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acediting · 1 year

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Nanowrimo Day 14

The arena went all but silent as the two duelists stood, unmoving, gazes locked from across the battlefield. Both knew they needed to prepare. Both knew they needed to stop the other from preparing whatever it was that they were planning to do. And yet, neither really knew what the other was going to do, which left them in a frozen stalemate. Sean swallowed a lump in his throat as he felt the pulse of his shards in hand, taking mental note of what he had. A defensive shard that could block something for five second before needing to be recharged, a speed and a strength augmentation shard, a standard percussion blast shard, and Companion. He had others, but these were the ones he was most comfortable with. They would have to do.

Trevor’s brow furrowed lightly, a hint of uncertainty crossing his face. “Aren’t you going to come at me?” he finally called from across the field.

“I’m giving you first shot,” Sean fired back, forcing himself to sound calm and confident, thankful his voice didn’t crack in the process.

The Storyteller’s uncertainty deepened. “You sure? I know you know what I can do.”

“I know,” Sean replied, coming up with an excuse on the fly. “I never get to see the hypes. Stages are pretty mythical to me. I figured this is my closest shot to ever seeing one.”

Trevor blinked, then laughed. “You know I’m not a showman, right?”

“No, but I heard your techniques inspire them.”

“Fine, fine,” he relented, shaking his head then letting his expression turn serious. “Just don’t forget I gave you the option to strike first.” Without anymore warning than that, his JEGs began to shine brightly as the air around him began to shimmer. Sean made out an outline of what appeared to be two rectangles. However, as the writing began to appear on each, he realized what he was actually seeing: book pages, a story being written. Realizing the fight had finally begun, the crowd erupted into a frenzied roar, anticipation for what came next from the Storyteller.

That was Sean’s cue. Wasting no more time, he dashed forward, spying a type of reddish fog rolling from the pages and spreading out to fill the arena. As it rolled to meet him, Sean activated his strength augmentation shard, feeling a pulse of energy go from his hands and sink deep into his muscle tissue. For a brief moment his muscles twitched and tightened. He stopped short, digging his heels in and activating his barrier shield, throwing his arm and left shoulder against it.

Something hard slammed right into the barrier with enough strength that Sean was sure he would have gone flying if he hadn’t augmented himself. He squinted through the shimmer of his barrier and the fog to see what it was. He immediately recognized the spherical body and red laser point of an eye of a RAD, and pushed off of the swung arm before the second could break through his barrier. However, he nearly lost his balance as the once flat and ground level floor came to a sudden drop at his heels. The fog began to clear more, and Sean blinked a few times as the changes made by the Storyteller came to light. Aside from the RAD, he could also see some of the drone-like RIDs, their firing mechanisms sparking with electricity. He did not want to find out if that was real or not. Though, now as he got a better view of his surroundings, he knew for certain that the drop was real. Somehow in that fog, he and Trevor had been lifted, and were not at eye level with the first set of seats in the audience. Sean could see their excited eyes through the green tint of the barrier dome, and knew they were not expecting to have such an up close and personal treat. Though they would not be the only ones. The floor around them seemed to be constantly shifting in the form of blocks, building into stairs and other platforms at the expense of what was beneath their feet.

That meant Sean had to move. Now. He sprinted away as one of the RIDs flew at him, hearing the buzz of electricity at his back and feeling the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end. He winced, diving and rolling to avoid another shot, coming up behind some blocks that were forming some steps. He took a moment to catch his breath and regain his bearings. Right, Trevor was the Storyteller. From what he knew about him, his illusions were hyper-realistic, but illusions nonetheless. That electricity was real, the floor was real, which meant that Trevor was somewhere in this illusion, directing the attack and keeping the ground stable. That meant he had to be close by. Though where was the question. Sean highly doubted that he would be hiding inside the RAD or the RIDs. Sean was liable to attack them, which would put the other duelist at risk. No, he was hiding somewhere where he could see everything, but likely would not be a target-

Sean activated his barrier and sprinted up the steps as one of the RIDs came around, sending a shockwave in his direction. On a whim, he pulls out the percussion blast shard and aimed down at the RID, pushing energy into the crystal to activate the shard. A burst of air exploded on contact on the RID, surprising Sean when it seemed to distort, then vanish, leaving a JEG laying on the ground. So that’s how it worked. Ok then.

#nanowrimo Nationalnovelwritingmonth ALITC Freewrite

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acediting · 1 year

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Nanowrimo day 12.5-13 (Caught up!)

The fields were farther from the house and the barn than they looked, and Robbie was glad that Mrs. Winterson suggested taking the SUV, pointing out a cleared road that went straight through the various crops. Even still, the large stalks made it hard to see, and at a few points Robbie had to lean out the window and over the hood to give Matilda better directions on where they were headed. But when they approached the run down field, it was clear, not just from the fallen and cramped stalks, but from the smell of rotting vegetation from the ones that had been left to the rains and left unkept for so long. While the other areas they had passed had that yellow and gold look of a field nearing harvest, this particular one was a dead, soggy brown, with even the standing stalks looking less than healthy and unlikely to produce any sort of crop this year.

Matilda crinkled her nose and parked the truck. “Well, if I were a paranormal investigator, or wanted to hide a body, I’d start here.”

“That’s probably what we’re dealing with is banking on,” Robbie reminded her, stepping out and glad he decided to wear his hiking boots as his boots squelched in some mud mixed with stuff he was perfectly fine not knowing. Matilda’s reaction was similar, and after a moment to get her bearings she started towards the field. “Might as well start looking. Keep your voice loud and a JEG active so we can spot each other if you find anything.”

“Got it,” Robbie confirmed, pulling out a flash JEG and stepping into the field a little to the left of Matilda. For a while, he could hear her pushing through stalks and stepping on fallen vegetation in between squelching and a random splash that also had her blurting out some colorful words. Robbie would have chuckled at the duel queen’s response, had he not been in a similar predicament. He pushed some of the stalks to the side and paused for a moment to look up at the clear blue sky. From what he could tell from the drive up, the rest of the area surrounding this place, even the other fields on this property, were bone dry. It had also been a clear night last night, so rain was not a factor in what was going on here. He figured there must be a broken pipe nearby that was keeping this particular area flooded, which would explain that swamp-like smell and the mud that was trying to suck him in ankle deep in some places. After nearly losing his boot in one particular bad step, he gave up trying to trudge through everything. “Spark, give me a hand.”

The JEG around his neck glowed as he pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight and swiveling it around the ground at the mud and water. His light landed on a spot not that far from him that appeared to be a lighter shade of brown, still muddy but not nearly as saturated as the rest. He pointed. “There.” Spark yowled in his head, and he felt a pulse of heat. Soon, that section was steaming, turning from a brown to a light tan before the surface cracked slightly, the moisture evaporating away and leaving him with a dry stepping stone. He jumped to it, searching for another spot nearby and directing Spark to do the same. As his little companion worked, Robbie looked around, hoping to find anything of interest in the fields aside from mud and rot. He took a moment to raise his voice so Matilda could hear. “Anything?”

“No!” Matilda called back. “But everything’s soaked here. If there is anything it could be buried in the mud.”

Yeah, Robbie worried about that too. Still, he was a big guy- the tallest guy signed up for the duels this year. And he was built. Most people who saw him in the ring when he started out thought he was a street fighter or some sort of martial artist rather than a summoner. If his bulk was only going ankle deep, then likely any clues wouldn’t sink too far down. He swiveled the flashlight back and forth again, watching for any signs of anything in the mud or water while directing Spark to keep drying patches for him to step on.

He searched for the better part of an hour, finding little to nothing and gradually hearing Matilda’s calls get further from him before he felt the tug from his JEG. Robbie pulled a face and flicked the orange glowing JEG. “Hey, knock it off,” he warned Spark. The JEG tugged again, this time growing warm. “Look, no. We’re in the middle of a field,” he tried again. “You can’t come out.” But Spark was having none of it, and the third time the tug nearly took the JEG from Robbie’s neck. Instinctively he grabbed it, groaning in frustration a moment later when he realized he activated the JEG. Heat spilled out of it before a ball of orange flames materialized in front of him, about to drop. Robbie’s hand shot out, catching the fluffy creature that was inside, knowing that these flames would not burn him even as it singed the edge of his non-fireproof jacket. “Look, ok. You can come out, but not as a fireball,” he reasoned. “The ground is wet, but some of these standing stalks are like tinder. You can wind up burning me and Matilda alive.” The fireball responded with something of a whine before the flames went away. An orange and red creature that sort of resembled a ferret but with a bright red mane of a lion and a tuff of red fur at the tip of its tail stared back at him, caught by the scruff of its neck. It stared at him with a mixture of frustration and defeat, but did not flame up again. Robbie nodded, satisfied that Spark would behave and went to set him down, only to notice all the mud and water. Instead, he set the critter on his shoulder. “Alright, you’re out. Now what do you want?”

Spark let out one of his high pitched growls, reaching up one paw to bat at one of Robbie’s dreg locks. Robbie pulled a face. “Is that all?” The little creature shook itself out, its mane fluffing before it looked around, sniffing the air. Robbie couldn’t understand how Spark could stand the smell- he knew from channeling him that the creature’s sense of smell was very strong. But before he could dwell on it further, Spark jumped from his shoulder, landing on a patch of dirt that dried instantly beneath his paws. Then he bound to another, and another, moving quickly. “Spark!” he called after the creature, but found that the creature was already gaining ground, unhindered by the cramped stalks. Robbie muttered some choice words under his breath and followed, shoving through the stalks and glad that the dry patches of dirt and the ferret/lion tracks were easy to see on each. Up ahead, he heard Spark yowl for him, seeming to have stopped somewhere. He picked up his pace, crunching and crashing through until the growth suddenly cleared, leaving him stumbling into a muddy opening. There was a sudden downhill here, and Robbie managed to stop himself before he got more than knee deep in icy cold water. He hissed, backing up and looking around. Spark yowled again from across the clearing, gaining his attention. There was the busted pipe, pouring out water that was feeding into this pool and the rest of the crop. Spark was sitting on top, just above the opening. He stared at Robbie before giving a chirp, patting the pipe with his paw.

