I was in luck. For now, at least. The shattered window had not been discovered. Varis, Anne, and I were able to get it covered with some overgrowth, which had been slowly consuming the neglected backyard. So far, it looks great. The broken window couldn’t be seen, and I doubt my aunt even knew that she had garden gnomes, so the missing one should hopefully not be missed.
Emphasis on hopefully.
After we had finished cleaning up our mess, I noticed that it was sometime in the afternoon. The sun hung high in the sky, and despite its bright and shining light, I did not feel the warmth it appeared to give off. Quite frankly, it felt chillier than when I first stepped out here.
A cool breeze blew over us, and I shivered and clutched my arms as I turned to Varis and said, “I think I’m going to cut magic lessons short today. It’s too cold.” I shivered once again as the breeze picked up.
Varis also shuddered and nodded in agreement. “Okay, Luna, why is it so cold?” He asked. “You’re smart!” He added.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head with a shrug. “I dunno, Heinmarr’s weather always fluctuates. Remember how last winter wasn’t so cold?”
“Fluctuates?” Varis repeated this and tilted his head.
I sighed. “It means to change drastically. Sometimes it’s warm, and then next thing we know, it’s super cold.” I tried to explain.
“I get it!” Anne blurted it out as my brother shrugged.
“Sure. Lets go.” Varis pushed past me and made his way over to the door, and I turned to follow but stopped when I noticed Anne wasn’t following.
“Are you coming?” I asked her.
She blinked and asked, “Am I allowed?”
I pursed my lips and once again shrugged. “I don’t see why not, c’mon.” I motioned for her to follow and her face lit up with joy and she nodded and followed along.
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The house had been cleaned out ever since I went outside after the archbishop and the Frenchman left. Both my aunt and uncle left for work, and my parents were also just getting ready to leave, though not for work-related reasons. Father stated he was going to the central bank deep in the city to see about getting our family set up with an account. Which confused me at first.
I had safely assumed our family had already been set up with a bank, though, thinking back on it. I don’t recall my parents ever going to a bank back in Oren, and I also don’t think I ever saw one. Out of curiosity, I asked my father this while he was lacing his boots.
“Nope,” he said simply, “Oren didn’t have a bank. The merchants talked of setting one up and planned to.” He grunted as he straightened his back and stretched. “But we all know what happened now.” I nodded as I glanced at Varis and Anne, who were in the kitchen scribbling on some loose pieces of paper my mother gave them along with some crayons.
“So you and Momma just kept the money at the house?” I asked, and Father nodded.
"Yep, we had a safe in our room where we kept it all.” He stood up. “Personally, I’d love to do that again.” He chuckled. “I was never really one for dealing with people behind desks all the time; I hated it back in the army, and I still do now.”
You and I both. I giggled.
“Well, I hope it goes smoothly!” I beamed, and my father returned the smile and tussled my hair.
“I’ll have your mother with me to make sure I don’t blow a gasket,” he said as my mother nodded.
My mother then cleared her throat and said, “We shouldn’t be gone long. Perhaps in a few hours, Isa will be in charge; till then, the three of you better behave.”
“We will, Momma!” Varis called from the kitchen, and I nodded as well.
“I’ll make sure Varis doesn’t do anything dumb,” I said with a big grin, and my brother scoffed.
“I never do dumb stuff.” He huffed, and I snorted. “It’s true!”
It felt good to be a kid again. In that brief period of my parents leaving and being left alone with Anne and Varis, I was able to forget about my worries. Isa was there, though she kept out of our way and tended to herself as she got ready for her totally not a date with the doctor. We hung out in the kitchen and drew with the crayons and chatted away about random stuff that we kids seemed to enjoy, such as magic, stories, and books.
It reminded me of my days back in school in my old life when I used to talk about video games and TV shows with my friends on the playground or at lunch. It felt nice. I thought, being a kid again, I would’ve hated interacting with other children. Back when I was an adult, I couldn’t stand children; I found them irritating, loud, and obnoxious, and sometimes Varis could still be that, yet he knew when to tone it down. I appreciated that.
