New habits don't erase old instincts—they just dress them up a bit.
Spell of Fate
The world around us rippled, a subtle yet unnatural shift that sent a shiver down my spine. The battlefield blurred for an instant, colors bleeding together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain.
Des blinked, his grip on his blade slackening for the briefest moment, his eyes narrowing as he looked around, disoriented. "What the hell?" he muttered.
I didn't answer. My instincts roared to life, sharper than ever, as the monster in me snarled with irritation.
"Time Mage," I growled under my breath, already scanning the field. My eyes flicked to where the blood mage had been moments ago, sprawled and broken under Des's fury. The space was empty now, not even a trace of his crumpled form left behind. No blood either.
Des recovered quickly, his hand tightening on his blade as he stood beside me, his usual swagger replaced with a grim seriousness. "He was right there," he said, voice low.
"I know," I replied curtly. My gaze swept the surroundings, searching for any sign of the Blood Mage's severed arm. No luck with that either. Time had been rewound, but not far enough to erase everything that had happened. Just enough to give our enemy an escape.
"He's in the castle," I said, my voice firm, my mind already calculating.
Des's jaw tightened. "Coward," he spat, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I wanted to at least sever his arm and destroy his kidney for what he did to you..."
The words hung in the air, raw and heavy. Well, you did.
Des's eyes met mine, his anger momentarily giving way to something unreadable. "That bastard dared to hurt you, Shay. He dared—"
I held up a hand, cutting off the words. "I know," I said, softer this time, and for the first time in a long while, I felt the weight of something unspoken settle between us, something I couldn't name but that I felt keenly nonetheless.
"Come on," I said, voice steely once more. "Let's regroup first."
Des's eyes narrowed further as he scanned my body, the deep lines of concern deepening with every second that passed. Behinf the mask, the bloody gash along my jaw was already closing up, the edges fusing in a way that defied human nature. The bruises were melting away, the pain dulling until it was only a memory.
Yet, as his gaze fell on the raw wound on my chest—the one Rolo's blade had torn through—his expression shifted from worry to realization. Unlike the rest of my injuries, it resisted the healing, the skin refusing to knit, leaving it raw and angry. Des's eyes narrowed, and he took a sharp breath, his gaze flickering between me and the blood-slicked edges of that wound.
"That," Des said, his voice tight with a mix of shock and something darker. "That's not healing."
I turned my eyes away, a slight, grim smile pulling at my lips. "No. It's... different."
Des's hand reached out, fingers hovering over my chest, trembling just enough for me to see. His voice dropped to a whisper, full of something fragile. "Rolo. He did this."
I nodded once, the moment heavy and charged. The monster in me stirred, shifting uncomfortably, its low growl reverberating through my bones.
Des's eyes darkened. I knew what he was thinking, the spark of lethal intent flaring behind those stormy eyes. He wanted answers, and deep down, he was calculating and evaluating. Trying to piece together why my healing was so abnormal.
"Why, Shay?" he pressed, the tension between us growing palpable.
I sighed. "Rolo is one of the few who could actually kill me." If it came to that, he might be the only one capable of doing it. The Blood Mage was lucky to pick him. But if I said this, Des would have killed him for sure.
The silence thickened, so heavy it felt like it could drown us both. Des's fists clenched at his sides. I could see the battle in his eyes—the urge to protect, to kill, to shield me from the ones who could threaten me. His mind raced, searching for a justification, a rationale that would keep him from plunging into that impulse.
"Des," I said, my voice sharp enough to snap him out of it, "we have to move."
He stared at me for another moment, eyes wide and filled with the kind of fierce, bone-deep protectiveness that only came from being a brother. But then he nodded, breaking the tension with a sharp exhale.
Des followed me, his movements tense, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The air was heavy with silence as Des and I approached the others. Alex was still restraining Rolo and Mose was standing next to them.
