by Martha Carr
All the wizards at the table nodded, and although there was no single leader there, they didn’t work like a typical council. There was no voting or agreement. There was no right way to do it. Decisions were just made, and people went along. One of the wizards started clapping. “Wonderful. It’s nice to have fresh ideas on the table.”
Another wizard smiled, staring at Elias. “Your family has done well for this council for generations, and it does not surprise me that you are doing it again. I do have to say, this council did the best we could with the limited resources we had. As always, our goal is a common one: to bring the dark wizards and witches back to the forefront. We have been battling Leira Berens for much too long, and I for one will be able to have a good night sleep when she’s finally taken care of.”
The witch from earlier smiled kindly, thinking carefully about what she was about to say, considering she wasn’t a full-blood witch. “I agree. She has been our nemesis for far too long. Thank you for your service to our families. Now, if everyone is done, I have some business to attend to.”
Elias, with a curl of his lip, gracefully raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed across the old room, stopping everyone in their tracks. The wizards and witches at the table looked around, confused, amused, and some even mildly concerned. The doors to the room flew open, and young witches and wizards marched in with their wands at the ready.
Elias laughed at their angry expressions. He spoke graciously but with a cold edge to his voice. “I apologize. I failed to make myself clear. I was relating the ground plan as a courtesy to our forefathers, who have served us well. Thank you for your service as you relinquish your thrones.”
One of the older wizards slapped his hands on the table and stood up angrily. He was ready to protest, something the others were scared to do. He lifted his wand, but Elias beat him to the punch, gracefully sweeping his wand across his chest as if he were leading an orchestra. He lifted the wizard off his feet, slowly choking him.
Elias spoke to the council with ease, as if he weren’t using magic at all. “Again, this is all a mere courtesy. A formality, if you will. I was taught respect for my elders.”
A gurgle from the hovering wizard brought everyone’s attention back to him. He was turning blue as his dangling feet jerked. Elias lowered his wand and let the wizard fall toward his chair, knocking it to the floor. The wizard landed hard on the slate floor, clutching his neck and gasping for air. One of the witches jumped up, moving to help the wizard.
Elias waved his wand, stopping her in her tracks. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Ah, ah, ah. Something else I was taught growing up was that there must be consequences for our actions. You see, this isn’t about who’s right or who is wrong. Nature doesn’t give a crap about those rules, and after all, magic is nature at its finest. And consequences are her greatest teacher. This is something I don’t think the council has been able to grasp for decades. When someone wrongs you, you don’t just sit back and whine and bitch about it. You take the sonsofbitches out, and you don’t think twice about it. I will never understand why it’s taken you this long to even remotely develop some sort of good plan to take out Leira Berens. This council has failed its young wizards and witches, and you have permitted this ridiculous behavior to continue for far too long. I did not come here to start a war with my fellow families. I came here to save them, and that means each and every one of you. Had I thought she would go easily none of this would’ve been necessary, but then again there are consequences for your actions. Now. Up, up, up…”
He slowly curled his fingers as the old councilmembers shuffled up from their chairs, eyeing their stone-faced young counterparts. It was a demeaning moment for them, and Elias acknowledged that, but that wasn’t going to change the course of action. The dark families need to be protected, and they just weren’t doing the job anymore.
“And what will you do without us? We have run this council for a very long time,” Esmeralda asked as her granddaughter helped her toward the door.
Elias laughed. “I think we will be able to take action without a crippled old woman who has seen far too many battles. You’re a grandmother, which means you should be knitting something, not sitting on a council deciding the fate of our families. As I said, your wisdom and perseverance on this board will last a lifetime, but it’s time to move on.”
Esmeralda patted her granddaughter’s hand and gritted her teeth, knowing it was not the time to fight back. Elias watched as everyone moved to the back of the room and stood nervously next to the new council of witches and wizards.
Elias took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting it out slowly. “Now see, isn’t that easier? The consequences of releasing your chairs to the new power brokers are that you get to find out what retirement is like above the ground.”
Elias slowly moved toward the seat at the head of the table, rubbing his fingers together before he pulled it out and very carefully took a seat. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting out a satisfied sigh. His lips quickly curled into a smile again. The usurpation of the council was nearly complete.
Elias put out his arms and laughed. “New council, take your seats. It is your time.”
The young witches and wizards looked at each other as they took seats around the large table. Elias circled his wand over his head and sent out a stream of dark magic that covered the entire room. Quickly, the old room faded, and a lush, beautiful meeting room took its place. The old witches and wizards were angry as they were ushered out of the room but they didn’t protest, knowing they would have never won against Elias and his people. The witches and wizards on the new council were all purebloods.
The coffee and tea across the table quickly switched out to new beverages in beautiful silver containers next to stacks of fresh pastries. The new council had arrived, and they were getting ready for the next steps that Elias had planned out.
