A Matter of Course
By: cultureandseptember
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Magic
To communicate the truths of history is an act of hope for the future. – Daisaku Ikeda
Texas had opened a door and stood on the threshold. His bulk took up half the opening and he nearly had to duck his head. I wondered idly if he was as big as Russia. The dim light of the century-old bulbs just barely made the roughly hewn stone floor visible beneath my feet as I hobbled as quickly as I could toward him. Carolina had been oh-so-kind enough to rid me of my cane. I couldn't see anything in that darkness, but I could feel it pressing in on my heart and on my ears. The air was stale and musty—like something out of a nightmare. I took a deep breath to keep my nerves in check. I'd done so well enough since Egy—that Egypt—left my sights. I'd collected my fears and terrors and boxed them up, carefully stashing them away in my mind until it'd be safe to think them over. "Y'all don't try anything. You got a new neighbor." Texas' voice was low and didn't hold any of the bite that Carolina's did. He reached toward my arm and grasped it, not nearly as violent as I had expected when I winced away. "Ain't gonna break your arm or nothin'."
I was pulled forward, knees buckling a bit at the wave of fear that crashed over me. I glanced up immediately, shadows catching the arched ceiling, cut straight into the mountain. The trail of lights, the dampness of the space, the smell of dirt and moss… I took a rough breath again and tried to put one foot steadily in front of the other Texas moved. Doors lined the right side of the hall, like something in a jail—a traditional grate. I saw them all along the huge space. I shivered. I jumped when a face suddenly appeared behind the grate I stood in front of, but we were moving before I could get a good look.
"Hey! Who the hell is that?"
"Let us out of here, you psycho!"
I didn't recognize either of those voices and I let myself continue to be pulled along. Texas didn't let me stop at any of the small side rooms, but I did see flashes of blond hair and white hair as we picked up momentum. When I glanced up at the large Nation's face, I saw his lips pulled back into a grimace. "Who is—" His previously gentle grip became a little tighter and I thought better of the question.
"Hold on! Is that—Michelle! Michelle, is that you?"
Stopping, I turned and tried to look back into that particular stall, just barely catching a glimpse of the dimly lit face inside. I reached out with my free hand and grabbed at the ledge of the wall, the rock tearing at my fingers. Blond hair, green eyes. Wide, green eyes. "George!" His face was pressed up against the bars and he shouted my name just before I was yanked free and forced along. Texas muttered something under his breath, easing his grip after we were a few feet away. I kept turning back. "George! Are you okay? Are you alright?"
"Michelle!"
"You're dang popular," Texas harrumphed as we passed another cell. I caught another flash of stringy blond hair. My eyes connected with hers, even as Delaware yelled his questions—his frustration going unanswered as I saw Carolyn's bruised face through another set of bars. This time, I grabbed the ledge of the wall and wouldn't let go, no matter how sharply the stone dug into my fingers. I could still barely feel my fingers with the way they were bound. It vaguely occurred to me that Texas was more than powerful enough to yank me away, but instead he let go of my arm and let me stumble toward Carolyn's grate. I grabbed the cold metal and clung on for dear life.
"Shelly?" She was so dirty that I could barely see the blonde shine of her hair and her eyes were bright with tears. It was the same face as the hateful State upstairs, but…I hesitated as I reached for her hands, which she held out to me through the bars. It was different though, so different that it was hard to breathe. This was Corey's Carolyn, his fiancée, the South Carolina of this world. And her bright green eyes were full of fear and pity, features set in a soft frown. When I got close enough, her gentle fingers took my hands. "Shelly, are you alright? What's wrong with your neck? Are you—" Her attention flickered back to Texas, who stood as a towering shadow at my back. "Get away from her, damn it!" There was a flash in her expression when I could see S.C. from upstairs, a fierceness and protectiveness that seemed to be inherent in her—wherever she was from.
"I've got orders, Carolina." She stiffened, worry clouding her expression before it settled into a questioning raise of her eyebrows. I nodded. Texas took my elbow again, seeming even more careful this time. Her mouth worked as she tried to find the words. "C'mon, Daniels. Let's go."