"Shay," Rolo said, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry. I—"
I waved him off, the motion cutting through the suffocating silence like a blade. The others shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between the two of us, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. I didn't blame them. They'd never seen me wounded this way, never seen wounds that didn't heal no matter how hard I willed it.
"Forget it, Rolo," I said, my voice rough but steady. "Tell me something more important. The Blood Mage—do you think he can use the spell again?"
Alex's eyes flickered with uncertainty as he glanced at Rolo and then back at me. Mose's jaw clenched. Rolo's expression fell, his gaze dropping to the floor, the weight of my question settling on his shoulders.
"I—I don't know," he admitted, his voice shaking.
He has Rolo's and Des's blood now. The monster in me hissed and shifted as my mind raced. My eyes swept over them, landing on Des. He was glaring at Rolo, muscles taut and eyes fierce. For a moment, I wondered if I'd have to leave them behind.
Lil's voice cut through the tension, a calm, clear note in the midst of the storm. "We must be safe," she said, her gaze flicking from one face to another, eyes lingering on Rolo. "If the spell's duration is linked to the amount of blood, then Rolo should be fine. He didn't lose much, right?"
The thought twisted through my mind like a dark thread, easing the suffocating weight, if only slightly. My eyes darted over to Des, who stood a little apart, his jaw clenched so hard I thought it might break. The memory of his blade slicing into the Blood Mage's kidney flashed in my mind, how the mage had screamed and shuddered beneath him.
That kind of torment was not something you forgot easily. The Blood Mage might have gotten his injuries reversed, but he couldn't erase the terror and pain he'd suffered at the hands of my brother. That was a scar that didn't heal, a kind of memory wound that would follow him like a shadow.
Des's cut was shallow—barely more than a scratch. He hadn't spilled enough blood to make the Blood Mage a true threat.
"Let's move," I said, the tension in my muscles releasing as I shifted into purpose.
I glanced at Lil, and she nodded back, her eyes sharp and focused. The command was already in her mind, and when she spoke, it was as if the air shifted to obey her. "Flamma," she said, her voice commanding but soft, a touch of urgency simmering beneath her calm demeanor.
The fire elemental leaped from her side, a surge of light that brightened the dark sky. It surged upward, a comet reversed, blazing like a shooting star.
Alex, with his face etched in concern, let go of Rolo. Rolo stood, a tremble in his body. Alex gave Rolo a small nod with a small, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of friendship and understanding. Mose stepped closer to him, a reassuring presence that didn't need words. He clapped Rolo on the shoulder, an unspoken reminder that he was there for him.
I felt a subtle shift at my side and turned to see Lil's hand creep out, fingers finding mine. There was no grand gesture, only the brief touch before her fingers interlocked with mine. The warmth of her magic seeped into my skin. I did not tell her that her magic could not heal this wound, because it felt oddly comforting.
The sky split with a flash as Flamma's power burst in a crackle, a bright, fiery explosion that sent ripples through the onlookers below. The signal had been sent.
The flicker of heat faded into the dawn, and for just a second, the world seemed to hold its breath. The next moment, I squeezed Lil's hand once before releasing it, a silent message passing between us.
We moved as one, each step filled with purpose, the air bristling with the tension of what was to come. But then, it happened.
A sudden shift, as if the world itself had jolted forward. The ground beneath my feet felt like it had quaked for a split second, the air grew heavy, and for that fleeting moment, everything was wrong. A cold rush swept over me, sharp and electric, and my vision blurred as my balance wavered.
I was caught in a moment that felt both stretched and compressed, an impossible blend of time slipping and stuttering. I reached out instinctively, clutching at the air as though trying to steady myself against the tide of seconds ripping past.
Then, slowly, everything stopped spinning. My muscles stiffened, my mind grasping for understanding as I blinked in disbelief. The sharp, stinging ache that had consumed my chest was gone. I pressed my hand to the spot, feeling the smooth skin that had replaced the gaping wound. There was nothing but the soft thump of my heart, steady and strong.
