A/N: I know I am updating super fast! I am on a roll! This never happens so don't expect it to last much longer! (Also, I promise that I'm working on Red Lights as well - just be patient with me please!) This chapter is sort of an information dump, but important nonetheless. Thanks for you everlasting support loves! Be sure to leave comments on the way out - they're what keep me going making awesome stories! XOXOX!
Chapter 10
Bloom.
It was the voice, that ethereal feminine voice that had guided her to safety at Cloud Tower. It was all-encompassing, as if it were coming from all directions, enveloping Bloom. The strange part was that it was a comforting voice, something that made her feel safe and loved. Even stranger was that the voice sounded familiar.
Bloom.
There is was again, as if her name were the only word that voice knew. Bloom knew that was not true though. She had heard her speak more words at Cloud Tower. But Bloom was also the only one to hear her, or see her. The Nymph of Magix, Tecna had called the golden woman. What did someone so powerful want with her?
Where are you? Bloom asked, looking around but finding nothing, only the same blue void.
I am here Bloom.
Suddenly, she appeared, though much larger than Bloom remembered. The golden woman's face took up Bloom's entire field of vision, her skin radiating pure golden light. Though masked, she seemed beautiful and young, smoothy kindly features making Bloom feel welcomed and protected. The golden woman smiled and lifted her hands for Bloom to stand. Her hands were solid and warm, radiating both heat and immense power.
Who are you? Bloom asked, needing to know.
It's me Bloom. Don't you remember me? Don't you know my voice?
Somehow the woman managed to speak without ever opening her mouth. It was as if her voice came from her mind and directly linked to Bloom's. It was unnerving, and strangely intimate, but Bloom didn't seem to mind. Why didn't she seem to mind?
You're the one who helped me escape from Cloud Tower...but who are you?
My name is Daphne, the Nymph of Magix.
That name was familiar, her title more so. Then it hit her: the Nymphs of Magix were depicted on the facade of Town Hall. In the facade, there were nine of them, the one in center lifting up the scales of justice. From what little she could infer, the Nymphs were supposed to keep the peace, supposed to be supreme beings with incredible power. So why was one so determined to get her attention?
What do you want with me? How come only I can see you?
I am here to protect you Bloom. I am here to guide you to your destiny.
Again, there was the pinpricking sensation of their mental connection. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but the power that surged through her body when it happened gave a rush unlike any other.
You're in my head... Bloom trailed off, rubbing at her temples.
I am everywhere you are. I am in your head. I am in your heart. I am always with you and always have been.
That was very vague, too vague for Bloom's liking. The only thing she was getting from this was that some sort of all-powerful omniscient being had taken up residence in her mind for a nondescript amount of time. Was she the reason for all this insanity? If Bloom found a way to detach the Nymph from her brain, would she return to normal?
The Nymph let out a soft, sighing laugh.
Things are rarely that simple, Bloom. I am not the cause of your affliction. I am here to protect you, to help you overcome the nature that troubles you.
Help me to understand. Do you know why I'm like this? Bloom asked. If Daphne wasn't going to answer questions about herself, maybe she would answer ones about Bloom.
All in due time, my beloved daughter.
Bloom barely had time to process those words before the Nymph removed her hand from under Bloom, letting her fall down into the deep blue unknown, darkness consuming everything until there was nothing but the overwhelming crushing sensation of drowning.
Bloom bolted upright, chest heaving and sheets soaked from sweat. She was lying on a bed - a gurney to be more accurate - one of the ones found in the nurse's office at Alfea. She had no idea how she got there, but at least it was a familiar, tangible place.
There was no trace of the blue void.
There was no trace of the golden woman.
According to her friends, Bloom had been unconscious for two days.
After her large surge of power at The Day of the Rose, she had apparently fallen into a comatose-like state. Nurse Ophelia didn't know what was wrong with her, and could not explain the sudden powerful shifts in her magic that made her glow with golden light before switching from her human form to her fairy form. There was something else in Ophelia's expression, something akin to fear, that let Bloom know that other things must've happened while she was unconscious, things she did not want to know. Perhaps it was a blessing that she woke up completely unaware of what had happened, unable to remember anything from when she was asleep. She could faintly remember a voice and the soft caress of warm golden light, but the details were fuzzy. It was infuriating, but maybe it was for the best. Whatever happened was over. Bloom was awake and fully functional, and very behind in class.
The first thing she did after eating and showering was go to the library.
