Finding Yourself
The Cost
Friday, November 28th, 2003
No one seemed ready to enter the beyond again, though that was something Phoenicia could sympathize with entirely because even she generally avoided entering it intentionally. If she had not been a telepath with a barricade to protect her, before she had developed her powers of sight, her mind would have been far more damaged due to the onslaught of never ending flashes. Unfortunately due to her telepathy, this experience was likely to be far more worse for them, because they were getting high doses of the emotions and thoughts of what she was showing them, despite the fact that they were only residual impressions of what she felt.
Phoenicia paused as she felt a sudden shift with her connection to the beyond, a small, practically unnoticeable tilt to her head as she sought it out. Oh. She glanced at Paige, who was frowning in thought. Her aunt had been thinking of what she had wanted to ask, and Phoenicia had known that what she wanted to know would not have warranted memories as Piper's had, though it was a relevant question that would have been a major contributing factor to getting the sisters to go with them. However something had changed within the last few minutes, and Paige was no longer certain what she wanted to ask.
Interesting, she thought.
Finally when the silence seemed to be too much for them all to handle, Phoebe took a hesitant step forward. Her hands were shaking quite visibly as she looked at the future version of her child. "I'm ready," Her voice broke despite her best efforts and she looked anything but ready to know what she was about to ask, though Phoenicia merely nodded sagely.
"You have but to ask."
"… Why do you hate me so much?"
Phoenicia had been expecting this question all along, though hearing it still made her insides churn. "As you wish," And as she had before, Phoenicia made a gesture towards them and touched her forehead. It was much easier this time however, as everyone was expecting the sudden feeling of paralysis and did not fight futilely against it as they were drew into the images as spectators, along with the barrage of vague thoughts and emotions.
...
The young boy could feel it, feel it pulling at his heart in a strange way. He had felt many different things in his short years, fear and pain, anger and hate. But he had never felt anything quite like this. The feeling spread throughout his entire being and it shook him to the core. As he stared down into blue and gray eyes that seemed to be wise in their innocence, he wondered how this human girl could have such an effect on him.
He was positive that he had never seen her before, was sure he would remember seeing a child so young and helpless and beautiful among the throng of the dying and decayed that his world seemed to radiate. And the Seer was dead so he could not turn to her for answers, to tell him what it was about this girl that called to him and entranced him so. Even if he could, however, he doubted that asked her would be the wisest choice. The Seer often dictated his life and surely she would want to dispose of this child, would want to destroy something that challenged his upbringing and brought out such a feeling within him.
Two chubby arms rose into the air and he frowned momentarily, indecision written across his face. Hesitantly, he reached down and carefully lifted her up and into his arms, cradling her small head because she seemed unable to do so herself with her frail neck. He brought her to his chest and held her closely, absorbing the warmth of her small body, finding it comforting. Her skin was soft, he noticed, and she gave off a clean, untainted scent that he found pleasant. Small and fragile fingers wrapped around his tatty jacket as he rested his cheek against the small patch of dark hair atop her head.
"Who are you?" he whispered in confusion. "How are you doing this?"
The child made a soft sound and he pulled away to look down at her curiously. A small unintentional smile lit his face when she lifted her fragile hand to his cheek, and he rose his own hand to pull hers away gently, dark brown eyes watching curiously as she wrapped her tiny fingers around one of his own instead. He rocked her gently, unsurely. He had never held a child before and hoped he was doing it right but she didn't seem to mind.
Petal soft footsteps that would have probably been inaudible to anyone else alerted him to the fact that someone was approaching, and he glared at the pale pink door, as if it was the cause of the interruption. In truth he knew it was likely only the girl's parents. Maybe he could just kill them when they opened the door, take them by surprise. He could stay with her then. His army would never dare challenge his decision to keep a human child. They would probably think her to be a pet. But looking down into her sweet and gentle face, he knew he could not do anything that would eventually bring her pain. It almost hurt him to think that she would be upset by his actions.
Reluctantly, he eased her back into the cradle, pulling the soft blanket over her and placing the small stuffed toy closer to her before he accessed one of his abilities, disappearing from sight and into nothingness. He was unexplainably pleased when the child continued to smile up at him, her eyes steadily gazing into his own, despite his invisibility. "I'll come back," he whispered to her in promise, withdrawing his lingering hand before he stepped away from her. The door was opened quietly, a soft light spilling into the room as her parents checked in on her.
The boy was gone before it was opened all the way, no one the wiser.
…
Sun shone through the window, glaring down brightly upon the little girl. She was laying down upon the floor on her stomach, long dark hair falling over her shoulders as she used crayons to make the image she wanted on the paper. She looked up periodically at her reluctant model and scrutinized his features for a moment before searching for a dark brown crayon to complete his hair. She chewed on her lip and glanced between her portrait and her companion several times before signing her name at the bottom of the paper.
Crawling onto her knees she held up the picture and showed it to him. "What do you think?" she asked him.
The boy stared at the paper blankly before looking at her. "It's good."
"… You don't like it." she deducted with a pout.
"I didn't say that."
Rolling her eyes, she said, "You didn't have to,"
"Phoenicia?" a voice interrupted and they both looked to the door that led to the kitchen.
"Yes, Aunt Piper?"
"Who are you talking to, sweetie?"
"Luke," the little girl answered promptly. "He says my picture is good, but I know he doesn't like it."
Piper frowned slightly, and then she kneeled down beside her niece. "And is this Luke?" she asked, taking the portrait from the girl. It was actually a rather good picture, the main features carefully etched if not a bit misshapen.
"Yes. That's Luke."
"Well, he is very handsome," Piper proclaimed and Phoenicia giggled as the subject of the image blushed under the praise. "Is he a friend from school? I was sure I knew everyone in your class,"
"No," she answered. "He doesn't go to school."
Piper blinked in confusion. "How do you know him?"
"I've always known him," the little girl said brightly. "He's my best friend."
"I thought Chris was your best friend,"
"Nope. Chris is my twin," Phoenicia pointed out. "Luke is different."
"And where is Luke now? Is he going to visit soon?"
The child stared at her aunt uncomprehendingly. "Right there,"
Piper glanced at the location where her niece gestured, her eyebrows knitted together. "I see. Well Luke, it is very nice to meet you. Sweetie, I'm going to go finish lunch, okay? You and Luke have fun."
Phoenicia watched her aunt leave in puzzlement. "What was that about?" she wondered.
"She couldn't see me," Luke reminded her. "I'm invisible."
"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I forgot."
…
"Phoenicia, this has got to stop!" her mother said sternly.
"I'm not doing anything," she answered back evenly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Phoebe glared down at her. "It's not healthy for someone your age to still have an imaginary friend."
"Luke's not imaginary!" Phoenicia said angrily.
"Then why can't anyone see him?"
"Because he's invisible,"
The woman stared down at her daughter sorrowfully. "This is what I'm talking about Phoenicia. You constantly use that excuse, and you know it's not true. These delusions are hurting you, baby, and every excuse is just an effort to support your elaborate fantasy. It's completely textbook, and it needs to stop. There will be no more talk about Luke, or how he's invisible and you're the only one who can see him. You need to face reality. Luke is not real."
