| |
"And this is it. This is my story." The night Zaros attacked the house, I came clean to my family. I told them all about the prophecy, Jivar, Hetrotreat Coast, Doyle, and my mother. Grandpa and Tara listened to me with neutral expressions on their faces.
"I can’t believe it." Jackson’s jaws dropped. "Witches, prophecies, amulets. Sounds like fiction."
"Sometimes it feels like fiction." I looked at Tara, who had been resting in bed ever since we brought her home from the warehouse. I reached for her hand. "I’m so sorry, Tara. You could have been hurt because of me."
"Go easy on yourself, Echo," she said casually. "You couldn’t have seen it coming." My sister was clearly taken aback by everything that happened, but she was doing her best to show support. I appreciated that, though a part of me feared Tara would resent me, even hate me, for what happened to Mom.
"I’m sorry about Mother too," I said. "Had it not been for me, she would’ve lived to see your daughter."
"Stop blaming yourself, Stiff Head. I’m proud of you and Mom," she replied. "Besides, I get it... I’d gladly die for my Lillian any day." She glanced at the baby sleeping in her crib.
"I promise I won’t let anything happen to you," I said. "To any of you."
"Even if something happens," Tara knocked on the nightstand, "I’ll forgive you."
I chuckled. "Tara, sweetie. On behalf of all witches, I say this: knocking on wood doesn’t help."
Tara crimped her mouth and knocked again, making Jackson laugh.
"Grandpa." I turned to the old man, who sat in the corner, barely reacting to my news. "Do you have any questions? Anything you want to say to me?"
"What can I say?" he asked, his eyes shifting uneasily. "This is all new and confusing."
"I understand this is a lot to process—"
"I’m your grandfather, Echo," he cut in. "Your parents entrusted you and your sister to me, and I did my best with you two... Where did I go wrong? Why did you have to be this person? To fight monsters and live in constant danger?"
"This is who I am, Grandpa," I said.
"Well, I don’t want to accept that." He came to stand. "I’d rather you be a college dropout who does drugs. At least then, I can get you help."
"Grandpa, what are you saying?" Tara yelled.
"Mr. Knight," Jackson tried to intervene, but I signaled him to stop.
"It’s okay, Grandpa," I said. "It’s okay if you don’t understand or if you find it difficult to accept this new reality. But I can’t apologize for who I am. All I can do is give you the time you need to process everything, and I hope this..." I let out a heavy breath. "I hope this doesn’t change us."
Grandpa and I locked eyes, and the anger on his face morphed into guilt, then he left abruptly. All that time while I lived with my secret, I thought one day I’d be able to tell Grandpa. I thought he would be proud. Was I too naive? It seemed that way.
***
We decided it was safer for everyone to stay together, so Kirby and Vanna brought the pets over. I cast a protection spell on the house to prevent any more attacks, and I spent the night decluttering the basement and setting up my cauldrons, tools, and magic books. The cinnamon-colored stone walls and the faint pendant lighting gave the room the spooky look of a witch’s lair.
In the early morning, my guides came by to see what I had done. "Zaros has Doyle, and you’re decorating?" Kirby’s voice showed his grudge. There had been tension between us ever since he found out about Dark Magic, but it peaked when I went after Zaros without telling him.
"I clean when I’m stressed," I said with a frown. On the table, I placed four iron daggers and a yellow gun that looked like a toy rifle with an orange nuzzle.
"What are these?" Vanna asked.
"I made them... Remember how the sword of light can eliminate a dark spirit?" I asked. "You two lost your swords, but you have spirits’ DNA. So, I used Kirby’s hair to make these daggers."
"What?" Kirby pressed his hand to his head.
"Relax. I just took a few. Now we have weapons that can kill dark spirits. Not only this, but I think we can use them to impair the power of Dark Magic users."
"Dark Magic users." Kirby gave a condescending laugh. "Like you?"
