Mydia's End

by Sean Davies

  “Veronica’s cool with it,” Genie replied. “She thinks highly of you both.”

  Constance nodded and looked at the fallen Primary Regulator sadly, wondering just what was happening to him beneath the mask.

  Alice had just finished convincing Veronica that only a select few individuals should be privy to what had happened, and that the little crowd inside her bedroom should be sworn to secrecy, when she asked, “Is there a Demon face under his mask?”

  Veronica shook her head. “No. If anything, he looks healthier than ever now.” She indicated to his skin which had a faint glow to it. “It's like he's turning into an Archmage or something. His hair is growing, too—sometimes it moves on its own,” she added in a depressed tone.

  “Why don't you take it off?” Constance asked. The black and white mask gave her the creeps; she felt like she'd seen it somewhere before, in an unpleasant half-remembered nightmare.

  “Try. See what happens,” Veronica replied sadly.

  Connie awkwardly approached Winston and prised the mask from his face, as the whole room watched on in silence. She was surprised at how easily it came off, and found that Winston had barely changed since the last time she had seen him except that he appeared to be more angelic looking, like he was becoming something better.

  “I don’t get it,” Constance said, studying every facet of the imposing mask.

  “Wait for it,” Veronica replied cryptically.

  Constance looked up at Veronica, wondering what exactly she was waiting for, but then her hand felt lighter. She looked down and the mask was gone. Everyone in the room (besides Veronica) flinched when it reappeared on Winston’s face.

  “Does this mean he’s becoming a Demon?” Stitches asked, distraught and studying the Primary Regulator intently.

  Alexander joined the Alt by the bed and shook his head. “We’ve learnt that Archmages wore masks long before their imprisonment in the sub-dimension which they inadvertently corrupted into the Gloom. Their purpose was to hide their superior visage from the lesser, unworthy beings around them.”

  “They sound like they were right dicks,” Constance muttered.

  Alexander nodded in agreement as he studied Winston Reynolds.

  “I think he’s becoming Omniosis,” Alice said bluntly, before giving a brief explanation of what she’d discussed previously with Veronica.

  “I’m not so sure anymore,” Veronica said softly. “I outright confronted him about it and he insulted the Omni, and seemed completely disgusted by the idea. Also, I think he would’ve tried killing us by now if he was Omniosis—we did kill him, after all.”

  “Could it be the work of Corriztis?” Stitches asked. “I can feel something similar to demonic magic radiating from him, but it’s faint.”

  “We know that the Omni and Corriztis didn’t get on,” Alexander mused, “so this might be the work of the corruption Demon... however, I think we would’ve known about it by now. Corriztis is slippery, but he’s not subtle.”

  “Your friends in the Highway One Hellions told me that Corriztis said Winston ‘was already occupied by Omniosis’,” Alice told them, strengthening her original theory. “Apparently that’s why Corriztis is so interested in me,” she added, repulsed by the notion.

  “Sorry to say it,” Brooke began gently, “but what if the ability Omniosis used on him just made him go loopy? Winston is powerful, so all these other effects could just be his troubles manifesting into reality.”

  “Maybe,” Alexander pondered, as he lifted the mask off Winston for a moment. “I’m wondering if this is something to do with his strange Archmage heritage. Perhaps he’s just becoming who he was meant to be in the first place.”

  “No, it can’t be,” Veronica whispered, not wanting to believe that was the natural fate for her beloved.

  “Isn’t the Lord Imperator also half-Archmage?” Genevieve asked, cutting a hole in the theory.

  “I am, and it’s never affected me in any way, shape, or form,” Alice confirmed.

  “Ali, honey—you’re the most highly-strung person I’ve ever met,” Veronica replied. “Some of that is definitely chalked-up to the Archmage within.”

  Alice pouted. “We could spend all night going over theories. What we need are concrete facts, or a solution.”

  “I’m better with the elements and a sniper rifle than I am with the healing arts, but I’ll give it a go,” Brooke said as she walked over to Winston.

