Using the water in the room and a single powerful cantrip, Callo froze the doorway behind him to block a route of escape.
“What's that,” Aellaria said, her voice was unnatural and breathy. The air before her eyes shimmered like heat baking off the sand in a desert.
“Bitter defeat and an awakening,” Callo said.
Aellaria stalked circles, and Callo mirrored her movements. She knew he wanted to cut off the other exit, and she wanted to let him. “Are you afraid I’ll run?”
Aellaria watched as Callo then closed off the other entrance. Each spell took some of the water he could use in the room. “Let's keep this a one-on-one. Then I can follow Behngi.”
The next step was destroying the eye in the room. The eye was an invisible enchantment on the wall or ceiling that the teachers would use to watch them.
This is precisely when Callo does something that surprises her. A simple spell that made her heart drop. Something that made her eyes widen in fear and make even Zenithor feel the need to retreat. She planned to cut off the feed that let the teachers watch, yet Callo pulled up a blade of ice and launched it toward the corner of the room. A corner that looked like any other, yet when the ice made contact, it chipped the stone and broke the lines on the enchantment.
A leaking enchantment was an unpredictable thing. The magic can simply expire. Sometimes, it glowed and increased in temperature. This time, when the eye enchantment was destroyed, it exploded with a thunderous report. Tiles fell from the ceiling, and the shallow water rippled violently.
Callo smiled at her, a relieved and euphoric smile. Like an uncomfortable and scratchy mask could finally come off.
Aellaria wanted to run. By Phoenix’s ashes, even Zenithor and Lilium wanted to run. She looked at both of the entrances– frozen solid. She could breathe fire on it and cast another spell, but that could take all of her magic, meaning there would be nothing left to use when Callo collapsed on her.
Callo's voice was wrong. It sounded like he was singing.“There's that look… I loved seeing that look. That day by the cliffs when you thought I was an illusion or a monster,” Callo said.
“What are you?”
“I’m the man you killed. The one you pushed off that cliff. The one you shattered. You looked down at me as I struck against the shale and spattered,” Callo said. He continued using his unnatural sing-songy voice.
Spattered. That implied a gruesome death. That wasn’t possible. Callo was still a shit apprentice. Aellaria knew he understood cold and could fight hand-to-hand, but there was no way he could survive anything from that height, especially if he didn’t even hit water. “You are lying. I didn’t kill you.”
Callo walked in the same spiral, circling her. “Aellaria… We don’t have a lot of time for this. Not only did you kill me, but again, you want to cast me into the abyss.” He said.
Aellaria’s breathing intensified. “I don’t even know who you are. You certainly aren’t Callo.”
Callo’s eyes twinkled like purple diamonds as he smiled. He threw his arms open. “That's right! You are very smart. Certainly, though, not born with a heart. Why did you kill Callo?”
Aellaria hated, more than anything, being outmatched. The heat escaped her lips with each exhale, and her heart beat intensely in her chest.
“Why did you kill Callo?!” The Callo thing demanded.
Aellaria shouted back, fire escaping her mouth mimicking the fury she felt. “Because he killed my daughter!”
The fiery display didn’t bother Callo. In fact, he started laughing. “Callo was the best thing to ever happen to that daughter of yours. You don’t understand because you are an inadequate father, Zenithor.”
Aellaria sprinted forward. No brakes, only hate. “You don’t know shit, child!” Zenithor shouted from within her. As she called and closed the distance, she breathed fire, but Callo pulled a sheet of ice out of the water. Aellaria shoulder-charged it anyway, breaking through the slab for another mighty exhalation.
Callo didn’t retreat a step. He wasn’t dodging. He didn’t even keep the ice shield up. Before Aellaria could exhale fire, Callo, lightning-fast, grabbed her jaw. He was stronger than she expected and lifted her into the air.
Aellaria spat out, boiling saliva through gritted teeth. “What do you fucking want then!” Aellaria prepared to cast but felt the cold embrace of ice take her hands.
“I want you to keep going. I want you to push harder. Meet your goal. I want you to go farther.”
Aellaria glared at the fake and cast a wind cantrip with her mind. A liquid lava concoction rocketed from her belt and struck Callo in the face with enough force to break.