"Not all the magic I use is dark, Kirby." We exchanged a glare before I turned to Vanna. "As I was saying, these daggers hold traces of spirits’ powers. They’ll act like a neutralizer that prevents a witch from casting Dark Magic spells."
"The light will cancel out the darkness?" she asked.
"In theory. We still need to test them, though."
"Good job, Echo," she said. "If this works, it’ll give us an advantage."
"Hopefully." I crossed my fingers over my heart then pointed at the yellow gun on the table. "This here is a salt gun used for bugs. Grandpa had it." I held the gun and demonstrated adding the salt. "See, the salt goes here in the hopper. It’s not so strong, but it’ll help."
"Interesting." Vanna took the gun from me to try it.
"I just don’t understand," Kirby broke in. "How could you go after Zaros like he’s just another Kataru you’re chasing?"
"What else am I supposed to do, Kirby? He had my sister and now Doyle. I can’t abandon him, and I can’t hide in fear waiting for another attack. Tell me, Kirby, what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to deal with your emotions, Echo," he said. "You always do this. You obsess about what to do and suppress all the feelings that truly matter. This man killed your mother—"
"And I don’t want to think about that, okay?" I sounded like my grandfather. "I don’t want to live in a world where my mother died, and her murderer got away. I’d rather distract myself. Otherwise..." My breath quickened, and I pressed my hands to my chest. "Otherwise..." I uttered in a tearful voice. The ceiling lamp flickered with my intensifying feelings.
"I’m sorry, Echo," Kirby said. His face softened when I started to cry. Looking away, I rested against the wall. I couldn’t help but think it was me who killed my mother, not Zaros.
"What’s going on?" Ebba walked into the room. I wiped my eyes before she saw them.
"How are you feeling, Ebba?" Vanna asked.
"I still don’t remember what happened last night," Ebba said. She had lost her memory of everything that happened during the attack, but fortunately, she wasn’t injured in any way. "What are you talking about?"
"Doyle," I said as I regained my calm. I put my phone up to show them a tracking application. "His watch had a GPS tracker. I gave it to him in case we got separated, so now we know where Zaros took him."
"Good thinking." Kirby took the phone from me to check the map. "Shady Mews? Where’s that?"
"It’s a small town southwest," I answered. "We should get ready to go."
"Can I come with you?" Ebba asked.
"Of course not," I stated the obvious. "You should stay here with my family. Be safe."
"But I was hoping I c-can..." She paused to swallow. "...help. I went to Shady Mews once. I kn-now my way around."
"Even so, we can’t risk you getting hurt," Kirby said as he reached for one of the daggers and put it in his pocket. "I’m surprised you’re asking."
"You’re right." Ebba bit her lips and giggled nervously. "What was I thinking?"
By that point, we are all used to her awkward self. We didn't overthink it, especially since we had bigger fish to fry.
***
It took us two hours to drive to Shady Mews and five minutes to tour the entire town. Clusters of suburban houses lined up around large parks where kids played. There were only a few stores, and the largest building was the five-story city hospital.
"Where do we go from here?" Vanna asked. The three of us sat in the car to discuss our next move.
I checked my phone. "The connection is gone."
"Maybe Zaros destroyed the watch," Kirby said.
"Or perhaps he took Doyle somewhere where GPS doesn’t work." Vanna pointed through the window. Shady Mews sat at the base of the Lone Mountain, a 6500-feet elevation that broke through the clouds. One might call it beautiful, even mighty, but to me, it was unsettling.
I came out of the car and rubbed my palms together. As I opened them towards the mountain, I felt a tingly sensation that soon grew intense. My hands were pushed back by an external force. "I think you’re onto something, Vanna."
Following the energy path, we arrived at a cave opening at the bottom of the mountain. It was as small as a dog door, so we had to squeeze ourselves in, but once we got inside, the room expanded. We tiptoed through long, interconnected passages. The fire staffs on the walls glimmered a warning light.
"We’re not alone," Kirby said, pointing at the walls where dark spirits lurked. I fired the salt gun, which emitted a pulsing sound like that of a laser beam.