His face fell serious as he glared around at everyone. “No more shifters or wild plots to hunt down Leira Berens. She always was and will continue to be one half-elf against an army. She was a wasted effort by the old council, a thorn in their side that they took too much time on—that they feared. The dark families do not fear Light Elves or Jasper Elves or whatever she is. We were once the strongest power in Oriceran, and we will be the strongest power again. No more of this petty little shit, and no more using witches and wizards whom we cannot trust. We have bigger plans.
“If Leira shows up again, we will show her the consequences of not minding her own business. And at that point, there will be no question that we are ready for her. There will be a contingency plan, but we will not spend our lives obsessing over it. It will go into effect if and when she decides to mess with our families again and gets in our way. In my father’s and grandfather’s time, if an elf or a light witch stepped out of line, we killed them on the spot. We are no longer cowering from these people. In the meantime, we take care of business.”
17
Perrom walked through the forest and out into the clearing right in front of the Light Elf Castle. He clutched his book to his chest as the scales on his arms flipped and shifted, taking him back to his more human skin. He glanced around the gardens and took a right toward the main part of town.
“Morning, Perrom,” one of the townspeople called, smiling as she walked by.
Perrom forced a half-grin. “Morning.”
He picked up the pace and headed straight to the post office. No one seemed to notice him as he walked through the front doors since the place was teeming with magical beings. He looked up as he passed mailboxes stacked all the way up to the tall ceiling. A mini-train system ran across the top, delivering mail to the different mailboxes as it went. Overhead, gargoyles flapped their wings, landing on the edges and sitting perfectly still as if they were stone.
“Just do it. It’s hilarious,” one of the students visiting the post office urged his friend.
The other student swallowed hard and began t
o read the information on the plaque. Suddenly, a large face appeared, scaring the hell out of both boys and sending them running back to their teacher. She sighed and ushered them along, looking back and giving Perrom an exhausted smile. He didn’t respond to her, just put his head down and continued down the long hallway that led to the old prophets’ meeting room. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be there, but he didn’t care. He had a spell to work on, and it wasn’t going to affect anyone but him and Ossonia. This was the moment that would bring Ossonia to the foreground, and it was vital to their plan.
When he reached a tall, heavy wooden door he glanced around, making sure no one was watching him. When the coast was clear, he pushed inside and closed the door behind him. He looked around the dark room. The rows of seats rose in a semicircle, and the room had been abandoned for quite some time. Perrom cleared his throat and walked over to the podium, putting down the stolen library book that he had bribed a cousin of the library gnomes to obtain.
Perrom opened the book to the correct page and put his hands up, taking a deep breath. Ossonia had been the only thing on his mind since the moment she had disappeared, and he had reached a place in his life where he could search for her day in and day out. Hope had lingered in the back of his mind, and even the darkest of days was unable to dim that light.
“I will find you, Ossonia. I will not rest. It was done before, and I know it can be done again.”
Perrom put his hands down, trying to keep his spirits high. He had been coming there every day at the same exact moment, as the ancient book had told him. The spell had to be performed at a very precise moment and in a very precise way. The magical stars on the ceiling reflected the time of day, and they hung in the same position every time Perrom approached.
He glanced up, making sure they were aligned exactly as the diagram in the book showed. When the magical sky shifted a centimeter, he ran his fingers over the passage from the book. “This spell is best performed and will give you the best luck in places where great good and great evil joined together in magic. Often in these places, a thin place between the worlds is created.”
Perrom looked around the room, wondering what it was like when Rhazdon secretly held court. He imagined the council sitting in their seats, talking about the different happenings on Oriceran. They did their best to do some good, and it had been done right there in that room. Great good and great evil had joined them in magic. He was sure it had created a thin enough place in the veil for him to find Ossonia.
Perrom put his hands in the air, letting the magic flow through his body. He closed his eyes, feeling the symbols flashing across his scaled skin. His feet vibrated against the marble floors as magic moved through him and out into the space around him. With his eyes still closed, he whispered the spell from the book in Elvish. “Move i worlds i exist im. Tul- hain close a ú- unseen. Ech- hi anand a anand na join with tuin connected haer i coin. Lothron spirits hi nin nall- tonight, tul- Ossonia forward before i flight.”
The magical flow strengthened and the wind began to blow around the room, knocking over several of the chairs. This time was stronger than any of the previous times Perrom had performed the spell, and he hoped that today would be the day he found her, since time was running short. Their plan was set, and this spell was the only thing between him and bringing Ossonia back to the world.
He yelled the rest of the spell, trying to get it all out before the wind became too much. “Oh, beleg spirits align. Hen faer na- trapped ú- devine. Tul- hen na nin a edr- i fen, hen salvation depends bo hi beleg cure!”
The ground shook beneath his feet, and dust particles fell from the ceiling. The strong wind tapered down to a breeze. When Perrom opened his eyes the air shimmered around him, buzzing and snapping as he caught a glimpse of the World in Between. He stepped forward nervously, knowing he had to hurry. The spell would only create the window for a few moments.
He watched as a crowd of spirits appeared.
“Help me…” a spirit pleaded.