“Oh, Zenithor… that’s going to hurt. I want you to win, but I will have to punish that sin.” The Callo thing said as the concoction began reacting to the air. It started boiling against Callo's face, turning red hot.
Callo didn't wipe away the liquid lava. He did nothing to mitigate the damage it did to his skin. He even appeared to feel relief as his skin bubbled and glowed.
Aellaria felt her vision going dark at the edges. She could feel her body breathing, but it also felt like suffocation—like she was being pulled away from her body. She wanted to return to her life but was trapped in a current she couldn’t escape. The fire in her throat faded. Then, the light in the distance was gone. All that was left was the darkness, the current, and foreign anxiety.
CALLO
Aellaria looked out of unfamiliar eyes—the eyes of young Callo. Callo was struggling with anxiety. Aellaria could feel the pressure in Callo’s head from the buzzing of the thoughts, like a hive filled with angry bees realizing that a hungry bear was targeting their home.
‘Maybe it will be okay.’
‘No… of course it won’t be okay. This is the last thing father wants for me.’
‘Maybe Mr Kellam won’t tell.’
‘No… he said he would.’
‘What will Mr Zenithor do?’
‘Is this punishment going to hurt?’
Aellaria realized these thoughts came from Callo on his walk home the day he was caught kissing Lilium at school. Aellaria briefly thanked the mind she was experiencing for not focusing on Lilium’s kiss. That would be the most disturbing thing the Callo imposter could show her.
Callo finished the long walk up the carriageway of his home. The Villa Callo grew up in was usually warm. Still, his anxious thoughts made the crescent-shaped structure overlooking a beautiful courtyard and garden look like a colossal monster—a monster that waited to chew him up as soon as he walked through the front archway.
Callo even held his breath as he stepped through the archway, but nothing closed around him. Nothing jumped around the corner to attack him. Callo’s guard was up, and every breeze, exhalation, or stray thought sent shivers coursing up and down his spine.
‘It's okay. There is always the other side of the tunnel.’
Callo stepped up to the door leading to the kitchen. It was open, and Callo could smell dinner cooking—roast goose with vegetables. Callo struggled with his confrontation of the open door. Another portal to what is to come. Callo thought, ‘I don’t have to go through.’
A thought that only lasted for seconds as he heard his father, “Come inside, Callo.”
Callo obediently stepped through the door. He focused not on his father to his left or the lack of staff in the kitchen during dinner prep but on the vial of red liquid sitting on the counter. That was enough to tell him everything he needed to know.
“We will be sparring in the pond. You can use your magic, and don’t hold back.” Mellow Goldrose said.
“Yes, sir,” Callo responded. He looked down at the floor, unable to meet his father’s intense purple eyes.
Callo’s mind was blurry as his father walked forward and picked up the vial. “Put your studs on. I only want you falling when I make you fall.” His father commanded.
His studs were next to the back door—shoes with metal studs designed for gripping ice. Callo didn’t even remember walking to the backdoor, but it was open, and he saw his father's imposing figure. Father set the red vial on a pedestal just outside the back door. Callo picked up his studs, and his breath hitched as he saw the brown stains from last time.
“Hurry up, son, we better be done by the time dinner is,” Father said.
Callo had his studs on, and the grating feeling of metal on cobblestone set his nerves off. Callo started to shake.
“Freeze the water,” Father demanded.
Callo cast the cantrip to push cold into the water. As he froze the surface, he stepped out onto the pond. As a boy, there used to be fish in this pond—all different colors. Callo remembered when his talent was emerging, he fell into the pond. He killed those fish as he panicked and flailed in the rapidly freezing water. The fish were beautiful, a luxury; then they were dead. Callo could still see the water freezing around his eyes as he panicked and the floating fish the next day after the pond had thawed.
Father stepped onto the ice. His heavy footfalls left indents from the spikes on his boots. Callo saw that his father had his battle staff.—a long wooden stick made from the core of a Nedra tree, with iron on either tip. Father had multiple enchanted staffs. He needed them since he wasn’t talented. Most of them had beautiful ornamentation inlaid with gold and gems. This staff had no ceremonial value. At least, not for any ceremony the nobles of Frostholm would attend. This staff was just for Callo. It let Father manipulate ice, too.