Time. The realization slammed into me. Time had been turned forward.
"Shay?" Alex's voice, laced with concern, broke through my stunned silence. I met his gaze, and the questions written in his eyes: What happened? Why now?
The spatial isolation spell shimmered, a subtle glow pulsing into existence, just a moment late. My pulse quickened, a tension gnawing at my gut as I realized that the moment we had fought for had already passed, and we were left with the echoes of lost time.
"We're late," I said, my voice cracking with a mix of urgency and disbelief.
Des's eyes dropped to where my wound had been, and for a moment, silence stretched between us, thick and palpable. The shock was written all over his posture as his eyes widened, disbelief shattering the cold determination that had been etched into him. He looked up at me, searching as if to confirm what he already feared.
Alex glanced around quickly, the tension in his body radiating out like heat. The chill of the night air was sharp, but it barely registered for a moment. The sky was a dark canvas, stretched out above us, and Alex realized in that moment that dawn wasn't coming. The light that had been seeping in was nowhere to be seen. It was night.
Rolo shifted uncomfortably beside me, his face pale with apprehension. The rest of the group exchanged anxious glances, the implications sinking in. Then his gaze shifted skyward. He squinted, eyes narrowing at the full moon, high and brilliant, poised almost at its peak. It painted the world in silver, sharp and bright enough to feel like a light burning into our bones. His voice broke the silence.
"We're not late," Rolo said, his voice rising above the quiet murmurs and the rustle of the night. " Not yet. There are still a few minutes left before the moon reaches its ideal position."
Mose, standing slightly behind Rolo, let out a sharp, almost imperceptible breath as understanding seeped into him. He took a step forward, his eyes darting between the moon, the castle, and the group. The implications clicked into place, sharp and cold.
The air thickened with the scent of magic as Lil called for Flamma, and the elemental erupted into view with a crackling burst of flame and light. She was powerful, whole again, and her form shone with the intensity of a star.
No words were needed; we all understood that this was our final push. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed as we raced toward the castle, every stride pushing us deeper into the labyrinthine hallways.
Inside a vast room at the heart of the castle, the Moonlight Casket stood on a pedestal, glowing with a haunting silver light. The Blood Mage and Time Mage stood at its base, figures cloaked in shadows and whispers. They were watching us, poised and unnervingly calm as if they had been expecting this moment for centuries.
I felt the sharp, gnawing pull of urgency in my chest. No room for persuasion, no time for a plan. I pulled the mirror from my pocket, its surface already shimmering with the soft, silvery glow of Mazen's enchantment.
"Mazen," I said, my voice low, steel wrapped in urgency. "Evacuate."
I tossed the mirror into the air, its path blinding as it soared. I didn't turn to see what happened next. I couldn't. I launched forward, pushing my legs as hard as I could. The strain was instant—my tendons screamed, muscles burned, and bones crackled under the force. A jolt of pain shot through my body, sharp and blinding, as if the very essence of me was being torn apart.
And then I was there, standing at the altar before the Moonlight Casket, the room spinning around me. The Blood Mage's mouth fell open, eyes wide with disbelief, and I caught the smallest flicker of shock on the Time Mage's face before it hardened into something unreadable.
I looked back at my friends, in the depth of their eyes a storm of shock, confusion, and fear. My lips curled into a smile as I raised my hand. The moment they were gone, vanishing with the soft hum of Mazen's spell, the air around me shuddered with power.
My hand dropped and the Moonlight Casket splintered under my fist, shards of silver erupting outward. The magic coursed through me, raw and searing, sending shockwaves of agony through every fiber of my being. It was as if the world itself had imploded around me, the pain blinding and merciless, tearing at the edges of my mind.
And then, silence.
Darkness. It was so absolute that it made the pain seem like a distant echo, fading to nothing as my consciousness unraveled. The last thing I felt was the cool, soothing absence of awareness, a final breath before the void claimed me completely.