Brush & Magic

Reunited

Hey guys! I made a revision in chapter one. Check it out.

Alright. Moving on.

xxx

That...power…

So intense...so powerful...so...familiar. A familiar presence was infused with those malicious hands. Impossible. No one from Wasteland possesses magic. Not this sort of magic. The Guardians, Madam Leona, The Mad Doctor - no one I've met has the capability to accomplish an attack such as the one that assaulted me. No one...except The Blot.

No. It's not possible! The Blot can't be alive! I made sure of that! Cecelia grabbed hold of the malevolent core pumping life into the monstrous figure, and shattered it with but a whisper. The Blot is dead and gone for the better part of a year. There is no way he could have survived. NONE! And still, no plausible explanation is behind the attack on me. Neither is there an answer as to what that orb was.

So warm and intense. The power emitting from it beckoning to me. The hands of my attacker took it to Wasteland. A lure to bait me into a trap? Or something far more nefarious? Wasteland...it's in danger...again.

xxx

"Cecelia..." A muffled voice cried. Light shaking jostled a numb shoulder, coaxing lead heavy eyes to spread. "Cecelia!" The voice came through more clear. The blurred, black mass looming over hazy eyes sent nauseating shock shooting throughout Cecelia's body. Blot…? In the back of her mind a voice was screaming for her to get up and run. Another voice entirely told her to remain. That she was safe - in a matter of speaking. "Cecelia! Wake up! It me!" The fretful person shaking her begged. The mysterious form sharpened to a discernable shape. That of a round eared mouse.

"Hrm...Mi...ckey?" She rasped lethargically. Another trick? Mickey glossed ardently hearing her say his name. She was going to live. The unbearable tightness squeezing her muscles head to toe would beg to differ. My body...feels thrashed. She couldn't find the strength to sit up. Mickey grabbed her by the shoulders, setting her up against the wall. She was stirring gradually. She was able to face Mickey, his smiling face bringing her senses flashing back. It wasn't a trick. That is Mickey. "Mickey?! What are you-? When did you-?! How did you get here?! " Not that she isn't happy to see him. But how in the name of Merlin did he come to be in Yensid's workshop. Sharp pain drilled in her skull.

"Easy! Don't get too excited!" Mickey urged her. He sighed light enough so Cecelia wouldn't hear. She hasn't changed a bit since last time.

"Sorry. It's just…" She stroked loose, wiry hairs behind her ear. She laughed at his mother hen routine. "I'm really happy to see you." His sense of timing is as punctual as ever. The feeling was mutual. Finding her on the floor terrified Mickey. "But more to the point, how did you get here?"

"You have Gus to thank for that."

"Gus?" She gasped, managed to bend her legs sideways.

"I don't know how he did it, but Gus reached out to me through my television." Through his TV? He directed her attention to the prankster mirror above the mantel down the corridor. "He created a gateway for me to travel here. Thanks to him, I was able to make it here." This got Cecelia thinking. Before she was attacked. Given the timing, Cecelia pondered the strange light coming from Dark Beauty Castle. "What happened to you, Cecelia? When I got here, you were unconscious on the floor."

"I was attacked." She grunted.

"Attacked?! By who?" He clenched his fists.

"Not a who. A what!" She snarled. Mickey tilted his head confusedly. Cecelia glared at the table. The cloth was returned, covering Wasteland, but she bore holes into it. "Something reached out of Wasteland! Tore something right out of me and took it with them!" She touched her neck. She can still feel that arm in her throat. Those claws tearing her insides as it plucked that orb right out of her. "Oh no!" Amidst the grudging reminiscing, a horrifying realization struck Cecelia. "Mickey! Wasteland is in danger!" She shook him by the shoulder.

"How do you know?"

"Before I was knocked out, these cracks formed in Wasteland right before my eyes!" The entire display looked like it would shatter into pieces. "Something terrible is happening! We have to help them!"

"I see. So that's what he meant." Mickey hummed pensively. Cecelia ogled him curiously. "When Gus reached out to me, he said they needed OUR help." He touched Cecelia's shoulder. Her stomach did flips. Wasteland must be in peril if both of them are being asked for. Just as she feared. Mickey leered at the draped world of forgotten toons. "He said he was sending me here to get you and the brush!"