"I'm not the only one who can see him," Phoenicia told her. "He only shows himself to people he trusts. And why are you so quick to believe that I'm only making him up or imagining him? You see the future! Should I tell you that it's all in your head? That by saving the people you see die is just supporting your elaborate fantasy? It's completely textbook, mother, and it needs to stop. There will be no more talk about premonitions, or how you're the only one who can see them. You need to face reality. Premonitions aren't real. "
"Phoenicia Naomi Halliwell—"
"Dad believes me!"
Phoebe stiffened noticeably. "Your father's views are unimportant,"
"Why, because he left you or because you know he supports me?" she asked scathingly.
The sound of flesh upon flesh echoed loudly, and the slap seemed to surprise more than just Phoenicia. Both mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment of disbelief and silence before the young girl raised her hand to the already visible red blotch on her cheek. She pressed her cool hand against the hot flesh, betrayal and anger surging through her veins. Her mother had never hit her before, and it was hard to see who was more shocked by it.
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Phoebe said urgently, reaching for her daughter. "Let me see it,"
"Dad asked if I wanted to go live with him," she told mother, calm demeanor belied by the hurt in her eyes.
Anger renewed, Phoebe looked as if she wanted to slap her again. "Over my dead body!"
Phoenicia ignored her mother's indignant statement. "I'm going to tell him yes." Before her mother could object, she was already running to her room so she could begin packing up her most prized possessions.
It was the morning that the quiet teenager found herself in her mother's car, ignoring the radio in favor of watching the scenery pass by as they drove downtown. She rested her head against the glass and watched as droplets of rain slid down from the earlier storm. She was moving in with her father. She had been so surprised this morning when her mother came in and apologized and told her that if she wanted to live with her father that she would support her decision. And now they were in the car, on their way to his apartment.
While it was true that she could have just used her powers to transfer herself and her bags to her room of the apartment, she figured the least she could do to make up for her sarcasm the previous night would be to respect her mother's wishes for a magic free environment—which had been the reason for the divorce to begin with. Her mother had been attempting to purge magic from their home for years, which was difficult considering that both her husband and child were magical. Eventually she pushed too far and he had finally given up on their entire relationship. It had placed a strain on her and Phoenicia's as well.
Being apart for a while would do them all some good.
Sighing in contentment, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be lulled asleep by the constant movement as the car drove along the highway, dreaming of all the things she and her father would do when it was just the two of them.
Some time later, Phoenicia awoke abruptly to a sharp jab to her arm, and she looked down at the offending area curiously. There was a small red spot on her bicep, and in the center there was blood welling. Eyebrows knitted together, she unexpectedly found herself growing lethargic, the world around her spinning and her head beginning to feel as if it had been stuffed with cotton. It was all very disorienting.
"Wha…" she murmured in confusion, looking to her mother for help, only to find that her mother wasn't in the car any longer. Instead she found herself looking at a man. He was large, vaguely intimidating, wearing clothes that she imagined belonged in a hospital. He was holding a needle. It clicked in her mind that she had probably just been injected by something, and judging by the way she was feeling she thought it may have been a sedative.
The car door she was leaning on was suddenly wrenched open, though before she could slip out onto the pavement arms went around her shoulders. She fought against them instinctively and managed to render her assailant unconscious with a single elbow to his temple before she stumbled out of the car completely. Another man came at her from the front as she unsteadily rose to her feet and she grabbed his outstretched arm, twisting it around his back unrelentingly until she heard a small pop followed by a cry of pain.
Phoenicia spotted her mother being pushed behind another man, and made from him. The question of why her mother wasn't fighting back flitted through her mind but the dizziness combined with her own survival instincts made that question a rather low priority at the moment. The man blocked her punch quite easily, taking her by surprise, though there was a numbness settling into her limbs and she realized that she could not defend herself properly in this condition. She backed away and evaluated a better form of attack.
Raising her hands, she attempted to place the man in a telekinetic stasis because just because her muscles were heavy didn't mean she couldn't use her magic. Only, to her shock, her magic did not respond to her. She made an angry gesture and felt panic coil in her chest when the men remained unaffected. Obvious that, or whatever reason, her magic was not working, Phoenicia glanced around and counted how many men were left. Four. The one guarding her mother, another one getting out of the driver's side of the car that she knew would be no threat as he moved away to the side, and two more attempting to back her up so they cage her to the side of the car. She allowed it, backing up until her back was pressed against the metal before she twisted and rolled over the top of the hood and onto the other side.
"CHRIS!" she cried loudly. "WYATT! PAIGE! LEO!"
There was none of the telltale signs of white lights or distant bells. Her panic became almost blinding but long hours of secret training with her cousins managed to overcome her fear. Her basic instinct was to save her mother. But in her incapacitated state she was more prey than predator. A momentary retreat would be the best course of action followed by somehow contacting the others and coming up with a plan of rescue. It took her less than two seconds to compose herself and think rationally and by the time her attackers even had a chance to realize she had rolled over the car, she was already sprinting down the partially full parking lot and towards the large gates she could see just in front of her.
Someone tackled her to the ground from the side when she was less than a meter away from the gate and they both landed hard on the asphalt surface, her cheek impacting and scratching as he tried to pin her down. She hissed in dismay as the gate began sliding back into place, removing the only escape route she could see. Phoenicia growled angrily, and used his weight against him and flipped them over before lifting him by his collar and slamming him back onto the pavement. The blow was not hard enough to kill though definitely enough to keep him on the ground long enough for her to get away.
A well-executed jump had her halfway up the fence and, with a bit of sluggish effort on her part, she managed to drop to the other side. The distant sound of an alarm reached her ears as she searched for cover. She could not recognize anything and she could feel the adrenalin that was keeping her awake and beginning to wane. She ran, and ran, attempting to use her magic to send her elsewhere though no matter what she tried it wouldn't respond.
It was as if her powers had been bound.
"She's over here!"
The shout was far too close for her comfort and she added another burst of speed as she spotted an alleyway further down the road. Looking back, she ducked into the ally and then swiftly closed her eyes, grimacing as she realized it was a dead end with a dumpster. In one last effort, she called upon her elemental magic. Relief filled her completely as it responded to her desperation. She crouched on the floor as she felt the fine hairs on her arms lengthen as she got smaller and smaller. Her blunt teeth grew steadily sharper and her pupils became elongated instead of round. Her body shifted without a sound and she promptly curled into herself, preparing for the final stage of the transformation that she had only recently learned.
When the man came to the ally, all he found was what appeared to be a small white cat.
Phoenicia did not even wait until he had left before she rose unsteadily onto four paws, arching her back and allowed the wings to unfurl. With a small flap, she took to the air and began searching for a landmark that she recognized so she could get home to her family before she passed out from the sedatives.
…
Phoenicia sat in an overstuffed armchair as she stared resolutely out of the window. Her legs were crossed beneath her and her shoulders were relaxed and slouched. She figured if she made it look like she had no intention of attempting to run any time soon that it would eventually put the man behind the desk into a false sense of security when in reality she could be up and out of the chair, and halfway down the hall before he even realized that she had unfolded her legs.
"May I call you Phoenicia?" he asked her mildly. "Or would you prefer Miss Halliwell?"
"I'm not a Halliwell," she said amiably, refusing to look the man in the eye.
"Ah, my mistake," he said readily. "May I ask why?"
"Because when my parents got married we took his name," she said evenly. "Thus, when I was born, I happened to inherit that name. Besides that, I want nothing to do with my mother."
