I did it...what do I win?
I've had a week. Did you know that buying a car sucks? Well now I do too. Sheesh. All my brain power has gone into this absolute nightmare of deception, false pretenses and predatory practices. But hey, new car. Anyway.
So, I finished the 50k word count a day early last week, then took a break for the Thanksgiving weekend. Got some good progress done, got a good feel for how I want to wrap up the story. Things should proceed smoothly, so long as I can get all the other real-life stuff sorted and get my brain in the right mode for writing. It can be hard some days, but I've got to see this through. It's an achievable goal, to finish by the end of the year.
So, I'll briefly talk about the previous post's excerpt. When I was first conceptualizing the story and the characters, I had a pretty good idea as to how I wanted their personalities to mix or clash. Had a whole plan and everything! Once I actually started writing though, things changed and I had different, probably better ideas crop up that changed how I wanted to structure the story and its format. While its still very much a sort of 'crisis of the week' idea, I had originally intended for each story beat to be its own chapter. After realizing that doing so would make certain chapters be way too long, I ditched that idea and went for a more traditional approach, while still trying to keep some elements of that intact. Once you read more, you'll likely understand what I mean. I think it flows much better than it would have otherwise, so unless I suddenly have an epiphany, it'll stay this way.
About the actual events, I'm taking a much different approach from my usual style. The entire story will be told explicitly from Yelena's perspective, meaning that there's going to be a lot of things that the reader is going to learn alongside her, while also still being very much in the dark on a lot of things, just like she is right now. Hopefully that makes for compelling reading, and not annoyed impatience. In the last excerpt, we saw Yelena first dip her feet into the realm of magic, as well as face further consequences for her stubborn choices. She's a very headstrong girl, but she has a good head on her shoulders. Sometimes though, holding yourself to such high standard, especially when its over something incredibly mundane, can lead to unintended and foolish results. For the excerpt I'll be posting beneath this here, the ideas are a bit different. It'll be a bit long, as will the rest going forward, so feel free to read them at your leisure. It was at this point that i realized that the story was going to far exceed the 50k word mark, as I was having way too much fun telling Yelena's story and exploring the world I'd built for her. Her story is, I hope, relateable and one that a lot of people can connect to.
I'm a bit distracted, brain dead, and anxious currently. I feel like everything I just typed was just word salad. Hope you don't think so, but hey, its my blog, I can do what I want. That's it for now. If I remember, I'll post again next week with another excerpt. Until then.
Make your own fate
J. M. Prigmore
Ch. 5
Winter was here, and it was a harsh one. Since the first snow that had come only a week after Yelena had finished the thatching, the ground had yet to fully thaw. Sonya had brought a thick coat for her from one of the villagers on her last visit, and Yelena had never been so happy to receive such a stinky, rough gift in her life. The other farmers from her hometown had murmured about this year's winter being especially cold, but she had paid them no mind. Perhaps she should take the word of a farmer a bit more seriously from now on. She and Hemlock had managed to stay relatively warm and well fed, but she had started feeling guilty for only being an extra mouth to feed. She had yet to give anything back to the villagers that had been so generous to her, and now she would have to wait until spring to begin her plans to start up a small herb garden in her backyard. Until then, all she could do was study alchemy and magic. Hemlock had opened up a bit after her near-death incident, going into further detail about how magic truly worked and the various schools of it, as well as the alchemical traditions that humans had learned and passed down throughout the ages. Some of the knowledge in the book was a bit antiquated, according to Hemlock, but most of it was still worth learning and committing to memory. It would, if nothing else, provide a good baseline for her.
She was beginning to understand the language in the book that she wasn't familiar with as well, knowing now how to keep from actually channeling her magic when speaking them. Hemlock had explained that the words themselves weren't inherently filled with power, but if one who's personal well of magic used them without practice or care, their power could flow uncontrollably without much effort. Hemlock was still somewhat cagey about certain details, but overall, he had begun to answer Yelena's questions with more than cryptic questions in return.
Today had started just as the five before. Yelena awoke as the sun's golden light peeked through the gaps in the walls, hitting her eyelids with tiny beams of warmth. Hemlock was curled up at her feet, sharing his body heat with her. The nights were terribly cold now, and Yelena had taken to sticking some still smoldering firewood onto a small pan before placing it under her bed. She knew she risked setting the bed afire, but Hemlock had assured her that he would keep an eye on it. As it turned out, he never actually slept. Yelena knew he wasn't really a cat, but sometimes she forgot just how odd he really was. As she roused from a full night's sleep, stretching her arms and legs while yawning, her stomach grumbled.
"Hungry already, are we?" Hemlock commented, pulling himself up to complete his own stretch routine.
Yelena groaned, rubbing her eyes.
"I didn't eat much yesterday."
She rolled onto her back and tucked her arms back under the thick blanket, hiding them from the stinging cold air. The room was still relatively dark, but she could see enough to know that the snow was still ankle deep outside. A sharp white glow seemed to be emanating from everywhere outside, shining in through the window to her left onto the rough ceiling. Her thatching had held perfectly, but she'd have to spend her morning clearing the snow from the roof and entryway again. She was used to it, but she was also used to having a whole family to share the load with. It was a lot of work for one girl.
"Today we will go out into the forest."
Yelena leaned up to look at Hemlock. He hadn't suggested going out since she had first arrived. What was he playing at here?
"Why today?"
"The weather is good. We are likely to find a frostbloom in calm conditions such as this," he said, leaping down from the bed. She could hear his tiny claws lightly tap the floorboard as he walked away, towards the fireplace.
"A frostbloom? What for?"
She vaguely recalled reading the word, from a page they'd gone over a few days ago. If she remembered right, it was an incredibly rare flower, the product of a very specific aligning of circumstances.
"It will act as the perfect catalyst for you, Yelena. You still lack your arcane focus, and the frostbloom's potent magical nature would make a stellar source."
"You mean I'm going to get my magic stick!?"
"Please do not call it that. If you must shorten it, refer to it as a staff."
"Fine, my staff," Yelena replied, sighing with exaggerated effort.
