Public Enemy

Atrina resumed her journey to the capital, returning to the main path after collecting her thoughts. Troubled as she was by the prospect of joining the Arcane Descendants, the words of the master repeated in her head.

You can create the world you desire.

Each mental repetition of those exact words catalyzed a flood of memories that reminded the verdant witch of how much she had lost.

Her home

Her people.

Valerie.

All were brought to mind as the witch pondered the world she desired. Atrina passed by many strangers on the path, but none bothered her, and she kept to herself.

After three days of traveling, the sorceress was greeted by the resplendent sight of Diosveil.

-

Even at a distance, the capital of the Sacred Provinces dazzled Atrina with its immense scale. The city’s grandiose architecture was both decadent and unbelievable in the eyes of the witch who was only accustomed to life in humble settings. Diosveil barely fit into her field of view, and the sorceress knew that up close the capital’s sheer magnitude would be all the more apparent.

Diosveil was protected by a vast wall built from stone that had been enchanted with fortification spells. Standing far above all other gigantic structures in the city was the dome of the basilica. The tiles on the dome were made of a material that Atrina could not identify. In the sunlight, the tiles shimmered in a violet to cerulean gradient.

Atrina gawked at the behemoth of a settlement. There has to be over a million people in Diosveil! What’s the point of making such a ridiculously large city? The witch’s feet carried her forward to the front gate as her head slowly fell back to gaze upon the wall’s enormity. Before the capital’s barrier, Atrina felt like an ant.

“You there! State your business!” A sour-faced guard clad in standard Divine Order armor barked at Atrina. At his side was a younger guard who anxiously gripped his spear. The two guards monitored the high archway ingress, denying entry to anyone who did not fit their definition of normal.

The sorceress lowered her head, and the anxious guard gasped when he saw her pointed hat. “Sir, it’s a witch! Here, at the front gate, an actual witch!”

“Show some courage, man! You’re a guard, so start acting like one! Witch, all heretics are denied entry to Diosveil. Turn back and leave, or we will force you to.”

The sour-faced guard brandished his spear, but his companion froze up. “Damn it, man! What did I just say?”

“Sorry, sir, but I feel awfully close to relieving myself. It’s my first-day jitters.”

“Forget your stupid first-day jitters! We have a city to protect.”

“But witches can curse people! Do you want seven years of bad luck?”

“You’re talking about mirrors, moron! This’ll go in your report!”

Atrina’s patience wore thin. Such brave souls protect the nation’s capital. Hmph, I could just force my way in if I really wanted to. The witch produced Eurielle’s letter from her pouch. “Guards, I have been given permission by Captain Eurielle to enter the city and seek an audience with High Priestess Laçais. The contents of this letter are for the High Priestess’ eyes only.”

“Alright, hand that letter over, missy.” The senior guard yanked the missive from Atrina’s hands and inspected the seal. “Unbelievable. It really is Captain Eurielle’s seal!”

“THE Captain Eurielle?” the junior guard exclaimed. “Oh, she’s my idol, sir! If I had the chance to meet her—”

“Focus, man! Focus! A letter from her is urgent enough, but requesting an audience with the High Priestess is top priority. Let this witch in.”

“Ermm, how do I do that again?”

The senior guard nearly snapped his spear in two. “You moron! How on earth did you get posted here? I will have a word with that damn guard instructor. It’s done like this!”

Tracing an inverted “L” in the air, the senior guard prepared to grant the witch entry as he chanted, “Barrier entry.”

Nothing happened, and the guard’s face flushed.

“Sir, I think it’s like this.” The anxious junior did the opposite motion of his senior and repeated the chant. At that moment, the ostensibly transparent barrier rippled, assuming a texture akin to a soap bubble.

Through the rippling barrier, Atrina heard the hectic sounds of the capital. No wonder why it seemed too quiet. That barrier does a scarily good job of keeping everything out.

The senior guard nodded in approval at his companion and handed the letter back to Atrina. “You may enter, witch. Be warned that any wrong moves will earn you the tip of a spear.”

“Or the edge of a sword!” the anxious guard chimed.

Atrina jerked the letter out of the guard’s hand with the same resentment he had given her. “I’ll keep that in mind. Where do I find Laçais?”

“That’s High Priestess Laçais to you, heathen. Her Holiness can be found in Saint Zechariah’s Basilica at the heart of the city.”

Atrina glanced at the dome high in the sky. Figures. “Well, I’ll just take my heathen-self over there. Paika!” The witch spoke gibberish and flicked the senior guard’s forehead.

The guard shrieked. “Gah! I’m cursed, man! I’m cursed! Do something!”

“Stay back, sir! I don’t want you spreading the curse to me.”

In despair, the senior guard chased his junior. “You’re young! You can live through it for seven years.”

Snickering at the incompetent duo, the witch ran through the barrier and entered Diosveil.

-

The inhabitants of Diosveil goggled at Atrina as she dashed through the cobblestone streets towards the basilica. The witch eventually stopped at the corner of an avenue where the inviting scent of fresh bread filled her nostrils.

Atrina laughed to herself, and passersby crossed the street to avoid her. Oh, what a riot! If not for that barrier, this city would’ve been destroyed a looong time ago!

The witch settled down after a bit, and her joy faded as the reality of her situation dawned upon her.

Looking around, Atrina was reminded of the Church’s hatred for witches. People averted their eyes when she looked at them, and parents pulled their children away from her.

Atrina heard the bakery’s door lock, and she sighed. Always the same. The sooner I get what I need and leave, the better.

A rock flew past the sorceress’ face, grazing the tip of her nose. Atrina’s head spun to the source of the attack.

The witch saw that a large mob had formed. Citizens livid at her presence in the capital were prepared to stone her to death.

The man who threw the rock stepped forward. “You think you can just come into our city and strut around like you own the place, witch?”

A woman in the mob asked, “How did she get past the gate to begin with?”

“It doesn’t matter,” snapped the male assailant. “Our city has stood strong because of its pure and pious population, and it’s our duty to weed out the vermin that threaten to taint our home! Saint Zechariah didn’t die for us to let degenerates walk free here.”

“Morpheo!” Atrina cast a sleeping spell without hesitation. She had dealt with mobs before, and the witch knew all too well that once an inciter had chosen violence, reasoning would be out of the question. The sorceress saved her own life on countless occasions by striking preemptively, and this time was no different.

A rosy mist wafted through the mob, encasing every bigoted individual in a cloud of forced unconsciousness. Everyone was asleep before they hit the ground.

The witch wiped the sweat off her forehead. “That’s one way to avoid disaster.”

“That heretic attacked our people. Get her!”

Another mob stampeded towards Atrina from down the street, and the people in this posse were armed with the domestic weaponry of kitchen knives, pitchforks, and torches.

I don’t want to waste my entire day putting the whole damn city to sleep! The witch positioned herself in the direction of the basilica, stretching her arms and legs calmly as the mob closed in on her.

The witch waited several seconds before chanting, “Accelerate.” Atrina left the mob in her dust, darting to the massive doors of the basilica.

A sentry stationed next to the doors squinted into the distance, perplexed by the growing blur that left a long dust trail in its wake.

He was in the middle of a blink when the sorceress instantaneously appeared in front of him.

“HOLY—”

“Look, I don’t have much time. I’m here to see the High Priestess, and I have a letter from Captain Eurielle. There’s a mob coming after me, and I need you to keep them out. Got it?”

“Whu-uh—”

“Great, thanks a bunch!” Atrina sped inside the basilica and slammed the doors shut behind her with a rushed incantation.

Outside, the utterly flabbergasted sentry asked the air, “What just happened?”