"And why is that?" the doctor wondered aloud. "Is it because you believe she betrayed you by wanting to help you, by bringing you here? Because that isn't true, even if you think it is…"
Phoenicia inwardly rolled her eyes as she answered. "My mother doesn't want to help me, she wants to control everything in her entire life, and I was in her life so therefore she wants to control me. I thought we were being kidnapped, not that my mother had driven me to a mental institution to have me evaluated and admitted. If she would have been an adult and told me where we were really going I wouldn't have reacted the way I did."
"So you believe your mother is at fault that one of my staff had to be taken to the emergency room for severe head trauma, another for a dislocated shoulder, and one more who admitted himself to this very institution, claiming that he witnessed a kitten sprout wings and fly away?" Though he couldn't see it, Phoenicia's eyes were positively smug when she heard the last one. The girl merely shrugged, knowing that it was a response he absolutely hated. "You have quite the imagination, Miss Halliwell."
That little snipe… he was trying to bait her. He was trying to get a rise out of her so he could mark his precious little chart and dose her with some drug or another to make her more complicit. Well, if one thing could be said about her, it was that she got her cunning from her father. Lawyers had it in spades. She continued to look out of the window, avidly studying a robin that was building its nest in the trees as she began speaking genially.
"I suppose you could say that I have a vivid imagination," she allowed. "Though, you could also say that my mother is a manipulative and controlling bitch. First she slaps me for bringing up the fact that my father left her and still supports me, apologizes and agrees that I can live with him, even offering to drop me off there herself and I fell asleep believing that was where I would wake up, only to be rudely awakened by you shoving a needle into my arm. I was already disoriented from sleep, and your drugs only made it worse. All I knew was that people were trying to haul me around like a common criminal while my mother hid behind one of your guards like a coward. I was frightened and acted accordingly. Wouldn't you agree that what she did was manipulative, Mr. West?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him twitch when she didn't address him as 'doctor'.
Score one point for her.
…
Doctor Richard West gazed through the thick layers of containment glass, which would have been only protection he had against this particular patient, had it not been for the copious amounts of sedatives in her bloodstream. He observed her for a moment, making small notations on his clipboard. When everything seemed to be in order, he looked to the technician at his side. "Is Subject B in place?" he inquired.
"Yes sir," the nameless tech answered promptly. "Subject B has been placed in the adjoining room,"
"Very good," the doctor said, a pleased smile on his face. "Deactivate Subject A's sedatives and open the door."
"Yes sir,"
Staring at his most coveted patient, Richard watched eagerly as the young woman behind the glass began to stir. She had always been his favorite, since the discovery of magic a year and a half prior. He would admit that he was deeply disappointed that her mental health had begun to deteriorate from the treatments they had mistakenly given her for her supposed schizophrenia. He understood now why she had reacted so violently to the drugs after an in-depth study had proven that those of magical origin had strange reactions to medical stimulation. He was very displeased that she had become so unstable, but there was nothing he could do about that now.
For the last few months the war had escalated at an astounding scale. It seemed that the other side of the population, the witches and magical beings, had divided their numbers into three large groups. They called themselves the Resistance, the Empire, and the Horde respectively. While they were still a minority compared to all of the normal human beings in the world, all it took was one magical being to wipe out an army of hundreds. Their magic more than made up for their smaller numbers. And now that they had organized themselves… well, after presenting his findings to the government they had approved his frequent requests for funding so he could continue his experimentations, and now he and his Dr. Jeffery Brannon had gained full sponsorship for their research.
It had taken a his department quite a long time to discover that magic could actually be attributed to genetics, which is how so many witches had been weeded out from the masses. Once he isolated the gene, he had even managed to successfully pass on magic to regular human beings. He presented his findings to President Pratt, claiming that it was a way to fight fire with fire. The only downside to this method was that eventually the magic rejected the hosts, causing extreme paranoia and making them quite unstable after an allotted amount of time.
Unfortunately magic could not be permanently given to those who did not already possess it. His sponsors had decided that it would waste too much of their resources to further that aspect of his research, unfortunately, and had demanded that he concentrate his efforts on how to better control these abnormal people since trying to reeducate them had proven difficult thought not impossible. These witches were rather intelligent beings, each one testing with high IQs. In his studies, he had found that most of the witches they had captured had produced equally smart children that present with a percentage more magical energy than the previous generation.
Now, even with all full funding a go-ahead from the President himself, Richard had to conduct his most delicate experiments in secret with minimal staff. If word ever got out to his superiors that he was actually attempting to breed his own magical prodigy child that would put all natural born witches to shame, he would probably not only lose all of his funding instantaneously, as many of his backers were quite religious and would look down on breeding human beings, but he would also be charged with treason and put to death.
Richard smiled when the young woman finally opened her eyes. Soon it would not matter that his favorite patient had been reduced to a psycho babbling schizophrenic. She would still be useful to him. And he had hand selected Subject B out of a group of two thousand candidates and had yet to find anyone suitable enough. It helped greatly that Subject B had a preexisting childhood relationship with her. She was still his prized patient after all, no need to make her needlessly uncomfortable.
…
A single tear ran down the sallow cheek of the young woman as she drew her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rested her head against her knees. Her mind was clear for the first time in a long while and she knew she had to begin planning a way to get out of here. Despite this she knew it would be more than nine months before an opportunity to escape would present itself. Even then she would not be among the escapees, for if she did escape at that point she foresaw many people being left behind and suffering in her stead. Doctor West would never let his precious experiment leave the building without retribution. In his twisted view, magic was the future of mankind and she was his way to make it happen.
How he had managed to keep his true intentions secret for so long was anyone's guess.
Phoenicia's eyebrows knitted together in concern when she sensed her twin nearby. She suspected him to be in the arena which was a few levels above her own containment cell, though no less deep within the facility. A peek into the beyond had her smiling in an ironic sort of way. Of course Chris would be the cause of the riot in ten months. He was never one to stay idle, he preferred to plan and strategize. Well perhaps she could use his escape to her own advantage then. She knew she could keep the guards busy so a few of the most important people in her life could slip away unnoticed. She herself would have to stay behind to cause the distraction but the others would make it to the outside world and a majority to the Resistance.
A slight groan to her left alerted her to the fact that her companion was finally waking from his drug induced slumber. Her shoulders tensed involuntarily and she had to forcefully remind herself that he would never had done anything to hurt her had he been in his right mind. It was her that was at fault, not his. She was to blame. Repeating this mantra in her mind until she almost believed it, she breathed deeply and forced her body to relax as he shifted into full awareness. She did not, however, lift her head from her knees as he gazed around in confusion.
"Mia?" His gruff, grainy voice made her flinch slightly. She hoped that it escaped his notice. "Damn," he swore as he sat up, fingers rubbing at his temples to relieve the intense throbbing. "I feel like I got hit by a bulldozer. What happened?"
"… Dr. West commenced his experiment last night," she answered acquiescently, her voice holding no emotion whatsoever, as if she was reciting something that had been written down. "Subject Zero was injected with muscle relaxants and a mild sedative before the dividing door between the rooms was unlocked and opened. Both Subject Zero and A's food was tampered with. Subject Zero was not in need of sustenance last night and offered her food to Subject B. Consequently, Subject B became violent when introduced to four times the dosage than prescribed and Subject Zero was non-compliant though eventually became submissive."