Still, she was excited to progress to this point. Once she had her arcane focus she would be able to cast even better than she could now. She could recite some of the more simple and common spells with little issue now, but for some of the more complex spells and enchantments, she'd require an arcane focus to help shape her will into being. Hemlock described it like her current way of using magic was like smashing through a dam in a river, then hastily throwing it back together. Unrefined, and prone to failure. With her arcane focus, she would be more like a waterwheel, able to channel her magic with more precision and intention, wasting less and focusing her strength. It was all a little high concept for her, but she understood the idea well enough to know that it was the next milestone in her journey to becoming a true witch.
"Eat well and bundle up. We are unlikely to be the only ones with their sights set on a frostbloom," Hemlock said, curling up comfortably to wait for her to get ready.
She didn't exactly know what he meant by that, but she figured she'd find out in time.
***
Yelena had her new jacket tightly wrapped around her with a scarf stuffed into the collar. She didn't have any hats, so she let her hair fall down around her to try and keep some of her precious supply of body heat from getting too far away. She was as warm as she could be. Time to set off.
She and Hemlock took off from the cabin, heading west, following the rising sun. Hemlock had said that he could smell the potent scent of magic focusing into one location that way, and Yelena had no reason to doubt him. As they started off, her trudging through the snow in thick, leather boots, with Hemlock wrapped around her shoulders like a second scarf, she thought of Sonya. It almost felt like they were going on a hunt, and it felt wrong that she not be included. If she'd had any way of quickly getting to Village she may have gone and offered, but the chances of Sonya already being off in the Deep Forest hunting her own prey was pretty high.
Yelena had seen less and less of her lately, mostly due to the increasing demands of the villagers. Their winter stores were lighter than usual, and it mostly fell to her to secure the vast majority of their meat source. Sonya just didn't have time to spend with her anymore. She understood, and it made perfect sense…but that didn't mean it made her feel any better about it. She missed her. Way more than she had any business missing her.
"Focus, Yelena," Hemlock said, his voice coming from her own thoughts. "The forest is not a place that forgives the absentminded."
"Yeah, yeah," she replied, also without words. She'd been able to communicate with Hemlock telepathically for a couple weeks now, and it had become a very handy way of expressing thoughts. It was much faster, but Hemlock still made sure that they spoke with their mouths quite often.
For a few hours the two made their way through the deep snow. Besides the crunching of her own boots and her elevated breathing, only the occasional bird or deer bark broke the dead silence of the frozen forest. The pines had kept their needles, but they were all caked in a thick layer of powdery white. The sun had disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds, and the whole expanse of forest before her was all whites and grays. It was a little depressing, but also a strange kind of serenity was covering it all. She'd never particularly liked the cold, or snow, for that matter, but seeing the forest seemingly completely still, like a painting hung in a noble's hall, was stirring something in her. What precisely, she didn't know. She realized that she was smiling, as if comforted by the sight. Odd. There were still things she was figuring out about herself out here, besides the whole 'magic' thing. She'd never had the chance to really express herself at home. It wasn't as though she was beaten or oppressed, but more of just never feeling like she should take that first step out of line. No one that she'd known was any different from anyone else in her village, so what would have been the point of standing out? It just made sense to be quiet and like all the things her sisters and her friends liked, to never stick out from the other young women. She hadn't wanted to get married and have a small army of children, but had she stayed, she likely would still be on that path, and she wouldn't have even batted an eye about it. Now, she was wandering a forest covered in perfectly white snow with a magical cat on her shoulders, searching for a rare magical flower bloom to craft her own arcane focus. All she had to do to set herself on this path, on the right path to achieve her dream and be happy, was just take a stand. Just once.
"Thanks, Hemlock," she said aloud. She reached up and gave him a light scratch on his neck.
"What for?"
"For taking a chance on me."
Hemlock purred once, but didn't reply otherwise. Even if he didn't fully understand how she felt, she didn't want him to think she was ungrateful. She knew she was a bit of a handful, and more than just a little clumsy, but he'd decided to bet it all on her. If she could repay that, even just a tiny bit here and there, she would. He might not even see things that way, but that didn't matter. She'd show her gratitude in whatever way she could. If her birth family didn't have a place for her, maybe she'd be able to make a new one with just her and Hemlock.
The day, and the pair, marched onward. A light snowfall began around what Yelena assumed to be midday, after taking a brief break to warm up and eat a snack. Trudging through the snow was more exhausting than she'd thought it'd be, but with all the work she'd put into the house over the last two months, her constitution had grown considerably. Still, it was wearing her down. After Hemlock created a small fire using magic that he was unwilling to share with her, the two sat and warmed their numb extremities over the flame. The heat licked at her face and chest, and she closed her eyes to take in the pleasant sensation. Hemlock was curled in her lap, his back to the flame. Once she could feel her fingers again, she rummaged through her small pack to find the sliced bread and cured venison she'd brought along. It wasn't much, but it would help her keep pushing. They were getting close to where Hemlock supposed the frostbloom might be, but they also had to come all the way back home before nightfall. The temperature out here would drop to dangerous levels, and while they had some magic to assist them, it was still a bad idea to risk it.
"Once you are finished, we should depart. I believe our goal is even closer than I first thought," Hemlock said in her mind, softly purring against her stomach. Despite him truly being a wise magical beast, he was also still a cat.
"Give me a minute and I'll be good," she said, her mouth full of tasty, salted venison. Another one of Sonya's skills, making delicious jerky. She finished chewing and swallowed. "Is this frostbloom going to be protected by something? A guardian spirit, a powerful beast? something like that?"
"Not everything is like a fairy tale, Yelena. Most likely, it will simply be rooted to a fallen tree. Frostblooms could be categorized as a fungus, as they only grow from the magical essence of dead plant life in very specific conditions. If anything, you will have to compete with a passing squirrel who took a fancy to its shine," Hemlock explained, somewhat facetiously.
"You still haven't told me what these 'very specific conditions' are, Hemlock."
"I will explain as we walk. Come on," he said, standing and stretching.