“Are you kidding me?” Robbie asked incredulously. Spark patted the pipe again. Groaning in frustration, Robbie looked for a way to get around the pool, discovering that the footholds Spark had made for himself were too small to support him. So, he carefully waded around the shore of the pool, cringing as water again found its way into his boots, further drenching his socks. He really hoped that Mrs. Winterson was right about the ghost doing laundry- his socks and pants were going to need it after this. He gripped the pipe for support once he got around to the other side, using it to get past the flow of water and up to where Spark was. “Ok, now what?”

Spark patted down at the pipe again, making Robbie inspect the opening. He froze. While he was no irrigation expert, he expected pipes to have a crack or worn away portion when they gave out. What he saw instead was shredded metal, almost like claws had dug their way through. Though, as he matched his hands to the shredded metal, he realized these would have to be some big claws, maybe twice the size of his own hand. He looked around for any signs that anyone or anything else aside from him and Spark had been through this way. His eyes landed on some knocked down stalks near where the pipe was leading off to. It wasn’t big enough for something to make these claw marks, but he could see a person fitting through there. He climbed back up the slope, Spark bounding up the pipe right in front of him.

“Mattie! Can you hear me?” He shouted.

“Yeah!” Matilda’s reply came in the distance.

“I think I found something! There’s a pool of water near here so watch out!” He took out the flash JEG and raised it up, activating it. It glowed a bright yellow, then shot upwards, leaving a big ball of light in the sky directly above him. He placed the JEG in his pocket and started following the trail, the ball remaining directly overhead. Spark scampered ahead and Robbie was glad to find the field starting to dry out finally. It seemed like the investigators had decided to come in the back way- if this was the investigators. He realized it could also be those farm hands that Mrs. Winterson mentioned. They could have been looking for the leak in the pipe and found it, then left to go get a replacement part. Though, he would think they would have shut off the water to keep it from flooding the field until they could fix it. Plus that didn’t explain what tore it up in the first place, or how it even got there. He tried to rack his brain for something, anything that might explain it. It definitely wasn’t Draco; his claws were way too massive to make those marks. But Robbie couldn’t peg it on a coyote or a mountain lion either. Maybe a bear? Though, he wasn’t sure if there were any bears living his this area. If there were surely Mrs. Winterson would have warned them before letting them loose. That left another option, probably a more viable one, and he hated it.

Robbie was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly stepped on Spark, who had stopped in the middle of the path. Spark whipped his tail away before Robbie could step on it, growling in offense. “Sorry,” he offered, looking to see what made Spark stop. The creature was sitting on something half buried in the dirt. Robbie kneeled, realizing that the ground was cracked dry here, just like it was where Spark had dried patches for him to step on. Only this was the entire path, and the ground felt cool as if this had been done some time ago. Something square-like was poking out of the ground, looking black and somewhat metallic. He looked around, finding a stick and started digging. It was bigger than he expected, and after some time the stick snapped, leaving him to dig with his hands. Spark worked on the other side of the object, his small claws flinging dirt behind at a rapid pace as he helped to uncover what was buried in the dirt. By the time Matilda arrived, Robbie could see what it was they were unearthing, and pulled it up, shaking the remaining debris from it as he held it up for her to see.

Matilda blinked, also kneeling. “Is that a camera?”

“A high end one from the looks of it,” Robbie observed, flipping it over. Despite having been buried, it looked to be in relatively good condition. He wiped off the digital screen and buttons and tried turning it on, hoping that pricey also meant waterproof. Both watched as the screen came to life, and a little dial came on showing that there were pictures saved to the memory stick. Matilda moved to get a better view over Robbie’s shoulder as he started going through the photos, starting at the earliest one.

Matilda blinked as the first photo showed three people in their early twenties taking a group photo in front of a car. “This is one of the missing groups.”

“Guess this confirms they were here,” Robbie replied, flipping through some photographs of their car ride, some photographs of the front of the house, pictures of inside the house, the barn, and finally at night with night vision activated on the camera. Much like Matilda and Robbie, the group had decided to go through the field, with pictures being taken of the stalks and the ground.

“Looks like they weren’t having much luck,” Matilda observed.

Robbie nodded, switching to the next photo, then froze. “That’s…putting it lightly.” Both stared at the new photo, tryingto make sense of what was going on. It looked like the photographer was running and trying to snap a picture of something behind them, with a few stalk leaves getting into the picture and everything looking blurred. While it was difficult to make out, a dark mass seemed to be coming through the stalks behind them, knocking down and making a huge path behind them. The next picture showed the camera face up, with water droplets on the surface as it was dropped. Something large had paused to look down at it. It was impossible to make out anything about it in, save for the bright glowing yellow eyes staring directly at the camera.

Spark growled at the photo as Robbie shut the camera off, looking to Matilda. “That’s no ghost. I saw the claw marks left by that thing on a pipe near here.”

Matilda nodded, “Definitely a rogue. If it’s been hunting around here and catching people unnoticed, it might be a strong one. Manipulator maybe. Even a Scene.”

Robbie frowned, standing. “If that was the case wouldn’t Draco had noticed it? If it’s hunting in this territory it wouldn’t have gone far. He’d have warned us before we got caught up in it.”

Matilda was silent for a time, looking around as she mulled over everything. Her brow furrowed as she continued looking around, at the stalks, at the ground, at the sky. “Let me see the camera?”

Robbie handed it over.

Matilda went through the photos again, her brow furrowing deeper as she studied each one. “Oh this isn’t good…”

“What…?” he asked tentatively.

In response, she turned the camera to him, showing the last photograph. “Safe to say this is the exact spot that massive thing came through right?”

“I doubt he’d have moved it,” Robbie answered, looking at the picture and wondering what he was trying to find. Matilda gave him a hand, tapping the bottom corner of the screen. There was a time stamp for when the photo was taken. Three weeks ago. Robbie’s brows raised as his attention snapped to the small clearing again.

Matilda, nodded, lowering the camera. “Mr. Winterson took care of the crops, so this one is a sign that he’s been gone for a year at least. Yet we have a brand new barn that Mrs. Winterson said she cleared out after he died.”

“And it looked like it’s a few months old tops…” Robbie added quietly, not liking where this was going. He turned back to her. “She also said she wasn’t up in that attic, yet that window was wide open and there weren’t any cobwebs, spiderwebs, nothing. I’d have at least expected some rat droppings up there.”

“I agree,” Matilda said grimly. “And now we’re seeing a field that clearly had some sort of beast trampling through it, but no sign of the trampling.” She took a deep breath. “This is definitely a rogue. A Scene. We know the farm and the hauntings were already here from that guy in town, but it’s taken it over as its own territory. “

Robbie sighed, cursing under his breath as his mind filled in the last part.

And they were already trapped in it.

#nanowrimo nationalnovelwritingmonth ALITC Freewrite

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acediting · 1 year

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Nanowrimo Day 11 and a half (catching up!)

Spark’s high pitched growl reverberated through Robbie’s mind a moment before he felt his body temperature shoot upwards, causing the gust of air that burst from the room to feel near freezing. He snapped his head in the direction the gust seemed to go, trying to catch a glimpse of what caused it. When he saw nothing, he quickly turned his attention back to his room.

It was warm in there. Even with him channeling Spark’s heat, Robbie could tell that the room was just as cozy and warm as it had been before he went to speak to Matilda. He looked around confused, trying to spot a grate or air vent, maybe even the window cracked open that might explain that strange burst of air. Nothing jumped out as a culprit. Instead, he noticed some other oddities around the room. First was that his bedsheets, which had been rumbled when he flopped down on the bed, were now back to being smoothed with the pillows set to perfection. His jacket, which he has tossed haphazardly onto his duffle bag was now hanging in the closet whose doors were partially open, revealing said duffle bag sitting underneath. On his nightstand, a small serving tray had been set. On it sat a cup of what smelled like tea along with some of the cookies that he had seen in Mrs. Winterson’s kitchen when helping her clean up after dessert. Overall, it looked like someone decided to be a good host.

Which is exactly why Robbie turned right back around and marched to Matilda’s door, knocking on it repeatedly. “Mattie!” He called in a hushed voice in between knocks. “Mattie, open up!”

The door swung open, Matilda looking both startled and alert. “What?” she asked, her gaze turning serious as she looked him over. “You’re steaming.”

“Spark,” Robbie replied, knowing Matilda was well aware of the physical changes the body underwent when summoners channeled their partners. He motioned to his room. “You’ve got to see this?”

Matilda, seeing well enough that Robbie was spooked by something, quickly went and grabbed her own jacket where she kept her charged JEGs, slipping it on and grasping one before cautiously following Robbie back to his room. When they peeked inside, Matilda looked around, caution slowly being replaced by confusion as she took in the room. “Where did you get the tea?”

“I think the ghost gave it to me.”

“The ghost gave you tea,” Matilda replied, the doubt in her voice evident.

Robbie sighed, “Look, I know how it sounds, but there was this gust of cold air that came from my room when I opened the door. My bed was made, my coat hung up, and tea in my room when I got here.”

She regarded him, the doubt in her voice now creeping onto her face. She placed a hand on her hip as she surveyed the room again. “Seems to me like you have a good hostess, not a ghost.”

“What about the cold air?” Robbie countered.

“Again, you’re steaming.”

“I wasn’t until Spark lunged into me when the air came at me!” he snapped.

Matilda held her hands up placatingly. “Okay, okay. Maybe there was cold air. It’s a bit cooler here in the hall, so maybe some of the cold air got trapped in here when Mrs. Winterson entered. I mean, it could very well be that she heard you up and, seeing as you weren’t in your room, got you something for the night and decided to tidy up while she was at it.”

While that did seem possible, Robbie wasn’t sure if he was convinced. Matilda saw his expression and sighed, turning back to her room. “Look, I’m going back to bed. If there is a ghost, you have a fire ferret-lion thing to protect you. I’ll see you in the morn-“

Matilda stopped short as she looked into her room. Her eyes scanned it from the doorway before she slowly closed the door and turned back towards Robbie. “Or…the ghost here also likes to play the good host here.”

“It’s cleaned up?” Robbie asked, knowing Matilda’s reputation for being a bit of a messy unpacker.

“Correction,” Matilda said. “It’s cleaning itself up.” As if suspecting Robbie’s next question, she beckoned him over, quietly and slowly opening the door. They both peaked inside. Matilda’s clothes from that day which had been tossed next to her suitcase were in the process of folding themselves and being stacked neatly. Her bed had already been straightened and one of the two pillows was currently in midair, fluffing itself. Like in Robbie’s room, a tray had materialized on the nightstand, and currently had a cup of tea that was brewing with few snacks sitting next to it. The pair exchanged glances before closing the door. Robbie went to his ownroom and closed that one.