"C-Corey?"
I didn't let Texas pull me away, keeping my attention on Carolyn's worry-filled green eyes. Even in her state—covered in bruises, dirt, and blood, hunched over in pain— she still placed Corey first. I felt relief flood through me, right down into my hands as they continued to grasp hers. "He's safe." Texas pulled at me and I followed. "He's safe." She sagged against the grate, pressing her forehead to the bars as she closed her eyes. How had we not noticed? I let her hands slip from mine.
I felt a horrible guilt as we continued to walk. I made no efforts to look in the next two rooms. I had assumed the worst of her, not even realizing when she had been replaced. What did that say about me?
"So, one more to join the party."
By the time we had reached the last of the cells, we were in a more secluded portion of the dungeon. In the darkness of one of the cells, I saw a pair of red eyes gleaming in the dim, flickering light. The sight was so stereotypically creepy that I didn't even flinch. Romania's face appeared out of the shadows as he came to lean into the bars. We came to a stop. I glanced up at Texas, confused as to why we would stop here and not earlier in the hall. "You two better be savin' up your energy."
"Ah, so caring…" Romania drawled with a mocking laugh. "Did you hear that, Nor? The Big Man cares."
Nor? I flinched. Norway. I looked back toward the other cells and how much distance separated us and them. Texas snorted, shaking his head as she maneuvered me toward the block beside Romania. "I just don't think that treating y'all like dirt accomplishes anything, that's all." To my surprise, Texas entered the cell with me and gestured toward a tray on the bed. When he released me, I immediately put as much distance as I could between us and I saw his great shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. "I ain't gonna attack you, ma'am. There's some food here, if you feel like eatin' anything. It's not much, but it'll do."
"Heyo! Texas is a shit cook!" Romania called from the other cell. Texas actually huffed a laugh, looking like he was actually amused at the jab. I kept myself plastered against the wall. "Don't let him intimidate you, Daniels. Take a deep breath! It makes you look bigger!"
Easy for him to say, he wasn't a human facing down this giant.
Texas took several steps back to settle himself in the threshold again, arms crossing over his burly chest. His eyes flickered over me in the dim light, from my boots to my khakis to my matted hair. "I never met the woman who destroyed everything. John told me about her—about you." Considering South Carolina's hate for her, I edged myself back a little more, slightly behind the end of the cot. I didn't like the feeling in my chest, like I was back in another cellar. His eyes flickered to where I was pinching the back of my hand. He took a step back and then slowly reached for the gate. I felt myself begin to shake, so I dug my nails into the back of my hand—
"Eyes open!" My eyes flew open with a gasp. I didn't even realize they had shut. I shrank back and Texas held out both hands in a placating motion. He didn't move from where he stood, the cell door almost closed. His cheeks puffed out and his brows pulled together in thought before he sighed, placing both hands on his hips. He looked like he was caught, uncertainly rolling back on his heels. "It helps to describe what you see." He pushed the cell gate shut with an echoing clang before resuming the same position. I continued to grip the skin on the back of my hand, digging my nails in. "Stop that. You'll start bleedin'. Describe what you see. Keep describin' it until it passes. Do it." The command was obvious, but was hesitant, narrowing my eyes at him in the darkness. "It ain't gonna kill ya. Just try it. Now."
"I-I'm—I'm standing in cell in a… Swiss castle. The room is really dark. I can barely see. The air is thick and humid, and cold." I shifted, not really understanding the purpose except… Mentally, I focused on the way Texas was observing me, a patience in his eyes that I honestly didn't expect. It made me uncomfortable. "The castle is old, older than anything I've ever been in before—I—" I stopped, easing myself from behind the cot and toward the center of the small room. "What—"
"It's called groundin'. Try it next time you feel one comin' on." He took a step back out into the hall and did an about-face. "Recite things, say facts to yourself. Do whatever ya gotta to keep it in check. My favorite is, ya know, the stars at night are big and bright." He nodded at me, almost respectful, as he turned to walk away. He sang as he moved back down the block."The stars at night are big and bright. Deep in the heart of Texas." I took a deep breath, sinking down onto the edge of the cot as his humming continued to echo in the cavernous room.