The salt didn’t kill the spirits, but it forced them to abandon the walls and appear to us in their true form: gray shadows in the shape of humans. Instead of eyes, they had dark, whirling vortices.
Relentlessly, the spirits followed us along the way, whispering to each of us our biggest fears.
"One of us," they told me. "You’re one of us, Echo." I had always feared my own darkness, but I never thought of myself as a shadow, not until they put it in my head. My chest tightened. Speeding up, I walked closer to Kirby to feel safe.
"What’s with their eyes?" I asked.
"They’re void," Vanna replied in an apologetic tone. "They’re all void." The presence of the dark spirits must have made her uncomfortable.
Vanna’s strange attitude seemed to trigger Kirby, who snapped and yanked the gun from my hand. He fired vengefully, never pausing until the spirits gave up and disappeared.
I never asked Vanna what the spirits told her, but with Kirby, I didn’t need to. His eyes mirrored what was in his heart. What he feared the most was losing us—Vanna and me. He would do anything to keep us safe.
***
In a vast room, far too deep in the cave, Doyle hanged from the ceiling, his hands chained, his shirt torn up, and his body covered in gashes. The odor of his blistered skin brought him back to awareness. So did the crackles of the fire staffs.
A man’s voice hummed a familiar song, a cheerful song that brought a lot of sorrow. Doyle opened his eyes to see Zaros writing a spell on a piece of flax cloth that he then hung on the wall before asking, "She loved this song, didn’t she?"
"She wasn't capable of love." Doyle pushed himself to speak.
"You didn’t know her." Zaros grabbed an iron rod and held it up in a threatening gesture. The iron turned red, heated by his inner fire.
"I know she was delicate." Doyle’s lips curled into a spiteful smile. "My sword bit through her like a sponge."
"I get what you’re doing, Doyle," Zaros said, lowering his hand. "You want me to kill you before the rising. I won’t do that; however, you and I have eighteen days together, and I’m going to enjoy every moment."
"I see," Doyle replied. He knew Zaros was about to lose it. All he needed was to provoke him a little, so he began to sing, "Row, row, row your boat, gently down—"
"How could you?" Zaros stabbed the rod in Doyle’s abdomen. "She made you everything you are."
Doyle fought hard not to scream.
From the inside pocket of his coat, Zaros produced a potion that he poured on Doyle’s body. It sizzled like cold water on a sweltering surface.
Doyle’s jaws relaxed when his wounds started to heal. He allowed himself a pain-free moment before he spoke again. "Give up, Zaros. You still can’t beat me."
Zaros snickered. It wasn’t the first time he had heard these words from Doyle.
***
"This is a saber. Use it to fight," Zaros said as he raised a large metal sword with a black hilt and a slightly curved blade. He handed it to the eight-year-old Doyle, whose arms trembled with the weight.
The two boys stood on the stone bridge outside the castle. As the suns burned in the sky, sweat ran down young Doyle’s face.
"Great job. You’re good to go." Zaros turned around to leave.
"Wait," young Doyle shouted. "You haven’t taught me anything. Lord Jivar ordered you to teach me."
Zaros glowered and adjusted his scarf. Opening his palm out, he conjured a sword of flame out of nothing. "There are two ways to attack with a sword: piercing and slashing," he said before stepping one foot forward and thrusting his sword through the air. "When you pierce, aim for the heart."
Zaros stayed in his posture, signaling Doyle to copy him. As soon as the kid stepped a foot, he lost his balance and fell to the ground.
Zaros gave an unamused laugh."This is a waste of time."
"I’m eight years old," Doyle cried out. "It’s too heavy for me."
Clearly exasperated, Zaros squatted to meet the kid’s gaze. "When I was eight, I used to push a two-ton wagon through a rotten forest every day. My feet bled, and my back hurt, but I toughed it out, and so should you."
A spark of challenge appeared in Doyle’s eyes. He had promised Viessa to become stronger and protect her, even if he had to suffer. Pushing himself up, he grabbed the sword and pierced it forward as Zaros showed him. "I-I-is this right?"
