Two Weeks Later
Schala walked around the grounds of the mansion, counting her steps. She walked at least five thousand steps before noticing that her actions had worn a groove in the grass and dirt. When she came to a stop, Schala stood at the bottom of the steps of the mansion.
The entire grounds were quiet as a grave for the past fourteen days. No visitors, no business conducted through magic. There were no clues how the disease spread, but the infection spread through the Samhain Celebration's social scene like an evil flood.
The young Magi managed to get to safety that night, Schala recalled, but the humans weren't so fortunate. She'd never seen that many stretchers, that many death shrouds placed over the bodies.
She didn't see the funeral pyres, but the fire plumes reached the clouds, she heard.
Even Queen Galden managed to flee before bedlam hit Claymore Manor. Royalty couldn't deign to be bothered with a foreign problem; they'll leave and hope that it doesn't jump the ocean.
Schala returned to the mansion, and it stood as silent as a cathedral. Nothing moved; the servants, all human, were relieved of their employment.
The mansion, at least the section they lived in, had crawled to a halt.
Schala remembered her father making mention of lending space to the Arcana Sanction for Apothecaries to treat the sick. She looked through a window and out into the grounds; a giant bubble of concentrated Ahshae that pulsed over the trees like a heartbeat.
Casella laid there among the sick. "She must be so scared," Schala thought.
A female voice attracted Schala's attention; she walked into her room and saw Remilia sitting in front of a floating globe that showed a woman providing a frantic report.
The reporter's eyes danced as she focused her composure. "This pandemic has spread faster than any disease in modern history," she informed as the scene behind her was of complete chaos. "The constables are bracing for rioting tonight--"
Remilia gestured with her fingers, and the orb changed its images. With each motion, she switched through reports on the pandemic throughout Augurey.
"He fell unconscious; he had severe lacerations all over his face with black ooze--"
"A citywide emergency has been declared by--"
"The Arcana Sanction has quarantined the lower region of Picquery--"
Schala knocked on the wall in their room, and Remilia jumped.
They shared a silent greeting. Remilia had no makeup; her eyes bore deep, dark rings around them, and her lips were chapped. Schala gestured to her lips, prompting Remilia to take a bottle next to her and drink its contents.
She offered Schala the bottle after a few swigs; Schala took it and examined it.
"Really?" Remilia said through a slightly raspy voice. "We've been in the same damn place for two weeks, Schal. Just drink the damn water."
Schala chuckled mirthlessly and drank from the bottle. Remilia's lips were no longer chapped, and Schala's throat, a bit dry, grew thankful for the moisture.
"Thanks," Schala said with some awkwardness before she paused for a beat. "Look, I'm sorry--"
Remilia shook her head. "It's all right. I'm a little bit on edge, sis."
"Over the edge," Schala corrected. "When we practiced yesterday, it...wasn't pretty."
Remilia leered at her twin, who returned her look with one that said, "prove me wrong."
"Where's mom and dad?" Remilia asked.
Schala sat next to her on Remilia's bed and shrugged. She heard no noise; Marius's aimless mutters and Julianna's broken sobs were absent.
"They must be asleep," Schala concluded.
She offered her hand. Her tattoo emitted a pulsing crimson light. Remilia took her sister's hand, and the tattoos conjoined their lights.
Around them, the world changed to suit their needs. The room melded, formed into a thicket, and a dense blanket of leaves swirled into a canopy above their heads.
The twins still sat on their bed while the forest grew. "Whose idea was it to make the Abattoir a forest?" Schala asked.
"I've always loved being right in the nest of nature," Remilia answered. "Mother Gaia blessed us with these abilities, so I think it's right to be in her presence, at least in some form."
Remilia smiled, and Schala returned the gesture. Schala turned away and slid her gloves on, and the sight of the scarred, wrinkled skin on the back of her hands sent shivers up her spine as they disappeared underneath the leather.
"Being in the Great Mother's presence," Schala mused. She looked at her hands and recalled the Samhain celebration, the sight of her sister. "I still don't know what that thing is. But Casella…"
"Schal!" Remilia called, snapping Schala from her anxious thoughts. "I know that look. What's got you thinking so hard?"
"This whole thing. Casella, the party, that thing; I feel useless. It came into our home--"
"We're not the only ones affected, Schal," Remilia interjected. "It isn't just about us."
"Oh, it isn't? Because the bloody words on the wall beg to differ, Remi. It targeted us. Or does mom have you wrapped around her finger so damn tight that you can't breathe?"
The twins stood quickly and stood a pace from one another. Schala's face steeled with determination while Remilia's expression burned with disbelief.
"Schala, don't put that on me again!"
"You know mom calls you her little wind-up doll when you're not around? Why won't you see that? Why won't you put her in her place? She'll listen to you."
"And what the hell does that have to do with the outbreak?"
Schala spread her arms out at her sides. "Everything! It has every-damn-thing to do with the outbreak! Look at us! We're the sterling silver picture of decadence! The Magi of Augurey! The pinnacle of magic in Picquery! Whatever the hell that thing was, it knew right where to hit us, and mother would rather point fingers than address a problem!"
"Schala!" Remilia asserted. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Schala, you think mother had something to do with this?"
"Mother is concerned with bloodline purity. Status affiliation. It was her suggestion to host the celebration on the grounds, all to put you on a pedestal."
Remilia's eyes welled like rain droplets. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes again, and breathed deep. Schala looked at the canopy, which dropped leaves like a fresh morning shower. When she looked back, Remilia wasn't the tall, dreadlocked prodigy of Arcana; she was ten years old, still clenching her fists.
