Chapter 29: The Great Hunt (4)

It was quiet. It was calm. Nothing moved, nothing could move. It was as if the world was cast into stillness. Magus stood, though not on the ground. He didn’t have any legs on which to stand. He couldn’t move. No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t move. There simply wasn’t anything to move, nor anything to move through, nor anything to move to. It felt as if he was already there, wherever it was. He was already everywhere. Everything was one and the same. There was no hot, no cold, no here nor there, not before nor after. It simply was. Was this sleep? Was this what others experienced during slumber? Was this what they called — a dream? It must be. To Magus, it felt unreal, transient, but right. There were no words he could use to describe the bright darkness that surrounded him. This was who he was. And then he felt it. A twinge, something disparate. Three things that didn’t belong. He couldn’t tell why, but it annoyed him. Like a scratch in an area he couldn’t reach. Three sins within his eden. A taint, an infection, spreading throughout him. They must be removed, eliminated. Yet when he tried to reach for it, it vanished, and paradise vanished with it.

Darkness. Endless black. A suffocating void of nothing. As soon as it was cast, the ground fell away, and Wyn began to fall. Fall down, down down. Actually, was she falling? She wasn’t sure. Wyn was left flailing, desperately clinging for anything. Blindness was a given in this void. It was blacker than black. No amount of time could have accustomed her eyes to the sheer lack of light around her. Deafness wasn’t expected, but it wasn’t surprising, either. She couldn’t hear the wind rushing in her hair. Wyn had been shouting all this time, but not a sound reached her ears. Actually, was she shouting? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t feel her jaw. Not just that, was she even reaching for anything? She couldn’t feel her arms. She thought she moved her fingers to her mouth, but she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t feel the air rushing past her. But worst of all, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even tell if she was taking breaths. She felt as her chest heaved and burned, but she couldn’t even say that that hurt. She couldn’t feel the pain.

“Soaring Wings!” She said. Or at the very least, she thought she said. She couldn’t even feel the mana coursing through her body, if it was still there. There was no way to tell up from down, left from right, front from back. Not even from before from after. Her mind raced at a mile a minute, but simultaneously, not a thought ran through her mind.

In the next instant, it was over. Or it could have been a year, or ten. Wyn couldn’t quite tell. All she knew was that she was still alive. Her chest still beat, and her lungs still drew breath. She could feel the ground beneath her feet, the air blow through her hair. She flexed her fingers, feeling the blood flowing through them. Good, they were still there. Wyn was prone on her back, body drenched in sweat. Her fingers were scraped raw, having scratched against the dirt and rock around her. Her sword had clattered to the ground next to her. When she rolled over to pick it up, she found the state of Roselwyn was no better than her own. Most surprisingly, though, was that it seemed not even Tireyien was spared the effects. The wolf was low to the ground, their feathers drooping like wilted leaves, panting as though they were scorched under direct desert sun.

“What… was that…?” Roselwyn gasped out, body trembling.

“Do you see…?” Tireyien gasped. “Do you now see?”

Magus was unperturbed. He stood firm on his feet. He glanced at those fallen around him. HIs arm was held out, clawing at something. His arm dropped to his side. No expression graced his face.

“In your haste to defend yourself, you have only—”

“Shut it!” A fireball burst in Tireyien’s face. Wyn climbed to her feet, leaning on her sword. “That doesn’t mean anything! Who cares what a plangensoul shows? You’re the only one here who needs to be put away!”

Tireyien howled, as numerous roots shot from the ground, reaching for Wyn. In turn, she leapt into the air, dozens of fireballs filling the air around her.

“Be torn under the vicious fangs of violent winds! Twister!” She thrust her sword down, and a massive cyclonic wind descended. It tore through the fireballs, engulfing the wind in massive flames. The numerous vines were engulfed and disintegrated into ashes, washed away in the ensuing torrent and painting the sky grey. Descending through the eye, she grabbed hold of Magus, only for Magus to push her hand away.

“Magus, what are you—”

“Are you sure… that this is correct?”

“What are you saying…?”

“Were you afraid? Of my Plangensoul?”

For a split second, Wyn was silent. That was all Magus needed.

“Of course you were. But… to me… it was comforting. Blissful, even.” He stared down at his hands. “It felt… so right…” He clenched his hand, glancing at Wyn. He glanced at Wyn, then Roselwyn, then Tireyien. Three sins within his eden. He glanced down at his hand, the hand that tried to claw them away. “Perhaps my unsealing was a mistake. Perhaps I am not as afraid of the dark as I believed.”

“Is this really what you want?” Wyn asked. Her hand reached for Magus’ own. A slight tremble ran through them. Now it was Magus’ turn for silence.

“Listen,” Wyn shook his shoulders. “So what if your Plangensoul was terrifying. That doesn’t matter. It’s just one piece of the whole. You can’t… you can’t let it define who you are. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

A howl interrupted them, dispersing the firestorm. Once again, massive roots reached out, and Roselwyn sliced them apart.

“You fool yourselves! You’ve seen what it really is, who they really are! Why, then, do you still defend it?” They clawed at the ground, showering them with a hailstorm of stones.

“Wyn, you trust him, right?” She shouted, parrying the stones away.

Wyn nodded. “Yes!”

“Then get him out of here! I’ll hold them off!” Without another word, Roselwyn flew forward the enraged wolf. Wyn didn’t need to be told twice. Despite Magus’ half-hearted attempt at resistance, she barreled away in desperation. She glanced back, only to see Roselwyn battling against three massive wolves simultaneously, only for a fourth the manifest. A massive taloned paw swept down, knocking her from the sky.

Wyn bit her lip to the point of blood, but still flew as fast as she could.

“Is this your choice, girl?” Their voice carried on the wind, biting at her heels. “You would sacrifice even your own flesh for them? Are they really worth it!”

“It’s not worth it…” Magus whispered. He glanced at Wyn’s face, twisted into a harsh grimace. “If my existence would bring you such a pained expression…!”

“Stop talking…!” Wyn cried. “It’s not your fault. It’s that stupid dog’s…”

“They’re after me.” Magus said. “It is my fault…”

“Stop!” Wyn shouted. “It’s not…!”

“You can’t sacrifice your sister like this!” Magus’ voice rose. “Let me—”

“Stop!” She halted in her tracks. “I’m not… I’m not sacrificing her…” Her sister was out there, facing down a terrifying opponent she couldn’t help to beat alone. This time, though, she probably wouldn’t get away with just a lost eye. Wyn gripped her sword, her heart in turmoil. No, she wasn’t going to run. Not this time, not anymore. She had power now. She could make a difference. She turned around. “I’m going to go save my sister! And I’m bringing back that stupid wolf’s head as a trophy! No one is going to be sacrificed!” Her voice hardened in determination, and she death-gripped the handle of her sword. Without another word, she flew back, leaving Magus alone.

The forest was quiet. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The night was chilling. As he watched Wyn fly back, Magus realized something. He was afraid. He glanced around himself, as he felt the cloth around his arm begin to constrict. He didn’t like the dark, after all.