The Great War: Chapter 2
To the land where magic flows free
Ezra runs his fingers through his sister’s hair, separating it into three parts as she often wants him to do whenever first light breaks, preparing to braid it.
The siblings are quiet as they go about their early cycle routine: Dressing, eating breakfast, and having Ezra braid Ishtar’s hair before they walk together to the library. Their parents stay home and keep the place clean.
The family never leaves the house by themselves anymore, always shopping and working in pairs. The disappearances of other wizards have only gotten worse across Mirage, the most common targets being healers. While Ezra and his family are Creationists and Enchanters, they use magic regardless and are still possible targets. Albeit not in public, but there have been some wizards just like them who have already gone “missing” in the past. They can never be too careful.
This warm cycle, as the sky outside slowly brightens, their parents are out to join an emergency meeting issued by their local Magic Society group, which came to be only a few years ago as a safe space for wizards living in their neighborhood. And the siblings have been told not to leave the house until they return.
“What do you think the meeting is about?” Ezra asks, starting to layer Ishtar’s hair.
“I don’t know,” Ishtar replies quietly.
So much has happened the last couple of cycles. Many of their neighbors, families they knew from childhood, have either left Mirage or “disappeared”. The sound of heavy boots passing his home by have kept Ezra awake late into the night. The Guardians have even made moves to take over Mirage’s port city, the very same place Ezra and his family lives. Before, the city was run by a small council of high-ranking citizens and Guardians alike, and now some of the citizen members have also been “disappearing”, regardless of any magical history, and filling those seats with other Guardians.
“Do you think they’re dead?” he speaks.
Ishtar inhales sharply. “I don’t want to think about that.”
Ezra reaches for a little silver ribbon that lays next to him, and ties off Ishtar’s braid. It’s long and silky smooth, a bright amber color. His hair is more of a dusty orange, but he doesn’t mind.
Ishtar stands and brushes off her dress. “I think I’m going to get a snack.”
“What type?”
“Some fruit, maybe. Want anything?”
“I’ll come and see for myself.”
The two trudge from Ishtar’s bedroom to the food pantry out in the main room. The atmosphere is dark and heavy, weighing the two down. Even Ezra has no energy to plan his usual prank contraptions for his library corner defense. Though something tells him he won’t be going to the library this cycle, or any other cycle in the future for that matter. If they didn’t leave Mirage first, they’d certainly disappear in the middle of the night, never to be seen or heard from again. It’s really only a matter of time.
The two stare at the collection of fruits, vegetables, grains, and other food stored within the pantry. Neither reaches for anything. “Snack” was just an excuse to move around.
“And suddenly I’m not hungry,” Ishtar mutters with a weak, clearly forced chuckle.
Ezra turns away from his sister and steps back out into the main room, looking for a rug to kneel on. The sky outside is bright, stars glittering in the pale blue sky above. But outside is also where the Guardians are.
His stomach churns at the thought of possibly being seen through any one of the home’s many open windows using his magic.
The front door opens suddenly, and in rushes his parents, their expressions full of concern.
“Ma? Pa?” he asks. “What’s going on?”
Ishtar also exits the pantry and stands at her younger brother’s side. “Is everything okay?”
“Children,” pa says to them firmly, “we’re leaving Mirage.”
The sentence hangs in the air, both relieving and worrying at once. Leave Mirage? The island their family has lived on for generations? Abandon the only home Ezra has ever known?
“Bring what you can,” pa continues. “We have little time left. There’s a ship bound for Korodon leaving during the midcycle.”
Ezra looks up at Ishtar. His sister stands ridged, her gaze listless. The color has drained from her face, turning it a pale white. She doesn’t move, and neither does he.
“Come, children,” ma urges calmly. “Go gather your things and then we will explain what we can.”
Slowly, the siblings finally begin to move back across the house to their bedrooms. They’re quiet, and so are their parents.
Ezra enters his room, closing the door behind him. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, but it does little to make him feel any better. This is all happening so suddenly. He’s not terribly surprised, but he figured this would be something for next cycle, not now.
He takes stock of his room. He has a simple bed, small wooden dresser, and low table with a kneeling cushion next to it. He doesn’t have much he wants to take with him. His family were well off for a family of their size and occupation, but could still be considered relatively poor. He has little personal items like jewelry or toys. Maybe he’ll just bring his clothes. That’s really all he needs.