"The brush?" The brush is Mickey's greatest weapon and tool. Blotlings and Inert buildings and terrains were no match for him. Now that she thinks about it, the brush dropped off the face of the universe a long time ago. "Grandpa hid the brush inside another one of his mirrors. It's up those stairs." She gestured to the stairway leading to another corridor. "He said it was for safekeeping. I just think he was afraid I'd play with it." She grinned impishly. Which she would have.

"Then we have to go get it!" Mickey helped Cecelia to her feet, pushing her by the back. A severe case of altitude sickness spun her head. She felt light as a feather. Not in a good way. Her legs turned to noodles. She stumbled and planted her hands to the wall, saving herself from falling again. "Whoa! Easy!" Mickey kept his hands ready to catch her. She was pale. And it wasn't because of the hair. Her breath was short and labored. She was sweating bullets, too. "Are you sure you're well enough to go?" No one would hold it against her if she chose to stay home.

"I'm…" Cecelia touched a hand to her stomach and chest. She can't quite explain it, but she felt like there was a gaping hole somewhere inside of her. If someone were to touch her back, their hand would emerge from her stomach. And she felt...off balance. What's wrong with me? "I'm fine. I just...need to move…"

Moving is the worst thing. Batting her eyes was a trial. She tested her limits, and went for the table. Before embarking on recovering the brush, Cecelia needed for Mickey to see what she saw. Mickey walked alongside her, but left plenty of room for her. Her stride was sketchy. She had to throw her hands to the table stable herself. Her fingers brushed the cloth. She grabbed it by the handful and ripped it off. Wasteland was an inert exoskeleton.

"What?!" Cecelia gasped.

"Where is it?" Mickey swept a hand. It went right through. The cloth was clearly covering it. "How can this be? It was painted in, right?" Or so he assumed if she saw cracks in it.

"It was! I swear!" Those cracks forming. "This might be worse than we thought." She tried to touch the land for herself. As expected, her hand went through. "Wasteland must have removed the paint so we can't enter." They need the brush now more than ever.

"Then we have to hurry!" Mickey grabbed the edge of the table, swinging into a sharp turn for the stairs. His hand knocked over a bell jar, shattering it on the floor. The magical hat inside rose to the air. A star beam shot to the bucket of broomsticks.

"Uh-oh!" Cecelia dreaded. One stick bounced along. The bristles parted as feet, and arms and buckets sprouted. One after another, the magic brooms awoke, marching up the stairway. "Oh dear! The cleaning crew!"

"Are they dangerous?" Mickey asked nervously.

"Not really. But they have a tendency to go overboard." She shrugged. Though she was putting it dramatically mild. "Never mind them! Hurry!" She tucked Mickey under her arm. She barreled the brooms out of the way, charging in a sprint up the stairs.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Yensid was watching them from beyond a window. A air of somber shaded him.

xxx

In what can be considered a short amount of time, The Brave and Mischievous mouse and The Curious and Determined Cat began embarking on another perilous journey. Much like their previous escapade, this second endeavor will push them to beyond new limits and heights. The power of magic and brush will not be enough. The power they amassed through bonds of companionship will be needed to serve as their swords and shields. The challenges they face will be more arduous than the last. The dangers crawling from the depths will put not only their faith in others to the test, but the strength of their own individual wills and hearts.

My utmost faith in them will never waver or fade. In my heart, I know they will prevail. That does not, however, assuage my worry.

Take care...both of you.

xxx

A couple of the brooms beat them to the top. They sloshed their buckets in the infinitely flowing fountains. Water was spilling as they continued on their way. The miraculous feat was when they jumped the large gap in the middle of the room without losing a single drop. The same agility was displayed when they jumped ten feet to the second level. Where they were going through the bars in the walls was an unnerving mystery.

"Is that it?" Mickey noticed the mirror where the brooms passed. Between the floating lanterns.

"That's the one." She interlaced her fingers. Mickey stepped on. Cecelia tossed and he kicked off, landing with a graceful flip to the other side. Cecelia got in a running start. Pushing off at the edge, she cleared the jump.

"Impressive!" Mickey whistled.