Callo followed Father onto the ice, and they took their stances. Callo knew he was inviting the pain by just standing in this fashion. He knew he was telling his father, ‘I’m Ready,’ when he knew he wasn’t.
Callo cast and pulled a spike of ice out of the pond. Father hit it with a heavy blow from the iron-tipped end of his staff.
The young ice mage then pulled a second spike up, and it struck his father– right on the sole of his right foot. Father crushed it as he stomped forward, using the momentum to strike Callo in the cheek with the hardwood.
Callo reached up and saw on his fingers he was bleeding already.
“Your casting is slow. Do you know how much it costs to ensure you get the best education a mage can get?” Father accused.
“Yes, sir… I will try to be faster.”
“Maybe you should be practicing more, son.” Mellow accused.
Callo cast with both hands, aiming for Father's legs, this time with the ice spikes. Father pushed one of the spikes with the Cryomancy in his staff and stepped out of the way of the other.
“Your eyes are still telling me your movements. You know this.”
“I'm sorry, Father. I will try harder.” Callo responded.
Callo stepped backward, and this time, he pulled up a spike thick enough, cold enough, that there would be no dodging, no breaking. However, Father used his Cryomancy staff to make the hazard a step to close the distance with Callo. The heavy metal end struck Callo hard on the shoulder, and Callo gasped, falling to his knees and crying out in pain.
“You are meant to be learning to cast fast and hard. What is this weak shit, son? I am trying to make you the best; all you ever do is be a step behind. A step too slow, a step too weak. Your mother said you have talent, but this isn’t talent. These are the actions of a distracted and useless runt.”
Callo could hardly breathe through the pain in his shoulder. He tried to raise his arm and screamed. Something was broken in his shoulder, and he could feel blood running down the inside of his sleeve down his unresponsive arm.
“On your feet, Callo,” Mellow demanded.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Callo said defiantly. But as he said the words, his eyes went wide. He could see the words floating away, unrestrainable and sealing his fate. He didn’t say that. He didn’t mean to say that.
“On your feet, Callo. We aren’t done. This is your chance to show me that you are fast and strong. You are a second-year academy student. You should be learning something. You should be useful. Maybe your mind is elsewhere when you are meant to focus on your spellcasting?”
Callo began casting again, but Father was just faster. The shard of Ice Callo meant to fight with was pulled from his control and shattered against his knee. Callo was caught off guard and tried to balance with his broken arm, causing shooting pain there, too. It didn’t matter whether Callo regained his balance or not. He could see his father’s eyes. He dared to look into them that night for the first time. His father had no remorse or pity, and the metal end of the staff shattered the bones in Callo’s leg he was using to support his weight.
Callo howled in pain and curled into a ball on his side. The ice was the only comfort. His leg and arm radiated the most excruciating pain he ever felt. Callo looked back into his father’s eyes, but there was still no remorse.
“You know what you did wrong. Don’t you?”
“I only kissed a girl…”
“You kissed a worthless slut. Everything I have prepared for you would fall apart if you got that little trollop pregnant. I’ve worked to give you everything, and I have NOTHING to show for it.” Father said. He was now walking in circles around his sobbing son.
Blood leaked onto the ice from Callo’s broken leg. Callo could feel the blood freezing, becoming part of his little domain. “I’ll be better,” Callo whimpered.
“I don’t want better. I want the greatest fucking sorcerer of all time. I want you to go to Spire. I want you to rule this kingdom. That's what I am building. But you are ruining it with your mother's fucking complacency!”
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Callo felt Father’s boot launch him into the air, and he landed on the cobblestone walkway, striking his head and dazing him. Callo could taste blood in his mouth. When he landed, he bit his cheek. Callo felt his back against something hard. It was the pedestal Father had placed the healing potion on.
“If you ruin my plans for you, you won’t be my son. I am telling you now; focus on your practice.” Father said before he stepped back toward the house. He took his large studs off and walked inside. Father left the broken Callo alone in the backyard.
Callo reached up with his remaining functional arm and took the healing potion. One would think that the sweet potion would taste like relief. That is what Zenithor and Aellaria associated the healing potion with. When Callo felt the potion cascade down his throat, he couldn’t help but taste it. He was forced to remember the half dozen other times father hurt him so badly that he needed the potion. It was almost enough to make Callo vomit.