Yelena put away what was left of her food, a single strip of meat and half a slice of bread, and kicked snow onto the fire, smothering it instantly. She pulled her pack behind her, letting the strap across her chest sit comfortably before offering her arms out for Hemlock to jump into. Without missing a beat, the small amethyst colored cat leapt up and silently climbed back onto her shoulders, acting as a second scarf for her. She shook the gathered snow off her boots, then carried forward.
"A frostbloom will only appear when three precise conditions are met. First, the death of an ancient."
"An ancient?"
"Shush, and listen. All life exudes magic, without exception. This includes plants, insects, mosses, spirits, fae, all of it. Certain types are more capable of using what magic they are born with, such as humans and spirits. Others, such as plants and large animals, simply accumulate magical energy within them. The older they are, the more that is stored within them. So, when an ancient dies, be it a tree, a mindless spirit, or a turtle passes, they release their stored magical energy into the land around them. Most of it returns to the earth, but if quick enough, certain carrion will jump upon the fallen ancient to siphon its power."
"So the frostbloom is a carrion?"
"Not exactly. The frostbloom is, as I said, more akin to a fungus. It has no will of its own, unlike the birds and dogs who devour the dead."
Yelena simply grunted, allowing Hemlock to continue.
"The second condition is reliant upon lunar cycles. Should the ancient perish during the final full moon of the year, with its magical energies at its highest of the year, there is a high chance that an overabundance of energy can be released all at once, rather than the slow trickle that is most common. It is purely up to chance if a life's energy should erupt so violently, but if the lifeform is exposed to direct moonlight for most of its life, like that of a tree, then the eruption is more likely.
"Eruption? Like, an explosion?"
"Of sorts. It is not destructive in a tangible way, but should a magically bound creature be nearby such as a spirit or a fae, it can cause great harm to their soul."
"Something like you, then?"
"Yes."
"I guess that also explains why you were able to smell it from so far away?"
"Indeed. The moment the eruption happened, I tasted the scent of powerful magic being released. In time, you too will be able to feel such disturbances."
"Oh, that sounds…neat.
"The third condition is the most rare. For a frostbloom to grow, it must not only be in the presence of an ancient at its time of death, whose life was spent basking in the moon and died in its brightest glow, but is also must be completely untainted by the taint of impure intentions."
"What does that mean?"
"Emotions are like aromas or stenches for fae, and they drift in the wind and stick to surfaces like oil. The hatred of one man could cause an entire crop to wither, or the love of a spirit could instead bolster it. Plant life is more susceptible to such powerful emotions, for better or worse, than all other forms of life. That being said, for a life to be untouched by any ill will is extraordinarily rare. This is why something like a frostbloom, or a springtear, is only found far away from civilization. They are creations of pure nature, magic in its most clean, distilled form, but crystallized by the force of the eruption by the death of the ancient. You could think of it as a sort of gem stone, a terribly precious thing that can only form under the perfect conditions."
"And I'm going to turn this extremely precious, possibly only able to see once in my lifetime treasure into a magic stick?"
Hemlock was silent for a moment.
"When you say it like that, I almost think you should not have it."
Yelena laughed and rolled her head back, squeezing Hemlock in a playful way.
"You know I'm joking. Thank you for explaining it for me."
Hemlock sighed.
"You are welcome, but when we find it, please endeavor to show due respect. Though a frostbloom is resilient once formed, too powerful of an emotion can cause it to be damaged, or even break."
"Okay, okay, I will," she said, raising her hands in surrender. She found it very fun to push Hemlock's buttons from time to time.
For a while they walked in silence, until at last even Yelena could feel the potent magic energy in front of her. She still couldn't identify a source, but Hemlock was able to expertly guide her straight to it. Just a little ways ahead was a massive pine tree, its peak rising so high into the air that she had a hard time looking at it without getting dizzy. As she approached, she could tell that the trunk itself was almost as large as her cabin was wide. This tree had to be hundred of years old, maybe even thousands. As she got close, she could feel a strange kind of pressure building up against her, like the air was thicker here than two feet back. It must've been the frostbloom.
Hemlock whispered to her, "Be careful, and quiet. Still both your heart and mind. Do not alarm the bloom, or it will break upon your touch."
She didn't really understand that, but she understood to be careful. She took a deep breath in, then stepped forward, slowly. She wondered how such a mighty tree could've died. It was almost like a part of the planet, it was so big. Its needles were brown and falling along with the snow, noiselessly impacting the powder beneath them. She didn't know much about how trees lived, but she knew that the older ones were sometimes more resilient. What could have happened to shock this one so terribly that it couldn't survive?
"Focus, Yelena."
Hemlock's words brought her back to the present. He was right. She didn't fully understand it all, but she could feel like one wrong move would be enough to ruin their entire reason for coming here. She began to circle the massive tree trunk, searching up and down for any sign of the frostbloom. She figured she'd recognize it if she saw it, so she didn't bother asking for a description. She rounded the far side, and the air seemed to turn to a thick sludge as she moved closer. Then, she saw it.
About six feet up, nestled in a small hollow, a gleaming, crystalline flower composed of what could only be pure moonlight was shining. It's petals spiraled and curved around each other, refracting the light coming from inside itself, making it almost impossible to truly take in. Around its base were countless tiny stems, each one linked to a different point on the dead pine, siphoning its remaining magical energy away. Rather than it sitting roughly in the hollow, it was instead held aloft by its tendrils, each one pulsating with power as it fed inwards to the heart of the frostbloom. It was difficult to look at directly, not just because of its shifting, fractal geometry, but also from the intense bright light it was emitting. Oddly, Yelena saw no trace of this light from the surrounding area, as if the glow was only imagined. Perhaps it was.
"There it is."
Hemlock sounded almost…excited?
"What do I do now?" she whispered, frozen in place.
"You must take it. Gently, but with intention. The frostbloom will not surrender itself to you easily. You must tame it, make it yours."