"Your knees are shaking," Zaros said, coming to stand. "But not bad."
Starting that day, Doyle became Zaros’s apprentice. From cutting saplings to jumping hurdles while carrying a bag of rocks—whatever Zaros asked of him, he endured. Toughing it out, he never complained again.
***
Thanks to Zaros, Doyle grew up a warrior, but his loyalty belonged only to Viessa. He was sixteen when he heard her scream. He rushed into her room to find Zaros beating her. A smell of burned paper filled the air, and on the table, there were the remains of a book.
"Have you lost your mind?" Doyle grabbed Zaros by the shoulders and pushed him away.
Reeling to the back, Zaros stumbled onto a table.
"I didn’t mean to burn his spellbook," Viessa cried, clinging to Doyle’s arm for protection.
"Don’t be scared, Viessa," he said. "I’m here now."
"You pest," Zaros shouted as he came to his balance. "I’ll rip out your guts and feed them to you."
"Try." Doyle drew his sword and raised it above his head.
Viessa cringed when her brother conjured his fiery sword. He parried an overhead strike, then flung his blade at Doyle’s right leg.
Doyle dropped his sword down to absorb the blow. Both men retreated, keeping their blades up as they traded vengeful stares.
Gripping on the hilt, Zaros advanced. He swung his sword, but Doyle whirled around and grappled his hand. He kept his grip firm and pushed until he sent Zaros’s sword flying.
Zaros fell to his knees, his face glazed with shock. He had never lost to anyone before.
"Give up, Zaros," Doyle said, keeping his sword ready for another attack. "You can’t beat me."
***
"Give up, Zaros. You still can’t beat me," Doyle said. As soon as his wound started to heal, he went back to provoking Zaros, who snickered, looked down at Doyle’s open wound, and said, "But I can hurt you."
With the hot rod, Zaros stabbed again. Doyle squeezed his eyes shut from the pain. His blood splashed and spattered on Zaros’s clothes.
Sniffling, Zaros took his scarf off and brought it to his nose. "Fool." He smacked it at Doyle’s face. "Take a whiff, you fool. You killed the one person who tried to protect you."
"What?" Doyle asked, squinting from the pain and the apprehension.
"Nusku potion," Zaros said. "Your blood reeks of it."
Doyle smelled his blood, which had a zesty, unnatural stench. "What does this mean?"
"It means Viessa saved you," Zaros said. "She dosed you with Nusku potion so your blood will become impure and Jivar won’t use you in his ritual, but I swear I’ll bleed it out of you and let Jivar wear you like a suit."
Zaros lashed out at Doyle with punches and slaps, forcing him to cough out blood. Aghast by what he heard, Doyle allowed harrowing thoughts into his head. He remembered the potion Viessa gave him. Did he misread the signs? Was he the betrayer, not the betrayed?
"Out of all people, she cared for you." Sorrow crept into Zaros’s voice, replacing his discernible rage.
"Kill me." Doyle’s chest rose and fell. "Do it, Zaros. Avenge your sister."
Zaros grinned and replied, "I have a better idea." He snapped his fingers, and the wall on the side opened with a loud, grating sound. Behind it sat a middle-aged woman, who wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and tied her hair in a bun. At the sight of Zaros, she pulled her knees to her chest in fear.
"Doyle, I would like to introduce you to your mother," Zaros said. "I told you. An eye for an eye."
Doyle shook his head. "I don’t have a mother."
"Sure you do." Zaros approached the woman and lifted her head. "You even have her eyes."
"Please, don’t hurt me," the woman begged. Doyle saw the tears in her blue eyes sparkling in the glow of the fire.
"You were six months old when I came to her house," Zaros said, swaggering towards Doyle and allowing the wall to close. "Your house...I took you from your bed but didn’t bother to kill your mother. Now, I’m glad I didn’t, so you get to watch her die."
Doyle clenched his jaws. The iron chains clung as he pulled on them.