  The dark-skinned, heavily tattooed Werewolf Shaman glowed with a pleasant green radiance, and placed her hands upon Winston’s shimmering skin. The warm green light spiralled down her arms and snaked around Winston’s body, before fading in a flutter of little wisps; however, nothing happened.

  “Shit, sorry,” Brooke said sadly.

  “It was worth a try, but I really don’t think there’s anything to heal,” Alexander said.

  “We’re going to have to get Cherriesa,” Veronica accepted. “We need to find out what’s going on inside Winston’s head.

  “I’d rather not bring her in on this,” Alice admitted, “but we really don’t have a choice. If we can’t fix Winston, then it’s only a matter of time before the info gets out.”

  “And Corriztis and Darkheart will have a field day,” Genevieve concluded.

  The Lord Imperator nodded. “Exactly.”

  Queen Azalea walked forward from the edge of the large bedroom. “Those two will be the least of our worries if we can’t bring Winston—our Winston—back.”

  “What have you seen?” Veronica asked eagerly.

  Alice rolled her eyes, not wanting to get sucked into the whirlpool of providence once again.

  “I can’t make out anything about Winston, but I know that if we don’t get him back, Mydia will be destroyed. No, wait—it will be changed…” the pretty Queen trailed off, focusing on something only she could see. “Or is it the universe that changes? But if we do get Winston back, Mydia will end… unless she saves us,” Azalea said, pointing dazedly at Connie.

  “Enough of this nonsensical rubbish,” Alice said bitterly. “I’ll go get Jonathan and Cherriesa.”

  “Sorry, it’s all so mixed up, so hard to interpret,” Azalea continued as Alice left. “Although I’m certain you need to be at that pillar,” she said to Constance.

  “You can go on my authority. You’re obviously tied into this somehow,” Veronica told Connie, “and it’s not like Winston’s in any condition to investigate the other side of the world, or to object,” she added gloomily.

  “Okay, sure thing,” Constance said, glad to be of service and eager to finally showcase her skills.

  “You didn’t tell me you were a superhero,” Genevieve whispered in Connie’s ear.

  “Well, what can I say?” Connie replied with a smirk.

  “You had any luck with adventure-boy Ricardo Stern and his crew?” Veronica asked Azalea. “Or do we risk going in blind?”

  The Queen of Tropica nodded. “That’s why I was on my way here in the first place. He’s been seen in Gloomingdale, of all places.”

  “It’s a great place to lay low,” Veronica replied. “I suppose we should dispatch some Justiciars as an escort, just in case he doesn’t want to play along. Better wait for Ali to come back.”

  “My forces can assist,” Azalea offered helpfully. “I think the Lord Imperator will want to go along too. My sources told me that Ricardo and the Swords of Fortune have information on Corriztis’ whereabouts.”

  “If you’re heading to Gloomingdale, I could come along and introduce you to the Dragon Quoronastra,” Alexander said eagerly. “He’s a living, breathing encyclopaedia, so he’s bound to know something of use.”

  “Or Constance could meet with him,” Brooke said sternly. “We retired from the front lines, remember?”

  “I’ll get a message to him,” Alex said, disheartened. “Be warned—he’s not a fan of people, in any shape or form,” he advised the dark-haired Book Wielder.

  “Bring him up to s
peed, Connie Lee, but make sure he keeps his maw shut,” Veronica said in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Constance replied officially. She found the serious side of Veronica quite striking.

  “Right then,” Veronica said, putting the plan together quickly. “Constance and Genevieve will have a decent retinue. They can scoop up Ricardo, Alice can beat him into submission, Dragon-dude will advise, and then off you go to the mysterious spire. That should keep Fate happy, and might even fix the world… now we’ve just got to think of a way to fix Winston,” she said, looking down at her masked lover.

  “Huh? I’m going too?” Genevieve asked, confused.

  Connie stifled a frown. She had assumed that Genevieve would be accompanying her, but realised it was a pretty big leap from their unsuccessful fling.

  “Would you rather not?” Veronica asked, giving her old friend a serious look. “I thought best friends kept their promises.”

  “I…” Genie hesitated; she could almost feel the Bloodmage poking around inside her head.