"Okay," she said, terribly unconfident. Her heart rate must've been tremendous right now. Something about this thing was terrifying, but also seemed to be begging for her to get closer. It was like her body and mind were at odds. Everything about this potent magical flower was ringing every alarm bell in her head, but at the same time, she knew that the power it held within its petals would surge her forward into becoming a witch like none other. She had to do this, even if it was the scariest thing she could imagine doing right now.
Slowly, carefully, she reached out, fingers outstretched. As her hand drew closer, it felt as though she was trying to pass through a semi-solid barrier, her movements growing slower with every inch closer. She pushed against the feeling, making her intention known. She was not going to back down. She reached, and reached, and reached, and just as her middle finger brushed the first petal, her vision flashed white, and all feeling vanished.
Ch. 6
Yelena was weightlessly floating in some kind of liminal space, her body cold and limp. At first she felt panic, but after a few seconds a feeling of serenity fell over her, calming her. She looked around, but all she saw was an endless void of pure white. As far as her eyes could see, there was utter nothingness. It was hard for her mind to comprehend, and after a few seconds of shifting her eyes back and forth, she gave up and closed them. She had no idea how she got here, or where 'here' even was, but she had to stay calm and figure it out.
"Hemlock?" she asked, expecting silence in return. She waited a few seconds, and as the sound of her voice seemed to bounce randomly and echo off of nothing, the word faded into nothing. She was alone here.
She kept her eyes closed, and thought. Hemlock had warned her to be careful, and to stay focused. Perhaps this was some kind of test that the frostbloom was putting her through? It didn't really make a lot of sense to her, but it was all she could come up with at the moment. It was her best guess, and she clearly had nothing else to do here in the void, so she might as well give her idea a try. Of course, she had no idea what test an endless void of white could possibly convey. Was she supposed to try and find a way out, or was the point for her to not struggle and accept oblivion? That seemed dumb. Maybe something was on its way to speak to her? Probably not. She doubted that a weird magic flower was that intelligent, but then again, she was seemingly trapped in a liminal space. What was even off limits here?
"Hello? Anyone?"
Her words again seemed to bounce off of nothing and hit her ears again at odd intervals before fading into nothing. Clearly speech wasn't the solution here, but using her voice wasn't the only way she could communicate now.
She focused on the very concept of the void surrounding her, then did her best to project her thoughts in the same way she had started to with Hemlock, using the magical bonds between all life to send a message that couldn't be misconstrued or lost in translation.
I am Yelena. Where am I?
She gave it a few seconds, and just as she was about to sigh and try something else, she felt a deep rumbling vibrate all around her, rattling her bones and making her head hurt.
MAKE. YOUR. CASE.
It wasn't so much a voice, so much as a feeling that had assaulted her brain. The rumbling ceased immediately, and as she tried not to lose her composure, she felt the deafening silence of the void return once more.
Make her case? What case? And what had even spoken to her? Was it the frostbloom? She was in way over her head here, but she had to keep calm. Panic would get her nowhere. She made a conscious effort to steady her breathing, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Having her limbs spread apart made the uncomfortable sensation of weightlessness worse somehow, and curling up seemed to help her think.
Okay, so if it was the frostbloom, then was it wanting her to make a case for her using it? Hemlock had told her that she'd need to tame it. Perhaps this was what he had meant. She had figured it'd be more like wrestling a horse, rather than debating a…formless void of white. So what did she have to offer it? Or was it more looking for justification instead of a bargain? Hemlock had wanted a bargain, but he was capable of much more nuanced speech. If this was the frostbloom, then whatever consciousness it had was likely incredibly basic, only capable of the most simplistic forms of communication. If it wanted anything, it was likely a good reason to remove itself from its current home and be used by her. She needed to convince it that she would provide for a better home. Or perhaps… a better host?
The frostbloom was like a fungus, right? It grew from a dead thing. It fed from its vast stores of magic energy, and it likely needed that to survive. Thus, any argument would have to be approached from the position of sustenance, and likely, sustenance dependent upon her willingness to provide. She wished that Hemlock had explained that, or at least fully ruled that out. She didn't much like the idea of having a strange magic fungus feed of of her, but perhaps he kept the reality a secret to prevent her from outright refusing. She could also be completely off the mark here, of course. At this point, she was just going with her gut feeling and guessing. She just didn't want to ruin her chance here. She had no clue if the frostbloom would give her a do-over. She doubted it.
She took a deep breath, then formed the thought, pushing her will outwards and sending the silent words through the void.
This tree will deplete soon. I will not. Come with me.
She braced herself this time, waiting for the inevitable response. It was like the calm before the storm, and she knew that her message was like the pulling back of the waves before the storm surge crashed back in.
Here it came.
The violent rumbling was even more powerful this time, and that same pressure she'd felt when she was trying to touch it initially was back, trying to crush her tiny body against the massive presence of the void. She gritted her teeth and curled up even harder, doing her best to weather the terrible magical storm.
YOU. ARE. YOUNG.
The pressure increased somehow, and she felt like her eyes might pop from her head. Her bones grinded against themselves, and she screamed from the intense pain. Her individual strands of hair were like tiny knives that pierced through her heavy coat, their weight crushing down on her.
YOUR. WELL. IS. DEEP.
The rumbling intensified, and her teeth chattered against each other. The air left her lungs, and she felt as though she was about to be crushed into a tiny orb of bones and flesh at any instant.
I. WILL. SUBMIT.
The pressure instantly left, and a loud sound of air rushing past filled her eardrums now. Weight returned to her body, just normal, standard weight, but rather than comfort, she felt as though she was falling. A chill filled the air, and as she finally took a breath to refill her lungs, the cold stung her throat as she inhaled. She opened her eyes, expecting to see some strangeness in the void.
Instead, much to her surprise, she saw a grey, cloudy sky above her, and the peaks of pines covered in snow below her.
And the pines were getting closer.
Just as she had finally gotten her breath back, she let out a scream again as she realized that she was in freefall, tumbling down through the snowy air towards the ground far too quickly to do anything about. Did the frostbloom really give up just to kill her!? What was the point to that!?