I did like it, though. When I was interacting with kids my age, it was like something in my brain just switched. I went from acting like an adult to instantly being a kid again. When Anne pulled out the dolls that she and I played with at the refugee camp, my eyes flew open with excitement as we sat down in the kitchen and began to play again.
Varis at first was a bit apprehensive at the idea of playing with dolls, but eventually, he caved in when he saw how much fun we were having and joined in. Time flew by faster than I expected because, before I knew it, the front door opened and my parents returned looking as tired as ever.
“We’re back!” My father shouted up the stairs.
“Hello!” We all responded in kind as my parents kicked off their shoes and climbed up the stairs, and my mother gasped when her eyes fell on us.
With Isa’s permission, the three of us removed some of the couch cushions and pillows and created a little fort. It was mighty fine, if I say so myself, though I’ll admit I am a bit biased due to me being the main architect behind it all. For instance, I had taken one of the bedsheets from our room and used that as a sort of ceiling tarp rather than a heavy cushion that could fall on us. I think that was pretty clever.
My mother did not seem to think so, but what does she know about fine architecture?
“What is this?” She asked, puzzled.
“It’s a pillow fort!” Varis said. “It was Luna’s idea!”
My mother blinked and glanced over at all the crayon drawings that were also scattered across the floor. “Why are these strewn across the floor?”
“Uh,” Varis blinked and said, “We were drawing earlier.”
I poked my head out of the fort and said, “Varis threw a pillow, and it hit the table!”
“Nuh uh!” He said.
“He did,” Isa said, stepping out of the hallway after leaving the restroom. I was surprised to see she was dressed in a fine button-up shirt and pants with a red bow around her neck. Her short, red hair was nicely brushed, and to add to my bewilderment, she even had a tiny bit of makeup around her cheeks and eyes.
She looked to my parents, who were also stunned, and said, “I allowed the children to make their little fort with the promise they would clean it up without complaints.” She fixed the little bow around her neck.
“Isa,” my mother said softly. “You look pretty.” She smiled, and my mentor blushed.
“Thank you; from what I know of Nigel, I didn’t wish to be outdressed,” Isa said with a small giggle and then looked at all of us. “Alright, children, as per our agreement. You are to clean up this mess now that your parents are back.”
“Aw, we just made this like twenty minutes ago!” Varis complained.
Anne and I giggled and said, “It’s been longer than that, but c’mon.” I patted my brother on the back. “We can make one in our room; we can even have it go under the beds!”
“Please do not destroy your room,” My mother said with a sigh, though my father chuckled and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Let them have their fun,” he said, but then paused and glanced at the clock. “Anne,” he said, and Anne’s ears twitched, and she turned to look at my father. “What time did your uncle want you to return home?” he asked.
Anne, who seemed shy around my parents, rubbed her hands together nervously and said, “Around nine o’clock, which I think is around sunset.”
I followed my father’s gaze and read the clock; it was around eight in the evening. Anne was currently living in Trentonville along with many other refugees. From where we were staying now, a wagon ride there and back would take about an hour, depending on traffic, which in this town was always backed up.
I could see on Anne’s face that she knew where this was going, and her eyes fell to the floor, and I couldn’t help but pout as well. “If that’s the case, then we should probably get you back to your uncle,” my father said, and both Anne and I shared a look and sighed. "Oh, don’t get sad now; you’ll make me feel guilty,” my father said with a shake of his head. “The two of you can always meet up again.” He walked over to us. “Come on, I’ll help you two clean up.”
----------------------------------------
After we had cleaned up the living room, my father offered to give Anne a ride home with Ruby and our wagon. Not wanting to leave my friend so soon already, I offered to go along with them. Since Isa was going in this direction anyway, she also joined in on the ride, and before we knew it, we had a small group together riding through town.
