#Clara Aether#
"They have control of the Academy," the tattooed man says as we slow to a crawl around a corner. I check the corridor with my newfound power, "the headmaster's office has most of the defense mechanisms. They must have deactivated it. In the worst possible case, the students who don't know how to resist mind control may fall victim." Isla peeks and fires a convulsing bullet of water at the guard, unbeknownst of his nearing fate.
We reached a cross-section where multiple hallways join to one exit.
"Stop them!" a loud booming voice cuts us off from our relief. Bigger and more menacing than the others, the commander of their ragtag troop rallies them from all directions. This was their last struggle before we reached the exit.
The commander shoots a projectile of mana and it hits the roof of the exit, causing the whole passage to start rumbling and caving in.
"Hurry or we won't make it!" I shout over the constant barrage of noise. As milliseconds pass, the number of rocks that block our exit increase.
we won't make it.
But Isla starts conjuring a massive spell, dragging the mana from her surroundings in a violent vortex. "Isla there's no wind here! You'll suffer a back-lash!" I said, she continues without even wincing as she gathers foreign mana not of her own attribute. And as the calm before the storm passes, she unleashes the mass of energy at the cave in. It bursts, it spasms, hitting every face of the small passage and it crashes with the force of a thousand. The rocks fly and disperse in all directions, impaling a couple of the mercenaries and barely grazing our faces.
The exit was open. We must run.
But the Isla, after having exhausted her mana which was not hers, stops to recollect herself from the spell's recoil.
"Isla!"
She looks at me in the eyes and speaks but the collapsing cavern reduces her noise to mere muffles. Leave me, she mouths, and I suddenly boil with annoyance.
The mercenaries were catching up, if we were to escape with Isla, I would need to slow them down.
I unleash a flash of light at the mercenaries but the debris from rocks render my light useless. What do I do? Think Clara!
Then, a sudden force sends the debris and rocks flying to the mercenaries. It was Marcus. He'd been silent this whole time, but he looked determined not to abandon Isla, though he looked like he could faint at any time.
I run to grab her quickly and dash out the exit. Narrowly avoiding every projectile as each rock landed closer to me than the next. By the time we went out, the exit completely collapsed, just shutting the troop of mercenaries into their new home.
Panting and wasted, everyone sat down on the snowing earthy grass outside the hideout entrance. We had escaped by a hair's width, a moment of celebration. But we were lost with no directions, adding to it, we also had no food, and it was snowing. Essentially, we were sitting ducks.
Marcus lights a fire while the rest of us build our makeshift camp. We sit around campfire, warming our freezing hands to the radiating heat.
The sky, filled with snow, grew dark and the trees frowned upon our intrusion in its humble forest. The sound of owls could be briefly heard, only to be carried away by the howling wind and its gushing speed, stealing the heat of any object in its path. Including us. The fire flickers and strangles, fighting for its life in the vast cold air and it dwindles until only a small baby flame that cries in its last second, fading away its heat. Isla relights the fire, and it starts again.
Everyone was watching intensely. Though I could tell their eyes were open and staring, but their gaze was neither directed at the fire nor the present moment.
I tried to visualise the light rays, but it was so scarce that I couldn't redirect enough. Maybe it's too dark or snowy.
"How did you end up here?" I asked the tattooed man.
"Introductions I see," he sighs and brushes his hands against each other. He breathes into his hands and starts speaking, "my name is Vincent. I came to the academy to research a type of magic, and to also protect something important to me. I was fleeing from a city and the headmaster, who is my old friend, offered me a safe place to stay."
"Which was the academy," Isla completes.
"Yes. Although I cannot share the specifics, I do want to thank you for saving me back there," he gets up and bows, "how about you guys?"
"Clara Aether, this is Isla" his ears perk up in response to my name, "we were searching for a book club member. We were searching for someone," I couldn't say that person was him.
Wallace speaks up after being silent for long, "my name's Wallace and this is Marcus. We were actually searching for you guys. But we were attacked by these mercenaries, and we were brought here."
"Marcus is acting strange though," I say. Everyone looks at me, then suddenly I was embarrassed at my own words.
Isla, picking up on my mistake, joins in, "He's been silent this whole time. Are you tired Marcus?" He shakes his head in disagreement and closes his eyes to rest. "Probably just tired…"
But Vincent thought otherwise, "how long has he been in this state?"
"Three days."
"Has he been hallucinating?"
Wallace stops to think for a moment. He says yes and Vincent's face turns pale to the colour of snow. He reaches toward Marcus, who was unaware of Vincent. He examines his face, puts his hands on both sides of his head and pulls mana to the palms of his hand.
What is he doing? I thought as I put my hand on my hilt.
Wallace perks up in response, "what do you think we're doing," Wallace starts gathering mana for a spell.
"Stop," Isla talks over Wallace. Wallace looks over at Vincent in annoyance.
"Give me a reason not to blow this guy's head."
Isla gestures Wallace to sit down. He follows and I follow suit.
Vincent, still gathering mana, stays silent during our dispute.
"Vincent, what are you doing?"
"He's under a curse," he says softly. Then, a magic circle carves itself around Marcus as if there was someone invisible beside us. It twists and bends to some ancient language unbeknownst to us, engraving the snow-filled ground with a golden halo. Marcus starts to shiver uncontrollably as the halo grows its gleam to the brightness of a sun.
When all of it seems over, a black fog oozes out of Marcus' mouth.
"The Pareidolian Cult…" Vincent says with a shaky voice, "they're already here."
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