"Not too shabby yourself." Mickey and Cecelia ran up the wall, grappling hold of the ledge. They slithered on their stomach to the surface. The magic brooms clearing the jump with ease aggravated them. Turning them into firewood comes to mind. Too bad they were busy.

Cecelia stroked an etching on the mirror. The reflection of them rippled to a distortion. Another plane awaited. Hand in hand the two jumped in, landing to a bed of solid rock in a world all its own. A sky cohesively hued by navy and violet swirling magnanimously. The waters lapping to jagged rocks below reflected the same colors. The inert exoskeletons of rocks and stars floated in a winding path, ending at a bedrock a ways up. Uttering a spell to clear the distance wasn't enough. There is a method to the madness. Mickey has to chisel at the rust with his brush skills.

"I see it!" Mickey darted forward. The brush was floating on the next bedrock. He blindly tried to jump. He panicked as he was about to fall short. Slabs of rocks rose from the water, forming a safe path for him. "Whoa! Talk about helpful."

"More like a lesson in looking before you leap." Cecelia playfully scolded him. Mickey blushed at his zeal. She got him there.

Mickey tapped the new ground, testing how safe it is. He exhaled with relief, and proceeded. Cecelia admired the plane around them. She had to give her grandfather credit. He knew how to make the most interesting places. Mickey gently wrapped his fingers to the brush. The power of paint and thinner was his again. Holding it again was strange, yet empowering. Gazing to what was inert, he sensed of test of his capabilities arising. His role as master of the brush being placed upon his shoulders again. The moment he paints in their path.

"Forgotten how to use that thing?" Cecelia teased with hands on her hips.

"Not in the slightest!" He boldly stated. He aimed to a star that lost its paint. Powder blue paint gushed from the bristles. The star twinkled in brilliance once again. He twirled the brush with a prideful flare, painting the curving path of rocks. They conjoined like puzzle pieces, linking to the next bedrock ahead. He blew on the bristles, then turned to haughty smirk at Cecelia. "Well?" She applauded him. He has successfully forced her foot into her mouth. "Shall we proceed?"

"Let's, O' Master of the Brush." She sarcastically cutsied. Mickey puffed out his chest, marching like a general. Cecelia rolled her eyes, strolling after him. As he painted in the rocks and meteors, Cecelia her eyes and mind wander. Although, she and Mickey had to mind their step. The comets Mickey painted in had a mind of their own. One or two nearly took their heads clean off their shoulders. The water's splash radius drizzled the path. The rocks became slick. Mickey and Cecelia both had fun trying to stay upright.

The magic flowing in this particular domain should as magnificent as it appears. An abundance of awesome energy flowing in a torrential spiral from the seabed to the sky. She might as well be walking inside a bland closet. Why don't I sense anything from here?

Mickey and Cecelia arrived at the second mirror quickly than anticipated. Stars and comets danced within the cosmic plane, erupting the water below in gushing waves. A sight to behold. Cecelia unlocked the next mirror. She and Mickey jumped right on through without a second thought. Where they ended up stunned Mickey.

"Hold on!" This had to be some sort of trick. "This is my home!" He gasped.

"No way!" Cecelia gasped. Mickey examined it closely. The bed, the ringful carpet, the checkered kitchen past the archway. There was no doubt about it. Mickey was home. "Your house is adorable!" She squealed. She knelt to play with a pair of fuzzy slippers by his bed. The portraits of him and his dog made her flutter. The ear shaped clock by his bed was the cutests thing she's seen. "Come to think of it, I've always wanted to see where you lived!" Her enthusiasm dwindled when she saw Mickey's disconcerted look. "Mickey? Is something wrong?"