Once again, the nightlife of Johanneson blew me away. Magical neon lights, moving, brightly colored advertisements, and even music echoed down the streets. Once again, it was like journeying into a completely different world. What I didn’t enjoy, however, was how fucking cold it was. I don’t mean to swear but for real. You have a cold, and then there’s fucking cold. And Johanneson was fucking cold.
I’m talking hand trembling, face burning cold. My parents had some blankets in the wagon, and Anne and I wrapped ourselves up tightly as our wagon rolled down the cobblestone streets of Johanneson. Isa sat up front with my father, the two of them also sharing a blanket, as Ruby squawked and hissed as she pulled the wagon. I couldn’t speak draconian like my mother, but I guessed she was also complaining about the cold.
When we neared Central Park, the place where Trentonville was, we noticed something even more concerning. It began to snow. Like actual god for real snow. At the beginning of summer. It wasn’t heavy snow, but only a light dusting. The snow also wasn’t sticking when it touched the ground but instead melted instantly.
I didn’t have a thermometer, nor could I read one anyway, as I still hadn’t been taught that. Though if I had to guess, it felt like a solid forty degrees—that’s in Fahrenheit, by the way, as God intended.
“Papa, why is it cold?” I openly complained, and my father shuddered and then sneezed into the crook of his arm.
“I don’t know, sweetie,” he said, and I could tell by his tone that he was also confused. He glanced up at the sky. “Perhaps the gods thought winter was too short this year. Perhaps they’re making up for last year's being too warm?” He glanced over his shoulder.
“They have a weird sense of humor,” I said as I huddled close to Anne.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Aye, they do.” My father chuckled.
Isa shivered as well and said, “I had noticed since the night I went out to eat that the weather has been getting more and more dreary. Perhaps a wind current from the north is blowing a storm from Rusimia our way?”
“If that’s the case,” My father said he was scratching his chin and goatee. “Then that’s just really unfortunate timing.”
A scary thought just came to my mind. What if it’s a Rusivite spell? Magic being what it is, it wouldn’t surprise me if the Rusivites or even Heinmarr had wizards that could control the weather. Like in Dungeons and Dragons, there’s that “Control Weather” spell. What if that’s what’s happening?
“Could it be the Rusivites controlling the weather?” I asked, unable to hide the bit of fear in my voice.
Isa couldn’t help but snort for some reason and shake her head. “No. I would be shocked if that were the case.”
“Why?” I asked.
Isa opened her mouth, but then hesitated and glanced at my father. “Luna’s smart,” My father said, “I’m sure she’ll understand if you explain it. As for Anne...” He glanced back at us, and I looked down at Anne and noticed she was fast asleep and leaning against me under the cozy blanket. "Well, that makes it easy.” He chuckled, looked back at the road, and pulled on the reins as we slowed to a stop at an intersection.
Isa turned back and said, “If the Rusivites used such magic, it would be in violation of what is called the “Arcane Codes of War”.” She said that, and I blinked.
A type of Geneva Convention?
“Are those like rules?” I asked, and Isa nodded slowly.
“Yes. I’m not an expert on them, but I’m sure your aunt will have some books about them back home.” Isa turned to face me fully. “What I do know is this. Many years ago, during the Reformation Period, the Magus Concordium and the Global Allied Nations decreed these codes, which outlawed the usage of Astral tier magic and higher during times of conflict.”
Unfortunately, I have no idea what an “Astral” tier spell is; I know my healing magic is in the “Radiance” tier. I’d need to ask my mother for a specific list.
Isa continued, “The rule stated specifically that such magic that is used on the battlefield is considered “overkill” and a crime against Enorans.” She paused when she noticed my look of confusion and said, “Such spells they’re referring to, Luna, are spells that could greatly alter the climate and nature of Enora. I’m talking spells that could create hurricanes, tornadoes, or even create or destroy mountains, as well as necromancy. All forms of necromancy are outlawed.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m not surprised that’s outlawed; the idea of armies raising the dead to keep on fighting unnerves me. But if that’s the case, aren’t the Rusivite fighting machines a form of necromancy?
