Dusk and Dawn

Cedar was rarely ever cold, especially around this time of year. Normally there would be dragonflies buzzing and blue darners parading the streets, but the town lacked its familiar music. There were few people out as well; only seniors walking through the markets, and stockers loading bread and fodder in crates. As Zeke passed under the town’s arch, he momentarily forgot where he was. He hummed and drummed his fingers on his side. His hair was somewhat longer from the time he’d spent with Dies Irae, and when he dragged his fingers across his face to scratch his chin, he felt the stubble of a man poking beneath his skin. He could see the massive cathedral from here now. The gothic palace reminded him of the Throne Hall, albeit lacking the same color and grandeur.

His feet stuck to the ground when he felt the light shine upon his face. The mosaic in the center of the cathedral was vandalized and shattered, causing sunlight to reflect from its surface at unnatural angles. His knees swayed at the sight, and before he knew it he was making a break for his home. But, before he could even come near the trail, a group of knights stopped him. Ezekiel gasped, relieved to finally see familiar faces, and immediately pointed out the cathedral. “I cannot believe what you’ve let ‘em do to the place. What happened lads?”

The knights before him did not respond, only holding up their spears and tapping them on the ground authoritatively. “Ezekiel Miscanthus,” one of them spoke, in a voice that was not his. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so glad you’ve finally come home so we can...chat.” The knights bowed their heads, almost shamefully. Their shoulders were tense, and grips sweaty and knuckles white, but a shadow hung over their eyes.

“What in the fresh hell is this?” Ezekiel exclaimed. “You lot better let me see my family right now, or I’ll have to plow through you.” He extended his hand and made an empty threat; he didn’t want to hurt any of these men. Some of whom were his comrades not too long ago, before Ezekiel joined Dies Irae. He couldn’t figure out who was speaking through the knight’s body either, but could feel a malevolent presence bubbling underneath. Carrion birds flew overhead, and Ezekiel was unsure why they were here. “Get out of my way, I’m commanding you!” Ezekiel shouted to no avail, about ready to burst into an exasperated sob. “Me goddamn family’s over there,” he begged, but the knights touched their spears together and formed a cross, and magic poured out and cast a barrier between them and the outskirts.

“Ezekiel!” cried a girl from the courtyard, “get out of there! Something terrible has happened!”

The mage hesitantly turned around and beat feat towards the voice, chasing a silver ponytail through the alleyways until he arrived at the back of the cathedral, under its grand shadow. His breath hitched when he stopped, and he was met by a woman with parted hair and a lace eye mask. Her hair was half black and half silver, divided in the center and fell straight down to her waist. She wore silk garbs of a similar color to her hair, and Milo could feel a magical vibration from her. “We’ve been expecting you,” she said, but it was an unfamiliar voice. “My master is waiting for you, but you will be unable to face him until dusk arrives.”

“What have you done to my town?” Ezekiel said.

“That all depends on you, dear. My master asked me to make it colder, much more to his liking. As for the people, they’re all safe for now, until either your demise or your victory against us.”

Ezekiel scrunched his eyebrows. “Why?”

“To see if you are worthy. To possess the magic of the deep.”

Albeit baffled, Ezekiel summoned Cain & Abel and unleashed a flurry of noir bullets. The mage before him evaded each of the bullets and ran up the wall of the cathedral. With ballerina like grace, she bounced off the top and opened her hands. Steel colored rectangles raced towards him, radiating cold and cutting through his defenses. From her other hand, a plume of black ash gathered into a heavy orb and battered him, feeling like a chain. The charcoal smell took his breath away and burned under his skin. Ezekiel gasped for air, suffocating under her magic. He called water around him and rescued himself, humming a quiet song to keep his rhythm going. Though his throat stung and his skin was frostbitten, he managed to heal himself. The pain resided, an unusual feeling, but Ezekiel fought it and casted the Song of the Selkie. A sleepy feeling surrounded his foe, and he followed in with a powerful torrent.

Though, the foe raised her hands and a harsh screech filled the air. It was like a guitar, but heavier: metal. Silver snow hung in the air, and the screech boomed again, drowning out Ezekiel’s song.

He met eyes with her briefly and failed to find words. He felt powerless, but knew this was a fight he could not afford to lose.

[870/2000]

He swapped Cain & Abel for the Draíocht Rifle, and dove out of harm’s way.  He summoned the Hunter’s cloak and ran between the church’s buttresses, avoiding the sheets of silver snow.  The dust swamped the ground, making it slippery and cold, but Ezekiel stared up at one of the spires and waited for an opening.  He shouted, “Breathas!” and climbed the spires with ease, then disengaged when he reached the top.  The Hunter’s Cloak rendered him invisible as he took his perch, and the mage aimed the rifle down at his foe.  With magic, the bullets became charged with electricity and caused a static shock as Ezekiel loaded them in.  He could feel the rumble of the Thunderbullets trembling in the chamber, and felt their relief to be fired through the barrel.  The gunshot was quiet in comparison to the impact.  The bullet sailed clean through the air, leaving a glowing trail behind, and struck Ezekiel’s foe in the thigh.  The sky darkened and illuminated rapidly, and the ensuing thunder electrified the air.