Just then, she felt something in her right hand, the same hand that had first touched the crystalline fungus. Though it hurt her eyes to look as she plummeted through the falling snow and rushing wind, she pulled her hand up to her face. She gripped, without her even realizing it, the frostbloom. Despite its frigid appearance, it was warm in her hand, exuding a pulsating light as before. Was this intentional? The final test, or something stupid like that?
She had no idea what to do though!
As the tops of the trees grew ever closer, she knew she had just seconds before she'd end up a pancake on the forest floor. From this height, not even a thick layer of snow would be enough to save her. In that case, she'd go off her gut one more time. It had served her well thus far. No sense changing up her habit at this point.
She focused her mind as best she could, and formed a single thought, putting her entire mind behind visualizing it. It was the first thing that had come to mind, and if magic was truly as simple as making your own will manifest in the physical world, then this would work. It had to.
Yelena envisioned the shape of a staff, its shaft made of smooth but roughly cut crystals the color of blue ice. Its head took the shape of a simple, black thrush, its wings spread as if taking flight. The overall shape was simple, but elegant. It shone with the brilliance of the frostbloom itself, exuding warmth but appearing frozen. She put her all into the image, and as if in response to her desperate plea, a short phrase filled her head. The source was both external and internal. It was the frostbloom.
"Toil a fhoirmiú!" she cried out, screaming the ancient words into reality.
Just as she did, she felt the shape of the frostbloom change in her hand, morphing into exactly the shape she had imagined, every detail precisely as she'd desired. A rush of air lifted her from underneath, slowing her descent. She hadn't used a spell, but she could feel that the magic was coming from her. Or…was it from the frostbloom? She wasn't sure, but as she crashed into a deep snow drift and sent the powdery white fluff up in a soundless explosion, she knew that whatever the test was, she must've passed. It she hadn't, she wouldn't be buried in the snow right now. Well, she wouldn't be aware of it, anyway.
The staff was still in her hand. It was warm in her fingers, and it felt as comfortable to hold as her own hand, like it was made precisely for her. Now that she thought about it, it was, actually. By and for, in fact.
"You did it, Yelena."
It was Hemlock's voice. He must have been nearby. She struggled to pull herself from the snow, slowly digging herself out. She managed to pull her head out first, shaking it side to side to clear some of the snow from her hair and face. Hemlock was right in front of her, sitting lightly in the snow. His yellow eyes were staring right at her, and his lips seemed to be curled slightly. If she didn't know any better, it almost looked as if he was smiling.
She pulled the staff free, holding it up for him to see.
"I did it!" she exclaimed, a wide grin filling her lips.
She fell back into the snow again, letting out a deep belly laugh, mostly in relief, partly in exhaustion. She couldn't believe what a crazy ride that had been, much less that she had survived it all. She gripped the staff in her hand tightly, pulling it to her chest and holding it against her heart. It still exuded that mild warmth, a sign of the potent magic that lurked just beneath its crystalline surface.
"Come now, get up. You'll freeze if you stay down there any longer," Hemlock urged her, pulling her out of her revelry.
"Ugh, fine. Look at this though!" she said, holding up her staff for him to see after getting to her feet.
"It is quite impressive, considering I was not able to direct you myself."
As she brushed the built up snow from her coat, she realized that she had a million questions still rolling around in her head.
"So what even happened? I was in a weird white space, and I felt like I was going to get crushed, then I was falling with the frostbloom, then-"
"Please, let us return home first. The journey is long, and you should save your strength. Despite your victory," he trailed off, his yellow eyes glancing off to a spot behind her, "I do not believe we are alone anymore."
Yelena turned to look in the direction he was, but spotted nothing.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice low. She knew Hemlock wasn't one for jokes.
"I am unsure, but I sense malice. We should leave, quickly, and quietly."
"Okay. Hop on."
Hemlock leapt up and wrapped himself around her neck again, and she made for the huge tree to find the path back. With how little snow had fallen, it should be easy to trace their trail back home, but even should she become lost, Hemlock could guide her. She as a good hundred-or-so feet from the tree, thrown off course by her sudden fall through the sky. She took care to stay aware of her surroundings, her eyes scanning the trees around her, her ears tuned into every sound around her. She was hardly a hunter like Sonya, but she knew how to be safe at least. So far, so good.
"It is following us," Hemlock whispered into her mind. "It is…stalking us."
A cold chill ran up her spine. What could it be? A wolf? A bear? A person? What would be out hunting at this time of day anyway?
Then she felt it. A sensation that she'd only felt once before, when she was very young. A feeling of dread washed over her, so palpable that for a second she thought she could taste it. A slow, building dread that threatened to swallow up her entire body. She hadn't had to face its source last time. Instead, seven of the men of her village had died trying to fend it off, before it had grown weary and retreated.
"A shadow beast," she whispered, her words barely registering.
"Yelena, we need to run. I am unsure if I can exorcise it, and one bite from it will kill you," Hemlock warned, his voice urgent and tense. "I will use my magic to bolster your stamina. Prepare yourself."
She didn't have time to debate, as a short phrase from Hemlock suddenly made her legs feel lighter, and she felt as though she had dropped twenty pounds.
"Run!"
Without a moment's delay, Yelena took off with a burst of energy she'd never experienced before. She surprised even herself, sending a plume of snow in her wake as she erupted into a sprint. She was moving almost too fast for her body to keep up with, stumbling every few steps and struggling to keep from tumbling over like a child learning to walk. It was an incredible feeling, but it was quickly overshadowed once more by the dread that was creeping over her. The feeling had lessened as she took off, but now, even this far away, it was growing again. She could feel a cold sweat begin to trickle down her nape, and her breathing became ragged, and not just from the intense sprint. The physical effort of moving so fast seemed to be easy, as if she was skating over the dense snowdrifts. What made her pant was the panic that was beginning to seize her mind, the fear that if whatever it was that was chasing them caught up, she'd be dead for sure. It was all part of its attack, she knew, but that didn't make it any less effective. The terror gripped her soul, her mind, and before she could even realize it, her body.
"Yelena! Do not stop, keep running!"