Total silence was met by her summary of the events as he tried to work out her meaning. She could almost feel the wheels turning in his head at the words, and that coupled with her bruised and bare back and defeated disposition, twisted into a rather disturbing image. Quite understandably, the man rolled over in the bed and began heaving everything he had ingested the previous night onto the floor.
Phoenicia pulled the sheet around her body tightly, reluctantly uncurling from her stance. She turned slightly to observe him, hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on his tout back. He grew even tenser from the reassuring touch though he made no move to break their contact. "You must hate me," he whispered in anguish, head dropping over the side of the bed in defeat. "I wouldn't blame you…"
"… It was not Subject B's fault." she said reasonably, though her words were shaky at best. It made her words sound less believable, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was him. It was true though, this was not his fault. This gross violation had been done to both of them and he had no reason to harbor the guilt he bore. She was at fault, because she had known. She had known what would happen and he had not. It was her fault. "I-it wasn't your fault."
"Like hell it wasn't," He ground his teeth together angrily. "Why did they do this…?"
After staring at his back for a moment, she allowed her hand to grip his shoulder and pull so that he would roll over so she could look at him properly. The familiarity of his smoky green eyes helped her focus as she stared into them, attempting to clear her thoughts. As long as she could concentrate on one thing and one thing alone she could remain in control, if only for a few short moments. "His experiments are for the procreation of a perfect magical child," she informed him faintly. "The aphrodisiacs… in our food… were to…"
"Those absolute bastards." He clenched his eyes together tightly. "They were trying… trying to…"
Phoenicia nodded tentatively. "The experiment did not… go as p-planed…" She struggled to keep coherent until she could finish explaining. "… but was successful nonetheless." His eyes snapped open as the words registered, staring at her in shocked disbelief. "Conception occurred without additional… coupling. She… I expect birth to occur in exactly two hundred and sixty days, in the tween hours of New Years Eve and Day. Our child will be male, seven pounds, five ounces. Healthy."
In a hesitant motion, he reached a hand up slowly to cup her cheek, unsure if doing so would make her uncomfortable or not. He hoped not. To his immense relief she only signed and leaned into his comforting touch, albeit shaking slightly. "I'm so sorry Mia," he whispered. "I'm sorry…"
The young woman gazed up at him solemnly. "So am I," she told him seriously. "Must tell no one when we escape,"
"I don't see how we could hide it. They're all bound to find out eventually."
Phoenicia shook her head gravely. "Allowing them to discover on their own is the wisest, else they will all be most upset…" she said. "In exactly two hundred, sixty-two days, fourteen hours, and two seconds, there will be an escape in one of the levels above us. Chris will be leading them. You will escape with Isaiah and the others." She purposefully neglected to inform him that she would not be able to escape until a much later date when Wyatt came to rescue her.
"Isaiah?" he repeated questioningly.
The young woman sat up and placed a hand over her abdomen. "Isaiah Pavel," she whispered. "Isaiah, savior. Pavel, small. Small Savior…" His hand crept up cautiously to join hers over the life they had created together, however unwillingly it may have been.
"Isaiah Pavel Jensen," he said slowly, allowing the name to roll over his tongue, testing it. He met her eyes, a small hint of a smile shining in his own to mask the sadness and guilt. "I like it…"
…
The world spun on them again as the future scenes faded.
"You have your answer," she said calmly, watching with unmerciful eyes as her mother staggered and fell to the floor, her eyes suspiciously wet. "When I was a child a boy came to me because he felt connected to me somehow. He was a constant companion, and I later confronted him. He had the power of invisibility and he only allowed myself and a few others to know of him. You refused to see him for anything more than a made up friend, because you grew to despise magic and wanted nothing to do with it, despite the fact that your knew it was quite possible for anyone to become invisible given the correct spellwork or potion."
Tears gathered in Phoebe's eyes and she bowed her head to hide them. A hand rested upon her back comfortingly as she cried silently while Piper rubbed her hand in small circles, whispering soft words that she couldn't decipher. Her emotions were haywire and her thoughts scattered. How could she have done that? Any of that…? She was appalled that she could have changed so much. She had slapped her daughter! Placed her in a mental institution that had caused her so much pain… How could she have just walked away and let that happen to her own child?
"Those several incidents were few of many that I experienced. You betrayed me, and abandoned me within that hellish prison, bound and powerless against their experimental treatments to get me better. You thought you were helping, when in reality… you condemned me. And yet I do not hate you. I should. I have every right to, considering that it was your actions that caused all of this. I don't hate you… but I don't want to be anywhere near you either."
Chris attempted to reign his temper in as he ignored his blubbering aunt after that bombshell. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands uncaringly, most likely drawing blood in small crescent moons and unconsciously knowing that somewhere in the south pacific a volcano was manifesting itself to his anger. He had always known what she had experienced within the facility. She had confided in him by allowing him into her mind only once. He was sure that this was not what she meant earlier, about angering him despite his inner rage.
Forcing his palms flat, Chris drew in a deep breath and internally counted backwards from twenty. He glanced around, sighing with resignation as he realized that the others were too deep in thought to do anything. He knew what he wanted to ask. It was selfish, so incredibly selfish. He should ask if they could so this, change the world so drastically. Something for the good of the rest of the innocent lives, stumbling through the motions day by day—and yet he wouldn't. He needed to know this. Had to know…
"Mia," he said quietly, drawing her attention. "… Please?"
Phoenicia did not need to hear it spoken out loud to know what he wanted. She smiled into his imploring face serenely, nodding her head. "As you wish,"
…
Leo stood with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, his golden hair slicked back to hide the few tufts of white, his jaw locked to keep from spewing verbal abuse and demanding answers. He stared at his long time mentor with unreadable sea green eyes. This had to be some sort of sick joke. It didn't seem possible. Gideon thought that his son was dangerous, and not only to himself but to the world as a whole? How could anyone believe that his sweet, innocent child would bring Armageddon to earth?
"Explain it to me," Leo said calmly.
The older man frowned at him, clearly displeased. "You are an Elder now, Leo," he said harshly, his disappointment clear the murky depths of his eyes. "It is time you start behaving like one. Your calling transcends sins of the flesh, family, even fatherhood! But you… you are too attached to them. You refuse to see the bigger picture."
"So explain it to me," he repeated. "What is the bigger picture?"
"We made a mistake, Leo," Gideon told him evenly. "We made a mistake in allowing that child to be born, in allowing such a concentration of power to be brought into this world in one being. Someone with that much power should not be allowed to exist!" His eyes flashed wildly as he emphasized his point with frantic motions. "I have shown you the scriptures! You must know what he is! They brought terror down on us for decades and all the prophecies I've uncovered declare that he will destroy everything…"
"If you're so sure of this," Leo bit out, his eyebrows knitted together. "Then why haven't you reported your findings to the Council?"
Gideon scoffed. "One does not simply request a meeting with the Council!" he said crossly, giving his former protégé a look that suggested he was offended by mere idea of it. "And, technically speaking, I am not permitted to visit the Hall of Prophecies… if the Council became aware that I have seen the ancient prophecies, the retribution would be severe."
Leo narrowed his jade eyes. "Then how are you gaining entrance?"
"We are getting off topic! This mistake needs to be rectified!"
"Rectified?"
"Yes, Leo," Gideon nodded solemnly. "I have already taken the steps to ensure it. It's for the greater good."