“What about those fighting machines?” I asked Isa. “We learned that...” I trailed off the memories of the prison, and also Kassel flashed across my mind, and I took a deep breath. “Those machines are powered by souls.”
Isa bit her lower lip. “I thought of that too, and I think that could possibly hold ground in the courts. Though that also could be spirimancy, as we saw, which is not covered by the Arcane Codes of War as such rules were written before its discovery.”
So it’s a loophole. Rusimia discovered a new form of magic, learned of its destructive capabilities, and is now unleashing it upon us all. Great.
“The Codes,” Isa went on, “also outlaw all usage of mind magic. Any spells that can alter a person's way of thinking or free will are heavily discouraged. Such magic was already outlawed in nearly every nation, but codes solidified it.”
“What’s stopping Rusimia and the “warriors of light,” I said with a cringe. “From breaking these rules?” I asked.
Isa’s face tightened, and she bit her lower lip and looked at my father once again. He nodded without a word, and she sighed and looked at me. “Mutually assured destruction. Whoever casts the first “mega spell,” as some folk call it, the gloves are off. That is why, Luna, when we were at the front, there were no wizards.”
I held up a finger. “There was Master Alexander, and I recall some mages during the assault.”
“Lesser mages,” Isa added, “people who are most likely Aetherborn or sorcerers.” She was referring to the class specification that mages are granted during training.
Mother had briefly explained this to me before, and Alexander clarified it during my brief period of training under him. Essentially, the list went like this: Atherless, Etheric Initiates, Aetherborn, Astral Sorcerers, Ethereal Archons, Celestial Magus, and finally Apotheonic Aegis. Mother told me she was an Ethereal Archon, whereas Alexander was a Celestial Magus. Both of them are immensely powerful magisters capable of ungodly violence, which I’ve only seen a piece of.
There had only ever been one Apotheonic Aegis to ever live on Enora, and that was the Dark Lord, my sleeping friend in my head. That would explain why Alexander didn’t fight during the assault, and instead, I was chosen. Alexander could’ve easily wiped that fort off the face of Enora; hell, he probably could’ve done it while training me without anyone knowing he did it.
But due to the Arcane Codes of War, he couldn’t. Doing so would allow Rusivite mages, who are also as powerful as Alexander, to do the same to us. It’s like they’re living nukes. I thought with a gulp.
“The nations of the world are afraid that the unchecked use of magic, like what was used during the Twilight War, would cause great and irreversible destruction to Enora,” Isa concluded. “That’s why I doubt the Rusivites are using weather magic on us.”
“We’d blast ourselves back to the stone age,” I muttered, and with that, Isa solemnly nodded.
“Magic is wonderful, Luna, but it’s also horrifically destructive.”
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The practically sleeping guards at the gate of Trentonville told us we had to keep our wagon outside the park and told us they’d keep an eye on it. Of course, they searched it to confirm we weren’t Rusivite collaborators or smuggling something that didn’t belong in the makeshift village, and once they concluded everything was fine, they allowed us through.
Isa, however, was not coming along. She was instead going to hitch a ride from a taxi and head towards Dr. Kegan’s clinic in Helmsworth. So we bid her farewell, and my father and I walked Anne back home. Along the way, my father idly chatted with us, asking the usual questions about how Anne enjoyed her stay and what we did.
I had to stop Anne from almost spilling the beans about me teaching her magic when she explained to my father how she did wind magic. I stepped in and clarified that it was all imaginary and that we were larping as wizards. My father laughed at this, and for a split second I saw his eyes flick towards me, and I feared he might have caught on, yet he didn’t press it further. Though my legs were still weak from fear.
Eventually, we made it to the center of Trentonville, which was still lively despite it being nearly nine in the evening. There were barrel fires and campfires that riddled the place where refugees huddled around and chatted. I could smell barbeque in the air, and my stomach growled audibly, and I remembered I had forgotten to eat dinner.