She was staring down at the snow beneath her, hands over her face, panting like a dog. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt like she was choking. She couldn't move. She had to move. But she just couldn't. She was going to die. She was going to die. She was-
Hemlock jumped off of her, landing in the snow with more force than he should have. Yelena slowly swiveled her head, her wide, panicked eyes only barely able to take in what she was seeing. Rather than the small, unassuming housecat she'd grown so used to over the past few months, between her and the oncoming terror was a cat nearly as large as she. He still bore deep purple, amethyst fur, but his tail and body had grown multiple times. His paws were the size of her hands, maybe even bigger. He was silent, but she could feel the power and emotion he exuded. It was terrifying, even compared to the terror that was approaching. That tiny, insignificant flow of magic that she had witnessed when they had first bonded was like a cool mist compared to the rushing river of magic that poured from Hemlock now.
"Stay back. I will protect you," he said, his voice different now. It wasn't the pitch, or the phrasing. Moreso the presence. The strength of will. Was this what Hemlock was truly like?
She held her staff in trembling hands, and she couldn't seem to find the strength to stop the shaking. All she could do was watch. She was way outside of her depth here.
The shadow beast came into view now. It peered at them from around a pine trunk, its shape struggling to take form. Yelena could only see a dark, amorphous blur of movement as more of its horrid figure came into view. It seemed to walk on four legs, almost resembling Hemlock himself, but clearly…wrong. Its legs were all different sizes and shapes, and its head was shifting between profiles, its inky black maw opening and closing like the beak of a bird, only filled with jagged, swirling black teeth. Everything about it was horrifying, and Yelena couldn't look away, even though it was causing her so much pain. Its very image was enough to keep her attention fixed, like watching a fire burn, or a flood wash away a home. It was a disaster in motion, only rather than the dispassionate destruction of nature, it acted purely out of spite. Shadow beasts desired only to inflict harm upon those created them, even if their victims harbored no such emotion. Yelena was simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Without a word, Hemlock leapt into action. Snow burst out from behind him, shielding her view as he moved to draw the beast away from her. He didn't physically attack it, of course. That would be nearly pointless. Instead, he caught its attention, then blasted it with a flurry of dark, spiraling spikes that he had drawn from the soil underneath. There were over a dozen, and as they flew in a straight line at the shadow beast, it seemed utterly uninterested. The spikes made impact, passing through it with almost no effect before burrowing into the ground a dozen feet away. The beast was still watching Yelena. It was staring at her.
No…at her hands. At her staff.
Both she and Hemlock seemed to have the same realization. It was after the frostblooom too, just like them. It may not have been a shadow beast's usual prey, but it was common knowledge that they fed off pure magic just as much as human emotion. She had taken its food. That's all this was.
Well, she wasn't going to give it up. As the idea filled her head, she realized that this horrific monster born from hatred, jealousy, and spite was no different than a wolf searching for its next meal. It was, at the end of the day, just another beast. And if it was just a beast, she could outsmart it.
Hemlock hurled another flurry of attacks its way, this time using ice shards pulled together from the boundless snow. They seemed to have a bit more of an effect, physically moving the shadow beast to the side. As it lurched, its head, and what passed for its eyes, strange twin black vortexes, never moved off of her staff. Its maw snapped wildly, and thick black ichor spattered about, staining the pure white snow black.
"It wants my staff," she communicated to Hemlock. "I can keep its attention, you try to take it down."
"Yelena, that is a very bad idea. You need to flee," Hemlock argued.
"No! We'll fight it off together, or not at all. Guide me," she demanded. She wouldn't back down this time.
The all-encompassing dread she had felt earlier was still there, its claws sunk deep into her mind, trying to hold her hostage. Instead of trying to shake it off, she focused all her energy into something else, something stronger; her own will to survive. She tightened her grip on her staff and held it forward, pointing it at the shadow beast instead of clutching it against her chest. It wasn't a food source anymore. It was her arcane focus, gained through her own effort and resilience, and she was going to make sure it stayed that way.
Hemlock watched her for a moment, and their eyes met. She could still sense his hesitation, but he nodded his head regardless. She felt comfort break through the barrier of fear when she looked into his yellow eyes. They have her confidence, confidence to believe in not just him, but in herself too, just like he had.
"Very well. Let's do this, Yelena."
The shadow beast didn't wait for them to craft a plan. It had reacted surprisingly passively until now, but for some reason, as soon as Yelena decided to fight back, it leapt into motion. It had moved like thick sludge before, its limbs slowly shifting as it had meandered closer. Now, it bounded towards her with alarming speed. She could still feel the effects of Hemlock's spell, and she'd need to use it to keep her distance from the beast. Hemlock had intentionally kept her ignorant of any truly dangerous magic, but she had practiced a spell that could utilize a gust of wind to move objects around. She hadn't been able to so much as make Hemlock budge before, but the power she felt with the staff in her hand gave her confidence that things would be different this time. She waited until the beast was less than ten feet away before leaping laterally, letting its dark maw pass her harmlessly. It turned quickly, far too quickly for a natural beast. Its entire body seemed to shift and displace, as if its head and rear switched places in less than a second, facing her again. She didn't have as much time as she'd like, but it would be enough. Hemlock was still too far away to physically intercept, but his magic could. Another hail of ice battered the beast's side, slowing it down, if only for a moment. Its hind legs were pushed off balance, and though it recovered quickly, it had given her the time she needed to breath in, raise her staff and point it at the beast. She put all of her focus, all of her energy, into one spot, the center of its malformed face, a nearly flat bill. That was her target.
"Séideán a scuabadh," she recited, and as she did, she felt something new inside her.
She'd come to understand what it felt like to use magic now. It was still an odd sensation, but she was a bit used to it now. It started from deep in her belly, then moved up like a warm tingle through her chest, along her arms, and out her fingers. Even after it had left her body, traces of it was left in the wake, connecting her to whatever energy she had chosen to let out like a rope on the end of a spear. She was still tied to it, able to move or affect it even after it had left her hands.
This time, it felt much different.
