extended summary: "Is that all you want in life in return for your soul? Retribution?" There's no hesitation in her answer and he wonders when he'd missed that bloodthirsty glint in her eyes. "That, and so much more." Between attempts on her life and plans gone awry, Max is just trying to set things right in all the wrong ways. In which Max is a mage stuck in an unfriendly world and Fang is the product of making deals with the devil.

notes: Salvum ventus: Save me, wind

Aperio, Deleo: reveal, erase

Exsolvo, resolvo: release, loosen

—google translate

notes2: Mage/Supernatural/Fantasy AU. Like pushing-the-limits AU, world-building-to-the-max AU.

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::::: 01. but alas, revenge becomes her :::::

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She finds it rather ironic that although she's lived in the drafty old mansion her entire life (as did most of her predecessors), she was never informed that a whole labyrinth was constructed below its floors, hidden by concealed runes behind bookshelves in the first-floor library. Max would like to think of all the reasons why such an obvious give-away never made it to the ears of the Council, but brushes it off as she'd made it a rule to never question good things with the kind of life she has.

Max double-checks the crumpled piece of parchment in her hand, smoothing out creases and fingering already smeared charcoal lines, muttering it should be here, it should be here under her breath to empty stone hallways. Her enchanted moonstone pendant is her only source of light in the dank corridors, wound tightly around her left wrist. She very nearly slips on a puddle of water, but her eyes are still riveted on the map as the charcoal lines shifted, the hallways did too.

Magic was a pain in the ass sometimes, but if the spelled labyrinth kept the Council officials off her tail, she'll take what she could get. Even if she had to journey with a weird mist hanging around her, severely limiting her magic-casting abilities while she questioned every step she took.

Two left turns, three right, and a trip down five flights of questionably stable stairs (because floating slabs of rock in barely illuminated darkness, that's why—what was Haniel Clearwater thinking?) she's rudely dropped approximately two stories down and was flat-out falling to meet her end with the starved serpent waiting at the bottom with nothing but her silent screams and the sound of wind roaring in her ears.

The map is fisted in her right hand, but she manages to sneak a peek at it without letting it fly off. And just like she had expected, all the marks that represented the labyrinth were replaced by a smoky haze.

The mist that was previously clinging to her even when she was falling ten stories down was slowly dissipating; she welcomes the familiar thrum of pure, unadulterated energy coursing through her veins. Another peek reveals that oh, the smoky patch is gone and that tiny white dot must be her and oh, the random black line that just appeared must be the bottom and the dot is approaching that at breakneck speed and if she doesn't do something, anything, she'll be a little more than a blood and flesh pancake at the bottom of a house that isn't even hers anymore, dead and forgotten. Hardly a mage, hardly a knight in a chess game but she's got fire in her veins and steel in her soul, so that's something nobody should ever give up.

Salvum ventus, her soul whispers on reflex, and just like that, her fall slows considerably and the wind stops screaming her ears. She lands feet-first, mutters claresco under her breath and her pendant illuminates the massive circular stone chamber she's currently in and she has to blink a few times before she unfurls the map.

It's perfectly blank.

She blinks in confusion this time, runs a shaky hand through wind tossed dirty blond hair, breathes in a sharp breath. Surveys the chamber; regular granite, spiral wall design, water stains on the outer edges. Good. She's still in the premises of the labyrinth and not in some parallel universe. But still—there's only weathered stone surrounding her, save for the black expanse above her.

"This is impossible," she says, looking at the map again and again, but it's still blank as the darkness above her is impenetrable despite the numerous light charms she'd cast on her pendant. Her mind frantically puts the floating stairs scenario on loop, thinking oh gods what if there were steps that I missed stupid enchantments and—

—there's a draft in the room.

She tries to quell the yes yes there's an exit feeling blossoming in her chest but her feet walk her over to the crack in the far wall and she hesitantly places her free hand on the crack.

Nothing happens.

Two rejections in a day is something she's not settling for, and deep down, there's something telling her that yes, there's something and if you think magic just tells you where it is, you're still that naive little girl from yesterday.