***
"Doyle," I cried out as I charged into the room along with Kirby and Vanna. The long passages had finally led us to our destination.
"What are you doing here?" Doyle shouted in a guttural voice as though he hadn’t had a sip of water in days. Beside him, a man in a purple coat stood. Zaros—I had seen him in my vision. As I eyed him with my resolute hatred and contempt, he drew a smug smile on his face and said, "The chosen witch. You and I have things to discuss."
"Sorry. No time to chat." I sneered.
I knew if I let him in my mind, I’d lose my temper, and that was the last thing I wanted. Without hesitation, I threw my hand in the air, creating a fireball that dashed at Zaros like a missile, but he snapped his fingers, and it vanished away.
"He’s wearing the amulet." Kirby hurled his body in front of mine as a shield. I looked at Zaros, and my chest pounded. Underneath his scarf, my mother’s amulet glowed.
"I know you," Zaros told Kirby. "I fought you before."
Kirby’s hands shivered. Without the amulet, Zaros was scary. With it, he became terrifying. Despite that, Kirby kept himself on an even keel. "Zaros uses Fire Magic. Don’t fight him with a fireball," he said, leaving me with two options: either turn dark or use noble spells with time limits. I chose the latter.
"Di terra, commoda mihi potestatem tuam." I summoned the magic of Earth. At my finger point, Vanna was lifted off her feet and shrank to the size of a bird. A shrieky, pipping sound escaped her throat when wings popped out of her back. They stretched and broadened magnificently while white and purple plumage covered her body and clothes. She circled the room as a proud eagle, ready to swoop down and snatch the amulet.
Kirby catapulted. "Corroboro." I slapped my hands together to reinforce his speed with the magic of air. He raised his dagger, preparing to strike, but at the very last moment, Zaros snapped his fingers. A flame burst out as if he had lit a match near an aerosol spray.
"Kirby." I screamed my lungs out. Luckily, the reinforcement spell helped my friend duck the blow. The fire almost caught the bird hovering above, but she flew away.
"Is this the best you can do, Chosen Witch?" Zaros asked as another flame surged up to the ceiling,
"Explodere." I blew up Doyle’s chains, so he fell to the ground. Kirby rushed to give him a healing potion.
Zaros’s fire ceased, and he looked down his nose— such a hateful look meant to break me. What should I do now? It was clear that he overpowered us. The right move was to retreat, but I couldn’t get myself to do it. A few feet separated me from the man who killed my mother. I couldn’t let him go.
Heat flushed through my organs. Whispering a spell, I let out a grunt, then a loud squawk that soon turned into a beastly roar. My bones popped and cracked, forced to rearrange. Fangs ruptured out of my gums, and my fingernails grew into claws.
As my senses heightened, I saw the tiny beads of sweat forming on Kirby’s forehead and heard the potion going down Doyle’s throat.
I had used shapeshifting spells before many times on Kirby and Vanna. They never told me how painful it was when their bodies changed. They wanted to spare me the guilt, but I wished they had given me a warning. That day, every inch of my body hurt as I transformed myself into a black panther.
I raced towards Zaros, my paws barely touching the floor. I heard Kirby scream my name and wondered why he was freaking out. Never had I felt more powerful.
To the ground, I wrestled Zaros and dug my claws into his chest, preparing to bite, but in his eyes, I saw no fear, not even concern.
"I remember this," he said with a grin on his face. "I killed you before." But it wasn’t me he killed. Lying on top of Zaros, I realized why Kirby panicked. My mother also used shapeshifting spells, and in her last fight, she attacked Zaros as a black panther.
"Cinis cinerem. Ut pulvis pulvis," Zaros whispered. "In qua virtute potentiae qui furabatur." Pressing his hands on the sides of my head, he attacked me with the spell he used to kill my mother. An unbearable heatwave tore through me, starting in my head, then invading my organs one by one. It felt like my brain was melting, and I lost all awareness of the present moment. I heard Kirby’s voice scream, "Go to hell," but I could no longer see him.