The foe fell to her knee, and Ezekiel cocked the next bullet, aiming for her chest this time.  Four bullets left, he reminded himself, and pulled the trigger.  Before the bullet could cross her threshold, the foe sliced through the air with her arm, slicing the bullet in half.  Ezekiel fired another, but to no avail, and found his foe staring right back at him.  Black fire raced towards him, and he flailed in panic.  His tentacles blocked the blast, but he lost the Hunter’s Cloak as he plummeted.  A pair of mantis-like claws pinned him down just above the shoulders, metallic and cold to the touch, and a third was closing in on his throat.  He reached outward and called the Unseen towards him, coiling the billowing tentacles and launching his assailant into the sky.  He dispersed the magic and raised a singular hand up, shouting “Glamadh!”

The eels erupted and latched onto the assassin, and Ezekiel brought her down to the earth and slammed her into the ground.  A rhythm played in his chest, and the young mage sang a shanty and summoned a torrent of water to bind her limbs.  He tightened his grip, increasing the pressure of the water around her, but a puff of smoke engulfed the air around her, and Ezekiel could no longer feel her presence.  When the air cleared, Ezekiel found a pair of katanas in her place.  One had a shiny white handle, and the other a matte black.  The blades, which Ezekiel at first thought were sheaths, were made of a wood-like composition, and emanated powerful magic.  Ezekiel scratched his head, baffled by the ordeal, and picked up the two swords.  An overwhelming, vicious and malicious energy stifled his body, and he fell to his knees.  The sky darkened overhead, shifting to an orange, pale pink color.  Ezekiel planted his fist in the ground, sword in hand, unable to move.

“It’s incredible, how many stories can be told from a single sword.  And you’re holding two,” said the sky.  Ezekiel did his best to call water, but could only summon a weak ring around himself.  “You’re a fool, young mage, in no shape to wield this magic.”

A titanic figure rose from behind.  He had a dark complexion, and long braided hair.  A tattoo glowed on his throat, and though he spoke, his lips didn’t part.  He walked towards Ezekiel and tucked his hand under his chin, then produced a fiery centipede from his coat.  It crawled into Ezekiel’s collar and bit into his clavicle.  Ezekiel groaned and felt something in him slipping away.

Knowing he could not let that happen, Ezekiel bit his lip and cried, “Ondine!”

[1491/2000]

A resounding hum echoed across Cedar and the sea spirit rose from the ground. She lifted Ezekiel in her arms, freeing him from the swords’ grip. The knight gasped and staggered to his feet as Ondine levitated by his side. Sunset colored water inundated the battleground, filling Ezekiel with a rejuvenating power. He summoned the Earth slaying sword in his left hand and Cetus in his right, and pointed the blade at his foe with determination. “I will not allow you to subjugate my home any longer,” he exclaimed, and surged forward. He leapt and struck downward with the Earthslayer, but was parried by the enemy’s sword. The katanas soared through the air back into their owner’s hands. They glowed with a destructive power; ice and ash.

Ezekiel charged again, alternating sword strikes. He began to sing the shanty Dulaman, and struck down with a powerful torrent of water. Ondine raised him up with an illuminated tower of water, boosting his magic, and Ezekiel raised up his cutlass and opened up the sky. The constellation Cassiopeia shined above, raining down light onto the foe.

“You are quite strong,” muttered the sky, and as the steam cleared Ezekiel saw a wall of marble between him and his enemy. He snapped his fingers, and spiked earth raced towards Ezekiel. The knight raised his arms up to guard himself, but collided with the cathedral wall. He summoned water to strike back, but a briny, greenish fluid stung his throat.

Then Ezekiel began to whistle, and the earth below him trembled and quaked. Black clouds formed above and pelted the ground with obsidian rain. The liquid shackled his foe to the ground, and Ezekiel raised the Earthslayer overhead. It shined and released several blades to float in the air. With a single, downward motion, a cyclone of shattering terracotta blades pelted his foe. White dust formed in the air, and Ezekiel shielded his eyes until it cleared. He pursed his lips and ceased the storm above, as well as dismissed Ondine. The spirit simply bowed and dissipated, leaving Ezekiel alone. Only heaving breaths could be heard from the opposing swordsman, and Ezekiel sang the song of the Vore Tullye, undoing the damage he had just created.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Ezekiel stated, bringing his foe to a kneel from his position on the ground. He sheathed the Earthslayer and returned Cetus to the pocket dimension. “It’s not right. You can leave with your life, but that is all you will do. You will never return to Cedar again. I do not believe it is my destiny to end your life, but I will stop you every time we cross paths.”

“You’re a fool,” he signed.

“I may be a fool, but I’m not heartless. You’ll find that there are more heartless people in the world than me, much less forgiving.” Ezekiel turned his back, remaining alert, and pointed towards the gate that lead into Cedar. “Take this chance now, or I will hand you over to Dies Irae. They will not take as kindly to vandals.” Though, the man charged at Ezekiel from behind, to which he responded by shouting “Glamadh!” and threw him into the walls of the cathedral.

Ezekiel shook his head, and threw the man in a cell, taking his swords and walking away.

[2046/2000]