The librarian herself was of no use, a forgettable woman with her head stuck in a book and a poor attitude. Instead of trying to help, she directed Bloom to the catalogue in the next room over. It was a small golden podium shaped like a butterfly complete with two curling antennae. The thing had no words, no instructions for Bloom to follow. It was by sheer luck that she leaned over, winded up placing her hand on the smooth butterfly wing, and activated it.
Keyword, the catalogue demanded in its robotic monotone.
"Daphne, Nymph of Magix," Bloom tried, her voice soft as not to be overheard. Not that she was trying to be secretive, but she didn't want the librarian or anyone else poking around her business. That, and she wasn't sure how to work the thing and didn't want to embarrass herself if she was doing it wrong.
A few books flew from different shelves and placed themselves on the stand, automatically opening to what they deemed the most relevant pages.
Daphne, the Nymph of Magix, also known as the Nymph of Sirenix, was the eldest daughter of King Oritel and Queen Miriam, the last reigning monarchs of the planet Sparks before its destruction by the Ancestral Witches.
That was such a loaded sentence that Bloom's head spun from all the things she did not understand. What was Sirenix? What exactly happened to Sparks? Who were the Ancestral Witches and why did they want to destroy an entire planet? How long ago was this? The book offered no other information. Daphne was reduced to one sentence in the entirety of history, yet she seemed to be so powerful and important.
She had called Bloom daughter.
That word was an overbearing presence in the forefront of Bloom's mind, yet there was nothing to suggest the Nymph ever had any children. In fact, from what history said she seemed to young to even have to chance to bear children. Maybe she meant daughter in the universal sense, like everyone were 'brothers' and 'sisters'. Bloom had to stop reading and let the questions pile up, hoping to pull from the lot to get a better understanding of what she was dealing with. Perhaps it was best to work with the background information and go from there.
Bloom placed her hand on the catalogue and tried again.
"Sparks," she said this time, and more books flew her way.
The first one opened up to a map of the stars, pointing out the planet's location in the Magical Dimension, or at least where its remains were. According to another book opened up to her left, the Ancestral Witches left the planet's surface a hostile wasteland, choking out all signs of life under a layer of obsidian stone. Bloom felt a shiver run down her spine as she continued on reading about the effects of their conquest.
Sparks, once a prosperous and bustling capital of the Magical Dimension now lies as a cold and barren wasteland. The heart of the Great Dragon, which once made its home amongst the planet's sprawling green valleys, has been extinguished, leaving only an obsidian crust on top of a cold, lifeless core.
She felt a sense of melancholy reading the words. It was horrible for an entire planet's worth of people to meet their end in such a gruesome fashion. Bloom flipped the page to find genealogy trees along with pictures of the last royal family. There was a young brunet man and a redheaded woman standing side by side, very much in love. The king and queen no doubt, if Bloom were to judge based off their finery and the crowns atop their heads. In a picture next to theirs were two people, one young woman with curly blonde hair and the small baby in her arms. The young woman was wearing a mask, a very familiar golden mask with plumes in the middle, and Bloom gasped.
It was Daphne.
She looked so young and cheerful in the photo, not at all like the stoic woman from Bloom's visions. Bloom wondered who the child in her arms was, and if it managed to survive, or if she was lost just as their planet was. They all seemed too young to be lost so soon. It made Bloom sad for some unexplainable reason, but she didn't linger much longer on that. Bloom had more questions to answer. So she shoved the books on Sparks aside and asked the catalogue something else.
"The Ancestral Witches," Bloom said, now expecting the wave of books. However, this time it took a while for the dark, dusty tome to make its way to the podium. Bloom felt dark energy radiating from this book, a certain edge of caution about opening its pages. The Last Witch Coven didn't seem like a very reassuring title either. Still, Bloom persisted in her quest for knowledge, and let the library do its thing. The book opened with a dusty creak, the lettering on the page faded from time.
The Ancestral Witches Belladonna, Tharma, and Lysslis, or the Ancestresses, are considered to be the Mothers of All Witches. Most witches claim ancestry from their roots, acknowledging the three as the first practitioners of the dark mystic arts. They are creatures spawned from pure Evil in the depths of Obsidian and of great antiquity. They were both greatly feared and revered in certain circles, though reclusive in nature so that they faded to myth. Their last appearance in history marks them in search of the Dragon Flame, which led to their last battle on the planet of Sparks and ultimately ended in their defeat by The Company of Light. The Company managed to ensnare the Ancestral Witches, trapping them in their home realm of Obsidian for all eternity.
That seemed like such an anticlimactic ending for what were supposed to be the most destructive forces of nature ever created, though she felt there was some poetry in their demise. To be locked where they were born, to meet their end at the beginning felt like justice. This Company of Light must have had to been very powerful to stop three women strong enough to singlehandedly destroy a planet. Bloom kept the name tucked in the corner of her mind to return to later when she had the chance.