  “You don’t have to, it’s fine,” Constance lied, avoiding eye contact.

  “No, she’s going,” Veronica said flatly. “Genie’s one of the best fighters on this planet, and I want you well protected by someone that I know is fiercely loyal to the people she cares about.”

  “Why ask if you’re not going to give me a choice?” Genie said broodily, instinctively holding her heart-shaped locket.

  “You know where the door is, so choose,” Veronica said, clearly losing her patience.

  Genevieve looked at the door, tempted to storm out defiantly to save face, but then she caught the hurt look on Constance’s face and stayed put.

  “Fine, you’re right. As normal,” Genie conceded, feeling embarrassed about her outburst.

  Veronica tapped her temple. “Comes with being psychic. And don’t worry about it, we’re all pretty tense right now,” she said with a smile, but it came across flat and emotionless. With every second that passed, the severity of Winston’s condition became all the more real, and it felt like a gigantic weight had been chained to her head and heart.

  “You’ll find a way to save him,” Genie reassured her. She didn’t need telepathy to read her old friend.

  Veronica nodded. “I hope so.”

  Stitches coughed politely before interjecting. “I want to go too. I think my skills would be a great addition to the mission.”

  “Of course you can, Stitches, sweetie,” Veronica agreed kindly. “Like I’d keep you away from your best friend—and all the action.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, I won’t let you down,” Stitches said seriously, saluting as Connie clapped him on the back.

  As they all waited for Alice to return, Veronica and Azalea bounced their vision snippets between one another in an attempt to paint a clearer picture of what was going on, and even Stitches gave it a shot through his mimicking ability.

  Genevieve took Constance to one side, noting the fearful look on Stitches’ material face as he finished navigating the murky waters of prophecy, and looked into her excited pearl-tinted white eyes.

  “Aren’t you the least bit nervous?” Genie asked. “If that pillar leads to the same place that I was in my near-death experience, then—”

  “A little,” Connie interrupted. “Not as much as you though, it seems,” she added with a wink.

  “I’m being serious,” Genevieve said, unamused. “There’s other Book Wielders out there, with a lot more miles on the clock than you.”

  “But it has to be me. It’s what I was made for,” Constance said thoughtfully.

  “Why, though?” Genie asked, puzzled by the Book Wielder’s certainty. “How do you know that for sure? These visions aren’t set in stone, you know.”

  “I’m not sure how I know. I just do,” Connie said airily.

  “It’s the comments like that which have me worried about you,” Genevieve grumbled; she liked prophecies and foresight about as much as Alice did.

  Constance knew she should be more fearful of what awaited her, but if anything, she was just touched by Genevieve’s concern.

  “It’s going to be risky,” Connie began, “but I’m going to have a team of the best by my side, including the greatest Vampire Nightclaw on Mydia herself, Genevieve Jameson.”

  “I'm good, but I'm not great,” Genevieve said modestly. “I've gotten quite rusty since the Circle went legit, to be honest.”

  Constance gave the Vampire Nightclaw a disbelieving look. Connie had asked around and knew that Genevieve's skills from the Shadow Circle gang's glory days were legendary.

  “We'll just have to get you polished up then,” Constance replied. “I'll be fine, I promise. And best friends—”

  “You're crazy,” Genevieve interrupted.

  “Sometimes crazy can be good,” Connie sniggered, quoting her once again. “I can do this all night.”

  A smile grew on Genie's face. “Not all night, I hope,” she said flirtatiously.

  Constance smirked in return, just as Cherriesa of the Trinity of Old suddenly opened the bedroom's doors with her telekinesis and swept inside, making them jump. She was dressed in a red and gold dress that was translucent except for the utmost intimate areas, and her jet-black hair was tied up in an extravagantly complex plaited bun. Four handsome human retainers followed her in carrying an assortment of luggage, and Jonathan and Alice walked in after, closing the door behind them.

  “Winston promised me a great deal of Deep Vein Oil for Sanctium stockpiling,” Cherriesa snapped at Veronica in lieu of a greeting. “I expect the agreement to be honoured.”