The words were said so casually, so uncaringly that Leo could scarcely see any resemblance to the man who had guided him through his early years as a whitelighter. The features may have been the same, though there was nothing recognizable about Gideon at the moment. Leo shook his head. "You're talking about murder, Gideon," he said quietly, voice tinged with a dark undertone that promised nothing short of agony. "Murdering my son."
Gideon only spared him a pitying look. "I was afraid of this," he said sadly. "This is why attachments are forbidden Leo. Your affection for the boy is clouding your judgment."
Leo stared at him in angry sympathy. "You're insane."
"No," Gideon hissed indignantly. "I'm right. And I cannot let you stop me." Before Leo could react he had managed to inhale a large amount of golden dust, sea green eyes glazing over wile Gideon tucked the small pouch of memory dust into a pocket in his robes. "You'll see in time, my boy It has to be done." He cleared his throat and smiled thinly at the dazed man. "I'm sorry, Leo. I don't know much about Ulrich demons. Perhaps you could check with Sigmund in the library?"
The younger man blinked in confusion. "Ulrich demons?"
"Yes. Sorry you had to waste your time checking with me first." He gave Leo a pat on the shoulder. "Go check with Sigmund, I'm sure he has a book or two on the subject. Tell the girls I wish them luck in their demon hunting. And give the little ones a hug from their uncle Gideon, would you?"
Leo nodded absently. "Right. I'll do that," he agreed sluggishly, turning around and walking away.
…
With dark intent in his eyes, Gideon stared down at the child in the playpen. He wished he could prove it to his brothers and sisters but most of all to the Council that this boy should be destroyed, though it was futile. He had chanced upon the scriptures that spoke of what the abomination known as Wyatt Halliwell would do when he became of age. It never spoke of him directly, though all the identifying markers were there. He could never let that happen.
Gideon knew, staring into the abnormally wise and powerful eyes of the boy, that he would kill the child himself if he had to, as long as it prevented the prophecies. This boy was an abomination, and it was his duty to remove such a creature before it could inevitably grow to cause harm. Therefore, Gideon steeled himself as he subtly reached inside of his robes, approaching cautiously.
Before he could take another step, a blue light resonated from the boy, encasing the child in a dome of magical energy that would undoubtedly protect him. Gideon smiled thinly. "It won't protect you for long, child," he said calmly, inwardly preparing himself to break the shield. It would take effort, quite a bit of effort, but he knew he would get through eventually. The dagger was made specifically to kill such… abominations.
A soft noise drew his attention to the door, signaling that someone was approaching, and he cursed silently before he vanished. "Not for long," he said as his parting words.
…
It pained him greatly to see his home like this, his school—the one place he had pledged to protect with all of his power… devastated beyond repair. Tables and shelved that had once contained precious artifacts were all overturned and broken, the artifacts shattered or missing. Sacred scrolls and one of a kind books were shredded and in pieces everywhere, appearing as fallen confetti. Once pristine walls were a morbid display of scorch markings from where various forms of destructive magic had collided and incinerated, and the worst sight throughout the school were the piles of ashes… from his student and teachers.
For a brief moment, Gideon wished he could take it all back. To stop himself from opening the doors and lowering the wards, allowing any and all to feel the magic radiate from these sacred halls of learning, to stop himself from allowing them access to cause this destruction. But he couldn't do that, it was far too late. And he knew he shouldn't either. It had to be done, the sacrifices of his students and staff were minimal compared to the havoc the child would bring in coming years.
It was all for the greater good, he reminded himself.
Resolute in his decision, Gideon walked throughout the ruins that were once the Firebird Academy, not allowing his eyes to stray to the few remaining bodies of the massacre, lest he begin to doubt himself again. He entered his chambers, the only set of rooms that had remained intact. He immediately spotted his cohorts standing in front of a shimmering blue shield, attempting to break it. He spared them a frown for beginning without him though he remained silent as he joined them.
"Any survivors?" a drawling voice questioned, a hint of humorous satisfaction lingering in the tone.
The Elder swallowed thickly as his heart pounded in his chest. "… No."
"Good," another said casually. "The less witnesses the better."
Gideon looked down for a brief moment, feeling shamed for agreeing with them. Yes, there should not be any witnesses… it was why he had chosen to wait for a holiday before proceeding with his plans. At least half of the students had gone home, so the losses were not as great as they could have been. It could have all been avoided had it not been for the fact that some of his staff had discovered he was harboring the child within his rooms, when in fact the boy had been 'missing' for almost a week. It couldn't have been helped, and it was all for the best.
When he managed to compose himself, Gideon realized that they were missing someone. "Where is Sigmund?"
The other three shared a look of amusement.
"The less witnesses the better."
Gideon's eyes widened a fraction before he managed to collect himself. He swallowed again, feeling sadness and regret at the news that they had murdered his friend. He was angry as well, angry enough that his fingers twitched with an electrical current, though he reminded himself that now was not the time to allow his emotions to rule his judgment. He would deal with them once their task was complete. His friend would be remembered for his sacrifice, as would all of the others.
"Damn it!" the warlock cursed, yanking his stinging hand away from the child's shield. "We aren't going to break through his shield like this. The kid is powerful," he muttered as he inspected his wounds. "What now?"
"You have all tried?" Gideon asked in disbelief.
One of the demons nodded. "All three of us,"
"It will take a hell of a lot of power to overcome the shield," the last said angrily.
"Yes," another voice said, startling all of them as they spun around to face the newcomer. "But his greatest fear is not being able to protect his family, specifically the youngest. He would do anything to protect him." The man was tall and thin, dressed in all black, his hair graying and coming down to his neck is soft waves. He had yellowing teeth and a presence that made the conspirators shiver unconsciously in fear, which he reveled in.
"No!" Gideon said in horror, taking an involuntary step forward as if it could stop the madman from doing anything else. "Absolutely not, Barbas." he said firmly. "While I agree that this boy is a threat, the other one hardly has any magic in him at all. He is not to be touched, not even if it means that Wyatt will lower his shield."
"Ah, spoil my fun," the demon chuckled.
"Besides… I may have a way to break the shield," the Elder added. He reached inside of his robes and withdrew the enchanted dagger from within, brandishing it for them to see. "This… this was infused with a tremendous amount of power, a very long time ago. It is what they used to kill the last candidate... and his magic will not be able to resist against it. He will die."
"Excellent," one chuckled, while the warlock smirked and approached Gideon.
"What are we waiting for?" he asked, removing the blade from the Elder's hands and moving to stand in front of the infant. Before Gideon had a chance to protest, the warlock had already lifted the knife over his head and was swinging down hard. The blade met the shield and his arms shook with effort to keep them steady as he continued to try and drive it down. They all waited with bated breath to see what would happen.
Finally, the shield shimmered, faltering, and the dagger glowed.
Gideon sighed in relief, his guilt vanishing along with the protective magic that surrounded the boy. It made him feel lighter to know that he had been correct in his findings, that this child was exactly what he had believed him to be. He locked eyes with the frightened child, and shook his head sadly. "I am truly sorry, my boy, but this is for the greater good." Gideon gave the warlock a nod and turned away, not wanting to witness the slaying of a child, however necessary it may be.
