NOVEL SIMPLE 75. And Recounts Bygone Times XII (Morgan)
The smell of ozone hung in the air as a mass of energy roiled out into the garden, mixing, coalescing, and clashing with the space at its edges. Sparks of hot plasma flaked off from that energy, as if the air itself could barely sanction its existence. They flitted towards the grass below, dissipating entirely before they could make contact. Morgan squinted as great beams of light spilled out all around, casting a radiance onto the site of their battle.
The source of it all, Selene, was now glowering in Morgan's general direction, waiting for her to make a move. "Don't make me do this, Morgan." She hissed, her hands nervously clenching and unclenching.
There wasn't going to be any talking her down, then.
"Do you still carry your half?" Morgan asked, the grass pressing flat against her boot as she took a single step to the side. Mana flared up all throughout her body, spreading equally - save for in her hands, where a substantial amount stayed behind.
Selene's eye twitched, "So that's why you've come?" She shot a hand out to the side, an even greater wave of energy pulsing out from her body and into the air beyond. The sky crackled white for a fraction of a second as blinding light flared out. Bolts of lightning streaked out from Morgan's fingertips in retaliation, a smokescreen of energy and electricity sheeting the space between the two of them.
Soil and dirt blasted into the air, the flowers of the garden blown to pieces and disintegrated by a deluge of spells and skills that bounced back between the pair. Everything that they had built had been laid bare - and though Morgan loathed to admit it, there would be nothing left of it if she were to have her way. She'd bury this rotten legacy, down to the last scrap. Their sins wouldn't even become history.
Was it cruel to say that she knew she outpaced her beloved? Was it cruel to say that, in her heart of hearts, she knew that she could cut her down and put an end to her? There would be a contest, of course - nothing in life was guaranteed, and this was no exception - but Morgan was made for this, this boundless, wanton destruction. When she acted alone, there were few, even among the Pioneers, who could stand in her way and stop her trail of violence and bloodshed. Hardly any of her dozens of attack skills were suited for cooperation, after all.
Morgan leapt back, soaring through the air as her cloak rippled and her hat shook. Her hands pressed out in front of her, and her feet touched down on stable ground - one of the Palace's many balconies. Its wrought iron railings were filled with ivy that snaked all throughout them.
What few clouds remained in the sky began to drift to the sides, a wide path carved open to reveal the full extent of the moon's light. A cold glow filled the garden, and Morgan now stood at the perfect vantage point to see every bit of it. Selene still lingered near to their tree, her form flickering as the light bent around her, turning her into a blurry figure that occupied the same space as a dozen of herself. For anyone else, it would be impossible to pick apart where to strike.
But imprecision was a mage's luxury, in Morgan's mind.
Distant stars twinkled and flashed, shifting and turning to wrap around the moon itself. Whether it was an illusion of magic or a temporary shift in the heavens, Morgan did not know - but the stars moved all the same. A spiral soon became a circle, a ring of light and stars beaming down on them alongside the moon's own glow.
Beams and pillars of light cracked past her, each one filled with glowing and pulsating runes - the language of Selene's home. She had learned it decades ago - Selene insisted on the matter, and Morgan had agreed on it in order to grow closer with her. It was the first foreign language she had learned. From what little flashes of the spells she could see, it was a cohesive text.
She knew that much already, though. Selene's spells were imbued with her faith - her virtues. There were enough of them to fill several books, at least. Her spells were her very own holy text.
Morgan leaned a centimeter to the side, a concentrated pole of light brushing just above her arm. Stay the course, were the only words she could make out on it as it flew past. Her hands strained against the weight of the energy she held aloft in the sky, and she twisted to avoid another. Do not falter. Fix this broken world. One after another, the lone witch swayed to avoid the barrage of beams. She knew it was just the beginning of Selene's attacks, and refused to spend anymore energy than she had to in order to evade her attacks.
Prevent their deaths. Save them. Save them all. Save them. Four more catapulted past her before she finally cast her spell. Rather than tug with her hands, she released. The weight of that energy in the sky collapsed like a waterfall, and the firmament soon flashed as the stars that Morgan had gathered began to fall from the sky like raindrops.