“Camping out downstairs?” Matilda offered.

“Camping out downstairs,” Robbie agreed, already making for the staircase. The closer to the door and the car they were, the better.

Matilda stifled a yawn as she made her way into the kitchen the next morning. She had braved her room after crashing on the couch and was relieved to find that the ghostly room service had stopped, giving her time to change and freshen up. But being tall meant that she was stuck tossing and turning on the couch, trying to find a way to keep her legs from feeling cramped from bending all night, or cold from hanging over the edge. She probably should have taken a cue from Robbie and slept on the floor near the portable heater. The other duelist had already been up and about by the time she decided it was time to stop trying to sleep, and was now helping Mrs. Winterson in the kitchen with breakfast, something that smelled suspiciously like sausage and pancakes. As she stepped into the kitchen, Robbie’s deep voice filtered out, being midway through explaining what happened that night in their rooms.

“We didn’t know what else to expect or what would happen if we were in there, so we just slept downstairs for the rest of the evening.”

“Oh dear! I am so sorry I should have warned you about that!” Mrs. Winterson exclaimed apologetically. “Yes, our resident spirit does like to make sure everybody feels at home here. I should have warned you about the little nightly touches. Rest assured, you were never in any danger. I suspect the tea and cookies came right from this kitchen.” She chuckled at a thought. “Given enough time I suspect you would have found your laundry washed and not just folded.”

“Is that how it normally acts?” Matilda asked, stepping into the kitchen and locating something to do to help.

“Oh, good morning dear,” Mrs. Winterson greeted. “And yes, if our resident spirit isn’t staying out of sight, why, guests of this house normally find themselves in the presence of a gracious host. I apologize for any confusion last night.”

She shook her head. “It was surprising is all. Though, if it had been someone who was not used to working with spirits or rogues I can see how that might spook them.”

The old woman nodded, plating some sausage and handing the plate over to Robbie to add some pancakes to. “It had happened on occasions, which is another reason why I was not surprised when previous guests were gone in the morning.”

“But with that ghost still here, I’m guessing you doubt it’s the reason for the disappearances?” Robbie offered.

“It would certainly be a change of character if it was,” she confirmed. “Though, from my knowledge of this house and its resident, I can say that I personally doubt the ghost is responsible for the disappearances.”

“I might be inclined to believe you,” Matilda agreed. “It was jarring when I saw my clothes folding themselves, but given what I had seen in Robbie’s room you’re right about there not being any serious hostility. Not unless the tea and cookies were poisoned.”

Mrs. Winterson chuckled. “Well I would hope not. I happen to be quite the fan of our resident’s lady grey.” She lifted up her mug before setting it back down.

“The ghost made that?” Matilda blinked.

“Why yes. There is a pot with more if you would like to try some?”

“Is there caffeine in it?”

“There is,” she replied.

Matilda nodded, her need for a pick-me-up overcoming her hesitation of consuming something made by a specter. “Then yes please.”

Soon she had a mug in hand and all three were seated around the table with breakfast. She took a tentative sip, surprised to find the tea not only flavorful but with a dash of sweetness to it. “My compliments to the ghost,” she said, earning a chuckle from Mrs. Winterson.

“Perhaps after breakfast we can get down to business?” the woman suggested.

Robbie nodded, taking the time to try out the pancakes before talking. “Is there anywhere in particular you suggest we start our investigation?”

“It is hard to say,” Mrs. Winterson admitted. “As you saw, hauntings happen right under this roof. However the others searched all about this place. The barn, the fields, whatever suited their fancy and their expectations for the best scenery. And likely social media views.”

“Social media views?” she repeated.

“It seemed like that was how so many had heard of this place recently,” the old woman explained. “From what was explained to me, a visitor had made a video of their experience but had not caught the ghost on camera. Others were hoping to have better luck.” She looked down at her plate, pushing around the untouched sausage, “Of course, it was shortly after that when I started hearing of these visitors disappearing.”

Matilda considered that. She hadn’t realized that the haunting had gone viral. In that case there was any number of things that could be causing people to go missing, especially out here in the middle of nowhere. It would be pegged as the ghost causing the issue, or even get poor Mrs. Winterson suspected. While she hoped to deal with this situation before that happened, Draco hadn’t returned yet. The constellation likely had not found anything in the near vicinity of the house and broadened his search. Who knew when he would be back. It could be within the hour, or within the day, knowing him. As much as Matilda was confident in her skills with JEGs alone, and Robbie’s prowess as a summoner, Draco added that extra level of assurance when he was by her side in these unknown situations. After all, he had been with her since the very beginning of her dueling career, and was a key player in every one of her victories, including the championships.

“How about we start with the closest?” Robbie offered. “We can search the barn, then check out the fields. If we are going by social media and the creep factor, are there any particularly overgrown crops? Maybe some tall cornstalks or something?”

Mrs. Winterson nodded. “I can certainly think of a few areas that might fit that bill. Once you both are finished with breakfast I’ll show you the barn. But first, if you’ll excuse me I have to freshen up if I am going to be going outside.” She stood, taking her untouched plate and tea and bringing it to a counter near the sink.

Matilda and Robbie exchanged a silent glance. Robbie’s eyes flicked to his own plate, and then to the woman’s. Matilda nodded. She decided against eating any more of it, and saw Robbie set down his own fork before standing with his own plate. “I think we’re ready whenever you are,” he said, grabbing Matilda’s plate and heading to the sink. “You can leave the cleanup to us if you’d like.”

“Oh you have been helping all last night and this morning!” Mrs. Winterson protested lightly.

“We are the unexpected guests,” he replied. “Nan would have my hide if she knew I crashed at someone’s house uninvited and didn’t pull my weight.”

“Well! Then I should thank your nan for bringing up such a polite young man,” she replied smiling. “If you insist, I shall return shortly. If you need anything, please just holler.”

Matilda waved to the woman as she retreated back up the stairs, joining Robbie at the sink in the process. She waited until Mrs. Winterson was out of sight, lowering her voice just in case. “She didn’t touch her food or her tea,” she observed.

Robbie hummed in agreement, washing the plates. Matilda noticed a hint of steam coming off his hands. She instinctively looked to his chest, and saw Spark’s JEG glowing beneath his t-shirt, Spark clearly at work checking what was in the food.

Robbie was quiet for a moment, his irises going from their normal brown to the same orange glow of the JEG as he stared intently at the steaming plate, and then the cup. Finally, he blinked a few times, his eyes going back to normal and the JEG’s glow vanishing. “Clean,” he confirmed, earning a sigh of relief from Matilda.

“Okay. Well, we got that worry out of the way. Partially,” she remarked.

“Still doesn’t explain why she’s not eating, or apparently drinking anything,” Robbie replied, frowning at the mug in particular. “Or for how long.”

“Well, like you said last night, she doesn’t look starved,” Matilda offered. “It may be nerves. It may be whatever this is. Either way I’d think figuring out what’s really going on will help her.” He nodded in agreement, not saying anything else.

Matilda realized why when Mrs. Winterson came back down the stairs, wearing a windbreaker over the today yellow sunflower sundress. On her head was a floppy sunhat which shaded most of her face. She smiled at the pair. “Well! If you both are ready, let us depart for the barn.”

It turned out that Robbie’s initial thought that the barn had been painted in recent months was incorrect. As they approached the large building, the pair realized that the entire building appeared newly built, with the red flowering plants around it recently planted and the wood so fresh on the panes that there was no sign of any marring or splinters. The pair pushed the large rolling door opened and stepped inside, finding the barn relatively bare. A few tools were propped against one of the walls, and there was a ladder leading to an attic space. Other than that it seemed relatively empty.

Matilda looked around. “I expected more to be here.”

“My Louis (A/N: Is that his name? Freewrite I’ll edit that later!) was the one who loved to get his hands in the soil. I preferred building my home,” Mrs. Winterson explained. “After he passed I started downsizing our inventory. Of course I still need a few things for upkeep, but most of the time if something requires a bit more muscle I just hire one of the boys that live around here.”

Matilda wondered for a brief moment just how far “around here” stretched, given all the run down and abandoned lands she saw driving up here, but kept her thoughts to herself.

Robbie pointed up to the attic. “What’s up there?”

“I’d suspect nothing,” Mrs. Winterson replied.

“You suspect?” he asked.

“I believe I cleared it out, but I have not tried to climb up there in quite some time,” she admitted.

Robbie raised a brow. Matilda stepped in. “I can go up there and check if you’d like?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” she protested.

But Matilda already had one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. “It’s no bother. Besides, we need to check out everything.” Despite another protest and urge to be careful from the older woman, Matilda hurried up the ladder, looking around at the attic space. Up there was completely empty. She looked around, but couldn’t find so much as a cobweb. On the far side was a window overlooking the fields. She could see the overgrown one that Mrs. Winterson may be taking the pair next. It looked like it hadn’t been tended to in-well- forever. She guessed it was a corn field? It could have been wheat too. Everything was too tall and about half of it looked like it was growing so tightly packed that it was likely seeds fell in a previous season and just started growing. However, even though that one looked particularly bad, the rest of the crops clearly hadn’t been kept for some time either, looking about as well kept as the fields on the way up that weren’t owned by VandeBerg industries or whatever cover title they were using for this particular venture. Idly, Matilda wondered just how long ago Mr. Winterson passed away for the fields to turn like this. But that was a question she didn’t need to ask the woman downstairs. If it was recent, she didn’t want to upset her hostess.

“That where we’re going next?” Matilda nearly jumped out of her skin as Robbie strode up next to her. He raised a brow at her, then leaned against the window looking out.

She shook herself out of her lapse and nodded, looking out at the field also. “Definitely looks the part of creepy.”

“A little too well,” Robbie agreed. He glanced at her. “So, once Draco comes back, we come back here?”

Matilda nodded, her eyes still on the field. “Yeah. Let’s look around a bit, then we’ll ask Mrs. Winterson if we can explore on our own.” She nodded towards the fields. “That belongs to her husband. This I would guess also belonged to him. So why would this have been built after he let that go to the dogs?”

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Nanowrimo Day 10!