A soft jingling noise emitted from behind him, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, though that was eclipsed by the cry of absolute agony and Gideon whipped back around just in time to see his cohort burst into flames from the enchanted dagger buried within his chest. The warlock not only burned from the inside out, his soul remaining in place even as the body crumbled in ashes. The dagger ravaged the soul as it had the body, scorching and charring, until it fell among the pile of ash, it's task complete.
There would be no afterlife for the warlock, no reincarnation. He was gone forever.
Barbas even gave the dagger a wary look as he gingerly picked it up by the handle, studying the ancient words engraved into the hilt. He could not prevent the way his eyes widened when he realized what, exactly, this dagger had been meant for. The demon chuckled humorlessly, lifting his eyes with a concealed look of anger. "Gideon, I do believe you neglected to tell us something,"
The Elder squared his shoulders, though only to mask his shaking. "I told you only what you needed to know."
"… Of course you did," Barbas sneered. "In light of this…" He twisted the hilt carefully between his fingers. "New development… I do believe it is time we tried things my way."
"… Your way?"
Barbas smiled thinly and looked at one of the other demons. "Mason. Be a good boy and go fetch Leita." Gideon watched as the demon actually whimpered in fear, shaking his head rapidly in response to the order. Barbas gave him a steady look, lifting the dagger in an obvious threat. "Now,"
With a cry of distress, the demon shimmered away with a departing sob.
Gideon watched with growing apprehension. "Who is Leita?"
The smile Barbas sent him was predatory. "An old friend."
…
"You have your answer," she told him gently, watching as Chris struggled to breathe properly. "Gideon discovered a prophecy during his youth as a whitelighter. The prophecy spoke of the birth of a child, a boy that would tip the balance and change the world irrevocably. … this child would be born of a Charmed One and an Elder. The prophecy consumed him, and his fear of what would happen caused him to break his vow, and quest to eradicate this child."
"Gideon?" Leon said hoarsely. "Gideon was the one who attacked the academy…"
"When he realized that he could not destroy Wyatt on his own," she continued as if he had not spoken. "Gideon sought the aid of soulless beings, demons and warlocks and darklighters, all there only on a need to know basis. He told them that he simply wanted the child gone, because that much power should have never been allowed to exist in one being. Gideon failed to realize that, once his true intentions were known, that his new conspirators would have their own agenda. It did not take Barbas long to contact a member of the Tribunal in an attempt to use the forbidden arts to remove Wyatt's soul."
"Only… it didn't work," Chris realized, his eyes widening. "It only fractured his soul. Split it in half."
Phoenicia smiled at his deduction and nodded. "The magic could not remove his soul, and instead his spirit and his mind fractured. Thus, his personality disorder was born."
"And then the great idiot cast that spell to make himself whole."
"Spells have never been his forte."
"So his personalities took on their own bodies to balance his mind out."
"The only chance to prevent it from happening," Phoenicia told him. "To save him, is to remove them from the equation before they have the chance to fracture his soul, and to destroy the Tribunal and the forbidden scrolls so they can never attempt such an act again. To save Wyatt… you must obliterate the Tribunal, Barbas, and Gideon. Only then will he be safe."
Chris nodded jerkily in response, already forming ways to kill Gideon and the others a thousand times over for what they had done, what they were planning. To thing, Chris had actually trusted the bastard at one point in his life. He had never thought him to be a particularly good headmaster—Chris had always thought he was much too strict and unyielding. But he had offered some decent advice when Chris had been appointed the temporary leader of the Resistance. It made his blood boil when he thought of all the times that Gideon had asked after his brother, wanting to know how he was, the inquires and the strange look he got when Chris answers. It all made sense now.
"You may ask your next question." Phoenicia said staring between the two Elders, though something in her tone made Chris pause and eye her in concern. Her skin had already been pale from the blood loss of making the wards, though now it was nearly translucent. The glow in her eyes never faltered once, and in fact it seemed to burn even brighter with each passing moment.
Chris peeked at the watch around his wrist and drew in a sharp breath, his head snapping up so quickly that everyone heard an audible crack. "Ask the damn question," he ordered sharply. "Now!" It may have seemed as if little to no time had passed but according to the timepiece they had been doing this for at least two hours. Phoenicia had been immersed in the beyond for two hours. Any longer and her heart could stop. Chris' own heart pounded fiercely inside of his chest, and he swallowed thickly at the thought of what his cousin could experience if left to this any longer.
Leon sensed the urgency and was quick to react. "We have our question."
"You have but to ask."
"The prophecy you spoke of," he began, giving his younger counterpart a hesitant glance. The other man nodded determinedly and Leon looked down at the piece of scrap paper he had been abusing the last few days. The edges had been torn and worn but his handwriting still stood out clearly. Leon cleared his throat. "The prophecy you made the day Chris gave you the potion… what does it mean?"
"As you wish,"
The world around them faded once again.
…
"The Veil of Time unravels, giving way to the Dragon."
"… and if I end up in the past inside out, I'm going to haunt your sorry ass for eternity. And when you finally die, I'm going to send your ass to purgatory. Got it?"
Wyatt stared at him unaffected. "… Ready?"
"… Go for it."
Wyatt placed a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder and began reciting the spell.
"Hear these words, hear this rhyme,
Heed the hope within my mind…"
"The Gateways will falter, giving way to the Lycan."
Foreboding statues stood idle on either side of the watery surface of the portal, their presence causing a majority of the small army to shift uncertainly. The spells on the statues would prevent them from going through, to safety and freedom. And yet they had been led hear by the child, their sovereign… the child Lucifer. He was only three years old, an exceptionally bright child, his intelligence more than a little frightening.
Some would question why they, a group of demons and warlocks in their early hundreds, would follow an infant. To say that questioning that was bordering on stupidity was very adept. A child Lucifer may have been, though he had lead them directly to the gates that lead to the surface world without fail. The sire of their liege, the woman known only as the Seer, had protested and fought to keep him there, to prevent the child from leading them. She had been dealt with accordingly. She was not the child's mother, and they felt no remorse for destroying her.
The infant was held tightly as the demon guard, Balthier, approached the gateway with caution. He watched in awe as the child rose a small hand, his fingers outstretched, and shattered the stone guardians that prevented those of demonic ancestry from passing through the gates. Behind them, the rest of their group cheered and sent the child praises, though the boy only frowned, urging Balthier to go closer to the portal.
Lucifer's outstretched hand brushed against the glassy surface, his fingers passing through the ripples with ease and he suddenly tensed. Something had been calling to the child, a small tug at his heart. It was a new presence, something he had never felt before, and it had gotten stronger the closer he got to the portal. He inhaled slowly and pushed his hand through even more, wondering what this… this feeling was. The Seer had not even evoked feelings such as this in him, and she was the one who sired him.
This was warm and comforting and he shivered in delight at the thought of finding whatever or whoever was causing such warmth. Could this person be his true family? The Seer had always claimed that she was his only family, though in secret Balthier had denied it, saying that she was lying… Balthier said that his family still lived above, on the surface, a family of whitelighters and witches, beings that his sire had taught him to despise. Yet if this is what his family felt like…
The group proceeded eagerly through the gates, Balthier with little Lucifer in his arms leading the way.
"If the Dragon does not answer the summoner's Call,"
Wyatt cringed as something akin to static echoed in his ears. It was almost as if someone was attempting to call for him, or summon him to their side with magic. Only something was preventing it from happening. He could feel the magic swirl around him, a pull attempting to drag him elsewhere, though here, inside the warded house, he was protected from such magic. He had felt anxious, watching them all leave, each geared as if they were marching off to battle for some war.