Similar to the rumbling she had felt in the liminal space when the frostbloom had conversed with her, she felt a vibration from deep within her. It rose in its ferocity like a teapot reaching its boiling point, then as it flowed through her body, she struggled to keep her arms straight from the sheer power coursing through her. With a violent burst, the beak of the tiny thrush at the top of her staff shot out a gust of wind not unlike that which had sent her soaring through the air during the storm that had nearly killed her. The force surprised her, and even with it all being focused away from her, the torrent of air blasted her off of her feet. She fell back into the snow, nearly dropping her staff as the final gout of wind was released. It was hard to see through the cloud of snow, but she could just barely make out the blurry image of the shadow beast hurtling through the air away from her. It wasn't just knocked down, no. It was flying, end over end, crashing through pine branches and snapping them with its momentum. She hadn't simply brushed it aside. She had launched it like an arrow.
Yelena sat in the cold snow in shock for a moment. She was out of breath, and she felt a strange chill in her chest. Her arms were weak and trembling, and she wasn't sure if it was from the effort she'd put in to keep her staff level, or if she was simply scared of the incredible power she'd just used. That was far beyond anything she thought possible. The shadow beast was far from her line of sight now, and as the floating snow began to settle back onto the white plain before her, silence again returned to the forest.
"Yelena," Hemlock said.
The way he had said her name was different. It wasn't the tone of a teacher, or the sarcastic nag. It was said with a shaky voice.
"I think the arcane focus works," she said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She stood and dusted herself off and looked to Hemlock. He was looking back at her, his eyes wide.
"How did you do that?"
"I just focused on it and used that wind spell," she said, also somewhat flabbergasted by the result.
"I never imagined that-"
A rustling in a fern next to Hemlock caught his attention, but he was too slow to react. The shadow beast lunged from the cover of the fern and sank its fangs into Hemlock's left back leg, clamping down with all its sickly might. Hemlock cried out in pain with a savage roar, whipping his own head back to face the beast before launching a single, massive icicle straight through the shadow beast's head. It skewered the thing, but rather than killing it, it only caused it to lose its grip on him. He was free, but as he jumped back to gain distance again, Yelena could see fresh, red blood trailing from the wounds. She knew that he could survive a bite from a shadow beast, being a spirit, but he was still in danger here. Even after taking such a devastating blow, the fact that the beast still had enough strength to sneak up and get the better of Hemlock was frightening. It was no wonder that a single shadow beast could wipe out an undefended village.
"Hemlock! Get back, I'll hit it again!" she called out, planting her feet again and readying her staff.
She repeated the same steps, focusing on a single spot on the beast, but as she began to recite the words for the spell, something felt off. There was no tingling in her belly, and there was no warmth from her staff. She looked at it more closely now, and noticed its subtle glow had faded. What was wrong? Had she messed up somehow?
"You used all of your magic in that one attack," Hemlock replied, panting from the pain. "You must recover. I will defend you as best I can. If I fall, please, run."
How could she have been so dense? It was just as he'd said before, how she'd used her magic inefficiently. She'd burst the dam down and let loose a flood again, rather than releasing just the right amount of pressure at just the right time. How was she still so foolish, especially now?
Hemlock shot another large icicle at the beast, knocking it back once again as he moved to get between it and Yelena. Was he really willing to risk his own life for her? For a dullard like her?
The shadow beast recovered and looked at him with dark, vacant eyes. She wasn't sure if they were actually used for anything, or if they were simply a poor mimicry of Hemlock's appearance. There was certainly no greater intelligence behind them, of that she was sure. This beast's only motivations were hunger and spite, mindlessly driven forward at any cost. It seemed to be completely immune to pain, and it only staggered when hit because the force of the attack drove it back. How on earth were they going to stop this thing?
Hemlock and the shadow beast moved around each other, dishing out blows to each other. While Hemlock was able to keep his distance and launch attacks, they seemed to do very little to slow it down. At the same time, each bite or scratch landed on Hemlock slowed him down, wore away at his stamina, and injured more of his spirit. Yelena could tell he was in great pain, both from her own vision, but especially from their link. He was beginning to wear down, with every strike chipping away at his physical body. She could see tendrils of black ichor crawling up from his wounds, threatening to consume him slowly from within. He would be able to fight off the infection if he had the time to focus on it, but not while he was actively protecting her. Yelena, on the other hand, could barely even stand. She felt as though her legs were jelly, and her staff was the only thing keeping her upright. If only there was some way of quickly recovering magic, some method to take it from somewhere else…
"Ah!"
A sharp cry from Hemlock pulled her attention back, and she saw the shadow beast had locked its teeth deep into his throat. Its front legs were wrapped around his shoulders, and they both fell to the ground, the beast atop him. Yelena watched with horror as the pitch black tendrils began to move quicker, worming their way through his body with greater speed and in even greater number. Hemlock was pinned, and at this rate, the shadow beast would kill him. Hemlock was going to die.
Because of her.
He'd made a mistake in trusting her. She was too weak, too immature. She couldn't handle the newfound power she was granted, and this was the price to pay. All of this was because of her incompetence, and no magic she could muster would save him. Even so, was she really just going to stand here and watch this happen? Couldn't she do something? Anything!?
Yelena screamed at the top of her lungs, threw down her staff, and charged. She knew the ramifications. She knew it would be utterly futile. This would likely end in her death. But she didn't care at this point. Hemlock had put his faith in her, and she wasn't going to let him down ever again. Even if she couldn't do anything else, she could do this.
With as much strength as she could muster, she rammed her elbow into the side of the shadow beast. For a second it felt as though she would phase right through the gelatinous shape, but just as her cheek began to fall into its inky torso, she felt something solid touch her elbow. She was still moving with some speed, and it was enough to draw the beast's attention off of Hemlock. It released its bite on him, shifting its weight to steady itself from her impact. As it did, she moved her hand from within the beast's body, reaching for the solid thing inside. Her fingers brushed against it now, and she wrapped them around whatever it was.