Sean tried to ignore the whispers of the others in the waiting hall under the Citadel’s Arena. The next round of the championship was going to begin after a show from some of the more famed hypemen and performers. He had to admit, the ones who travelled with the duelists were pretty talented, and part of him wished he could sneak above ground just long enough to see the one who was currently belting out some highly energized lyrics alongside a band that included someone going ham on the drums and another likely shredding their guitar to pieces. But he needed to stay down here, in the hall near the arena ring’s entrance and try not to listen to the others around him. The next round was a one-on-one duel, essentially one of those “duke it out until one of you is trapped under your protective dome” battles. Even in normal duels these were known to get flashy and intense, with duelists bringing out an array of combat skills that they had honed and personalized practically down to an art. But in the final stretch, the battles became extra intense. Flashier, tougher, more varied. Half of the finalists would have a summon at their side, and the ones that didn’t had enough skill and versatility with their spellcasts and physical prowess that they could stay on par with those that had the magical boost. And every one of them would be giving their all to win. After all, each duelist who had made it this far proved they were the best of the best. Now they were gunning to show they were at the top of even that food chain. Trevor Art, the Storyteller, had participated in the duel for the past three years, and this was his second time making it to the Championships. He was a crowd favorite, with his illusionary skills and control over various elements making the very Arena change before his opponent and the crowd’s eyes, looking and feeling all too real. He would make an excellent hunter, or even a Champion one day, which was what many in the crowd expected to happen this year. The whispers came regarding his opponent. Members of the Academy who trained in the educational setting and under professionals employed by the Citadel did not have to work through the point system to get their place in the Championships- their passing grades, trial exams, and practical experience under the mentorship of professionals helped vouch for their skills. Normally that was enough that if an Academy graduate came in to the championships, they were at the very least expected to make it to the semi-finals.

Sean, however, was young. Most duelists made their way into the ring in their twenties if not older. Occasionally an eighteen or nineteen year old may make their debut, but very rarely did they make it far their first year. He had made it in at the ripe age of fourteen, having sped through the Academy with a mixture of independent study and spending most every spare minute either in classes or training. Plus Oliver was his mentor, and his guardian. He had been ever since Sean’s parents disappeared two years prior while hunting down a lead on the Mad Queen. Yet despite that, most of the dueling world questioned Sean’s right to be in the championships, albeit in hushed undertones and when people believed he and the Citadel were not listening. But he was ready, and he was motivated. The rogues had taken his only family from him, and if they had their way would do the same to many, many other people who would be much worse off than he was when he suddenly found himself an orphan.

“Reinhardt!” Sean looked over as one of the assistants with a headset and a tablet in hand called his name. “You’re up.”

He nodded his thanks and followed her as she led him away from the groups. He heard a few half-hearted “good lucks” from the other duelists, but they were just that: half-hearted. Nobody expected him to win, not against the Storyteller.

Sean was led up a ramp towards one of the two entrances before being directed to stop in a circle. “I will signal when you can step into the ring,” the assistant explained, her voice sounding rehearsed to the point that Sean felt as if she was reading from a script. He might have thought there was one on her tablet, if she didn’t start typing on it before holding it out. “Before you do, we want to make sure all of your equipment is working properly. Please move your domer band in front of the screen?”

He raised his wrist, the thick black leather with a circular manufactured shard embedded in the top appearing from under his sleeve as he did so. He turned his wrist and held the shard close, watching as the machine showed a meter and read off spellcast signatures and energy outputs for ten seconds before showing the results. The it was working at optimal performance.

The assistant checked the readings, nodding in approval before switching to another screen. “Now raise your shards the same way.”

“Is the conditional not about my readings in my records?” Sean asked, already pulling out the handful of small multicolored jewels, each shaped spherical with multiple facets.

She checked again, then nodded. “Yes, it is noted here that you have specialized shards that have a dormant signature. The system will just make sure that the spellcasts are registered and in functioning order.”

He nodded, holding them up again to the screen when presented it. A moment later, the screen broke into a graph-like grid, with each square reflecting the spellcast writings in each of his JEGs. A scanning reel popped up over each one as the system checked to ensure that the spells were both registered in Sean’s database, and in working order. All passed, and he put the shards away.

“You will have to go through the same process with the domer with the referee,” the assistant explained. “This is more ceremonial however, so that the referee, your opponent, and the crowd can witness that your safety nets work.”

“That’s fine,” he replied, mentally checking himself over before making sure the large purple and azure blue shard hanging around his neck by a chord was secure. He felt a small pulse come from it as his fingers brushed the cool surface, and a sense of reassurance seemed to fill his mind as Companion tried to calm the nerves he was trying to keep in check.

He took a deep breath and turned his attention to the entrance of the ring. The performers and hypemen were now getting the crowd ready for his and Trevor’s battle. He knew this because the song made references to writing your own story and making it to the top. It has pop elements to it and was something that probably had many people in the audience out of their seats, jumping and singing along to. Sean felt a small pang of jealousy at that. Traditionally, duelists who made it to the championships had a song written for them by one of the hypemen. Even those that came in from the Academy found themselves with one before their first battle. It was a little something special the musical performers did for their companions, a little nod to their work which many Champions and a number of experienced hunters could be caught humming from time to time as they worked around the Citadel. But because Sean had been entered in short notice (and because- let’s face it- nobody expected him to make it past this first duel) he didn’t have one. Considering how late it was into the championships already, he likely would not get one even if he made it into the finals. He reasoned with himself that it wasn’t everything, even if he did like the music styles of the hypemen this year.

Sean shook his head, pushing it out of his mind as he again took a mental assessment of his shards and techniques on hand, as well as what he knew about Trevor. It was said that once you got into the Storyteller’s illusions, it was extremely difficult to get out of it. Even if he could somehow break it, likely Trevor would have knocked him around quite a bit. Considering Trevor was also well versed in hand to hand combat, and always had a couple metal batons tucked away just in case, it was pretty much game over regardless if the battle took too long. Sean frowned thoughtfully. But the illusions took time to form. It was not a lot of time, maybe a minute or two at most. But maybe it would be enough. Sean would have to make sure to have his own plan in action before that minute or two was up. Now he just had to figure out what that plan was, which had been eluding him ever since he found out who is first opponent would be two days ago. Yeah, he thought, the others are right, he’s completely screwed.

Still, as the announcer’s voice cut through the music, and as the assistant signaled the go ahead, Sean held his head high as he stepped calmly and as confident as he could muster into the ring. Lights shined brightly down on him, nearly blinding his good eye after being in the dim underground waiting areas. The music was all but drowned out by cheers and screams of excitement erupting from above. It sounded like every seat in the arena was filled. He tried not to think about that as he stepped towards the center of the ring where the referee was waiting. From the opposite side of the arena, Trevor also approached, looking at home in the arena ring as he casually looked up and waved at the crowd as he walked. Both stopped in front of the referee, running through the motions of rehearsing the rules and making sure their domers worked properly.

Trevor extended his hand to Sean good naturedly. “Best of luck.”

“You too,” Sean took the offered hand, giving a firm shake. As he did, he took a moment to assess Trevor up close, much as Trevor was doing to him. He could tell from the focus in the Storyteller’s gaze that he was taking the kid seriously, and probably was wondering just what made Sean Reinhardt tick. Well, that was no surprise. Even in the Academy students were normally put through years of education, then the post education process, so people had time to learn about them. Not Sean though, he realized. Nobody in the dueling world had a clue what he could do. That included the man standing in front of him. Maybe…

He once again felt the small pulse from his shard, and this time felt encouragement to keep with his thought process. It was worth a shot, but he had to time it right. By the look Trevor was giving him, going fast wasn’t going to be the way to stop him. Deciding what he had to do, he stepped away, the other duelist doing the same. Both went to their starting positions, then turned to face each other once more.

“The duelists have agreed to battle until the last man stands. The battle shall continue until one forfeits or is no longer able to battle. If a defensive dome activates, the duelist will be considered unable to battle further and forfeit.” The announcer’s voice rang across the arena. “Duelists, prepare yourselves.” Sean squared his shoulders, taking a few calming breaths through his nose. “On my mark. START!”

The crowd erupted into applause. But then it slowly ebbed away to confusion as neither duelist moved.

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Nanowrimo Day 9 (continuation of day 8)

“We will be careful,” Matilda assured the woman. “While we may not be on the Citadel’s official payroll, we have experience with dealing with rogues and natural spirits.”

This seemed to pique the old woman’s interest. “I expected rogues, but the natural world also?”

“Robbie and I are both summoners,” she explained. When Mrs. Winterson looked to Robbie for confirmation, he lifted his JEG out from beneath his shirt. The orange and red gem glowed before giving a small chirp as Spark voiced his version of a hello.

“Oh my!” she gasped. “I have never seen a summon this close before.”

Robbie tucked the gem away again. “He’s a fire type, so it’s best not to let him out further than that.”

Matilda nodded, smiling sheepishly, “Draco likely wouldn’t fit in the kitchen, sadly.”

“That is quite alright,” Mrs. Winterson replied, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Knowing that you young ones have assistance in this matter…well, it takes a heavy weight off my chest.”

“Speaking of which,” Robbie spoke, “you said that you thought everyone who disappeared gave up on their investigation and left during the night. Where did they investigate?”

“Just about everywhere,” she answered. “At first people were interested in the house itself, though as you might guess it did not meet their standards for supernatural appeal.” She motioned to the warm colors and floral patterns that decorated most of the living room. “Many did go to barn and out in the fields. This house sits on twelve acres, you see,” she winked. “More than a few suspected that perhaps something sinister happened in those fields once upon a time.”

“Is there any records that suggest that?” Matilda asked.

“Heavens no!” she laughed. “But you try explaining that to a crew eager to catch a ghost on camera.”

“That should be our starting point then,” Robbie mused.

Mrs. Winterson nodded. “I would agree. Though,” she looked to the windows and the darkening sky, “I would be more than happy to show you around the barn now. But might I suggest staying in my guest rooms tonight and investigating in the morning? As I said, the others went searching at night. It would bring me a level of comfort if you refrained from doing the same.”

The pair exchanged a glance. Neither had expected this to be a day trip, especially after the long drive to get to the farmhouse. However, they hadn’t expected to actually spend the night on the property where the haunting was happening. The house was warm and inviting though, and both knew from experience that the SUV was great to drive in, but sucked for spending the night and hoping for any form of good nights rest. Well, that could be said for any vehicle, given Robbie’s and Matilda’s heights. They made a silent agreement, then Matilda turned her attention back to Mrs. Winterson. “If it’s no trouble, we would love to take you up on your offer.”