Well, fine. She closes her eyes and focuses on the electric thrum, willing it to just reach out and there. She feels it. Feels the heavy magic guarding the surrounding stones, sees the faintly glowing runes behind her eyelids. A little more, and then her hands involuntarily trace them, running spells through her mind. She feels her mana necklace burn her skin as places both hands on the stone, willing it to just—

Aperio

Her soul burns and she snaps her eyes open; previously concealed runes flare to life, glowing unearthly blue. There's runes marked hide, protect, repel, and a dozen different more, but that's not what makes her brows scrunch together.

It's the fact that it's been too easy.

It's the fact that she wasn't killed by the stone gargoyles that guarded the catacomb entrance, the fact that she managed to annihilate the whole army of skeletons with a thirst for blood (fresh blood, they'd screamed in her mind) with fire spells and the fact that the map that was currently tucked in her leather jacket pocket was real and true and led her in the right direction through the labyrinth hallways...

She swallows, knowing what she probably had to face once she was done with these runes.

Deleo

The surface of the stone crumbles and she jumps back, boots skidding on the floor. The crack widens until it's wide enough to fit a person. She aims her moonstone pendant at the crack, channeling all the light into a beam but the darkness remains the same and it's then that she knows she'll be probably screwed when she steps in.

The crack all but screams danger danger danger, after all.

But then again, she's Max and she's brash and brave and reckless, all act now and think later, and when there's a challenge there will be no backing down. She thinks of Maya, thinks about her mother and how nice it would be if she conquered whatever lay ahead and got to see them again. Thinks of how revenge would taste once she'd harnessed the power that lay five steps away and how nice it'll be to bring her family back together.

"This is it, Max," she whispers as five steps turn to one. The ominous feeling increases tenfold but she steels her resolve and closes the distance. "For them."

She's falling again. But instead of falling through darkness, she's falling through a tunnel of fire so why don't the flames burn? And oh gods were those faces talking to her? She sees severed human heads and cutoff limbs being swallowed up as she lets gravity have its way but they know my name and I can hear them in my head.

Max whips out the map, but the flames consume it the minute she tries to unfold it and that's when the fire really burns her, white hot flames licking at her soul.

She screams and very nearly faints when a head gets too close and she sees her panic reflected in the empty eye sockets.

This is only the beginning, Maxine Calestra Clearwater, it says. Sweet dreams.

"What?" She questions. "Did you just wish me sweet dreams and why would you say—"

The fires extinguish, and she is alone.

Her name is Maxine Calestra Clearwater, four years of age. She is a happy dirty blond, living in a old stone mansion on the outskirts of Calesia Pavillion. She has a wonderful caring mother and a lovely two year old sister but where is father? Her mother tells her that father is not here but loves her very much and she is four so she soaks it up; it is the most wonderful feeling in the world—

She is six, and she likes long walks on the windy walkways in the city built on a mountain face. Chants of Glory To Alberdawn fill the morning air and oh, she loves the feel of the wind in her hair and it's the most wonderful feeling in the—

She is eight and her mother refuses to enroll her in St. Xavian's Academy for young mages. She whines and begs and pleads, saying how lovely and great it would be for her to finally harness her magic so she could ride the wind like those kids who lived down at the base of the mountain. Her mother shakes her head and says that one day, she could do that but for now, mother will teach you and it's the most wonderful feeling in—

She is eleven and she is playing around with a conjured whirlwind with Maya in the garden. She makes it pick up autumn leaves and swirls them all around while Maya claps her nine-year-old-hands telling her, with stars in her eyes, how cool and awesome that is and wow Max is such a fun sister. It's the most wonderful feeling—

She is thirteen when she finally enters St. Xavian's Academy and she knows when to harden her mask or clench her fists when someone throws a look her way and says, oh look, it's the Clearwater girl, from the disgraced noble family and all. She holds her head high and studies in the library when everyone is experimenting with magic and getting high off of the rush of mana. There is no way to hide the smirk on her face when she aces the rune test whereas everyone fails; it's the most wonderful—

She is fifteen when she is top of her class and whispers of no way, Clearwater must be cheating swirl around the school. She holds Maya's hand as she walks her sister to class and tells the younger girl to take the insults and turn it into armor. Because little sister, she says, it's the only way to survive. When it's lunch, they're sitting in their corner table and Maya asks why do people hate us so much we didn't do anything wrong and she can only shrug and say, it's not because of what our family has done, it's because of who we are. Maya blinks and tells her that if she has mom and Max, everything will be alright and it's the most—