"Chyeah! Nothin' like singing about your theme song to make you feel better!" Romania called after him as the door at the other end slammed shut. As soon as he was gone, conversation erupted. Even if there were only about eight or nine people in the dungeons, it sounded like a hundred. The voices reverberated off the walls. The buzzing was almost comforting—but no voices were quite as comforting as one that was louder than all of the others.
"Michelle!"
I shakily stood from the cot, carefully making my way to the grate. My still-bound hands grasped at one of the bars. "George, what happened?"
His voice was so far away, but the other voices hushed so that I could hear the answer. "Got ambushed by Texas and Romania at the airport. Figure I was an easy target right after the meeting—took me down, then Denmark, Iceland, and Belgium on the flight over. Diverted here. 'Hitched a ride' with them. Romania's tough."
"He is not me!" Romania shouted from next door. I winced at the volume. "That no-good drama queen is not even close to me! We've been over this, yeah? Look at his hair! It's a damn travesty." I pressed my forehead to the bars while I heard Delaware say 'sorry' from down the block. A smile pulled at my lips. Delaware was still the most mature of all the States. "So…you're the Michelle that I've heard so much about, right?" Romania laughed and I could imagine his incisors catching the dim light. "They got me in Bucharest. Put up a damn good fight though, just like old Nor over here."
"Norway?"
He didn't respond to me, instead I heard a booming voice start up from the other end. "Hey, lille vaen!" I closed my eyes and took a catalogue of the things I could remember, taking deep breaths to keep myself from panicking. Dark, enclosed, damp spaces. It's like I won the lottery of terrible circumstances. It's like all my nightmares were combining together—blood and numbers, being buried alive. Those numbers though, they were more frightening than this cellar. I forced myself to breathe. I had to think. "Hey, new girl!" My head jerked up and I instinctually looked toward the left side of my doorway. "You hear me don't you? Don't ignore me like Norway! Ya know who I am?"
"Denmark." I said loudly. "Yeah, I know who you are." Feeling the nervous energy begin to settle while I kept it in check, I decided that getting an idea of the situation was my best bet. We needed a plan. Surely, they already knew that. These were Nations. It's not like I could sweep in and save the day. "Are Iceland and Belgium here too?"
"I'm here," Iceland's voice said. "Can't say I'm excited about it." He sounded much younger than I expected.
"Bella's here too!" Denmark answered before Belgium actually got the chance. "You're that girl from the meeting, right? How'd ya get pulled into all this?" If there was an answer for that, then it was going to take a long while to explain. I stayed quiet. "It's a big 'duh' that you know about us, right?"
"I know about the States and the Nations, yes." I knew Carolyn was probably listening and decided that it was about time that I went ahead and pulled the bandage off. I braced myself on the grate and sighed, shaking my head. "Carolyn—South Carolina—that one up there? When she took your place, we didn't—I didn't figure it out until it was…" I stopped, knowing that the details would just hurt. "She broke it off with Corey. Or he broke it off with her. He thinks you cheated. I—" I closed my eyes and bit my lip. "He was heartbroken." There was a sound, something between a whimper and a sob before it was muffled. "I'm sorry, Carolyn." I opened my eyes and looked upward, keeping my voice as level as I could. I'd give her a few minutes to settle herself. "George?"
It was Carolyn that responded, catching me off-guard. "He's—He's safe though, right? You said he was safe? Is Corey okay?"
"He's safe."
"You know for sure?"
"I spoke to him on the way here. Him and Jessie. And John."
"John's okay, too?" George piped up.
"Yeah, he is. They're fine."