Schala looked at herself, now the same age, same height. She looked at her twin; save for their hair, there stood no difference between the two.
"Schal, just tell me one thing. Why did you want to become a Magi? You could've been anything else, but you wanted to be a Magi."
Schala rubbed her hands, but they were bent and bulbous. She restrained a scream. "I hate this," she cried through quickened breaths. "Remi, please, concentrate."
Remilia sniffled. She opened her eyes slightly and closed them. With a deep breath, Remilia opened her eyes again, and they regressed to normal.
"Better?" she asked.
"I'd feel better if you erased the first ten years of my life," Schala retorted. She idly rubbed her hands and gripped her palms.
"Things aren't well in the family; I know that. But Schala, you can't keep blaming others. If there's something else on your mind you're not telling me, it's safe here. Mom can't break into the Abattoir like before."
Schala heard voices co-mingling with Remilia's words. A parade of everything her mother said in the past, everything from her youth.
"Why do you want to be a Magi?" the voice of her mother asked in a whisper.
"I want to be with my sister. I want to be better," Schala answered, her voice mewling out a response like her ten-year-old self. "I trained in a place where time didn't matter. It took me what felt like years to fix my hands--"
Schala stopped short; she looked at her hands again. Remilia grew silent, pensive. Schala held back, but couldn't deduce why.
"It took me years to fix myself," Schala corrected.
"We can take as long as we need to complete our training here!" the voice of ten-year-old Remilia said in Schala's mind. "We're going to be amazing Magi!"
Schala took a sharp inhale. "I did all this for mother." She gestured calmly with her hands. "I spent years in the Abattoir, Remilia, just to be your equal."
"Schal, you don't have to be equal to me. I don't want an equal; I just want a sister. I want my sister."
Schala moved to embrace Remilia but stopped short. The voices of her mother unleashed a cacophony of negative statements and commands, coupled with remembrances of her brand of "physical reinforcement."
"It's not that simple," Schala stated.
"Schal, please, stop holding back--"
"We should go. I feel someone's trying to inch their way in," Schala interrupted.
The leaves around them turned a sour brown while the rest fell from the trees in a sudden downpour. The two returned to the bed, closed their eyes, and took each other's hand; the world swam until the imagery of their room overtook the thicket.
When they opened their eyes, Schala snapped her hand out and caught a swinging slap, courtesy of Julianna.
"We've been calling you for nearly an hour, and you're in here playing around, Schala."
Schala stood, her eyes burning with rage and disbelief. "Is that what you think we're doing in our Abattoir? Playing around?"
"Anything not helping our family isn't worth wasting time on! Not your Magic Knight fantasies or whatever you do in that Abattoir!" Julianna's mascara moistened into inky droplets that traced uneven lines down her cheeks.
"Are we playing around, Remilia?" Schala asked.
Remilia kept quiet. Schala turned to her; her twin's eyes danced, searching for a deescalating answer. Schala's renewed bravado fizzled, and she released her grip on Julianna's hand.
Julianna drew her arm back and swung again, but both twins ducked, leaving their mother to strike nothing but air. Remilia stepped forward in protest, opening her mouth to speak, but Julianna had wound up her arm to swing again.
This time, a fleshy wall of a man stopped her. Marius appeared in between the two and glared down at his wife. She returned the glare, and he took hold of her arm. Lowering it to her waist, Marius stepped free and exchanged looks between the three women.
"I do not care who was at fault. I don't care who said what or what was presumed. I do not care. What I do care about," he started, raising his voice so they'll pay attention, "is my youngest daughter who wants to see her family. Can everyone enhance their calms so we can see her?"
The three women were quiet as mice. The twins took in a deep breath simultaneously and shared a glance.
They answered in unison, "Yes, father."
Marius turned to Julianna, still holding her by the wrist. "Julianna, I know you're hurting, but you need to come to terms with it. We are a family; they are your daughters, just like Casella is. I love you, but I won't tolerate this any longer."
He inched himself closer until their faces were less than an inch apart. "Do you understand me, Julianna?"
Julianna, who dared not to break eye contact, nodded. "Yes, Marius. I understand."
Marius stood upright and sighed. He gestured for his wife to follow him, and she did so without a word. The twins looked at each other, incredulous at what they witnessed.
"He could've done that long ago," Schala softly vented.
"What matters is that he did it. I've never seen father like that."
"We're all over the edge, Remi," Schala retorted with a bolstered voice. She calmed herself instantly. "Look, I'm gonna go wash up, and we'll head out back to see Casella."
Remilia nodded and adjusted her dreadlocks, wrapping them into a queue. "All right. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."
Schala stepped out of their room and headed to the downstairs lavatory. As she neared, she heard the sniffles of her mother and the low-spoken voice of her father.
Their room sat next to the downstairs lavatory and across from Casella's quarters. Schala drew nearer, and their voices grew audible once her hand laid on the bathroom's doorknob.
"Why her? Why is it my child that--"
"Julianna," Marius cut off. "You don't have to keep doing this. I won't watch you destroy yourself."
"No. I have to. Schala needs to be kept in check. I won't let her end up like my sister."
Their words suddenly stopped; Schala entered the lavatory and hid in the shower. She pressed her hand to her mouth as her father poked his head inside.
After a long moment, Marius left and closed the door behind him. Schala heard the door to their room close, and her parents' voices grew inaudible. They must've put up a sound barrier.
Schala disrobed, turned on the shower, and bathed. Her mind raced, analyzing her mother's words.
"I need to be kept in check?" she uttered to herself. The deluge of thoughts spilled through her mind, a torrent like the water from the showerhead.