Mrs. Winterson smiled. “It is no trouble at all.” She stood, clearing her nearly untouched plate. “Now, that pie will be done shortly but will need to cool. Let me show you where the guest rooms are so you can settle in, then we can have some dessert and a good night’s rest before you both start out.”

Mrs. Winterson had not been kidding when she said she was an empty nester used to cooking for many. Aside from her room, there were four more bedrooms upstairs. Though one had always been a craft and hobby room for her, the other three that had now been converted to guest bedrooms once belonged to her three children, who had long since grown, left, and were now raising their own families closer to the cities. Each of the rooms was now painted a soft white, and furnished with a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a lamp that has some unique shade and design. Robbie chose the room that had a lamp wrapped in artificial grape vines, while Matilda chose one with a lampshade that looked like stained glass sunflowers. Once chosen, the pair went back to the SUV to grab their normal travel luggage, a perk of living on the road during dueling season since they carried everything they needed with them. While they would have preferred to have started the investigation right away, they understood Mrs. Winterson’s concern about investigating and the disappearances. So, they stayed in, enjoying a slice of the cherry pie and playing a couple of rounds of Farkle with their host before retiring for the evening.

Robbie changed into some sweat pants and a loose shirt before sitting on the bed, then flopping back with his arms resting behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling in silent thought, trying to comb over what little he knew from the request that came in, and what Mrs. Winterson has shared. It sounded like there has been a haunting here for a long time. But, from what Mrs. Winterson said the local ghost was not exactly trouble, at least not until recently. Disappearances though weren’t exactly a ghost’s M.O. from what he had heard. Normally that came from a more solid, more living type of being. So, either something was messing with Casper, or something else moved in…

A light flickered just outside of Robbie’s window, catching his attention. He turned just in time to see the dark blue and silver speckled form of Draco’s phantom body fly past, seemingly heading towards the fields. Robbie sat up, taking a good look at the large dragon. He didn’t have a rider, and nobody was running beneath him. Robbie stood, leaving his room and going to the next one over, knocking lightly.

Matilda opened the door. She had also changed for the night, currently sporting a sweatshirt from last year’s dueling season and some exercise shorts. Robbie raised a brow at her, not saying a thing. She returned it, then cracked, shaking her head. “He’s many things, but Draco can’t stealth worth a damn.” She opened the door wider for Robbie to come in.

He stepped inside. “Need Spark to look around too?”

“Probably, but not yet,” she answered, shutting the door behind him. “I’m having Draco do an overall search, just making sure we aren’t actually looking for a serial killer and a mass grave.”

“And if he does we take the old lady and run?”

“What if the old lady is the serial killer?”

Robbie rolled his eyes, “If she was, she would have poisoned us with the pie by now.” He folded his arms over his chest, regarding her thoughtfully. “Not ruling out a serial killer, but if Draco turns up empty handed what are our other options?”

“Honestly?” Matilda mirrored his stance. “This smells of Rogue, especially with the disappearances without a trace. I mean, at the very least the vehicles of the missing people should have been found.”

“That would have to be a pretty powerful rogue,” he commented.

Matilda agreed. “I’d peg it at least a Manipulator rank if it is.”

“From the sound of that, I’d wager you’re not ruling out the ghost?” Robbie asked.

She was silent a moment, considering how to answer. “We are summoners, so we know that spirits can be good and do good,” she began. “That being said, we have also seen how they can change, like people. We can’t rule out that this ghost may be dirty.”

Robbie held up his hands. “I get it. I’ve seen my fair share of summons in the ring that I wonder why someone in their right mind bonded with them. I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page with that. Though, it’s odd that if it went bad that it hasn’t chased off Mrs. Winterson.”

“It could be affecting her a different way,” she mused. “Did you notice how she didn’t touch any of her food tonight? Like, at all?”

Robbie thought back. Now that Matilda mentioned it, he had only seen her pushing it around, not actually taking a bite. It seemed odd in hindsight, especially since she had made that meal with a party of one in mind. The thought that perhaps the ghost was affecting her appetite came to mind, but the more he considered things, the more he doubted that. He shook his head. “I don’t think that she’s being affected by the ghost like that,” he supplied. “Yeah she didn’t eat, but doesn’t look starved in any sense of the word.”

“True,” she relented. “Still, I’m not sure what to make of this house, or this ghost quite yet.”

“The house?”

Matilda nodded, “You know how the stories go. If it’s not the scary dilapidated, clearly haunted house that’s the setting, it’s the cute little house where Grandma could live where everything hits the fan.”

“Want me to stay in here until Draco gets back?” Robbie offered.

Matilda grinned, “I said that I don’t know what to make of it, not that I’m afraid of it. If anything tries anything, I can hold my own.”

“Honestly, I think you’re the scariest thing here,” Robbie agreed, “That’s including the flaming lion-ferret in my JEG and your dragon made of literal stars roaming the place.”

She chuckled, “Good! We’re on the same page then.” Then, she stretched, stifling a yawn. “Anyway, I’m going to get some shut eye. We can get to work first thing in the morning.”

Robbie nodded, turning back towards the door. “Have a good night, Mattie.”

“You too,” she said, seeing him out before closing the door with a quiet click so as not to wake their host.

Robbie returned to his room, only to pause when his hand was an inch from the doorknob. Weird. The house was warm, yet the doorknob felt cold. Ice cold even. Against his chest, he could feel Spark’s JEG warming, but whether it be from curiosity or caution, Robbie couldn’t tell. Slowly, carefully, he turned the knob, and opened the door to the guest room.

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Day 8 (may have a part two to this one...)

“Thanks again for this.” Matilda’s SUV came to a stop near some train tracks as she checked for any oncoming locomotive. Robbie sat shotgun, a roadmap in hand and playing navigator for the past twenty minutes since their signal and GPS went out about a minute after a blackout alert sounded, leaving them in the middle of buttfuck nowhere with very little inkling as to where they were and absolutely no idea how to get where they were headed. Fortunately, they had happened upon an old gas station turned convenience store. The clerk knew the local legends, including the rumors of the farmhouse which was thought to be haunted. What wasn’t a rumor was that paranormal investigators, and investigators in general, were all last heard from when they went there. After explaining that they were duelists hired to investigate the incidents, the clerk had been more than happy to supply them with a roadmap along with directions on how to get to their location.

Robbie glanced up from the map. “Are you thanking me for coming along? Or having at least half an idea on how to read one of these things?”

Matilda grinned. “Both.”

He shrugged. “Spark’s been bored lately and I have my point quota. Might as well make some extra spending cash in the meantime.”

“And the fact that you might be saving a lot of people from a rogue means no, never mind to you?” she asked, though the unchanged grin suggested that she already knew the answer.

“I won’t say it’s not a factor,” he replied.

“Good,” she nodded, continuing to drive down the road. “How much farther.”

Robbie squinted at the pen-marked line made by the clerk. “Looks like…three more intersections, then make a left.”

“After that?”

“Drive straight until the sun sets.”

She winced. “Gonna make you DJ for that part of the road. And possibly the caffeine distributor.”

“Might want to ration that. From the looks of it there’s no rest stops. You’ll be popping a squat next to the back tire.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“…Strangely, that is not something I’d expect to come out of someone who is referred to as the Queen of the Duels, is practically a pop idol, and a former ballerina.”

She laughed. “Get with the times, my guy. And pass me one of those energy drinks.”

It did not take too long to come to the intersection, and soon the pair found themselves getting away from what had already been sparse and small farming downs, nearly ghost towns thanks to all the city jobs and progressions made by manufactured shards taking over. For the better part of an hour they passed by field after golden field, various grains nearly ready for harvest. Occasionally they would spot a building in the distance, or a dilapidated barn, but a quick glance from the map told them it was not what they were looking for.

Matilda was about to suggest pulling over and rechecking the map, Robbie spoke. “There should be a small road up ahead to our right. Turn up that. The property should be at the end of it.”

“Finally,” she sighed, spying the road and flipping on her turn signal. Robbie raised a brow, turning to look behind as if expecting a car to be behind them on the deserted road. “Shut up, the law’s the law.” Robbie smirked in response, but folded up the map and stuck it in the glove compartment before grabbing his sweatshirt from the back. He reached into the pocket and pulled out his crude looking red and orange JEG wrapped in a leather cord and placed it around his neck, tucking it into his shirt. He glanced at Matilda, confirming that she was already wearing her chocker with the deep blue JEG, nearly passable as a sapphire if it weren’t for the silver flecks that would sparkle to life when the light hit it just right. Against his chest, he could feel the JEG warming slightly as Spark made his presence known, his summon partner curious about what they would find at the end of the road. Robbie was also curious. Given the places they saw along the way, many of the houses and farms in the area were long abandoned, presumably bought up by whatever company now owned those fields. Yet this was the place that was rumored to be haunted. Or rogue infested. Either way, a house with that rumor and at the end of a road in the middle of nowhere? He guessed it would look like something out of a horror novel.

Which was why when Matilda pulled into the gravel driveway of a quaint farmhouse with trimmed flowering bushes, Robbie was grabbing the map and double checking their location even before Matilda had a chance to give him a questioning glance. The address was correct, and he squinted up at the building. The house was a two story building with a wrap around patio, painted a soft yellow with white trim and shutters. Floral curtains were pulled back on the windows, revealing in the closest one what looked like a living room with a soft cushion sofa and chairs around a table. Stones had been placed to make a walking path and were lined with pink and red pansies. A red barn could be seen behind the house, looking kept up well and perhaps painted within the past month.

“I swear Nan has a painting of this place in her kitchen,” Robbie stated.

“I think my grandma does too,” Matilda agreed. The pair exchanged unsure glances before slowly stepping out of the SUV and making their way up to the door.

“So we’re just going to knock?” Robbie asked.

“Why not?” Matilda asked. “Someone lives here. Maybe they can direct us to the right house?”

Robbie frowned, looking up at the house again but not slowing his stride, keeping in step with the duel queen. They both paused at the door, and Matilda raised her fist, knocking swiftly three times. A moment later, the door opened, revealing a homely looking woman, possibly in her early sixties. She wore a brown dress with autumn leaf patters played around the skirt and a white button up sweater. A dish towel was in hand and she appeared to be wiping the remnants of flour off of them, likely the last of whatever the pair could smell baking in the kitchen.