Aellaria lived in Callo’s head as he struggled to push Lilium away over the coming weeks.
Lilium tried so hard, and Callo pretended not to see the effort. Callo forced himself to pretend not to see the need that lived in her or acknowledge his own.
Callo wanted to hold her again, but he didn’t dare. Father always knew when Callo lied.
Lilium desperately pleaded to him. “I can give you everything I am.”
Callo responded, “I don’t have time for the weak.” Though, Lilium couldn’t tell when Callo was lying. Honestly, Callo had all the time in the world for Lilium. It took every ounce of his effort not to wipe the blue streak of hair out of Lilium’s streaming eyes. However, he needed to cut it off now and in this way.
Like with the death of his mother, Callo knew hope hurt more than loss. He lied to let Lilium move on. He walked away and heard Lilium sobbing. Callo was crying, too, but he hoped that with this break, he could at least let Lilium find someone she deserved. Someone better than he was.
Aellaria continued to feel what it was like living as Callo, even on the day it was announced in class that Lilium was dead. It was a sad announcement to many, but an announcement that killed what remained of the little boy who made goose noises in class. The little boy that thought, ‘Ice and water would go together super well.’
Callo couldn’t think about Lilium. His mind struggled to cope with her absence. Aellaria knew Callo felt exactly like Zenithor did after Lilium’s death. Callo mourned as best he could while working to be as strong as possible.
From that point onward, he put everything into working on his defenses. Callo worked to have complete control around him until he created a constant barrier of cold that not even his father could get through.
Aellaria could feel time passing within Callo’s mind. Graduation at the academy. Being accepted into Spire. Aellaria knew what was coming and sat resigned to watch it play out. She could hear the waterfall in the distance and knew no amount of paddling could save her. Aellaria felt a twinge of pain when she saw Callo recognize her wide-brimmed hat for the first time.
Behind the shimmering curtain of the Mistfalls, Callo finally allowed himself to grieve Lilium’s death. He felt a kinship with Aellaria. Callo finally suffered as Aellaria held him. Callo finally had comfort in his life. Callo finally felt seen... The mist from the waterfalls hid his tears, but Aellaria felt them now.
Inside Callo’s mind, Aellaria could feel the healing being done as Callo held the misguided Aellaria. Aellaria felt hope begin to bloom again in Callo’s mind. Worst of all, he actually cared about Aellaria’s loss, too. He wanted to be her friend and heal together. He wanted to let down his defenses and have a future as her friend.
A future and hope that died while Callo fell. Aellaria saw now that he didn’t even make it to the water. She was alone in Callo’s dead mind now. His body was completely destroyed when it struck the rocks far below where Aellaria launched him from. As Son Lake lapped at Callo’s remains, blood and viscera were pulled out into the water.
Aellaria felt as numb as Callo’s corpse. Callo was the only person in the world that Aellaria knew mourned Lilium’s loss anywhere near as intensely as Zenithor did, and she had killed him.
Son Lake slowly took Callo’s corpse as Aellaria felt the current take her back to her body. Aellaria had a glazed-over expression as she looked at the glee-filled melted face of whatever was puppeteering Callo’s likeness.
AELLARIA
Callo’s face had stopped burning by now. Callo’s entire mug was a ragged field of bone, muscle, and sinew. Aellaria was defeated, but there were no judges to call the match. The warmth from the dragon's breath potion was the only thing that kept her conscious and undamaged from the ice locking her in place. Distantly, Aellaria felt the melting ice on her hands dripping down her arms. “Why…” Aellaria begged.
“Why? Like I said, you made me feel pain. Tit for tat, it’s all the same.” Callo said, pacing back and forth in front of Aellaria. The fucking thing didn’t even seem to be in pain, and yet, it condemned her to the worst torture she deserved.
The Callo thing walked around her. “Zenithor, I’ve been watching you for a long time. You tried so hard your entire life. You gave it everything, no matter what. Then you killed your beloved wife. I wrote you off. Your climax was finished. Then hatched this plan and showed me what real sin is.”
Aellaria cried. Feeling Callo die. Seeing what she did to him. Seeing the torment he went through for Lilium. She could hardly focus on the words Callo spouted at her.
