Remember

Episode Four: Consequences of War

Chapter Two

"Their marriage was a foolish one. To unite a member of the Ancients and a Mage of Darkness… It is a good thing they did not bear children, for such a child would be endlessly tortured by the forces of light and dark, forever susceptible to corruption from either side."

Dimentio burst into his father's room, became visible, made a few exasperated signs in Aldrik's direction and then disappeared again, all without making a sound. Raising an eyebrow, Aldrik teleported after his son, and a second later both of them reappeared on the castle's roof.

"Explain," Dimentio spat, "why you never told me mother was a descendant of the Ancients."

He was met with stunned silence.

"My grandfather is Merletoph, son of Merloo, a member of the Prognostic Order. Merloo was the most powerful sage to ever live, father! And your father was one of the most powerful mages to ever live! What does that make me?"

Aldrik gritted his teeth and avoided the question. "Who told you this?!"

"Merletoph himself! He's still alive, did you know that, father? And do you know what else he told me? He said mother left. She's not even on this world anymore. Did you know that?"

Again, Aldrik fell silent. Dimentio hovered closer to him, studying his father's eyes. When he refused to meet his masked gaze, realization dawned on the young magician.

"You did know that, didn't you?"

"Hmph."

"Of course you did! If she was an Ancient she would have had a soul signature! You knew all along exactly where she was! You probably know where she is right now!" Dimentio had advanced further, his voice continuing to raise in volume.

"She does not have a signature. Her father did not teach her magic. He wanted her to be as close to a human as possible. She ran away the night she left you with me, once you were old enough to live without her. She was afraid of you."

Aldrik's bluntness stunned Dimentio.

"Aha ha. She was afraid of me."

"Yes."

"Of course she would be. I am a monster, after all. Neither human nor mage nor sage. I am an abomination, isn't that right, father? Aha ha ha ha."

After another moment of silence, Aldrik muttered, "You are...unique."

"Aha ha ha ha ha."

"Goodnight, Dimentio. And please, no more questions."

"Oh, but father," the motley-clad boy cut in, "there is one more thing I need to ask."

Aldrik hesitated, but before he could deny his son the right to speak, Dimentio pressed on, "If you knew mother was gone all along, why did you send Blumiere to search for her?"

"I…"

"It was a very dangerous task. He almost died."

Aldrik's eyes widened.

"The humans almost set him aflame. Just like Anastaise, aha."

"How in the worlds did he escape?"

"He—" Dimentio paused and again advanced on Aldrik. "Now that's a curious question, father."

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you going to ask if he's alright? Are you not concerned at all for your dear nephew?"

"I—"

"First you send him into town on an impossible mission, knowing the hostile nature of the humans, and then you act surprised that he made it out alive."

"Be silent, Dimentio."

"You were trying to get him killed, weren't you, father?" Dimentio's voice wavered for a split second as Aldrik closed the gap between them. In a sudden wave of alarm and presentiment, he lashed out at his father, expelling a blast of magic from his fingertips. Immediately he was thrown backwards as the orb bounced harmlessly off of Aldrik and exploded. The air around the mage rippled; he stepped onward toward his son, unfazed.

Relentless, Dimentio staggered to his feet, raised his face to the night sky, and screamed, "You were trying to kill Blumiere! You sent him to his death! Aha ha ha! But he's still ali—"

Dimentio was cut off as Aldrik lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. He gagged as his father shot dark magic into his bloodstream; immediately his entire body went numb and he dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Be silent," Aldrik repeated. Then he teleported away, leaving the twitching boy behind.

"A...ha ha… ha…" Dimentio sputtered out one more laugh before he could no longer move his lips.

Blumiere was surprised to find Aldrik waiting for him in his room. At least it wasn't his father, but the sight of the mage still made his stomach churn.

"Uncle?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Dimentio told me everything that happened," Aldrik stated. His face held no emotion.