He grabs the top sheet from his bed and starts to fill it with what clothes he has. It’s not much, but it’s enough changes for at least a few cycles. He has no idea how long it will take for the ship they’ll be boarding to reach… wherever they’re going.
He turns and grabs his kneeling cushion. It’s probably the only other thing he has he can throw in with his clothes, and the only other thing he truly cares about as a personal possession. He spent a lot of time stitching it with enchantments when he first got it. He’d hate for all that effort to go to waste.
He folds the sheet over the cushion and clothes and picks it up. It’s rather light in his arms, easy to carry and run with if he needs to.
With his possessions gathered, he steps back into the main room where his parents also have a large sheet folded over, resting on the dinner table, filled with items from their own room. It’s slightly bigger than his sheet, but not by much.
Ma gestures for him to place his sheet down next to theirs, which he does without question. Not long after he finds a place to kneel at the table, his sister emerges with her own wrapped sheet. It jingles in her arms as she approaches, an indication that it contains little jewelry pieces that she has.
Even with the family now assembled at the table, the four wizards stare at each other wordlessly, letting questions and worry fester.
“What happened?” Ishtar finally breaks the silence.
Their pa lets out a long sigh. He’s clearly reluctant to share details, and yet with the suddenness and urgency of the situation, Ezra and Ishtar need to know what they know. It doesn’t make the information any easier to say, though.
“The king of Korodon has declared war on the Guardians,” pa finally replies.
War? Wizards against the Guardians?
“When?” Ezra gasps.
“Two, three cycles ago?” ma hums. “The king has also urged wizards to go to Korodon for the time being.”
“It’s one of the very few places in Astria magic can be used without fear,” pa adds with a nod. “And with the decree, the Guardians are certainly eager to obtain complete control over what land they can. Mirage is already a lost cause. We simply can’t stay here anymore.”
“So we’re going… to Korodon?” Ishtar asks. Their parents nod back.
“It should be a two cycle journey,” ma explains, “and we’ll be joined with other wizards from the Magic Society.”
Pa shifts his position and places his hands on the table. “As far as we’re aware, this is the last ship bound for Korodon, so I do not wish to miss it. I don’t want this family to be trapped under Guardian rule when the fighting eventually starts. That being said, still refrain from using your magic on board the ship unless absolutely necessary. Understand?”
Ishtar and Ezra nod. “Yes, pa.”
Town is buzzing with activity, the likes of which Mathew has never seen in his entire life before now. Guardians are out in full force, standing by every store and town home there is, keeping watch of the beings that rush around.
His cold skin prickles uncomfortably. He just came for some vegetables, not to have his every movement watched. He wonders what’s caused such a bolster in their numbers.
“20 iron, please,” the shopkeeper says. Mathew digs in his pocket for the coins his mother gave to him before he left. With a long sigh, he simply grabs a fistful and begins plopping coins into the shopkeeper’s waiting hand, counting as he goes.
“…20,” he finishes. “Thank you.”
The shopkeeper smiles back at him and nods as they shove the coins he just gave them somewhere between the fruit and grain baskets they have surrounding them. Mathew hefts his basket full of food and starts off through the crowd, ready to head home.
Despite the crowd, the cycle has been rather quiet. His siblings had gone down to the shore to practice their magic that morning, leaving him and his father to spar in the front garden. Then his mother asked for him to do some shopping, which he gladly agreed to do. He loves sparring as much as his father does, but it gets boring after a while if it’s all they do.
He can only wonder why his mother asked for so much food. Is it for some sort of special occasion, like a wizard celebration he’s unaware of? Is it simply a larger stockpile for the next couple of cycles? He’ll have to ask when he returns to the house.
Just as he lays eyes upon the edge of town, shouts rise from behind him, causing him to stop and turn to see what’s going on. A crowd has formed around a stall, the stall he was just at.
“Wizard! There’s a wizard here!”
A small group of Guardians push their way through the crowd and hold up a clearly beaten woman, her face bright red and her nose bleeding. She wears a simple yellow dress with golden trim, which is now covered in small spots of blood and smears of dirt. She looks like a rather normal being to Mathew. Why accuse her of being a wizard? Why beat her up?