The Callo imposter walked faster and faster around her as he continued to rant. “Aellaria is boring. I see the trajectory of your quest. You learn to love again. You help your very best friends. No, no, no, no, no, NO! I'm here to watch you murder some fucking kids. I’m here to see you blow your lid.”
“What?” Aellaria said.
“You came into this room to see Callo die. I will grant you your wish twice. However, this Aellaria shit is not going to fly. Zenithor was my masterpiece. Do you think people want to see a Phoenix rise out of the ash? No, they want the ash raining down from the sky. Nothing interesting ever came from a time of peace.”
Aellaria could feel Callo’s fear as he said, “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Though those weren’t the words she chose for herself. “Finish it, then.”
“Goodbye, Aellaria. It was a pleasure killing ya.” Callo said as he pushed cold directly into Aellaria’s brain—a targeted strike that severed neural pathways.
It was surgical, and Aellaria felt stabbing pain and numb tucking and plucking. Aellaria could feel herself forgetting herself. Moments that Aellaria had learned to cherish from the first semester of school were being stolen. Her memories were being killed.
There was one particularly loud sound, and Aellaria feared she was dead, but Callo released his grip on her neck. “Fuck! Why did you have to make me do this? Now I have to remove a witness.”
The sound was the shifting and falling of ice. Aellaria turned her head and saw what it was. Who it was.
Paris held his sword. He surveyed the room with astonishment written on his face. The water on the floor. The rubble from some massive explosion. “What the fuck happened here” He demanded. “Rieth’s hammer, Callo… what are you doing, and what’s with your face?”
“He’s dangerous!” Aellaria shouted, but more ice wriggled around her. These tendrils held her still, and one tendril froze her jaw in place.
Paris raised his sword. “Leave it to me, Aellaria. I’m not even close to beaten.”
Callo walked toward Paris. His walk was almost a dance as he pulled the water from the floor in the form of ice. The ice rolled into long, massive icicles.
“You’ve come a long way, Callo. You didn’t have nearly this much control when I saw your fight with Samwen.” Paris said.
One of the ice spears flew forward, but Paris quickly parried it with his sword.
“You don’t have much to say, Callo?”
“You are interrupting something, Paris. I won't show you a fight that fair is.”
“Is that a riddle?” Paris said, smirking. “I don’t care what I am interrupting. You, my friend, are next on the list. So far, I have knocked out four students; you will be five. Then she will be six.” Paris changed his guard and sprinted forward, preparing to strike defensively.
Callo launched spear after spear of ice, but this was all just a game for the talented young swordsman. As he ran, Paris changed his center of gravity, alternating between dodging and slashing at the invading projectiles.
The puddle Callo had been standing in started drying up, so he retreated toward the far end of the room past Aellaria, where the water was a little deeper.
“It’s time to take your medicine, my lord!” Paris teased as he caught up to Callo. The dig undoubtedly poked fun at Callo’s very wealthy upbringing.
Paris goes for a downward swing but is forced to push himself to the side as dozens of spikes sweep out from under Callo.
“You’re fast, but it won’t last,” Callo responded
“Yeah, it’s called lightning, and you aren’t the first to misjudge my staying power,” Paris said as he cut down the crystals between him and Callo. Paris hadn’t cast a single spell. He managed to keep up with the imposter using only his natural speed and martial ability.
Callo slowly stepped back, retreating to more water.
Aellaria panicked, knowing it was a trap. Callo was about to get the upper hand. Aellaria used her remaining mana to create a strong fire that weakened the ice around her jaw. She used all the strength in her neck to crack the ice and make it fall away.
“Paris! It isn’t Callo! Run!” She shouted. As she roared, she unleashed fire onto the ice below her. The mana exhaustion threatened to take her at any moment, but she only needed one more free limb.
It was too late. All of the destroyed ice in Paris’ wake slowly lifted. Paris didn’t even know it was happening. “Of course, it is Callo– unless Ozyid lost some weight.” He joked. The first of many icicles and apple-sized pieces of hail begin rocketing toward Paris.
Paris responded too slowly to the onslaught of ice but did not truly appreciate the danger he was in. Paris foolishly closed the distance with Callo and swung the blunt end of his sword as countless ice shards began striking him in the back.