A shiver ran down Blumiere's spine. That means Dimentio was following me the whole time, he realized. The thought made him uneasy; was Dimentio always watching him? Was he in the room right now? "Everything…?"

"Yes."

"So you know that… Sha'i is gone."

"Yes…"

"I am so sorry, Uncle."

"I did not know before that she was a member of the Ancients," Aldrik sighed. "I am surprised she does not have a soul signature. But then again, she never used any kind of magic, so perhaps her father never taught her."

Blumiere recalled Merletoph's comments on his uncle's relationship with Sha'i. "So, since Sha'i was from the Ancients, and you are from our Tribe… what does that make Dimentio?"

"I… don't know. I always thought his deformities were because of the Tribe's blood mixing with the human's blood, but now it seems they were caused by the mixing of blood magic and white magic."

"Deformities?" Blumiere furrowed his brow. "Is that why he wears a mask, then?"

Aldrik nodded and then offhandedly added, "But I too wear a mask, Blumiere. I wear a mask to hide deformities that you cannot see." He took a few steps toward his nephew.

Blumiere froze, repeating his uncle's words in his mind. Then, as Aldrik grew closer, he dared to ask, "What do you mean by that?"

"If you haven't figured it out yet, perhaps it is best you don't know at all."

Heartbeat quickening, Blumiere stepped backwards, putting distance between himself and his uncle. Aldrik did not move further, but met Blumiere's gaze steadily. His eyes glinted, and for the first time Blumiere noticed there was an orange glow accenting his irises. He blinked and the light faded, leaving Aldrik with a slight smile on his face.

"Anyway, I came here to ask you about that woman you've been seeing, Blumiere."

The young man flinched.

"Even though we know of Sha'i's whereabouts now, I'm sure you'd like to continue meeting her."

"Yes, sir." Blumiere didn't say anything else.

"I will see what I can do. Likely Dimentio will aid you from now on."

"Thank you."

Aldrik stared at his nephew. "Be careful, Blumiere."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, Aldrik disappeared, leaving Blumiere alone in his room. With a sigh of relief, he released the breath he'd been holding. Without changing into his nightclothes he got into his bed, hoping to make it seem as though he'd been there all night. It wasn't until he laid down that he realized just how exhausted he was; so much had happened since he'd last slept. But even exhaustion could not put him to sleep. After the encounter with Aldrik, Blumiere was now left to wonder what in the worlds his uncle had been talking about.
He could have been referring to his relationship with Sha'i, Blumiere thought. He must wear a mask that hides the feelings he had for her so Father won't know. But then he said, 'Perhaps it's best if you don't know at all.' So there's something he's still hiding from me.

Blumiere sat up. "Wait," he whispered. "He mentioned that Sha'i was unable to use magic. But Merletoph said—"

A deafening explosion rattled the sconces on the walls, causing the blue flames held within to shutter and dance. Blumiere jumped out of bed, heart racing, and ran towards the door. It was locked, but he could hear footsteps and voices in the hallway, and soon his door swung open to reveal a grim-faced King Basile.

"Father! What was that noise?"

"Quickly, Blumiere," Basile motioned for his son to join him in the hallway. "The humans are attacking. We must defend the castle!"

"What?! Father, I can't fight them! None of us can! We aren't trained to use our magic for harm!"

"Would you rather die, then!?" Basile exclaimed. "They fight only with swords and torches, Blumiere. It will not take much to destroy them."

"Torches…?" Blumiere couldn't help but recall the heat of the torches that nearly ended his life. What if the humans recognize me? A stunning realization followed that thought. What if they're attacking because of me?! Hands trembling, Blumiere stuttered, "Father, I-I can't."

Basile took him by the shoulder and led him into the hallway. Nearby there was a window that overlooked the front of the castle. Outside, humans were trickling slowly onto the castle grounds from the small cliff entrance. "Your family is out there fighting," Basile boomed. "And you will fight by their side." With that, he teleported them both to the grounds below.