His stomach sinks as he watches the Guardians walk the woman away, the small crowd roaring insults after them, clearly directed at the poor woman. He simply turns away from the spectacle and walks a little faster out of the town.
The forest is quiet as he makes his way home. Usually it’s a calming quiet, but instead he can’t help but feel like there’s a being watching him as he travels. His skin crawls uncomfortably as his internal temperature drops.
He can’t get his mind off of that crowd. That… that mob. He knew that some beings of Gardall disliked magic users, but to call one out so publicly? To go so far as to beat them up in the street?
His mother is a wizard. His siblings can be considered wizards. He doesn’t consider himself a wizard but he knows how to use his magic a little bit.
He hopes that woman is alright, whoever she was.
The trees finally break up ahead, revealing the log cabin his mother and father built before Anya was ever born. It’s situated far enough from town for other beings and the Guardians to leave them alone, but it’s still close enough to walk between locations for things like purchasing food.
It’s quiet. Almost too quiet. The silence of the home doesn’t help his unease.
He steps up to the front door and pushes it open with his boot. The door swings open gently, revealing the main living room and cooking area beyond. A collection of candles burn on the mantle of the stone fireplace that takes center stage, one of the first things a being sees upon entering.
“I’m back!” he calls, kicking the door closed behind him. No reply. He can go hunt for his family once he puts the basket down and store the food away.
He shoves the basket up onto the kitchen counter and starts to unload it.
“Son.”
Mathew pauses and turns around. His father stands on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the back of his favorite leather chair. His eyes are dark and stormy, his expression stone cold, almost tired. Grey strands shine amidst the rest of his brown hair. He already noticed that his mother and father seemed to age differently on a few different occasions, but his father never let his age show much. Though now he gives the appearance of a sad old man well past his fighting prime.
“Father?” Mathew speaks. “Where’s mother?”
“That witch left,” his father spits. “She took your siblings with her.”
Mathew steps away from the market basket and stares back at his father listlessly. Mother… gone? And Anya and Ingum, too?
“Witch…” he echoes.
“Boy, the wizards have declared war!” his father exclaims. He runs a hand down the side of his face, turning away from Mathew as he seems to battle some sort of internal conflict. “Your siblings wouldn’t have been safe here much longer if the Guardians ever saw them…”
Mathew stops listening to him.
Just this morning, his mother cooked them all poptops. Him and Anya got into a small argument over ice and swords, and Ingum ran off to the shore early to get a head start on his practicing. His father went to collect firewood as Mathew helped to clean up breakfast, Anya leaving to keep and eye on Ingum. His mother gave him a hug and a kiss, then asked for him to go to town for extra food.
And now she’s gone, and Anya and Ingum are, too. Why did she leave him behind with father? Why didn’t she tell him of her intentions in the first place? Why didn’t she let him give his siblings a single goodbye?
The sharp crack of cooling ice snaps him out of his thoughts. His father is staring at him wordlessly. Mathew notices that his hands are balled into trembling fists, and the stone floor under his boots is now covered in a thin layer of sparkling frost.
Father called mother a witch, a wizard who lies and schemes, using magic to get their way. That’s the story he was told as a child anyways.
“Sorry, father,” he mutters, stepping out of his ring of frost.
“Mathew,” his father replies, approaching Mathew slowly and placing his hands on his son. His eyes are soft and gentle, glowing with pride. “Know that I’m very proud of you. If you can’t keep it in, Gardall is not safe for you-”
“I can learn to control it better,” Mathew assures him. “Just let me stay with you.”
“Mathew-”
“I’m not a wizard, father, and I’m far from being a witch. She left me behind for a reason, did she not?”
His father pauses for a moment, and the father and son stare at each other in silence. Mathew makes the first move, wrapping his father in a tight hug.
“I want to be a sailor, like you,” he mutters quietly. “I want to live free out on the open water.”
His father hugs him back. “I understand, son.”
And with war already brewing, maybe Mathew will finally get that chance to follow his dream. He’ll be able to join a crew and sail the seas into battle, to give wizards a taste of steel.
But, of course, he must get his magic under control first.