"As enlightening as all this is…" This voice was deeper than the others, coming from the right in the corridor. I glanced in what I assumed to be Norway's direction, moving to sit on the cot again. I pushed myself back as much as I could with my wrists still bound and leaned uncomfortably against the wall. I sighed, reaching up to brush my hair out of my face. "Michelle, I assume that you went to my house? Did you find some answers there?" Huffing a disbelieving laugh, I heard someone down the line make an odd choking sound. "You did. I knew you would."
"You couldn't have known any of this any more than Egypt could've." I said it just loud enough that I knew he would hear. My tone was flat. "If you start using gun metaphors, I'm going to call 'bullshit.'"
There was a loud laugh from down the line, one that seemed to be a true belly laugh. It was such a warm sound in such a dark place. "Ah? What's that, Norway? Did you do something immensely stupid again?" Denmark's laugh was a little disconcerting here. It sounded a bit carefree. "Like try to fight off four Nations at once. That kind of stupid?" He laughed again.
"I've done it before, if you remember." There was a baiting tone to his voice, though it was just as level as I recalled it. I wondered what occasion he was referencing that was impactful enough to render Denmark silent. Ringing silence hung over us for a few moments and I busied my mind by thinking of something else, any place else. Somewhere I felt most secure—a classroom. I couldn't believe I was taking Texas' advice to heart, but…I let out a breath and waited. "Did you really think that cursed globe and those pictures were mere coincidence? If so, then you are not nearly as intelligent as is assumed." His voice sounded like ragged silk. "You really think that it was mere coincidence that you found that journal? Or that you found that watch—the watch you used in payment to the Great Troll? Coincidence?"
"Hey!" I heard Carolyn's voice interrupt. "No need to be a prick, Norway!"
"There is every need. If we're going to survive this, then she needs to wake up. I'd appreciate your silence, State." I tensed. A Viking, that's what he was. A conqueror, power rang in every word. I felt like I recognized him as someone more than a dream-figure. "Don't be a dumbass and use your brain for once." I narrowed my eyes in the darkness, trying to work through his words. "We knew where you would end up after I cast the spell."
"We?" I narrowed my eyes and pressed my lips together, brows pulling down in thought. "What 'we'?"
There was no answer and I'd reached the end of my very short rope. I reached over and pulled myself to the edge of the bed again, perching there as pin needles seemed to prick at my arms and legs.
"Stop being so damn vague and maybe she could work things out!" Iceland's irritated voice bolstered my frustration. "Just say the things straight out instead of reciting the riddles!"
"Exactly! What he said!" I hit my hands against the metal bedframe and angrily glared out at the open dungeon hall. There was an echo after my outburst, but I thought I heard something like snickering from the other end of the hall. "Egypt with his damn wordplay— guns in and guns out, enemies, friends, trust no one! Trust me! And now you're here—with freakin' blood-numbers painted upstairs for some sort of psychopathic time travelling ritual—and you're being purposefully vague, too. For no real good reason. I'm getting sick of it. Tell me straight-out or don't tell me at all, but don't do all this baiting anymore! Either I know or I don't know, but making me figure things out is—honestly—batshit insane at this point." I huffed and pushed my hair out of my face. My hands being bound didn't let me use my hands as much as I wanted and that made me even more irritated. "Oh, and another thing! This isn't some quest for self-discovery here! So, stop acting like I get character points for figuring out your damn mind games!"
.
.
.
"Oh, I like her." A high-pitched female voice stated with a laugh. Belgium, I realized. "She's called you out, Norway. Listen to the woman. We've all been getting tired of the runaround here." Good to know that he's been giving them the same treatment. "Some real explanations are wanted. Now."
Silence hung over us. Meanwhile, I tried my best to work through whatever clues Norway had already provided. Thinking it through, that was the ticket. That would be what kept me alive in all this. He'd sent the box to the museum. I knew that much. I knew that he had my journal and my other artifacts. I knew that he had been muttering a spell when I had made the deal that landed me in the same world's future and repaired the timeline. What was I missing and why was I missing it? And how did that impact the situation we were in now? It was all connected, somehow. It all came down to that globe. That was the one connecting factor.