She is sixteen when the war hits. She doesn't know why she's so surprised; she's known that his would happen one day. Alberdawn is up in flames, Calesia Pavillion is up in flames, the whole Magical Plain is up in flames and her mother herds them to the basement. Dashes her necklace to the ground, whispers the words that take them away, away from Alberdawn and their cursed bloodline and into the Mortal Realm and it's the—

She is seventeen when the Council members hunt them down. She is in her junior year of highschool when one day, there's no home to go home to anymore. Maya squeezes her hand when a solemn-looking fireman explains that their house is unsalvageable but their mother is okay and safe safe safe. Her heart lifts a little and it's—

Her name is Maxine Calestra Clearwater, eighteen years of age. It is her birthday when she wipes herself from her mother and sister's memories and sends them far away with new identities and memories, saying I'm sorry I'm sorry to an unlit birthday cake. They become Valerie and Maybelle Ride, single mother and teenage daughter. When the Council breaks into their empty house, she is already outside and burns it down it with a simple flick of her wrist. She doesn't have any feelings left anymore.

She's still eighteen when she lands herself back in Alberdawn, right in front of her first home. It's been converted into a Council Hall (oh the irony, she thinks) and a map is clutched in her right hand, retribution as the only goal in mind.

Around her, the war rages on and the blood rune on her back burns with the heat of a thousand fires.

She jerks awake, eyes snapping open as the dream—

Wait.

She's lying on her side, curled in the fetal position, and it's still dark but there's something heavy and cold on her arms. One hand hesitantly touches the other and it's something unmistakably metal. Realization mixed with panic is not something someone wants to wake up from and this is no exception.

She thrashes in her chains, searches for the thrum in her veins, whispers exsolvo, resolvo, dimitte, but the energy in her veins fades into background noise with the last word. She tries and tries and tries but soon, she's feeling the strain in her soul but no, she can't give up now.

"It's brass, m'dear. No use in struggling."

She instinctively whips her head in the direction of the voice...if that even was a voice. It sounded like a hundred people murmuring all at once and she notes the way the floor vibrates under her. Definitely not a good sign.

"Who are you?" She yells into the darkness. "And am I that much of a threat that you have to chain me up?"

Oops. Not exactly what she wanted to say, but too late to take it back now.

There's a laugh, or what she hopes is a laugh. The sound is reverberating through the empty expanse, and she thinks she sees a red glint somewhere off.

"Child." Mocking, now. "It's more for your safety. Wouldn't want you stumbling around in the darkness, hmmm?" The voice is hard to pinpoint now it, sounding like the buzzing of flies. A million of them, high up in the blackness, mocking her, waiting for a stupid move so that—

"Okay, fine. I get it. So I highly doubt you've chained me up just so we could talk," she yells, and her voice bounces back to her. Okay. Definitely a big room.

Another laugh.

"You're right. I haven't," the voice says. "I have other plans in store. I mean, with such a tragic past, you'll need something to help fix your problems."

Great. Another test. And this time, she knows that it'll be a challenge. But she's Max and she's brains and brawn, takes what she can get, and she'll deal with the disaster head-on.

"So what do you want me to—"

The room is suddenly engulfed in a hazy red light, and when her eyes refocus again she sees that it's the size of a football field. There's shadows with glowing ruby eyes lining the walls, and shit shit shit there's no way she can possibly fight all of them. It'll be a miracle if she even manages to get rid of the heavy brass chains handcuffing her wrists but by then...

She looks up and sees the shadows slowly advancing at a leisurely pace, biding their time, probably thinking, she's not going anywhere anytime soon.

They're right. She's not.

Scared now, Maxine Calestra Clearwater? she hears in her head. It'll be such a shame to see you go down in a fight, so you should probably call your demon.

What what what demon what—

Another laugh. Silly girl. That's why you're here, right? To break the blood rune on your back. You've succeeded so far, but whether you'll be able to control him is a different story.

But but I thought—

You're a Clearwater girl, of cursed blood, of a disgraced family. Your ancestors have been dancing with the devil for a millennia. So why stop now?

The voice goes silent and she can only watch as the shadows advance, thinking, great advice, but how am I supposed to do that?

Figure it out, top of your class.

notes3: Yeah. This just came to me one day.