The static became louder and he frowned unhappily, straining his hears to listen. He couldn't stand this, just waiting here unable to help. He had to fix this, had to go to them. Something was wrong, terribly wrong—he could feel it in his gut. There had to be a way to reverse his disastrous spell, to get him out of this predicament otherwise he had a feeling that he would lose the two people he came to protect.
"..at!"
Eagerly, he tilted his head and listened even harder.
"Wyatt! Pl…se…lp!"
"The Phoenix will be struck down…"
It was cold, close to freezing, warm breath coming out in visible puffs of vapor against the chill. Dark hair was coated with icy frost, his nose and cheeks red as the frozen wind viciously attacked his face. Chris fought to keep his body warm, his eyes burning with a fiery warmth as he gazed out over the bridge that was made entirely of ice. He would have to cross it carefully, taking care with each step. He had no intention of melting through the thin crossing and falling to the frozen depths of the lake below.
Shivering almost violently, Chris made his way across, his eyes closed against the violent snowflakes carried by the wind, his hand held out in front of him. His fingers brushed against wall of ice, a barricade that signaled he had made it to the other side. He removed his glove with great reluctance, winching as he pressed them to the frosted surface. Heat poured through his hand, and the wall began dripping in earnest, almost raining down as it continued to melt.
There was a platform beyond the melted wall, equally as frozen through thankfully it was not made of ice but of metal and stone that had just accumulated an abundance of ice in this atmosphere. Chris went to work thawing the metal so that the lift would work properly, using the same method of pressing his hand to the wall and channeling heat through it. The platform lurched as a large chunk of the ice holding it in place suddenly gave away under the treatment. He placed the bare palms of his hands to the floor and poured heat into the meticulously carved stone.
The platform shuddered and gave another violent lurch, which was his only warning before the entire lift finally broke away suddenly began to plummet down the narrow shaft. The superheated stone of the platform easily melted through all of the frozen obstructions down the shaft, and the speed of the fall only increased without obstacles to slow it down. Chris swallowed and stood unsteadily, drawing his hands together and conjuring a matrix of fire as he braced himself as he counted down in his head.
On zero he absorbed the fire and manipulated it into a shield just around his skin as he jumped into the air while the platform collided violently with the ground, making the snow and rock and ice begin to tumble down the shaft. Razor sharp blades of ice rained down on him but they melted and evaporated before could even touch his skin because of the fiery shield protecting him.
Chris impacted with the ground less violently than he expected, though still out of breath and aching. He was quick to roll himself further away as a small avalanche sealed the entrance to the lift. He had already known he would have to find another way out of here once his task was complete, so he did not despair the fact that the exit was now buried beneath a mountain of snow. He stood, dusting himself off as he turned around.
Disbelief clouded the young man's features as pain filled his chest, his eyes wide and full of agony as he registered the long, sharp icicle protruding from his chest, mere centimeters away from his heart. He lifted his eyes to the perpetrator, a tall blond woman with a malicious smile as he sunk to his knees, a small drizzle of blood spilling from his lips, which froze instantly in the frigid air.
"I have been waiting for you, Christopher,"
"… and the Sabyl will fall."
Water reflected off of every surface of the ancient chamber, cascades of it pouring down each wall into the reservoirs that surrounded the rectangular the dais in the center. A colossal statue made of stone was raised high on the dais, depicting four maidens all grouped together, their arms wrapped around each other and their expressions solemn, as if they were weeping. High above the only entrance to the chamber was a small opening, from which the young woman had fallen from.
Phoenicia took in shallow breaths as she gazed up at the opening with a dazed expression, her body aching from the high fall. She coughed painfully, attempting to sit up, only to give up when her ribs and her shoulder screamed out in agony from the slight motions. She laid there, silent tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes, waiting for the strength to move. She was pretty sure that she had broken a rib or two and dislocated her shoulder.
Fate was not kind, however, and she squinted as the light began to dim as the opening began closing above her. The heavy stone slid into place with a foreboding noise, the rock slamming against rock, sending the room into a dark oblivion. It took some time for her eyes to adjust, though in the darkness she could hear the water slashing and sloshing all around her. And suddenly, the sound became even more prominent, closer even, and it took her a moment to deduce that it was coming from the statues.
Phoenicia peered at the statues, only able to see a dim outline of them, though the water glistened slightly as it spilt down the cheeks of the maidens and onto the floor of the dais. She winced, reluctantly forcing herself to move, slowly clamoring onto her knees. She gasped when cool water touched her hand unexpectedly, the tears pouring from the eyes of the statues flooding the small platform. It was then she realized that, all around the dais, the water level was steadily rising, the water cascading from the walls having no outlet and no other choice but to rise.
The cold water kept rising and rising until she was floating in it, barely able to keep her feet on the ground and her head above water at the same time. Soon it had risen so high that she was near the opening, her hands scrambling to move the rock back, her powers even useless against the enchanted stone that had trapped her in this deadly tomb. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could read the runes inscribed upon the walls, proclaiming this chamber to be the Tomb of Tears.
Panic clouded her mind as the gap between the ceiling and the water continued to shrink until it was almost nonexistent. Fear and adrenalin driving her, she grasped onto whatever she could and pulled her remaining power, creating a small protective bubble around her just as the water touched the ceiling. She took in small, shallow breaths to conserve her only remaining oxygen as she kicked her legs, searching along the stonewalls for a way to open the hatch.
Each moment was precious, the bubble of air becoming smaller and smaller with each breath she took. She had used the last of her magic at this point, exhausted mentally, physically and magically. She would not survive long without some fresh air soon. The bubble had shrunk to the point that it only surrounded her head, and she had very little time left now.
"Wyatt," she called as softly as she dared. Water began leaking inside of her only source of oxygen, too fatigued to keep it sustained much longer. "Wyatt…" It sloshed against her face as the air became thinner and thinner. "Please help!" she screamed, praying that he heard her.
Phoenicia took her last breath and the bubble was gone.
…
"You have your answer."
As the magic released its hold on them, Chris trembled with the effort to keep standing. His mind was having difficulty processing what he had seen because it just didn't seem possible. Had he really witnessed his own death? He had never given much thought to how he could die. Possibly being burnt alive when he was in the future, being stabbed because of his own stupidity more recently. It was disconcerting, certainly, and he found himself wrapping his arms around his midsection as if to ward off a chill as he replayed the events through his mind. The one thing, however, that had caught his attention, was not what would happen to him, but his cousin's plight. Phoenicia had drowned and he hadn't been there to protect her. Of course considering what they saw, he could have already been dead by that point and unable to do anything.
"If Wyatt does not respond to our Calls," Phoenicia said in closing, stating simply that, "We will die." Leon stumbled back, nodding his head sharply, both his and Leo's features grim. "You may ask your question."
"… I," Paige stumbled. "Don't have one."
Before anyone even had a chance to balk at her refusing such a gift, the knowledge of whatever she wanted, Phoenicia was crumbling to the ground. Chris was the first to reach her, pulling her into his arms as she began convulsing. "She's having a seizure!" he said quickly, trying to hold her still. Leon was swift to remove his belt, offering it to Chris so he could place it between her teeth so she wouldn't bite her tongue as she jerked violently.
Phoebe watched worriedly. "Is she okay?"