That’s when I noticed them. Eyes. All around me. I noticed the eyes of people looking at me as we walked down the stone park path that cut through the village. I could hear folk muttering, and I saw a man doing what looked like the holy trinity, like what the priest Kaleb had done.
Ah, shit. I thought as I focused on the road ahead, trying not to pay them any attention. The word about what I did was spreading even more. I guessed.
I felt my father’s hand clutch my right shoulder as he pulled me and Anne close to his side. Looking up at him, I could tell he also noticed the attention we were receiving. Which is not surprising based on his background.
“Move it,” he said under his breath, and he began to walk faster.
We reached Mr. Reynolds's tent a few minutes later, towards the northern edge of the village, and Anne excitedly rushed in and shouted something in Yanky, which I assumed was her greeting him.
I could hear Oscar on the other side gasp with surprise and greet her back in his native tongue as my father and I stood outside. Yet, to my surprise, I heard a third voice, a woman’s voice, speak in Yanky. There was a brief exchange, and my father patted me on the back and gestured for us to go when suddenly the flap of the tent opened and both Oscar and a mysterious woman stepped out.
The woman was a human in an olive green suit and skirt with a bright white button-up beneath and a black bowtie. I noticed on her upper left breast that there were patches and medals I couldn’t recognize, and on her right shoulder was a blue and white flag with a four-pointed red star. It was clear to me that this woman looked like she belonged in the military, but not the Heinmarr military.
She was light-skinned, and her face was cute and smooth, though her eyes were sharp and green, and her expression at first was quizzical as she stepped out and brushed her short blonde hair out from in front of her face.
After a brief moment of my father and I had a staring contest with her, the woman’s face softened, and in fluent yet accented Maurich, she said, “My apologies if I startled the two of you. I will be on my way.” She then reached for a peaked cap that was strapped to her belt and placed it on her head, which I saw embedded just above the peak was the golden visage of a flaming bird soaring upwards.
What I didn’t notice was that behind my father and me, two armed soldiers in similar olive-colored uniforms stepped out from the shadows and began to follow the woman, who began to walk in the direction we came.
“My apologies,” my father said, looking at Oscar, who was currently smoothing out his shirt. “Did we intrude on something?”
Oscar laughed and shook his head. “No. No. We just finished. Kind lady that one is.” He hummed.
“Who is she?” I asked curiously.
“Lieutenant Pearson,” Oscar said with a smile as he tussled Anne’s hair as she clung to his leg. “Yanky officer.”
My father blinked. “I didn’t expect the Yanks to be here already,” he said in a hushed voice, and Oscar nodded.
“Yankys arrive tomorrow; they will.” Oscar’s voice was hushed. “Arrive at airport with expeditionary force,” he said as my father’s eyes widened.
“Finally,” Father said with a big smile. “Help is finally arriving! That’s great news!” My father clutched my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.
Oscar nodded. “Aye. Soon, Yanky weapons will push those Rusivites back!” He pounded his fist into his palm and chuckled.
“But why was she talking to you?” I asked, unable to help the nosey feeling I had.
“Luna,” my father said, shaking his head. “That’s none of our business.”
Oscar shook his head and held a hand up. “It is fine.” He hummed. “As said,” he looked to me. “I work for a big company, renowned artificer I am.” He said it with a smug smile, and Anne rolled her eyes. “Yanks want me back home; Lt. Pearson, help arrange a flight for Anne and I.”
I don’t know why, but hearing that made my heart quiver, and I looked to Anne. “You guys are leaving?” I asked quietly, feeling my mood deflating. I knew it was dumb of me to be sad; the two of them were getting a chance to fly out of here. Yet at the same time, Anne was probably my only friend so far, and to lose contact with her again so soon was disheartening.
Oscar seemed to notice my reaction, and his face fell a little as he nodded slowly. “Aye. Unfortunate, yes, but practical. Heinmarr, no safe. Not with war happening.” Anne also seemed saddened by this, judging by her reaction. I assumed she knew this was coming and hadn’t said anything.