"I knew what the troll—Jotunar— would do." Norway's voice spoke up at last. I felt a twinge of nervousness. "I have known him for centuries, millennia. No deal of his is ever so simple— 'whatever you treasure most' as payment? No, it was a fraud." I clasped my hands together, sweaty palms feeling too cold in this masonry. "To reset a timeline and to jump worlds…The price is far steeper than you even had the ability to pay. Otherwise, many Nations would have rewritten their histories many million times over. I told you many times. I warned you."
"And you went through with the ritual anyway?"
He had set me up.
Flawlessly.
"I did. A pocket watch? You truly believed that it was that cheap of a task?" I felt my stomach lurch at the amusement in his tone. "If you would have taken the deal, you would have returned to your world and the life you left behind. Your body and soul, with no residue, no convergence. Free."
"And leave everything the way it—"
"Yes." He didn't give me a chance to ask anything, plowing straight into his explanation. "There was a plan. There was someone else who would pay the right price to reset the timeline. It was merely a year—not too long, not too high of a price. Not for someone like him. Not in the grand scheme of what he described." Norway paused. "Egypt was prepared to do whatever it took." I lowered my eyes to the uneven floor, shaking my head. Of course. It always came back around to him. Everything always seemed to come back around to Egypt. "Everything was prepaid, so to speak. You would return to your world, safe and sound."
"That's not what happened," I answered. I tried to work through it. I tried to remember whatever I could about the ritual and the troll. I tried to remember what was said, but I couldn't. My memory was not returned—everything from Arthur's house forward was a blur, just bits and pieces. Just instincts rather than actual, concrete—oh, concrete—memories. "I paid the troll to reset the timeline and I ended up here."
"Not quite."
"What do you mean 'not quite'?"
"Get to that in a minute," Romania commented, interrupting. I could imagine him waving a hand. I tried to keep a firm grip on my nerves and frustration. "You said they had painted numbers upstairs. What was the sequence? Was there a sequence?"
Caught a bit off-guard, with my mind in another basement, I just nodded my head before remembering that it wouldn't suffice. "Um, like a clock."
"Căcat." I heard him whisper, but Norway spoke up before Romania could say anything more.
"You were too tied into the fabric, too weaved into the timeline. Moreso than I had expected. Jotunar warned me. To cut you out at that point would destroy the entire reality— for a human, the price would have been too steep. To rip apart space and time…you would not survive. Neither would either world. You leave and Egypt pays. For a Nation…but things went wrong in a way that Egypt had not anticipated. If the timeline was not repaired, not a single one of us would have survived."
The reality of that was upstairs, I realized.
Was this…
Was this something that Egypt had seen?
Did he know me before he met me?
Did he know as soon as he met me?
"Egypt… did all of this?" My voice was almost too quiet for him to hear, but the rest of the Nations and States were remaining studiously quiet. I didn't know what kind of price he had paid, but— he had already done too much. Surrendering like he—I stopped breathing, thinking over the exchange in Oslo. He said it had been for me, but…My eyes narrowed, a certainty and confidence sinking into my chest. "He said he did it all to get me out. That's what he said." I took a deep breath, shaking slightly. It was possible, only too possible. I felt I knew Egypt too well. He'd used vague language. "He surrendered to find you. To fix everything. He was looking for a way to reset the timeline from the beginning… He did it to get me out of the way, not out of danger,"
"They were—are not mutually exclusive," Norway responded. "Egypt's actions were commendable and we all owe him a great debt, but he was a Nation in a desperate position."
It was answer enough.
Desperation. It seemed to be motivating everyone.
"Skip to what actually happened, then."
"You don't remember, lille vaen?" Denmark randomly entered the conversation with his booming voice. "Seems pretty dramatic. Shouldn't you remember?"
"She had a serious brain injury! Of course she doesn't remember!" Carolyn popped back.
"That was what went wrong." Norway picked up again. "Troll magic is temperamental. The deal was upset. Egypt was detained. I had tried to free him. He could not join us. Then, the shield—Your component of the payment to return to your world, it was used to raise the shield. You pulled me into the circle—And then the explosion. The whole plan was in shambles."