"This doesn't feel right." He mumbled, stepping lightly about his room. His lamp was the same. None of the pictures were moved. His made bed was - well - made. And he is pretty sure he turned off the coffee pot in the kitchen. Yet...there was just an awkward feeling. A sense the room was...false. "This...this isn't right." He squeezed the brush. Cecelia didn't sense anything amiss. Then again, she doesn't sense much of anything. Mickey splashed thinner at his wall. The wall evaporated to bland stone. "I knew it! I'm not home! This is all toon!"

xxx

Illusions and misconceptions pave the stones of innumerable paths, serving as obstacles to deter travelers. By the mouths of strangers - or friends - or from what is seen with one's own eyes, illusions are only as powerful as the belief that is put towards feeding them. Because of a struggle to accept what is, or a strong delusion for what isn't - the ability to muster the courage and pierce through the facade is a strength many fail to grasp. Or simply wish to not sprain their fragile hearts.

xxx

"I thought toon only existed in Wasteland or…" Cecelia trailed off, gawking at the mirror. "Another illusion by the mirrors." She folded her arms grumpily. "I cannot shake the feeling dear grandpa Yensid knew we'd be needing your brush again."

"He doesn't strike me as a prankster."

"Deserts have an equally dry sense of humor, but even they pull cruel pranks once in awhile." Mickey snorted at the simile. Nevertheless, they needed to hurry. The question is, which way was out.

Mickey pondered the mystery for a moment. This false home was a strange one. The detail in mimicking his bedroom was immaculate. He would have bought into it if he didn't know better. But as his gaze trailed to the kitchen, the discrepancies became as apparent as a light in a dark room. The checkered flooring was askew. The fridge, sink, and windows - whatever attention went to the room became very lax as it pressed on. It was hard on his eyes. He wanted to thin it all away, but needed to conserve thinner and paint. He had to be absolutely sure about where to thin.

The living room captured his full attention. The wall the TV was against definitely wasn't right. Mickey stormed over to it. He planted his feet and unleashed a roaring river of thinner. The wall melted away in seconds. Cecelia screamed at the top of her lungs in abject horror at what was on the other side.

"GRANDPA'S OBSERVATION ROOM!" She charged in. Two feet of water swallowed her legs to the knee as she raced across. Mickey sank waist high, being splashed by Cecelia rampage. The platform in the middle was etched with a celestial star. The water submerged the first step and was creeping to the next. The massive telescope sloped to the huge window was free of moisture. Cecelia really wished she could say the same for the rest of the observation room. "Oh man…"

Waterfalls of gushing water were coming out of every hole in the wall it could find. Even the books on the shelves were spewing with raging water. The ceiling itself was leaking. Whatever damage if up there made Cecelia quiver. It was amazing the whole room wasn't a pool by now. The magic brooms were marching around the second level. Half were incessantly pouring water, adding to the flood, while the other half went to retrieve more.

"OVERBOARD! WAAY TOO OVERBOARD!" Cecelia pulled at her hair. The brooms do this all the time. They just need to what they need and take a break. But they keep going for hours and hours until Yensid stops them. Cecelia would know. She used them for the first time years ago and couldn't get them to stop. "Grandpa's gonna kill me when he comes home!"

"Can't you stop them?" Mickey begged. Before they're drowned.

"Just stand back and watch me!" She bent her fingers. Mickey gave her room. He's been excited to see her magic again. Cecelia took a deep breath, raising her hands. "Enough is enough! Time to stop! Take now - you naughty brooms - the whole day off!" She thrust her palm. Mickey anxiously await a feat of mysticism. But nothing happened. "Huh?" Cecelia stared confused at her palm. Maybe she said it wrong. She'll try another. "Scopis, Ceteri!" (Brooms, rest) Mickey glanced at the brooms this time. Expecting them to topple like dominos. They didn't so much as flinch. Cecelia's hand started to tremble. Fear glossed her eyes. "Expecto patronum!" Nothing. "Wingardium leviosa!" Nothing again. "Repalo! Delere! BIBBIDI BOBBIDI BOO!" She flailed her arms in a tantrum. The last one made a tiny fizz ball that plopped to the ground at her feet, and melted like ice. One after another, she spouted every spell she knew off the top of her head. Nothing, nothing, and zilch. Out of breath, Cecelia stopped her futile exertion. Two spells not working is a coincidence. But five?

Petrified shudders shook from her throat. The abject horror in which she stared at her hands made even Mickey shake with fear. "Cecelia...what's..." He was scared to ask.

Cecelia dropped to her knees. That emptiness nagging at her. The gaping hole at her center. The reason she wasn't able to sense so much as a breeze of magic since she woke up. "My magic…It's gone!"

To be continued.