As if in response to her desperate attack, the beast reshaped its body once more, this time growing its hideous maw right before her. It jutted out too far, at too much of an angle, and crushed down onto her shoulder. The pain was immediate, like a million burning hot knives puncturing her flesh all at once. Not only that, but she felt a sudden, numbing chill rush through her body. It was the shadow curse. She was going to die, there was no doubt about that. No healing magic would be able to stop it this time. But if she was going to die, she would be sure to take this awful thing with her. If she didn't have magic reserves of her own anymore, then she'd just have to take some energy from something. Magic was a tool, after all. And she would make it work for her, right now.
She pushed through the pain, through the frigid grip of fear that attempted to seize her mind, through the pulling and ripping of her flesh under the direct assault by the shadow beast's, teeth, and she focused. What she held in her hand was something small, round, and solid. Using her ability to sense magic on it, she felt what she had hoped for; a tiny, concentrated core of pure magic. This was what was keeping this thing alive.
She let out another cry, a scream of defiance, demanding that the universe bend to her will one last time.
"Géilleadh d'anam," she called out, demanding the power to be given from the core unto her.
Without a second's delay, the transfer began. The shadow beast, for the first time, howled in pain as its very life essence was absorbed by Yelena. She held on for dear life as it began to tear away at her shoulder, trying desperately to pull her off. She was not going to relent.
"Yelena! Yelena, don't! You cannot take on so much power! Stop this, please!" she heard Hemlock call out. She ignored him. She was going to save him, no matter what. There was a way now, a path forward. For him, at least. She had already resigned herself to her fate now. She would pay him back for saving her, and at least clear one debt.
The magic from this tiny orb was intense. It was almost a match for the frostbloom, and as its wild and raw magic coursed through her body, refilling her well, she felt energy return to her body. She still felt the excruciating pain, but she at least knew that it was working. The beast flailed and howled, but it could do nothing to stop her now. They both fell to the ground, its amorphous body beginning to shrivel up and dissolve into black mist atop the snow. At the same time, despite the flood of power, she felt her own body begin to succumb to the effects of the shadow curse. She could see the same black tendrils that had been coursing through Hemlock's body start taking their direct path's to her organs, working to shut them down and kill her from the inside. From where the bit had landed, it wouldn't take long for the ichor to reach her brain. It wouldn't take long to kill her there. She tightened her grip, and with one last push, she siphoned the last gasp of magic from the beast. Her well had long since overflowed, and now she could feel the excess magic pouring out across the land and air like smoke from a fire, filling any void it could find. She couldn't see it with her fading vision, but she could feel wild traces of magic that spewed from her failing grasp on the weakening core.
She must have looked like a light show for Hemlock. She was sad that she wouldn't get to learn any more from him, or pet his musty, slightly stinky fur ever again. Even if it had only been for a short while, she had truly cherished the time they had spent together. She didn't know if he had felt the same, but that was okay. She could do at least this one thing for him. She didn't want to leave him alone again, but she knew that he'd be okay eventually. If this was all she could do to make up her debt, then she was happy.
The shadow beast's gelatinous body had faded into nothing, sizzling away into nothing as the magic that been used to sustain its form was siphoned away. Yelena was left laying in the cold snow, her body twitching and weak. The excess energy she felt was making it hard for her to control her movements, like her mind couldn't quite figure out how to send the signals to her arms or legs through all the fuzziness in her brain. At the same time, the shadow curse was flowing into her heart and brain. She had maybe a few minutes left, but she would likely black out much sooner. A pleasant reprieve from the agony she would normally be racked with was the numbness from absorbing the magic. The two awful sensations were shorting out her nervous system, leaving her all-but paralyzed on the ground. All she could see was snow, trees, and Hemlock as he shrank back down to normal size. He limped over to her, still bleeding from his wounds, but laid down just before her. His yellow eyes were a little glossy, likely from the pain he was experiencing.
"Why would you do something so reckless, Yelena?" he asked.
She didn't have the strength to answer. At least, not with words. With all the energy she could muster, she pulled her right arm up from her side, and placed her hand on his tiny, snub head, using her thumb to gently rub between his ears one last time. He was so beautiful backdropped by the perfect white snow. She would miss him.
Her eyes closed, and as her mind began to swim with her final thoughts, rather than lingering regrets about how things had ended with her family, or the sight of Hemlock, she instead thought of Sonya. The gorgeous hunter who had rescued her before, only a few months ago. She thought of her fiery red hair and her indomitable will, her ability to stay positive and strong under any circumstance. She wished she were here too. She had paid her debt to Hemlock, but she hadn't gotten to pay off Sonya's. Or, for that matter, be honest about how she felt about her. It was too late for that now, though.
With a final breath, Yelena sighed. There was still so much she'd wanted to do. Still, at least she had been able to use magic to help someone at the end, even if it was in a weird, roundabout sort of way.
Her body was numb, and her brain was foggy. It felt like she was floating, weightless, above the snow, above the earth. She had no concept of time, of space anymore. She drifted, in mind and spirit, for an eternity, restlessly.
"Your debt isn't paid yet, Yelena."
The words seemed to come from everywhere at once, hardly intelligible yet perfectly clear. She had heard them before, but she hadn't heard them yet. Who had said them? How was she hearing them?
"You don't get to leave just yet," Hemlock continued, his voice thick with pain. "Not until we meet that damned wizard."
She could feel something again. It was like a pinprick in her palm at first, slowly turning into a sensation like that of a thousand tiny insects crawling up her arm, across her chest, down to her toes. It was almost fun at first, but then she felt pain, sharp, awful, stabbing pain, at each and every point where she had been pricked. She suddenly found that she could feel her throat again, her mouth, her eyes, her face, and she breathed with great effort. The air that flowed into her lungs was ice cold and hurt all the way down, and her head began to throb at a steady pace. She groaned as all at once, the pain from the shadow curse assailed her senses at last, only for it to be taken away just a moment later. She felt tired, sore, like she had just run for hours on end, but she could feel.
"Hemlock…Sonya…where are you…" she whispered out, her mind still fuzzy and lost in whatever was happening.
"Shhh, Yelena. Rest. I will get us home now."
Her consciousness faded, as if wrapped snugly into a warm blanket and laid down for bed. She hadn't the strength to refuse its draw, and the outside world again fell away like ash.