“Oh! Hello. I was not expecting guests,” she greeted politely.

Matilda smiled. “Sorry to bother you ma’am, but I think my friend and I were lost. We were given directions and an address a while back and it turned out that it led us here instead of where I think we needed to go.”

“Oh, no, I believe you are in the right place,” the woman smiled. “You are another one of those youths curious about the haunted farmhouse, right?”

“And that’s here?” Robbie asked slowly, making sure that they were on the same page.

“Why of course!” The woman nodded with a light titter. “Your look is just the same as the others. Were you expecting some abandoned shack in the middle of these hills?”

“Actually…” Matilda glanced back as if she could still see the buildings they passed.

The woman waved her off. “Posh. Even ghosts may have standards love. Oh, but where are my manners? I am Mrs. Winterson. I daresay I have lived in this house since my husband built it some forty years ago.” She opened the door wider. “Please, do come in. I suspect you didn’t pack a lunch and I do have a habit of making more than I need.”

“Thank you,” Matilda said, taking a step into the house. “I’m Matilda DelRay, and this is Robert James. We were asked to come investigate some disappearances that may have happened around here.”

“Ah, you do not need to inform me of that, dear,” Mrs. Winterson said, leading them through the living room they had seen to a small kitchen with a connecting dining room. The pair spied what looked to be a casserole of sorts cooling on a rack, while a cherry pie, the source of the flour, sat ready for the top crust that had been rolled out to be cut and placed on top before it could be put in the oven. “I was the one who made the request. Of course, I had not received any reply, so I didn’t think anyone had taken up the request yet.”

“Robbie and I were passing through when we heard of it,” Matilda replied, looking at the woman curiously. Robbie was too. It sounded like she was familiar with this ghost, and if she had lived here for decades then she obviously wasn’t afraid of it, or didn’t think it dangerous. Why call it in now?”

Mrs. Winterson walked over to the casserole, checking it over before giving a satisfied nod. She turned to the pair then gestured to the table. “Sit, please. We can talk over dinner. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”

“Water, thanks,” Matilda answered, taking a seat.

“I’ll take some tea,” Robbie replied. Instead of sitting though, he moved into the kitchen. “Where are your plates?”

Mrs. Winterson blinked. “The cabinet to the left of the sink.”

“Thank you.” He quickly went to grab three plates, bringing them over, then proceeding to help the older woman with serving dinner.

Mrs. Winterson laughed with delight. “Well! Aren’t you a helpful young man!”

“Nan would have my hide if I weren’t earning my keep,” he replied, taking a seat once dinner was set.

“Well I do hope you can earn it by solving this conundrum of mine,” Mrs. Winterson replied, sitting down with her own plate. Her friendly expression sobered as she got to the business at hand. “I am sure you are wondering why I made such a request.”

“It did cross my mind,” Matilda answered.

The old woman nodded, idly picking at her casserole but not taking a bite. “As you may have already suspected, the ghost that lives here has been here for some time. Even with a specter here, this house has always been as Louis- that’s my late husband- and I wanted it to be: a welcoming place where travelers can get a warm meal and bit of rest. If anything, the ghost that resides here has always helped with that aspect.” She frowned. “About a month ago though, things began to change. There have always been visitors curious about the rumors of the haunting. Most nights, they go out, expecting to find some sort of activity in the house or the barn. It wasn’t unusual for some to be gone by morning, so when I woke up to find people not downstairs for breakfast, well, I thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until the detective came and spoke of missing people that I realized something was truly amiss.”

“Was there anything left behind?” Robbie asked.

Mrs. Winterson shook her head. “Much like you, they all needed to drive here. Any luggage they had, their ‘ghost hunting equipment’, even their vehicles were all gone by morning. I told the detectives this and allowed them to search the property. They and I have found nothing. Then, even they disappeared.” She set her fork down, wringing her hands slightly. “I must admit, with that in mind I have placed you both at risk with this also. I am hoping as duelists and experts with the supernatural and unknown you may stand a better chance.”

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Nanowrimo Day 7!

Butterflies filled Battler’s stomach as he stood to the side of the makeshift arena. For all this research on duels, all the videos he had watched, all the pep talks he gave himself leading up to this moment, the real thing left him completely overwhelmed. And to think, this wasn’t even an official real thing. He and Kai were new to the scene, and they were nobodies with a name that meant absolute jack and shit as far as Cassa was concerned. That meant they needed to start at the bottom ranks of the Queen’s Duels if they didn’t want to raise suspicion.

Yet the Queen’s Duels themselves seemed to be an odd duck itself if he was being honest. From what he had gathered, these duels were meant to show a duelist’s skill and prowess, how they could handle a fight and think on their feet. For every official duel they earned or lost points until they finally made up enough to make it to the Championship finals, or bottomed out and either retired or tried again next year. Then the finals were the best of the best, competing until there was on champion who was offered the position of-well- Champion. All that made sense to him. If you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth and able to afford those insane tuition costs of the Academy, then you needed another way to make your way up the ranks. Proving yourself through experience in the duels was a way to do that. Then there was the hypemen. Since, again, getting those raw shards and programming devices, and charging shards after their use in battle was expensive, there were other methods needed to keep the battle shards, the defenses, the barrier domes all active. That was where guys like Battler came in- hypemen, as they were called. Their name basically said what they did-what he was meant to do. He needed to stir up the crowd, get them hyped up and going. Then, he would use his own specially designed JEGs to take that energy right out of the air, turn it into something useful, and charge the arena. From all his practice so far, he could safely say it was no picnic; after ever round he found himself breathless and parched, sometimes even needing to lay down while Kai dropped icepacks on him until he cooled off. It wasn’t a job for just anyone, but he had adjusted enough. He could handle that part.

What he found himself suddenly questioning if he could handle was the sudden bought of stage fright that gripped him. His first duel, an underground duel, was taking place in an abandoned warehouse in a town that hunters and champions probably frequented once every fourth blue moon if that. After some digging, a few bucks trading hands, and an unofficial signup, he and Kai were in. He had been told that as a hypeman he needed a stage name and a glamour- one of the required defense measures required in case his energy usage attracted a rogue- and came up with Battler on the spot. He also knew that he would have to perform and get the crowd excited enough to charge the JEGs, and that part of the entry fee for joining as a hypeman/duelist team was for him to compete against other hypemen to see who could put on the best act. The top hypeman would earn their team a bonus, since they would be responsible for keeping the charge up for the remainder of the duel, and their entrance fee refunded. But it was more than that. This area was where hypes and duelists made themselves known. Whatever Battler Dynast did on the stage here? Well, it would be the start of his career- no, it would determine if he would have a career as a hypeman. The fans here would eventually follow his shows from place to place, if he succeeded. Between that and Kai’s dueling prowess they would make enough to cover the official entry fees to the Queen’s Duels. They would be able to sign up for the official arenas, where the cut they received wasn’t based on bets, but how much they filled an arena.

But that was just it- Kai was the duelist. He was here for the fight, and his focus should be on the fight. Battler knew what that meant- a no-nonsense guy who had some killer techniques, but could be about as social as a pet rock. That meant it was up to Battler to be the energy and charisma. He had to stand out.

And yet, he could feel the sweat forming on his palms as he looked out at the others, already revving up the crowd. The warehouse hadn’t been cleared when it was abandoned from the looks of it, and many crates and boxes had been placed and stacked in a large circle, creating a ring of sorts where the people sat or stood. Some waved colorful glowing JEGs in the air, while others pumped their fists, cheered, or chanted along with whatever the performer in front of them was doing. It was warm ups currently, and these guys were known in this particular ring. One in particular had JEGs fashioned as knuckle dusters, and as he passed some of the trash bins that currently had flames licking up from them, the fire changed color. Another was doing some break dancing moves, sparks of electricity following the movement of his legs. A woman sang a ballad of sorts, and as she did music notes filled the air. Every one of them had a theme it seemed and Battler noticed how in each section the crowd seemed to resonate with that theme. They were looking for a good time, but this spoke to something deeper than he expected, and the confidence he felt when he strode into the warehouse earlier was ebbing fast.

A hand fell with a clap on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned his head, seeing Kai standing next to him, eyes on the hypemen.

“They’re talented,” he quietly mused.

“Real good,” Battler agreed.

“These three are experienced. Though I have been hearing that there is some talent in the new arrivals.” Battler nodded, silently focusing on the crowd so that he didn’t have to acknowledge Kai’s gaze shift to him. “You’re one of those new talents.”

“Well, for us I hope so.”

“I know so,” Kai stated.

Battler chewed the inside of his cheek, staying silent for a few moments. “The performances are really diverse. The crowd’s eating it up though. They want a lot.”

Now it was Kai’s turn to nod. He turned his attention back to the crowd. “Well, give it to them.”

Battler looked at him confused.

Kai shrugged. “A hypeman’s job is to build energy, right? If you know what they want to make that happen, then give them what they want.”

Battler wanted to ask more, but at that moment the three in the ring finished up, the crowd roaring with delight. The duelists began to gather in one side of the arena, while the hypemen began to fill the ring. Being one of the last to enter and having no prior stage time, Battler would be one of the last to go and decided to take his time.

Kai on the other hand glanced to the gathering duelists before releasing Battler’s shoulder. “You got this.” He raised his fist, his back of his hand facing Battler. Battler did the same and their wrists bumped.

“Cheer for me from the sidelines?” Battler asked.

Kai smirked. “How about I give you a satisfied I-told-you-so nod when you put up the barrier dome?”

Battler grinned. “I’d prefer a little hype for the hypeman.”

“Hard pass,” he replied, giving a light wave and heading towards the duelists. “See you on the other side.”

Battler waved as well, then turned to the other hypemen in the ring. It was a mix, he could already tell. Some were definitely first timers like himself, trying and having some setbacks, but still pushing through. Others were pretty decent and seemed to be honing their skills. Then there were some good ones that almost seemed to work on the fly, with a series of dance battles, sing offs, and special effects by JEGs lighting up the various hypemen.

But none were doing all three at once…He looked to the crowd. Some cheered loudly for the special effects. Others sang along with the covers or familiar originals some were singing. A crowd in the corner chanted “flip! Flip! Flip!” until one hypeman did a backflip, earning a roar of appreciation. From the strain JEGs and hyping took on the body, he could understand why they wouldn’t want to try it. It was probably very rare for that to happen all at once. ….So how would they react if someone could? Wheels turning, he looked around the arena. The lights overhead were basic fluorescents, but there were also some colorful spotlights. The flames were just trash fires, but he had some experience with fire manipulation- that wouldn’t be a problem. As for the speakers….yeah, he could see the technician and their booth from here. He could work with this. Maybe. It would take a lot of JEGs though, probably all of them he had on him.