"I—I can't remember it."
It was blank.
I couldn't remember any of it.
"The worlds were colliding around you. I thought I saw it, what Egypt can see. Like after images or… staring at the sun too long and then looking away. You were dying and you were determined to give us another chance." I stared ahead, not feeling anything as I listened to Norway's deep voice become a tad more emotional. I couldn't quite make out the emotion though. "It was a matter of course then. Whatever you treasure most— he would take your family, take away all opportunity of seeing them again, so that you could never return to that world. He would sacrifice you and everything you loved." I felt my heart thumping wildly in my chest, but I didn't respond. "It wouldn't fix anything but the messed up timeline. A human sacrifice."
I couldn't imagine.
Romania's whisper was horrified. "Sămoarămă-ta…"
I couldn't quite get upset. I was too tired and I was too distracted. I felt no connection to his words, almost as if it was someone else who did these things.
"Then how did she survive, Norway?" It was Belgium's voice—calm and clear.
"I used the globe as an anchor… for a portion of her life force and some of my magic. I pulled strings of memory from each person in that room and I wrapped them into that anchor. A failsafe. A backup plan." So, my shattered skull and injuries weren't so survivable? "Time began to reverse." The dungeons sat in cold, humid silence for a short time after that. I was a bit surprised that Denmark hadn't broken that silence, but—After all that was just said, I couldn't say that I blamed him. I couldn't seem to wrap my head around it all.
"Blood magic."
"Yes, that is what I used."
"No, not that! Get past the past. I'm talking about the jerks upstairs." I sat forward, re-centering on that and that alone. The blood and numbers. I couldn't let the past pull me back from the present. Romania was moving around in his cell. I thought I heard him kick the wall. "They used blood magic to get here. You know what the cost'd be for something like that."
"Even I know that," Denmark spoke up. "There are folktales about it!"
"We've never used it though."
"Not that we know of."
"Belgium is right. If we had used this spell before, then we would not recall it or the situation that caused it to be used."
"It's a blood ritual. If they're using the blood clock, and if they're using blood taken from States and Nations…" Romania took a deep breath and let it out. It seemed to flow throughout the whole space. I focused on the coolness of my fingers. My mind kept flickering back to Egypt's blank stare. "I guess it makes sense why they went after me and Norway first then." His voice was low and far more serious, a tone that I recognized from the other Romania. "North, South, East, and West. Seals the deal, doesn't it?"
I thought I heard Delaware gasp while several began talking at once. I tried to track what was being said, but I couldn't follow all of it. My mind was spinning in circles—over Norway's words, Egypt, even Italy's back as he ran away. Flashes of a reality that weren't my own. The blood clock and the missing numbers. That's not always what the numbers meant, right? The Nations that were out there, either springing a trap or walking right into one. Down here, we'd have no way of knowing. Alfred, Arthur, and the others…Surely they had to be safe or we would have known.
"—elle, hello?"
"Sorry, Sorry, I'm here." I refocused, looking toward the grate of the cell as if someone would be standing there. I clasped my hands and leaned forward, stretching my back. "What is it?"
"Were there any numbers missing?"
I felt my heart skip a beat. How had he known? "Four—eight, nine, ten, eleven."
"Well, damn."
"You're right, Romania."
He snorted and his accent became thick, like he was suddenly exhausted. "I was hoping that I wasn't."
"They must've taken our blood while we were unconscious."
"Pin prick like that would've healed before we even woke up."
"Damn. Damn. Damn. This sucks!"
"So, if England's captured, we're screwed."
"Surely, he recognizes it."
"Arthur? Why?"
The silence pressed on my ears.
"That is more than enough power to achieve all their goals and then some—Four Magical Nations? Center that power in an object, then you have enough energy stored to do practically anything."