The sword landed on Callo’s arm and exploded with electrical power channeled by the talented spell fighter, but the devastation to Paris’ back was worse.
Callo and Paris both collapsed, and Aellaria struggled against the ice. Finally, it gave. She reached down and quickly drank the mana and healing potions at her waist.
Aellaria heard the sound of metal on stone as a wave of ice rippled and pulled Paris’ sword away from the bleeding and battered man. Callo chuckled as he pulled himself to his foot. Aellaria could see that Callo wasn’t putting weight on his right side, where Paris had struck.
Callo’s laugh was far too joyous for the damage done to his body. “Ohhh… You made me feel pain, young electro. I have a policy for those who –”
An explosion of electricity emerged from Paris’ prone form. It was his only card. His body was devastated, and Callo took his sword. All Paris could do was focus his magic into its natural chaotic form and push out as much as possible. The force of the electrical explosion dislodged all of the shards of ice in Paris’ back. Aellaria could see the blood weeping from countless wounds.
Callo wasn’t expecting this, and the explosion launched him back into the wall. Callo crumbled to the floor and stopped moving.
Aellaria cautiously walked toward the unconscious Callo, but to her surprise, Paris was not done. The mage with the shredded back slowly stood up. The explosion had dislodged all the ice, but the wounds were evident, and his blue robes were saturated in blood. “Paris… you need a healer.”
“Okay, number six… It’s time. Where’s my sword?” Paris said, looking around. Paris eventually spotted it, but it was embedded in thick ice. “Oh. Well, you don’t have magic anyway.”
Aellaria ignored Paris and walked toward Callo. Callo wasn’t moving. Aellaria knew this did not mean he wasn’t a threat.
Paris ran forward and, to Aellaria’s surprise, was much more intact than she had suspected. He punched her stomach, and she was forced to block. The block didn’t matter as Paris had summoned a blast of electricity into his fist, and it was just enough to make Aellaria’s arms spasm. It was an amazing talent to have so much control of chaotic magic. Almost any other mage would have been weak without their arcane focus.
Aellaria disengaged. She would have to eliminate the delusional Electromancer before she could finish Callo.
Paris closed the gap, but Aellaria always dodged or parried unexpectedly. Blocking Paris’ strikes would only serve to wear her down. Paris was fast, punching madly in a flurry of blows, knowing he only needed one to hit to win. Considering the mage's passion, she feared how strong he would be at full strength.
Aellaria gave Paris a false opening. Paris tried to finish Aellaria off, but Aellaria summoned a metal plate. The plate exploded with electricity that Paris thought would connect to his opponent. Aellaria used all of her remaining mana to push the plate toward Paris.
Before Paris could react, Aellaria’s other arm punched below the floating metal plate, connecting with Paris’ chin. The injured Paris went down hard, and Aellaria saw that he was now on his back, crying out in pain. Aellaria put one foot on his wrist and pressed the other against his forehead.
“You..win,” Paris said between labored breaths.
Aellaria bolted over to Callo's unconscious body. She knew he lay there like a biding shark, waiting for his moment to kill everyone else in the room. Aellaria stared at the unconscious Callo carefully as she stomped on the melting ice and pulled forth Paris’ sword.
Aellaria started to notice something was off. Callo wasn’t moving.
“Stab his throat. Do it now. Kill him.” Zenithor said. He was external again, just behind her shoulder.
Aellaria held the sword. Paris wasn’t looking. He might not even be conscious. Aellaria felt her knuckles crack, and her fingers ached from how tightly she gripped the sword. Aellaria raised the blade.
“He’s a threat,” Zenithor said, demanding the death of whatever inhabited Callo’s form.
Aellaria stalled, however. The sword became heavy. She heard the sword splash and clatter into the tile beside her, but she didn’t even remember dropping it. Then Aellaria collapsed.
Moments later, Aellaria was being picked up by someone. An Angel. More accurately, the healer, Angel. Aellaria stuttered to the woman, “I-I need to s-see it.”
Angel walked with Aellaria in her arms. “Hey, darling,” the gray-robed healer said calmly. “It’s over. It's time for us to heal you up.”