Eye of the Tempest

Blondie backed away from the man, shouting something as she held the horn aloft in both hands. And with that we felt her power swell and surge through the horn.



Fire’s child had been right. Blondie’s already-strong power was, indeed, magnified. I watched, trapped by my host’s mute horror, as wave after wave of knee-buckling force pulsed out of Blondie. Inside my host, magics realigned themselves as he lost contact with three of the four elements, and he felt his bones shift into that of his favorite fishing shape: a seal.



Around me other creatures were either in different shapes or still morphing when Blondie’s power finally used itself up and she collapsed. There were a handful of creatures prescient enough to throw up shields and powerful enough to hold them during the horn’s onslaught, but even they’d lost some of their power. They were still standing, however, and together they moved to secure the horn and Blondie.



My host changed himself back into human form, realizing as he did so that he’d been cut off from all elements but water. He tried other tricks: creating fire, pulling force from the earth, flying with air. All of these attempts failed. Finally, he tried to change into something other than a seal. That was unsuccessful, as well.



Everyone standing in that clearing looked around at one another, obviously at a loss over what had just happened, or how to proceed.



“That was the Great Schism,” I breathed, closing down my mind so I could open my eyes and be just me, Jane True, again. “I knew she did it, but I only saw her memories. They were brief.”



[It was a very traumatic event,] the creature said.



“What was the bull’s horn?” I asked.



[It was a horn, but not that of a bull. Nor was it really from a child of Earth. In reality, it belonged to one of Fire’s most violent children. When the child was destroyed, only the horn and another artifact, a hoof, were left. Both held tremendous power, but the horn remained at large.]



“Where’s the hoof?” I asked.



[Protected,] was all the creature would say. I knew I wasn’t getting any more on that subject.



“So let me get this straight,” I began. What I was learning this week went against everything I’d ever been told about the Alfar, their origins, and the supernatural world. The Alfar had obviously had a great time inventing their own mythology, with themselves on top. “Blondie found the horn with the help of another of Fire’s children—a voice that told her where to go.” I felt assent in my mind, the creature’s version of a nod. “She brought it back and used it. I felt her anger when I touched her tat… she wanted to get rid of humans?”



[So many of her kind had suffered abuse. She was full of hate.]



“But the horn actually created the Schism?”



[Yes. It picked out one aspect of the various beings’ magics—those individual beings most favored. Or it just assigned them an identity arbitrarily. It’s hard to say, with magic as old and foul as the horn’s was. Once each faction, as they are now called, was locked into place, their magics were locked into place. And as long as they bred with another of their faction, they would breed true. If they were successful, that is.]



“And she was the only one unaffected?” I asked.



[She’s the only one who retained her power.]



“She must have been so hated,” I said, marveling at her audacity even as I pitied her.



[And yet she’s the reason her people survived,] the creature informed me. [Fire always destroys, but oftentimes from that destruction comes life. This was no exception. Extreme exposure to elemental magic kills humanity’s ability to breed, over time. If my children had stayed as powerful as they were, there would have been maybe two more generations, each with fewer progeny. And then there would have been none.]



“I knew it,” I said. “I knew it had to do with the magic. So the weaker the faction—”



[The greater their chances of breeding.]



No wonder there are so many nahuals, and so few Alfar, I thought.



[Exactly,] the creature responded.



“But you helped them,” I said. “They would never have known what to do with their power if it weren’t for you. Why did they imprison you?”



[Open your mind, and I’ll show you this imprisonment,] the creature replied, amusement tinting his response.



I did, and felt myself whooshed back into the creature’s memories. The loneliness and grief was unbearable; so many years alone, and now my children disbanded into factions that hated one another. Everything had fallen apart.



So I decided to sleep.



I found a place to nest, building up the land around me so that I was part of both Earth and Water. At least I could be with my parents as I slept.



And with that I took my leave, falling into a sleep so profound as to echo death, although my great mind continued to sweep through the sleeping brains of animals and people alike.



That’s when the Alfar found me. And they made my nest into a death trap.



I watched as King Melichor and Queen Tatiana, along with their seconds Glynda and Straif, re-rigged the land around my sleeping form. They assumed I was a weapon and that, were I to awaken, I’d destroy everything. On the one hand, they wanted access to this weapon, but on the other hand, they wanted to deny access to others.



Part of the traps they set was the magnitude of my waking. In order to free me, my nest would have to be dissolved. Including everything that stood upon it.



“You’re not a weapon,” I said, already knowing that but wanting to get it out there. “You’re not even evil. You’ve just been built on.”



[Yes. But if my prison is destroyed, so is everything that rests upon it.]



“So if Phaedra does manage to release you, even if you don’t want to, you’ll destroy the Eastern Seaboard?”



[Precisely.]



“Good grief,” I said, marveling at just how anarchical the little Alfar truly was. Then I thought of something. “But what do you want?”



[I’m sorry?] the creature asked, its voice surprised.



“What do you want? Do you want to be free?”



The creature paused before responding. [Would you let me be released, if it meant so much destruction?]



I snorted. “I don’t think I’m in a position to allow anything. I’m just asking.”



[You are kind, little one. But no. I do not need to be “free.” Freedom is a relative term. My mind is free, and I experience so much through people like you, who are open to me. Meanwhile, my body was never for this world. Let it lie here and rest.]



Phew, cuz that would have sucked, I thought, before I could stop myself. Then I forced myself to say, “If you’re sure.”



The creature merely chuckled.



“So what are we going to do?” I asked. “I know you don’t want to, but technically you’re still capable of destroying a big chunk of the world. And there’s this nonsense about me being a champion…”



[Well, first things first,] came the creature’s calm voice in my head. [I think you should probably deal with what’s behind you.]



I cocked my head in confusion, before twirling around on my heel.



There stood Phaedra, looking as muddy and bruised as me, but also very, very pissed.



CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE



Hey, Phaedra,” I said, effecting calm. “What’s up?”



It was her turn to blink at me.



“You look like you’ve been through the wars. How’d you get past Blondie?” I asked, suddenly alarmed for my friend.



Is she our friend? I thought, suddenly remembering Blondie’s heretofore unmentioned role in the Great Schism. Is this all her attempt to make things up?



“Cavern collapsed,” Phaedra snarled. “The bitch apparated herself out without a scratch.” With that, Phaedra spat out a mouthful of what looked like blood.



“Huh,” I said, taking in the little Alfar’s condition. Why isn’t she healing herself?



“But she’s not going to be able to find her way back in so easily,” Phaedra said and leered, and then I felt a little bit of pull from the earth and water around me as the Alfar visibly started to heal.



“Oh, no?” I asked, keeping Phaedra occupied while I tried to pinpoint the alarm bells going off in my head. They weren’t negative alarm bells; they were positive ones, like I was “hot” on something that would make a big difference, if I could only figure out what it was.



“The whole tunnel system collapsed behind me,” said Phaedra with a smirk, as she kept drawing weakly from around her. It was like she didn’t want me to feel what she was doing. “She wouldn’t know where to apparate herself to find us. You’re trapped down here with me.”



And you’re trapped down here with us, I thought, for the creature’s benefit. “How’d you make it through?” I asked, not having to feign the quaver in my voice. To be honest, I was more scared of the idea of being trapped as I was at the idea of being trapped with Phaedra. There was something about the Alfar that was off.



“Speed and shields,” she replied, healing the last of her wounds. But she still looked funny—pallid and not her usual sprightly, if evil, self.