"Chyeah!" Denmark exclaimed. "You've heard the stories, right? I mean—freakin' Arthur went and centered half his power in sword like a thousand years ago or whatever." What? Was he talking about Excalibur? "People still tell stories about it all the time. Lotta good that did him, but still! Same thing. Magical Nations are kind of batshit anyway." There was an irritated grunt from my right and I could just picture Norway's irritated stare. "Except, you know, they're pretty good when you're in a jam. And they can make some pretty neat things, sometimes. And Nor's got that whole mysterious thing going."
"Keep digging. Maybe you can tunnel us out of here." Iceland's voice was a mix between amused and irritated.
"An object that possesses the power of four magical Nations would be incredible. No such object has ever been created." That was Delaware's awestruck voice. "The First Nations and the Ancients tried to create such things—swords, spears, bows."
"Ya know, Heracles once told me that Pandora's box was actually created by his mother."
"That's where the myths come from," Belgium added.
"So, if they center that magic in an object—then their objectives are achievable and then some. Is that what you're saying?" It was a voice that I didn't recognize that raised that question. I had not heard him speak since I'd arrived in the dungeons. I heard someone muttering curse words in various languages down the hall. "Well, that's just stupid." It struck me then that this had to be Switzerland, and he didn't sound overly impressed. "Not all Nations are magical. That provides an unfair advantage!"
"Really?" Belgium sighed. "That's the part that bothers you? Not the part where we're all sacrificed?"
"C'mon, Swissy."
"Call me that one more time and I'm—"
"You're locked up same as the rest of us and you don't know how to get out of your own dungeons!"
"Hey!" Belgium interrupted the brewing argument. I almost laughed at how quickly they hushed. I released the tension in my back and sagged forward a bit, realizing just how tired I actually was. I'd been running on adrenaline for so long that I was beginning to forget what it felt like to be fully rested. Belgium's reputation preceded her. "If you two are going to behave like idiots, then just keep quiet while the grownups figure out what to do!"
Someone started clapping and I just knew it was Carolyn. Sure enough, her voice piped up. "You tell 'em, Bella."
We settled into silence for a little while, with only a few words spoken every now and again. Carolyn asked after my mother. Delaware murmured that he didn't want to know what happened to the States to make them do this. It was far from a comfortable silence. I continued cataloguing every fact that I could remember—every little detail. Every flash and every word that I could remember. I idly wondered where Italy had gotten off to, if he was safe wherever he was hiding. I prayed that he was safe and that the others were doing whatever they could to keep themselves from danger. After about thirty minutes in the tense blanket of silence, I sat the tray of food on the ground and lay back onto the cot. My bound hands rested over my stomach as I stared up into the hewn stone ceiling. My scalp felt cold.
I'm alone.
Every few minutes, a wave of nervousness would wash over me— my heart started to race and I would close my eyes tightly. No, then I began cataloguing again.
This had been part of the plan, right?
Use that brain of yours.
An object—any object imbued with that kind of power— what gets pulled in with that power? When it calls for that kind of sacrifice…What happens when desperation is embodied? I shivered as I looked around the cell. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing the same images. Raised arms, blank eyes. Numbers on the floor, painted in blood. There was something beating on the door, ready to tear it down. And there was a pair of wide brown eyes. HetaOni. I knew what it was. I could remember that, but…something was missing. I was missing something. I could feel it in my very bones. I could feel it, just like I could feel the ache in my foot.
Alone.
No, I opened my eyes and glared at the ceiling. I was not going to let this—
To the me who lives at some point in time and who isn't alone.
Sucking in a breath, I felt my heart sputter in my chest. My stomach writhed with the realization. I used my legs to propel myself up, stumbling toward the grate door. My hands wrapped around the cool metal as I worked to keep my breathing steady. As insane as it seemed, it was the only—the only thing that made sense. My hands shook.
"Could they center this power in something like…"I needed my suspicions confirmed. I needed an answer. "A globe?" I waited for an answer, trying not to lose control. I pressed my forehead into the bars, focusing on the chill of them just above my eyes. "It's the globe, right?"
"Maybe," Romania answered finally.
"What about a journal?"