Henri and Dorian, two of Blumiere's older brothers, were hurling magic orbs at humans a few meters away. Basile nudged Blumiere in their direction. "Help your brothers. I am going to find Aldrik."

Basile's dark gaze met his with a stern glare, and Blumiere's heart lurched. He was looking for Aldrik? I have a terrible feeling he's not looking for him so they can fight together…

"And I will need a word with you, too, Blumiere. I'd like to have a talk with the both of you, actually."

"Yes, sir," Blumiere managed to utter, before turning away from his father, chills running down his spine. King Basile did not say another word, and so Blumiere broke into a run, prepared to die fighting alongside his brothers if it meant he did not have to face his father's wrath.

Ronan lay in his bed, wide awake. Flashing before him were images he could not shake. His best friend, twisting and turning until she was unrecognizable. He dared not shut his eyes for fear of recollecting the scene more vividly; the way her neck seemed to snap right off of her body, and the terrible monster that protruded from her body, lifting her off her feet and scuttling away on six spindly spider legs, pushing through the crowd of people, leaving behind a trail of terror.

After that, he'd fled. He'd weaved through the frantic crowd and sought out his grandmother, clinging to her before following her home. Now, six hours later, she was sleeping in her room across the hallway and he was restless, feeling no more secure than he'd felt out in the open.

Someone was pounding on the front door. Ronan jumped out of bed, refusing to be caught in a vulnerable position if someone planned on breaking in and attacking. As the assault on the wooden door continued, Ronan crept towards his grandmother's room and slid inside without making a sound.

"Nanna? Are yeh awake?"

The snoring figure remained motionless. Ronan prodded her in the side anxiously.

"Nanna!"

She snorted awake right as the front door broke down with a splintering crack. Footsteps thumped through the house. There were three or four people inside, Ronan guessed. He handed his grandmother her glasses and helped her to sit up in her bed. She in turn put a hand on Ronan's shoulder, holding him close.

The harsh glow of a torch rounded the corner to the bedroom, bathing Ronan and his grandmother in yellow light. Three men filed into the room, followed by a young red-haired woman wearing a long green dress. Ronan recognized her as his neighbor, Kathleen. She was carrying a small sword, as were two of the men. The third man had a cloth bag slung over his shoulder.

"Where is your father, immigrant?" the man with the bag demanded.

Ronan's eyes widened and he glanced from Kathleen to his grandmother and back to the man.

"I told you, sir," Kathleen said, "'is father's back in the 'omeland!"

"And my daughter went with him," Ronan's grandmother spoke up, straining her voice so she would be heard. "They're fightin' in a war. We 'aven't 'eard from them in three years!"

"Wha' do you want with 'im anyway?!" Ronan exclaimed.

"We're getting ready to fight a war of our own, here. We need people who are willing to fight."

"Yeh didn't ask me if I wanted to fight!" Kathleen cut in. "Yeh broke down me door and shoved a sword in me face!"

"Who are yeh fightin'?" Ronan furrowed his brow.

"The blue-faces atop the hill," the man growled. "No one wants to do it, but after that attack tonight it seems we've got to make the first move if we want to survive at all."

"'E didn't attack you! You attacked 'im!"

"And how do you know that, immigrant? How do you know he wasn't planning to attack?"

"Because Blue'd never 'urt anyone! Or anythin' at all!"

The man drew back. He exchanged a glance with one of the sword-wielding men and then turned back to Ronan. "Are you saying you knew this demon?"

"Ronan…" his grandmother breathed.

"He's in cahoots with the demon!"

"No!" Kathleen stepped forward. "No, Ronan, surely that's not what yeh meant! Yeh'd never conspire with a demon, would yeh?"

The orange-haired boy gulped. There wasn't anything he could say or do to get him out of this mess. His nanna had taught him never to lie, and even if he did, that wouldn't stop them from attacking Blumiere and his family. So Ronan took a deep breath and said, "I knew 'im. And I know 'he's not plannin' teh attack you."

Kathleen uttered a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. Ronan's grandmother squeezed his shoulder tightly.