A flash of light from below caught her attention. Already? She thought, leaping to the side. [Anathema] was powerful, but easy to counteract if you simply stayed out of the ring. For her to have pulled it out so early into their bout-
She landed on the grass below, the gravel crunching against her boots. The ring remained underfoot. Never had she seen it move before, and now it clung to her like tar. Morgan glanced over at her opponent, her beloved, and saw a shell of light where she once stood. Text lined the outside, forming a solid barrier. Where the rest held firm, these runes were wavering.
Bare your heart. Bare your soul. Give her your love.
Burning tails followed behind dozens of comets, each one smashing down into the ground around Selene. The sounds of whistling air, shattering rock, and roaring flame ripped through the garden, loud enough to hurt Morgan's ears. The cute, stone brick wall that surrounded it was blown apart, as were just about all of the plots for the plants. The lone willow tree - their willow tree - had been torn apart so that only a stubby trunk remained. Most of them struck Selene's dome, but not a single one managed to puncture through her defenses.
Before the dust could even settle, Selene's light shattered. Glimmering sparks lingered in the air there, and Morgan could see her eyes glowing brilliantly through the smoke. "Morgan!" She bellowed, "How could you do this?" The ring below her was beginning to grow at an accelerated pace, far faster than she had seen it act in the past. At its current rate, she figured it would reach its full size in a minute- No, less?!
Morgan's hands moved, drawing a circle in tandem. As each one completed its half, her palms moved toward the center to hold one another. With a single, firm pull, she would be able to draw down the force of the moon and bring it to bear against Selene. A great beam of moonlight would erase her, or wound her enough to never allow her to fight again.
She gave Selene one final look, her blonde hair whipping at her face as energy built up around her. Her eyes bordered on golden, the color changed from the amount of magic coursing through her. They were glowing with conviction.
And Morgan sought to snuff it out.
Her grip loosened on her hands, and she stopped. She was going to kill Selene?
Kill Selene?
The ring underneath her suddenly flashed, and she silently screamed as two spears of light ripped through her forearms. Golden chains enveloped her body, and two more spears drilled through her legs. They sent her clattering to the ground and bound her there, like nails. She was forced to watch as another faded into existence above her, before falling like an executioner's axe.
It stabbed between her lungs, puncturing the sides of the both of them. She could hardly feel the pain because of the disbelief that washed over her entire consciousness. A mortal wound, and she hadn't the strength or ability to move within Selene's bindings.
A voice filled her ears, one that felt like a woolen blanket swaddling her. "I can try to save you, or I can go." Stella remarked. Her tone was somber, riddled with the sadness of one experienced in grief. "She'll need a guiding hand, won't she?"
Morgan coughed, her vision dancing and blurring as air became scarlet blood. She tossed her head back, signaling to the fairy.
A moment later, the hat on her head disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place. Another moment later, the light that had punctured her and enveloped her disappeared. N-nothing to plug me up and keep my humors from spilling out, then? She would've laughed at her own joke if she could still draw in a breath.
She was flickering in and out of consciousness, Death's grubby hands attempting to get a firm grip on her. If Morgan could have seen the bastard, she surely would have sprung up and delivered a beating unlike any other. The night sky became a blurry mess of purple with white, twinkling spots, and it soon became black.
A sound interrupted her fading, something like weeping.
"Please.." She heard a voice say, and she was almost positive that the request was directed towards her. "Morgan, please... I'm sorry- Please don't go, please."
But she had no choice in the matter, of course. There weren't very many people who wanted to die - and as much as she had spent months of her youth bothering the village elders about it, there really didn't exist a cure for death. Even the ageless elves could be killed with weapons and disease.
Her vision returned to her for a moment, and she saw her lover hovering overhead. Her eyes were wet, the surfaces rippling like pools. Selene was beautiful, even more so than the night sky behind her. She was crying, her body shaking as she sobbed. Great, big tears rolled down her cheeks and fell down onto Morgan's face. They were warm.
She was warm.