“Find my son…”
“Take me from this torture…”
“Help us…” They pushed and shoved each other to try to get Perrom’s attention
Some reached out, trying to get hold of him. Others yelled as loudly as they could from the other side of the veil, but Perrom could barely hear them. Their screams were muffled by the thin layer of magic trapping them in the World in Between. The voices echoed and their words twisted as the void tried to push them back. They writhed and shouted, scratching and pushing each other.
Perrom ignored them, searching the crowd for any sign of Ossonia. He shook his head and looked back down at the spell, reading the last part. “Move cín ghostlui sides, ceri- ú- nall- nin est-. Im search an i er, i er whose namesake holds close na nin chest. Ossonia, Ossonia tul- forth na nin eyes. Im thír an cin trí days a nights a message im gar- an thee.”
He snapped his head up when he felt a strong pain in his chest. He searched the faces over and over, feeling their desperation across the void between them. He cared for Ossonia, and that was who he was there to find, but the ghostly faces haunted him. He wondered about their stories. He wondered if they were in the right place, but quickly shifted his thoughts back to Ossonia, knowing that the distraction would hold him back.
“Save me. I shouldn’t be here…” a young woman yelled, blood trickling from the side of her head.
Perrom swallowed hard, and a tear gathered at the corner of his eye. He wanted to save all of them, but he knew that not all of them were good. Those in the World in Between had learned tricks, tricks that would defeat even the savviest wizard. He had to keep his distance and his focus completely on Ossonia.
The blood drained from Perrom’s face, and he held his breath. His eyes shifted across the crowd, stopping suddenly. His heart began to beat faster and he narrowed his eyes, thinking he’d caught a glimpse of Ossonia behind the first two rows of faces. It seemed to be bulging out at him as if to yell through the crowd to get his attention. It looked so much like her, with her fair skin and beautiful eyes.
He stepped to the side, waiting for a moment. He needed to make sure he didn’t simply see what he wanted to see. Within that sea of faces, it was easy to allow yourself to think that you were seeing your loved one. Your heart wanted to see them, and your mind wanted to find them. He stared as hard as he could. The two pupils in each of his eyes roamed separately to find her. He stopped on each figure, scrutinizing every inch of their body. There were women, men, and children of every description trapped in that middle world.
A small blonde girl grasped to a tall, brunette woman’s hand tightly as they walked along the back. The little girl stared intently at Perrom, but the woman looked in the other direction. Her eyes were sad and scared, but she continued on without a word. Walking behind her was a Kilomea, growling as he pushed through the crowds. He held the leash of a three-headed beast that lashed its tongue at the souls as it passed.
Those who were pushing hard for his attention screamed as if this were their last moment, and this was their last chance to reach out to their loved ones. Others, however, wore the mark of the dark magic. The dark mist had turned their eyes completely black. Their faces shimmered, and it made Perrom blink harder. He had to keep his distance because he could easily be pulled through a thin shield between him and the World.
Creatures of all kinds, shapes, and sizes moved around the space. Some dissipated into the air, giving up on their hope for a future outside. Others pushed harder, screaming louder to get Perrom’s attention. It was difficult to focus on the people in the background, but he took a deep breath and opened his eyes wider, letting all his pupils scan every single person before moving to the next. He was determined to find her before he left. There was no way he was going to leave her in there or fail at his task.
He glanced down at the next part of the spell, but he couldn’t call it out until he had her in his view. If he spoke too soon and she had made her way there, it would push her back
into the void, and she might be lost forever. The spell was very specific, and although Perrom was frantic, he kept his wits so he could do it correctly the first time. He would not be able to live with himself if he were the reason that Ossonia was gone forever.
He squinted into the back-right corner, and he saw her again. “It is Ossonia!”
Perrom’s hand shook as he lifted the heavy book and read the last part of the spell. “Ada aram. Khuba amad.”
The faces that had pressed toward him were suddenly pulled sideways. Rows of souls vanished from the space in front of him. He looked back down at the spell and repeated it again. “Ada aram. Khuba amad.”
He shouted the words over and over, listening to them echo through the veil. He leaned toward the veil that was hanging in midair just above his head, willing Ossonia toward him. He put the book down, closed his eyes, and raised his hands, screaming the spell as loudly as he possibly could. “ADA ARAM. KHUBA AMAD!”
When he lowered his hands and looked, there she was. Her oval face was the only one remaining on the other side of the veil. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body was whipped to the front as if she were no longer skin and bones. She jerked to a stop in front of him, the veil flowing over her in a translucent wave. She was still dressed in the battered gear that she had worn that night on the streets of Paris.
Ossonia’s hair fluttered around her as if she were floating in an ocean and her cheeks were stained with dirt, but her eyes shone as brightly as they always had. Perrom could see the strength in her that he loved, but he also saw that the strain of the fear was beginning to take a toll on her soul. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he had heard that if you were in that World long enough, you’d lose all connection to your soul. He couldn’t let that happen to Ossonia.
She put her hand up like she was pressing it against a piece of glass and opened her mouth to talk. Perrom shook his head. “Don’t speak. Just nod if you can hear me.”