"The Great Dragon."
One of the books she had already opened - the one about Sparks - flipped to the beginning, the page showing a beautiful illustration of two opposite creatures locked in battle. It reminded her of Yin and Yang, and as she read, she picked up on more similarities.
In the beginning, there were two primal forces: The Darkness and The Light. They were perfect counterbalances to one another, a push and pull that were always stable in Time. Until one day, the balance shifted and The Darkness spawned into a force of great chaos and destruction called The Shadow Phoenix. To reestablish order, from The Light was born the Great Dragon, a creature whose first flame created the universe as we know it. When The Dragon's work was done and the universe was complete, it found a resting place on the planet now known as Sparks. In the Dragon's absence, it was rumored to have left behind a Flame, a remnant of its great power to guide the continuation of creation. Such a Flame was sought after for millennia, rumored to be passed down through the royal family of Sparks, though the true source of the Flame is unknown. All that is known is that the Flame contains an infinite potential for creation and life which has been come to be known as the Ultimate Power.
"What is going on here?" came the angry, baffled voice of Headmistress Faragonda.
Bloom tore her focus away from the page to see the Headmistress marching her way followed by the small, pink-haired librarian with glasses who Bloom remembered seeing at the front desk when she walked in.
"I'm catching up on my, uh, homework," Bloom tried lamely, not in the mood to be interviewed about what she was doing in her spare time. But the excuse wasn't going to be sufficient enough to stave away the nosey Headmistress, not when there were numerous books now piled at Bloom's feet, none of them anything that would normally be picked out for a few first-year assignments. Bloom hadn't even been there long and she knew that much.
"These books are from the restricted section. How did you get them?" the Headmistress demanded upon further inspection, snapping the book on the podium shut immediately and handing it over to the skittish librarian.
"They just came to me," Bloom explained. She really didn't think she was doing anything wrong with research. She was trying to learn something; that had to count for something.
"You were simply searching through The Last Witch Coven for the answers to your Transformation homework?" the Headmistress asked, her voice elevated an octave as she questioned Bloom.
"I was looking for information on The Great Dragon, if you must know."
"Why would you want information on that?" The Headmistress asked, confused but also critical, making Bloom think that this was an unusual topic to research.
"Because you wouldn't tell us anything about the Dragon Flame or why the witches want it so badly," Bloom decided to say, which was something of the truth. But if this was how the Headmistress was reacting to a little insight on the matter, Bloom did not want to have things escalate. The less the Headmistress knew, the better it would be for the both of them, but mostly herself.
"And for good reason," the Headmistress harrumphed. She seemed distracted, nervous even, as if something about the topic set her on edge.
"How are we supposed to protect ourselves from something that we don't know anything about?" Bloom asked, getting fed up with being kept in the dark so blatantly.
Headmistress Faragonda looked affronted by Bloom's sudden passion, shocked that anyone would consider to argue with her. However, in the next moment she steeled over her expression and glared down her student, making sure that her point was clear.
"The Dragon Flame is an ancient power capable of more destruction than any of us will ever know. Wherever it goes, there are those who wish to use it for their own malicious purposes and death always follows. As the Headmistress of this college, I pray that the Dragon Flame is far away from here, both for the safety of my students, and for the good of everyone else." Faragonda replied harshly and shortly, making Bloom flinch. "Now if you are quite finished, I want you to return to your dormitory at once."
"Yes, Headmistress," Bloom replied begrudgingly, not wanting to incur her wrath any further. Whatever the Dragon Flame had done to Faragonda, it must've been horrible. She looked haunted, like she was transported somewhere else while she spoke.
As she exited the library, Bloom turned and watched the Headmistress with arms full of forbidden texts walk quickly into a dark, cordoned off part of the library, as if something were hot on her heels. That woman was definitely hiding something, or at least keeping her away from part of the truth. Bloom was tired of being lied to. She was tired of being used as a pawn in other people's games. First the witches, then Daphne the Nymph, now Faragonda. It was all becoming too much to keep up with. Bloom just wanted answers, so answers she would get.
Once she was out of earshot, Bloom pulled out her cell and dialed a number she got on the Day of the Rose. It only rang once before the person on the other line picked up.
"Brandon speaking, who's this?"
"It's Bloom."
"Hey Bloom, what's up?" Brandon asked, clearly surprised but pleasantly so.
"Are you still willing to take me to Cloud Tower?"
"I said I was then, and I still am now."
"Great. Because we need to go. Tonight."