When I regained my consciousness, I was human again. Zaros lay on the floor. His hands covered his left eye. Kirby was down on one knee, his mouth curled into a snarl and blood dripping off the dagger in his hand. He had jabbed Zaros’s eye.
An eerie silence prevailed in the room, broken by the sound of the amulet hitting the ground. Eagle Vanna had successfully grabbed it, but she dropped it while transforming back into her human form. Before she or Kirby could get to it, Zaros snapped his fingers one last time, and a group of people appeared in the room, attacking us from all sides.
***
I was lying down helplessly when one of Zaros’s soldiers appeared. She had a knife in her hand and wore a brown shirt with the word Curiosité on it. That had once been a French coffeehouse in Spiritsvale but was demolished in an earthquake a year earlier. Five people went missing in that accident, including a waitress. I remembered this because Grandpa’s firm managed the insurance case.
The waitress stood before me, looking all normal as if she was human. But with a glance, I could tell she was soulless. Like Jivar, she had deadpan eyes and a pale face that portrayed no emotions.
She pounced at me, but Doyle swooped in and pulled her away. By the time I came to my feet, everyone in the room was fighting. While Doyle fended off the waitress, Kirby fought off two attackers, and four had cornered Vanna in the back of the room. But there was no sign of Zaros anywhere.
I glimpsed the amulet on the ground. If I can get to it, I can end this. I lumbered towards the shiny thing, barely keeping my balance. Zaros’s attack had left me disoriented. I didn’t even notice when a big man came from behind. He bent my arm and slammed my body to the wall, breaking a rib.
I wailed.
***
I never understood how another fire started. Someone might have thrown a fire staff that caught the cloth on the wall. Everyone jumped away, but the fight never stopped. There were punches and blows, grunts and growls. A momentary victory occurred when Kirby stabbed one of the attackers with the dagger, paralyzing him, though the others never faltered.
The growing blaze illuminated the room, leaping into the air and moving my way. I stood there, no longer able to move. The broken rib gave me a sharp pain that hit with every breath or movement.
I would’ve gotten seared if Ebba hadn’t shown up and dragged me to a safe corner.
"E-Ebba. Is this you?" I started to doubt my eyes. After all, Zaros almost vaporized my brain.
"It’s me," she said.
"What? Why? How?" I mumbled. "How are you here?"
"I hid in the car trunk," she answered without a stutter.
"Are you crazy? You’re gonna get yourself kill—" I stopped, gasping for air. The smokeless fire ate away the oxygen in the room.
"Don’t say anything." Ebba helped me rest against the wall. "Just breathe."
If things were bad for me, they were worse for Vanna. Through the flames, we saw her fall back, splashing in a puddle of her blood.
"No!" I hauled myself forward, trying to get to her, but I couldn’t go too far. The attacker raised his pat and prepared to give her a final blow, and Vanna closed her eyes, surrendering to her fate.
I did this. I failed Vanna. That thought killed me.
"Eíbùr." Ebba’s voice bellowed in the cave. A golden aura formed around Vanna, absorbing the blow.
"Wh-a...?" My tongue was caught in my throat.
"I-I didn’t want to d-do this," Ebba told me. I sensed both shame and hesitation in her voice.
She pointed at the amulet, and it glided towards her hand. Once she put it on, a grimoire appeared to her and opened itself to an empty page. "Prohibere tempus." She ordered time to stop.
Everything froze. The fire no longer danced, and Zaros’s soldiers stood like statues. Kirby hurried to help Vanna, and Doyle grabbed the broken chains and flailed them at the wall, breaking it.
How did Ebba do this? What is that spell she used? A million questions came to mind. A normal Time Freeze spell would paralyze everyone in the room, except the witch who cast it. The spell Ebba used froze only the enemies.
"W-ho are you?" I summed up all my wandering thoughts in three words.
Ebba gazed at the frozen flames. Slowly, she turned to me and wiped off her bloody nose. "My name is Lú. I’m your great-grandmother, Echo."