Battler watched the others, gauging how much time he had left before he was allowed to come on. The girl who was five slots in front of him was beckoned onto the stage. That gave him about five minutes. Ok. He kneeled, laying the JEGs out and whipped a scry pen out of his jacket pocket. Writing as quickly as possible, he laid spellcast after spellcast into the JEGs, making connectors, effects, controls, you name it. Just when he thought he was done, he glanced back at himself and his glamour. He hadn’t given it much thought at first, just a bit of shadow and something to make him silhouette if any sort of tech tried to film or snap a picture of him. He looked back to his effect JEGs, and quickly modified the glamour, adding what looked like writing of the spell circle in nean writing glowing on his clothes, straight up over his eye and frosting the tips of his hair. He gave himself a once over, then nodded. It would do. He shoved the rest of the JEGs into any pocket where they would fit and not fall out if he was moving around, keeping six out that he held between his fingers. When he was beckoned onto the arena, he looked the other hypemen straight on, a confident air and a playful smirk on his face. When he spoke, his voice echoed through the speakers, much to the surprise of the technicians and the other hypemen. He took a step forward.

“Three.”

The lights went out as his foot hit the ground. He took another step.

“Two.”

Neon lights ricocheted off the ground, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that spanned out from his footstep, reaching the feet of the audience which called out in awe and delight. He took one final step. The spotlights all turned, lighting his up. In his hand, one of the JEGs had reacted a guitar out of neon lights, matching the reds, oranges and yellows of his glamour’s markings. He ripped a chord and was rewarded with the enthusiastic applause and cheers. He grinned mischievously and found some people in the crowd to lock eyes with, tilting his head playfully as he unknowingly started down a path that would change his life forever.

“One.”

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Nano Day 5 and 6 (catching up and rolling it into one longer story blurb)

Oliver had a problem. Well, as the Citadel Master and current descendant of the Lunaean Cassandra, he supposed the number of problems he had on any given day were numerous. Between board meetings and ensuring the Champions and hunters had what they needed, as well as maintaining relationships with Vandeberg industries to ensure the manufactured shards were properly charged and maintained, keeping the power flowing and the lights running in Cassa, he had his hands full. He had come to expect those issues over the years. Solutions were easy enough to come by with a bit of critical thinking and negotiating. When a solution was not clear he had enough allies and brilliant minds willing to provide their own insight.

No, his problem was something completely different. To be frank he had not expected this to ever become something he would have to deal with. It had risen thanks to one of his solutions to the power needed to run their ever growing cities, as well as create a method to bring magic back to all mankind so that a united front could be formed against the rogues rather than place the entire burden on himself, the shard bearers, and their partners. He stared thoughtfully down at the small magenta gem laying on his desk. Even after three decades, Oliver still marveled at the success of replicating the natural shards to this extent, and in such massive quantities. Though certainly the manufactured shards could not replenish energy on their own as the natural shards could, nor hold the sheer quantity of power as their original counterparts, the prepowered gems could do virtually anything so long as their energy quantities were high enough and the proper spellcast was written inside. He introduced the first of these those thirty years ago, proudly stating how his Lunaean bloodline had finally manifested its magic, and with it his ability to create near countless shards filled with the seeming limitless supply of Lunaean energy, this generation’s blessing from Cassandra’s bloodline. What was more, with the Citadel at its heart a network of power stations had branched out from the heart of the capital to the farthest reaches of the country. They refueled the natural shards plugged into the power grid, and those that were not could be recharged by plugging in at home or at the various stations found around cities and towns. Now the shards ran everything, replacing virtually all the old methods for creating power and fuel, as well as provided hunters and Champions the means to go head to head with the rogues, particularly those under the Mad Queen’s influence. All had gone without a hitch, even when the appearance of a new type of shard, a JEG as those who used it called them, began to appear and gain popularity among the contributors to the Queen’s Duels, the manufactured shards still ran everything smoothly.

But then Amelia contacted him. To say the least it had been a surprise. The shard bearer had been gone for nearly as long as the manufactured shards had been around, having moved overseas with her husband, Shade. From what he had understood, Amelia and Shade wanted time to adapt and rest after the Chaos lord fled, away from the limelight and the backlash that Shade would undoubtedly face for his initial part in the conflict that would leave countless blood and power-thirsty rogues on Cassa. Oliver could understand this, the title Shard Bearer holding much weight. The Benidetti’s were held on the level of Aristocracy. Another shard bearing line was now part of the VandeBergs, whose industries were now the major producers of the manufactured shards on behalf of the Citadel. As for the last? Well, they had not been seen for some time. Many believed they had died out. He believed Amelia’s own line would die out with her, if he was being honest with himself.

And yet, his assumption had been proven wrong with that call. There was a child. Well, less a child and more a young tween by this point, but a child nonetheless. She and Shade were parents. While Oliver’s initial reaction had been surprise and joy, the more serious matters regarding the call immediately overtook the joyous news. The boy had Shade’s blood running through his veins. According to Amelia, he was no stranger to the blood running in his veins, and due to the blood of his parents, he had expressed interest in one day joining the hunters and champions. However, he had yet to show signs of connecting to her own natural shard. Oliver understood what this meant. Typically a shard bearer began to connect when they were age ten, having gained full control of the shard and allowing it to pass down typically between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. Likely, he would not have that technique. Oliver had been hesitant to ask the question on his mind, and when he eventually did, he discovered with a sinking sensation in his stomach that his hunch had been correct. The boy had Shade’s abilities. Perhaps not as strong as his father, being only half of his kind, but certainly enough. Amelia feared that if he decided to use the manufactured shards, given her understanding that they were made similarly to natural shards and composed of Lunaean power, they might be harmful to her boy. Putting is mildly, the shards were more complex and had far more elements than more would be led to believe, but he did not find her concern unfounded. Rather, he also worried about how it would react, given those complexities. He doubted the shards would harm the boy, but he could not rule out a reaction.

To better understand what he was dealing with, he invited the family to the Citadel. The resemblance of the boy to Amelia was striking, having her dazzling emerald green eyes and thick waves of honey blond hair. But the shape of his face was clearly turning into that of his father. By the time he reached adulthood, they would be twins in all but their coloring. So that ruled out any hope Oliver might have been holding onto regarding some sort of infidelity on Amelia’s part, though she was hardly the one to play such part.

All of that had led up this this morning in the Citadel. Oliver agreed to test the boy’s reaction to the manufactured shards, particularly when it came to combative spellcasting, in the safety of the Citadel itself. They had many test rooms where this could be done safely with the outputs monitored and analyzed. Though, it would require resources and personnel that who were going to follow a lead on the Mad Queen. Though reluctant, Amelia and Shade agreed to follow the lead in their stead with the promise that Oliver would personally watch over their boy while they were away. The boy seemed uncertain about this situation as well, but once he was told he would be able to use manufactured shards he quickly transformed, eager to use a spellcast for the first time.

Oliver had led him down to the testing floor, which had been set up rather sparse for the boy- the white room with one way viewing windows only having targets set up. He was first given something that resembled a softball, with a shard embedded inside and a button to push. It worked along the same vein as a typical household used shard- no energy or connection required by the user as the switch, or in this case button, activated the shard. Still, Oliver needed to confirm how the boy reacted in the vicinity of an activated shard first. Once Oliver was out of the room, the boy was instructed to press the button and throw the ball at the target. The boy had eyed the ball in his hand curiously for a moment, turning it over a few times before getting a comfortable grip. He pressed the button and pulled back his arm, throwing it as hard as he could at the middle target. Oliver was impressed when it hit the center, the ball flashing to life with a quick burst made to resemble a firework. The boy watched, pleased with result before turning to grin at the window, even though he could not see the others on the other side. Despite knowing the boy would not be able to see, Oliver returned the smile. If the boy intended to join the ranks of the Hunters or Champions one day he had set a good first impression.

The second test involved something that resembled a laser pointer. The boy was instructed to aim at a target and press the button. Again, like the first it would not involve any connection to the boy. However the energy would be in closer proximity to him when released. Because this one would in fact be a weapon, the boy was equipped with gloves and gear to protect himself, a barrier shard not yet a feasible idea given the nature of the test. But there was nothing to worry about. The boy took careful aim at the left target and press the button. Instantly a magenta light beamed out like a laser pointer. Unlike a laser pointer, however, when the dot of light appeared in the center of the target it began to smoke, the surface slowly being burned away. The boy released the switch, then looked to the window for approval.

Though he would have to wait until Oliver came into the room the third time to know he did well, the laser pointer being replaced with a machine that was wheeled in. It resembled an old arcade cabinet at first glance. However, rather than a game the screen showed many graphs and monitors. It also had the boy’s name and some basic information. Where the joystick and buttons may have been, instead there was a mounted sphere with a shard in the center. This would test the boy’s natural energy output, quantifying it in a manner that would show how much aptitude he had for activating shards without an external tool. Such a technique was fundamental for hunters and Champions, as it allowed them to write new spellcasts when necessary and create more complex casts on the fly. In addition, only one with a satisfactory output and ability to use shards raw could create the connections and contracts with spirits and natural creatures that would make them summoners. The boy listened with a mixture of anxiety and eagerness, already asking how to make the sphere work. It was an expected question, but not one with a straightforward answer, Oliver explained. Some felt as if they were reaching out with an extension of themselves beyond their hands. Others said it felt like they were putting their thought or willpower into the shard. He recommended the boy experiment a little. If the graph started moving, he was creating an output.