  “Gee, nice to see you too, Mistress Cherriesa,” Veronica answered bitterly. “The husband and I are just fine, by the way.”

  “If the agreement isn’t honoured then you simply will not have a husband,” Cherriesa shot back in her sugary-sweet Tropican accent.

  “After everything he’s done for you and the Trinity!” Veronica growled.

  “Your husband was trying to overthrow us not too long ago,” Cherriesa replied in a terrifyingly icy tone. “He has made great strides in repairing that damage, but he has still got a very long way to go…”

  “The DVO he promised is yours,” Alice sighed in annoyance, attempting to cut the argument short. “Now, can you help him?”

  “I do not know,” Cherriesa shrugged, “but it’s impossible to tell while he has that ring on.”

  Veronica looked down at Winston’s rings of protection. “They just keep him safe, they wouldn’t—”

  “Not the protection ones,” Cherriesa interrupted impatiently. “That one there,” she said, pointing at Winston’s turquoise-coloured ring. “It is a ring of mental obfuscation. Even I would have trouble circumventing a relic so powerful.”

  Veronica slid the band of coiled turquoise metal off Winston’s smooth, magically saturated skin, and remembered how it had been the only ring he’d left on before executing the prisoners in the arena.

  Alexander covered his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped, turning to Veronica. “He said he needed it to keep his enemies out of his head. I had no idea he’d intended to hide from you, V.”

  “He—it—whatever’s in there had us all going,” Veronica replied. “So don’t sweat it, you big nerd.”

  “Will it protect its wearer from other psychic abilities?” Alice asked the white-haired Mage, plotting Darkheart’s downfall.

  Alexander nodded. “Its enchantment scrambles the wearer’s psychic signature, making it difficult or nigh-on impossible to target them directly. Though if someone used telekinesis to launch a cargo container at you then you’d still be squished flat as a pancake,” he said, referring to the Darkheart shipping yard attack.

  Veronica held the ring out to Alice without needing to say a word, and the Lord Imperator took it and placed it on her finger.

  “It’s far better than nothing,” Alice said gratefully.

  Cherriesa approached Winston and placed a hand
above his forehead. Red wisps of blood magic spilled out of her hand, brighter and far more intense than Veronica’s, and they swirled into the Primary Regulator’s head.

  The Vampire leader of the Trinity frowned angrily. “This is… complex,” she said delicately, seemingly surprised that the others hadn’t exaggerated Winston’s condition.

  While Cherriesa chipped into Winston’s mind, frowning and narrowing her sly red eyes aggressively as she forced her way in, Veronica and Azalea filled Alice in on Connie’s mission and the Swords of Fortune’s potential intelligence on Corriztis.

  Alice played with the ring on her finger, feeling as though the noose of justice was finally tightening around the world’s most infamous terrorists.

  On the other side of the room, Genevieve introduced Jonathan Knight to Constance and Stitches, and the two old friends began to embarrass one another with stories from the olden days.

  Suddenly, Cherriesa hissed for silence, and began speaking as soon as everyone was quiet. “His mind has been shattered. There are pieces of him all over the place, but there seems to be one main cluster and it is fighting off everything I throw at it. There is also a tremendously detailed environment playing out within his mind. I do not know its point or purpose.”

  Veronica felt woozy, but forced herself to stay strong. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

  “Perhaps,” Cherriesa began. “There is a chance I can link your minds, so your consciousness can directly enter his own. Winston may be more inviting to his wife, due to his poor taste in women.”

  “What do you need?” Veronica asked, fearlessly accepting the task without question and brushing aside the insult.

  “More DVO before it runs dry, more alchemical reagents, and access to your isle’s prototype weaponry,” the Trinity Leader replied, tilting her beautiful head expectantly.

  “Whatever you want,” Veronica said impatiently. “But I meant for the spell.”

  “Just lay on the bed beside your husband,” Cherriesa replied. “I shall create a bridge of sorts with my superior blood magic. I will stay in your quaint abode for the duration to maintain the spell, as will my retainers, as I will require a significant amount of blood—particularly if you take your time inside his mind.”