Italy was very used to hiding in the shadows. Romania—that Romania—had come through with his gun raised and his eyes sharp, trying to catch any sign of something out of place. Feliciano had pressed himself back into the darkness, trying to ignore the feeling that something else was in that darkness with him. When the enemy disappeared, he slowly slid down the wall and pressed his face into his hands. He stayed that way until there were shouts and, in an instant, Italy was on his feet and rushing for the door. He'd found the darkest part of the castle, the most secure. As quietly as he could, he made his way toward where the lights were flashing in the hallway. He arrived at the staircase a moment later, standing on the top floor. No one would think to look up from the main floor—not in a battle like that.
He started forward on instinct, but grabbed the bannister and forced himself back.
America hit the wall and collapsed, grasping his shoulder. It was too familiar.
Italy bit his lip and watched.
"What the bloody hell!" England charged into the atrium, hands glowing green. Italy held so tightly to the wooden bannister that he felt it snap a bit under his fingers. "Just who do you think you are, State!" A flash of green sent Carolina flying into the staircase. She was on her feet a second later, cradling her shoulder. She leap over the bannister. "Looks like you were shot." He prowled around her. Italy could just imagine the smirk. He'd hated that smirk years ago. "France, help America."
"I am a bit busy, mon cher!" France retorted. Italy could barely see France's sword as he battled with the much larger Texas. "Mattieu! Help Alfred." Nervously, Feliciano shifted his weight between his feet and edged himself forward, looking straight down to where Canada was rushing through the fight with his gun raised. "Look out!" Red magic flooded the room, like a backdraft. It seemed to eat all the air in the room. At the last instant, Italy closed his eyes and turned away, back into the shadows. His heart was racing terribly, a horrible reminder. He raised his hand to his chest and pressed it along his breastbone. Too similar, too familiar.
"Welp, that sucked."
"You ok, SC?"
"Been better." Her voice was rough. Italy edged forward just a bit to look down. Carolina was holding her shoulder again. "Bitch."
"At least it was a clean shot," Texas offered. "And at least she shot you there and not in the stomach. Those hurt somethin' terrible." She growled something in return and his hands went up in surrender. Italy leaned a little further forward and watched as the State he knelt down and brushed a hand over America's blond hair. "Just seein' him again…like this. It's…hard." Feliciano bit his lip as Texas gathered the Nation into his arms as gently as possible, like Alfred would break into pieces. "I'll get 'em into position. It's about time we got this over with." He stopped in front of a panting Romania, who leaned against the wall. "You ok, Vlad?"
Romania just nodded. "Just…need a minute."
The two States disappeared into the next room, but another person appeared. Italy jumped back into the shadows just as the Nation looked up. He heard Egypt's calm voice: "It's time."
Not wanting to risk being caught, he turned and quickly made his way back down the hallway to his hiding spot. He carefully closed the door and walked to the windows, bracing himself on them, pressing his forehead into the wall. This was too much, but it didn't seem like enough. Feliciano took a deep breath and rolled to rest his back on the wall. Egypt was involved in this too… He reached into his pocket and withdrew a leather-bound journal, brushing his fingertips along the three lines.
"I'm so sorry, bella signora."
Author's Section:
Thank you so much everyone for your wonderful words of support! Thank you for the reviews! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and the revelations that came to light. It took a long time to put this chapter together. Hopefully, I didn't miss any of my major components…I'm doing my best to bring quality content with the time I have. Due to this time constraint, I will not be able to post another chapter for some time. Maybe a few months, or so. I really appreciate your patience! In the meantime, I'll be posting smaller things and drabbles. I've been working on AMOS (A Matter of Series) for almost three years now—over 400,000 words collectively, including drabbles. Woah! It's the longest thing I have ever written.
And in the next couple chapters, it will end.
It's amazing to me. Thank you all for sticking with it. Hopefully, this last huge revelation was worth it. It's been planned since AMOT.
Once again, thank you all for your wonderful support: reviews, favorites, and follows.
Until next time!