Chris swallowed. "… I don't know."
Leon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before he knelt down beside his niece; a single glance at Leo urged him to do the same. They placed their hands over Phoenicia carefully, bathing her in a soft golden light as they attempted to heal her. Slowly the convulsions came to a halt, and she relaxed against Chris' chest. Her breathing evened out, and Chris removed the belt, watching her face carefully as she slowly opened her eyes.
"Mia?"
Phoenicia sat up, looking around the room in confusion. "Yes, Christopher?"
"Thank God," he breathed out in relief.
"Chris?" she began hesitantly. "… What are we all doing in the conservatory?"
Worry clouded his features once more. "You don't remember?" She shook her head. "You offered to answer some questions… you found us all worthy…" He watched as her eyes lit up in recognition.
"So I already did it?" she asked, looking around the room. The expressions from everyone varied from shock and disbelief, to outrage and horror. "Must not have liked their answers," Phoenicia commented dryly. She accepted Leo's hand, and he pulled her to her feet while Chris stood up urgently after her.
"How come you can't remember?" he asked urgently. "You have to remember, you have to tell me how to stop it from happening, damn it!"
Phoenicia smiled sadly. "I warned you that you would be upset…"
"The prophecy about you," Leon interrupted. "How can we change that? You both died in it."
"… You're asking the wrong person," she said softly. "I don't know how to change it."
Chris shook his head in disbelief. "You know everything! You can't not know how to change it!"
"It's not that simple Chris,"
"Why not?" Chris demanded, and the lamp beside him suddenly shattered in his rage.
"Look," Paige butted in urgently. "We're all a little upset at the moment. Why don't we just calm down. Piper, why don't you go make us all some nice, warm chamomile tea?"
Chris ignored the suggestion. "Why not, Phoenicia?"
Phoenicia sighed, and leveled him with a sad stare. "Do you know what it takes for an Oracle to exist in a time that is not their own? They have to give up something, Chris… something precious and vital. To come here, I had to give up my ability to predict my own future." She continued on even as he began to stare at her with a dawning horror as he realized what that meant. "The most I get are small flashes in my sleep, that make no sense until it is already happening. I am blind here Chris. I can see what happens to those around me, though even that is beginning to blur slightly with each passing day. In only a few short weeks, Chris… I will not be an Oracle."
"… No," he denied. "No. How will you protect yourself if you can't…"
"I knew this would happen, Chris. I knew it when I came here," she told him gently. "And when the time comes, when the me of this time comes of age, she will not be an Oracle either. She will not have this curse. My actions here have ensured it. The most I will have will be premonitions…"
"No! We'll change it," he instead, the others staying silent and observing their discussion. "We can send you back, and you can stay with your dad while I finish up here. I can do it on my own,"
"I told you, there are some things we can't change," Phoenicia reminded him. "This has already been put into motion, and nothing we do will change it."
Chris swallowed the thickness lodged in his throat, forcing himself not to get angry because he had promised her that he wouldn't just this morning. That seemed such a long way away now. He wanted to throw something, to destroy something. She had no right to bargain with her life like this, he didn't care if the key factor was that it was her life. Before he thought that if she knew her life was in danger she could avoid it…It was different now, because he knew she was just as lost as he was in this mess.
"I know you are angry Chris. I knew you would be. And I understand…"
"Why would you do this?" he cut her off. He looked at her, trying to place himself in her situation, and he couldn't think of any reason why she would come here except for the fact that she had been out of her mind at the time. And even that couldn't count, because if she had been coherent enough to travel to the past then she could certainly make her own decisions. "Give me one good reason why you would place yourself in so much danger. Why you would risk yourself to come here?"
"... Because you would have succeeded," Phoenicia said evenly. "You would have saved Wyatt in time, and Gideon would have been dealt with. But there would have been a great cost. One that would carry on through the future, and then you would have paid the ultimate price. That dagger… the one that Gideon has… it does not only kill. It places a curse on the soul. If it touches your soul… your soul will never find peace. Every reincarnation would be tainted by this curse, and they will all die a horrific death at the very same moment that the original victim had been cursed… there is no way to save the soul once it has been tainted…"
Chris understood what she was trying to say. "Gideon used it on me." he realized numbly. "He killed me with it, and it affected me no matter what timeline we were in. Mini-me would have died too, even if I did manage to change things… and you being here. That changes it?"
"Yes," she assured him. "It already has."
"See this?" Chris asked lightly, a tight smile on his face. "This is my: I'm-not-happy-with-you face."
Phoenicia smiled dryly. "We're acquainted."
Chris snorted. "I… I…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be back."
And then he was gone, disappearing in a swirl of white and blue lights. Phoenicia had no real idea where he was going, and she decided to allow him time to himself so he could work through everything. And when he got back she would have some question of her own. For instance, why, after basically shoving it in their faces, did no one realize who Chris was? She was sure at least one of them, particularly with Wyatt's inner monologue, that they would have picked up on it. She had selected those memories for a reason.
The only conclusion she had was that something was preventing them from discovering it. Something that kept them from realizing his identity unless it was outright stated to their face. He had to have cast a spell, mistakenly thinking that it would help him. Or perhaps, something else was going on and he had no idea about it. Either way, she would have to fix it, because he was only hurting himself by not telling them who he was.
Phoenicia watched as a calm Paige consoled her two older sisters, silently offering them steaming mugs of tea most likely. She had been pleasantly surprised with her aunt, though as Paige had always been her favorite aunt she shouldn't have been so shocked. Perhaps there was some hope for them all yet. Phoenicia watched the trio as Leo and Leon came to stand beside her.
"You certainly know how to cause a stir," Leo said with a nervous laugh.
Phoenicia smiled sweetly. "I get that from my father,"
"… Cole." Leon added, causing his younger self to choke.
"That's… nice?"
Leon nodded seriously. "He is good for this family, believe it or not…"
"You saw it just as I did!" Phoebe said loudly, drawing their attention.
"We'll change it!" Piper retorted angrily. "And we don't need to go anywhere to do it!"
"Enough!" Paige yelled at them both, startling them into silence. "You two are acting like children. I may be the youngest, but you two are both being more immature. Today is Friday, we can certainly take two days off of our lives and go with them and be back bright and early for work come Monday. If anything it will be a learning experience. Are you really going to waste a chance like this, if it means it can better the future for your children?" Piper and Phoebe shook their heads mutely, looking suitably chastised. "Good."
Phoenicia watched in amusement as Paige marched over to her. "Yes, Aunt Paige?"
"After a very calm and mature discussion," the redhead said shortly. "We have decided to accompany you when you leave to… wherever it was you said you were going. What time do we leave? And what should we pack?"
"Just after dawn," Phoenicia told her. "And anything you can hike in will be excellent,"
Paige nodded. "We need to go shopping then," she said sheepishly.
End
Chapter
And there you have it. Oh, and on the note of Chris being cursed with that dagger, I'm pretty sure that I am not the only one who thought there was something wonky with the dagger that Gideon used to kill Chris with. So my thinking is that, even though Chris had succeeded (in the show) that he would be affected by it later in life-Phoenicia saw that, and decided to intervene. Next chapter is going to be so much fun to write, though I'm afraid it might not be out next weekend as I had planned. I have company coming to stay with me for the week, and therefore my free time will be limited. I will try to have it up as soon as possible, though!
Lynx