"Well, if you know so much about him," the man with the bag grumbled, "then you should know his tribe's weaknesses, right?"

Before Ronan could reply, the man took his arm and dragged him towards the bedroom door.

"No, please!" his nanna struggled to get out of bed, reaching a hand out towards her grandson. Kathleen tried to coax her back into bed.

"It'll be fine, Aileen, I'll take good care of the lad. Yeh have my word." When she continued to protest, Kathleen added, "Yeh're not fit teh fight, anyway. Ronan's a brave lad. 'E'll be alright, I promise."

At last Aileen gave in. "Per'aps yeh'll save our town… at last…" she whispered. "Per'aps my Ronan will…"

"Per'aps 'e will," Kathleen agreed. And with that, she left the bedroom, sword firmly in hand.

The band of five met up with a group of about twenty other humans at the cliff base. They all held torches, swords, clubs, or other weapons. Ronan, empty handed, turned his head upward to the gray dawn sky, peering at the top of the cliff. Blumiere and his family were up there, unaware of the chaos that was about to erupt. And there was no way he could warn them.

The man with the bag, who had introduced himself as Clay, stood in front of the ragged crowd and addressed them. "Warriors of Tiede! This morning we will take back our land! This morning we will rid ourselves of the demons that live on this hill. Today, we will be free!"

As the crowd cheered, Ronan shuffled closer to Kathleen. "We've tried too many times in the past," she whispered, "and it always ends in sufferin.' Why do they think it'll be any different this time?"

Ronan, lost in thought, did not reply.

Clay continued, "Our plan is this: first, march to the top of the hill and circle the castle. Once we've surrounded the castle, we'll blow open the door and infiltrate their home. Kill everyone you see!"

Once more the crowd cheered. Kathleen gasped, "This is suicide!"

Nonetheless, the ragged warriors began to file up the side of the cliff, through the gate that drew the line between human and demon. Kathleen and Ronan were last in line save for Clay, who took up the rear.

The peaks of the obsidian towers rose into view as they ascended, and for a moment Ronan was lost in their beauty, and it pained him to know that soon the magnificent castle might be in ruins. As dangerous as the beings inside were, he felt bad that they would have no idea this was coming.

Once they reached the top, the line split in two, half heading to the right and half to the left, until they'd encircled the dark castle. Ronan, Kathleen, and Clay stopped right in front of the grand doors that served as the entrance.

Clay knelt down and swung the bag off of his shoulder. He reached inside and produced a round object with two small feet and a wind-up key sticking out of the back. Ronan immediately recognized the item.

"Here," Clay handed him two bob-ombs. "You'll be the one to blow the door open."

Ronan shook his head. "B-but… But a-aren't these illegal?"

"Nothing's illegal when you're fighting a war, kid. Now you're gonna throw those bob-ombs at the door, got it?"

Ronan could only stare at him.

"Please," Kathleen cut in, "let me do it. Don't make the poor lad do it!"

"Hush, immigrant," Clay waved her away. "For all we know, he's the reason the demon decided to attack in the first place."

"No, sir! Ronan'd never—"

"Throw it!" Clay barked with such ferocity that Ronan jumped and, panicking, he hurled the bob-omb at the door. It struck the metal with a clunk and bounced back, unlit.

"Idiot!" Clay took another bob-omb and cranked the key in the back, causing the fuse to spark and catch fire. Then he thrust the explosive towards Ronan, forcing the boy to throw it in order not to be caught in the explosion himself.

This time, the bob-omb hit its mark. A terrible explosion shook the ground, throwing up a cloud of smoke. Kathleen staggered backward, unprepared for the force of the blow.

The warriors all readied their weapons, prepared to enter the castle. But as soon as the smoke cleared, it revealed an unsettling sight. The front doors were still shut tight, and now a dark mage in a purple robe stood in front of them, a magic orb crackling in his hand.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! (It's 11:30 here; it's still Christmas!)