“But,” Oscar continued as he kneeled in front of me. “Gone we will be, but not forever.” He smiled and glanced up at my father as Oscar reached for his pants pocket. “I have gift. If I may?” He looked at my father again, and he smiled and nodded as a sign of permission.
“A gift?” I asked with widening eyes.
“Yes.” Oscar nodded with a big smile. “Just for you. What this is is rare item. Keep close; do not lose it. I made it just yesterday.” He pulled out of his pocket what looked like a large locket about the size of the palm of his hand, which, compared to me, meant I had to hold it with both hands.
It was bronze and textured, with nothing fancy etched into it. Yet along the middle section was a small crevice that led to a hinge, signaling to me that it could be opened. Oscar then showed me it could be done by pressing a small button on the bottom of the large locket. When it swung open, I was amused to see it was a mirror, which showed my reflection, and god, I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t realize it till now, but my eyes were red and moist. Fuck.
“It’s a mirror,” I said softly and smiled. “Thank you--”
“No mirror.” Oscar shook his head and then frowned as he began mumbling to himself. “What word... uh... Anne?” He looked at his niece, and the two exchanged some words in Yanky.
Anne then looked at me and said, “Uncle said it's an “image caster” or “caster” for short.”
Image caster? Wait... like, phone? Face time? Huh?
“For communication,” Oscar said, “think message phone.”
Even my father’s eyes widened, and his jaw went slack. “Elder, this is—that’s a bit much,” he said in a hushed voice. “We can’t take this; we couldn’t afford anything like th--” My father was cut off by Oscar’s hand waving him away.
“Bah, it is fine.” The much older elf smiled. “Such device is elementary. Soon, all kids will have them.” He chuckled, pulled out a second one, and handed it to Anne, whose face lit up. “Use these to keep in touch. Careful though; they are not, uh, unbreakable.”
My heart fluttered as I held this magic cellphone in my hand I blinked and rubbed my eyes with my arm. “This is really nice,” I said softly. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds.” Oscar's smile broadened. Curious as to how the device worked, I asked, “How does it work? Does it have a limit?”
Oscar nodded and then began to explain the device to me. I’ll translate what he said as best as I can. The caster worked very much like a phone’s FaceTime on my old device. Essentially, there were two mirrors, one on the base and another on the lid. The lid mirror, of course, reflected my image, whereas the base one would show the person I was speaking to. The device contacts the other person by me speaking a “command” word, that word being "contact,” and then I say the person’s name.
What’s crazy is that the device knows other languages and can even interpret who I’m trying to contact, even if I mispronounce their name. How does it do this? I don’t know; Oscar tried to explain it, but with his broken Maurich and the complexity of magical programming, I couldn’t get it.
The caster also had essentially a battery. A small magrite crystal about the size of my fingernail was stuck beneath the base mirror, which Oscar showed me was removable. The magrite he predicted should hold a charge for at least five years, which stunned me upon hearing it.
I wish my old phone held a charge for that long. Holy crap.
All in all, it was quite a valuable item. Of course, the item was limited to only contacting people who possessed such a device. How the hell could this thing determine who carried what? I had no clue. It was all just “magic” to me. There probably was an explanation, but I’d need to hear it from someone who could speak fluent Maurich. Even then, I doubt I’d understand; I know my limitations.
I gripped the caster firmly in my hands. “Thank you,” I said again, regretting that I didn’t bring my enigma bag. “I’ll hold onto this forever.” I beamed and looked at Anne. “And I’ll contact you every night!”
Anne beamed. “Same!”
“Not tonight,” Oscar said. “It’s bed time.” He turned to Anne, who immediately pouted. “Tomorrow, you can speak all you want.” Anne nodded and then smiled at me, and I beamed right back.
My father sighed. “I better not catch you talking to her all night through that thing,” my father said. “If I catch you not getting sleep, you’re going to be in big trouble!”
“I won’t!” I squeaked.
That was a lie.