Oliver returned to the other side of the window as the boy regarded the machine thoughtfully, before placing his hand on the sphere. For a while, nothing happened as the boy scrunched his brows in thought, puffed his cheeks, gritted his teeth, and at one point even tried verbally trying to negotiate with the graph to work. Then, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm down. When he opened his eyes again, Oliver saw something change in the boy’s demeanor, he was clamed, focused, and seemed like he had put himself in some sort of focused zone. It seemed to work. The graph slowly began to rise, showing the start of numbers appearing. A satisfied look appeared on the boy’s face as he leaned in, clearly focusing harder on what he was doing. The number continued to climb. Oliver looked at the readings appearing on his side. The climb was steadily increasing, getting to numbers that showed a decent output. For a first time attempt, this was excellent. Oliver made a mental note to recommend to Amelia that her son enroll in some Academy classes. He was extremely young, but Oliver would make an exception for this level of-

His thought process was cut off by a sudden warning flashing on the screen. He looked to the graph again. Where the output had been steadily growing before, it now was accelerating, considerably at that. His attention snapped back to the lab. The boy was still focusing on the screen, though something was clearly happening. At his feet, his shadow was…wavering? No, it was shifting, and expanding. Oliver watched in shock as shadows moved across the white floor, making them look as if they were coated in black ink. He grabbed the microphone attached to the room, not having used it before so as to not startled the boy. Now his voice bounced through the test room space, ordering the boy to remove his hand. The boy jerked back, startled out of his focus by the loud voice and snapped his attention to the window. However, as he did, the stark black beneath his feet caught his attention. His eyes widened, and he howled in a mixture of confusion and fear. Even without his hand on the machine, the graph began to skyrocket, the shadows now racing up the walls and ceiling, turning the room pitch black. Then, to Oliver’s horror, it began crawling up the boy’s skin, snaking like inky swirls under his clothes, up his chin and to his left eye. The whites of the eye turned black, as did his iris, before the pupil itself turned pinpoint white. The boy grabbed his head and screamed. At once, the screen of the machine, the sphere, and the shard inside shattered, completely overloaded. The boy dropped to his knees, chest heaving and still grasping his head.

Oliver called to him time and time again through the monitor, but received no response. He took one more look at the still black coated room and ordered one of the analysts at the monitor to get the medical team right away as he raced to the door. He paused only long enough to force his own shards to the side, not wanting them to make the matter worse, especially given their sheer size, and ran in. The boy was in a state of shock, and it took a considerable amount of time to get him to calm down. By the time the medics arrived, the shadows had begun to recede, and the boy’s eye had turned back to green, albeit slightly discolored. Once checked over, it was confirmed that his vision was affected in that eye, probably permanently. Oliver had thought that the hardest part of this day would be figuring out how to break that particular news to Amelia.

But then he talked to the boy. His intention had been to check on how he was faring as he recovered. The boy, much like Oliver, had questions on what went wrong. But unlike Oliver, he had some insight from his point of view. Oliver listened with a growing pit in his stomach as the boy explained how, at first when everything was going well, he felt like he had attached to something just below the surface of the shard. He had described it similar to the sensation of planting a hand against a balloon, which caused his arm and fingers to buzz. The harder he “pressed” on the balloon, the more it felt like his arm was buzzing. However, as continued to push, he got the impression that there was something lower than the balloon. Eventually, he pushed through the balloon and touched that. It felt similar to the buzz in his hand, and when he touched it, the buzzing in his arm grew more and spread through him. He saw the numbers continuing to rise and thought he was doing something right. The boy hoped Oliver could explain what happened.

And that was what brought Oliver back to his office, studying a shard and trying to determine what to say and do. He was nearly certain he knew the answer, and it was an answer that meant that the boy could never use a traditional manufactured shard. The power beneath had reacted with his father’s abilities, amplifying them, causing them to grow exponentially. However, the boy was young and not ready for that level of power in his body, and his price to pay was his vision. He supposed he could explain that to Amelia, then work with her and Shade for an alternative solution for the boy. He was certainly gifted, and with his aptitude would certainly do well on the field once he was given some training and the proper tools.

But Amelia and Shade were smart. Amelia had always been extremely observant, and if it were not for Shade’s strategies and intel they may never have taken the upper hand when it came to the Chaos lord and the Mad Queen. They would ask questions about how the manufactured shards reacted. They would likely ask another burning question: why did it react the way it did? Even if he didn’t provide an answer, they would be in the best place to come close to the answer at the very least. Knowing the complexities, Oliver knew that answer, but it was not something he was yet willing to divulge, especially not to them. No, a solution to this situation had to be made before anything came to a head. If this information about the shard and how it affected the boy leaked, even if the reality was not explained, it may throw the public into a panic about the very power their society relied on. Who knew what would happen at that point- people could be quite rash when they didn’t understand the full nature of something.

He considered again what the boy said about the “balloon”. It seemed significant. He had touched upon something that seemed to activate, likely before connecting to the power source itself. Frowning thoughtfully, he turned on his computer and pulled up the diagram of a output reading sphere. Judging from the boy’s description of the sensation going through his hands, he must have been directing the connection directly through his palm. Oliver searched his memory for how the boy had been placing his hand on the sphere, and moved the three dimensional diagram to match it. From this perspective, the sphere resembled multiple layers: the sensory glass sphere casing, the crystal shell of the sphere itself, which has a minimal energy output, the spherical spellcast written into the shard, the rechargeable power core of the shard. He considered the shapes and layers thoughtfully, the pieces slowly coming together as he considered the shadows also. There had been no spellcast set for shadow conjuring, but given Shade’s abilities and what Amelia had said about the boy showing signs of having similar that was no surprise. However he had to be able to activate them somehow…and it appeared he might have utilized that same method to activate the spellcast in the output sphere before even touching upon the core powering it. He would readily admit that it was a mixture of this output plus tapping into the core that cause the entire machine to shatter at least. Which meant that if the boy was going to use shards, he would have to have one that had minimal power itself. Custom making shards would be difficult, and might put him in a tough situation down the line depending on how much power was needed. He considered that, taking down the output sphere diagram and pulling up another. Oliver considered the JEGs crudely made and in poor taste. However, there was something unique about them. They did not require a generator to power them, though certainly they could readily accept that energy. But their cores allowed for other types of energy to be accepted too, namely energy that could be created in the air charged by elevated human emotion. Perhaps there was something to this design that could help the young Reinhardt. It would take some work and experimentation before he could come up with anything concrete.

In the meantime, he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an old phone. He could not remember the last time he used the relic, and the lone number on it belonged to someone who would probably prefer to rip out his throat than listen to any sort of proposition. But she would listen, and he has a proposition for her.

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Day 4 (posting this late -oops-

Chatter filled the entrance of the Spirit Woods as multiple students made their way into the vast forest. For many this was their first time in the spirit and magical creature filled forest, and had decided to wear their Academy uniforms- an attire that resembled more of a grey business suit than outfits more suitable for the climbing and hiking that they could potentially have to do. Luckily, these students would likely be keeping to the path created by the many students that had ventured through this area before them, which would keep them on the easier path. It was the less likely path to come across some of the more powerful beings that could create potential contracts, but the chance of them coming across a ravine they may need to cross or a sudden decline that they would need to figure out how to climb later was minimal.

The luck of the students also came with the fact that they had escorts. Champions, to be exact. There was always at least one that would volunteer their services when the students from the Citadel’s Academy made their way into the Spirit Woods, what with this being the heart of the Academy, and the Citadel itself being the home base of all Champions, but today was particularly special. Thaddeus Benidetti, arguably one of the strongest and most skilled of the Champions, not to mention one of the newest generation of Benidetti Shard Bearer, was enough to get the crowd buzzing. Currently he was walking alongside the group of uniformed students, his own designer suit also standing out a bit like a sore thumb in the enchanted forest. But he would likely walk along with that main group, keeping an eye out on the easier paths where there were more people to keep watch for rather than dangers. He could do that because those that went off the beaten path had three others keeping watch. Well, Drystan Owens was not a Champion yet, but he was favored to win this year’s championship. He had managed to contract with a storm titan, a massive serpent that was aggressive and known for whipping up winds and storm clouds filled with crackling lightning off the coast. If any trouble befell a student who veered off the path, he would step in. The same could be said for Captain Sean Reinhardt. The Captain Reinhardt. Despite being the youngest on the force, and having been the youngest on the force for the past five years, Captain Reinhardt had quickly rose in the ranks, becoming one of the elite Champions. He was the child of a Shard Bearer himself, and contracted with multiple summons, including an ancient dragon that he affectionately referred to as Companion. Between his summons and skills with shard usage, Reinhardt was considered the most capable champion on the team, and had even been sent out on long term missions to track down the Mad Queen herself. Though he had yet to find her lair, he had encountered, and defeated a number of her kings, earning his stripes and becoming the poster child for the Champions as a whole.

Then there was Champion Fable Rosehart. Having held the position for three years, Fable did not resemble a Champion in any sense of the word. Rather, with her long flowing silvery white hair and lavender eyes that matched her short dress and billowing sleeves, she resembled more a fairy that may reside here than a white uniformed Champion (though she did often look at the uniforms and correlate them more to fairy tale soldiers than hunters of the modern day). To add to that, her two contracted companions, a pair of fairies, sat in a lantern that was missing its front glass pane, allowing them to come and go freely and add adding to that almost ethereal air about her. Despite her attire, Fable also glided through the Spirit Woods away from the beaten paths. It was nostalgic, comfortable even. During her days at the Queens Duels she had been called the Fairy Princess, and as her reputation grew with the crowds her name began to mold her theme in the dueling ring. Unlike those Champions who attended the Academy and gained their access to the duels through here, Fable had been one of the majority, those who started at the bottom and worked their way up, earning profits to fund their dueling venture and make a living along the way by filling arenas around the country. Illusionists and stage hypemen always ran with her over the top theme, transforming the rings into fairytale castles or forests. The really good ones could make the area feel completely authentic, so she had to grow accustomed to walking around soft moss and soil in ballet slippers.

Though nostalgia was not the only reason she chose to go this route. Up ahead, she could hear the energetic voice of Jason Bishop, a new student at the Academy who had been making something of an upstart with his unconventional and creative takes on manufactured shard writing and usage. But more importantly was who he had attached himself to. Marco Vandeberg and Gabriella Benidetti, students not just from any esteemed family, but shard bearing bloodlines. In addition, Gabriella was already a shard bearer while Marco was the heir of Vandeberg Industries, which Cassa pretty much had to thank for the mass production of manufactured shards, which allowed their modern world to run. Of all students, these two were a priority when it came to safety, even though it had not been explicitly said, and even though they could undoubtedly take care of themselves. Fable still was wrapping her head around how the three had managed to confront and defeat a rogue that had attacked a full team of hunters and came out unscathed. Many chalked it up to Gabriella’s sheer power and Marco’s brain, though she wasn’t willing to count Jason out of the equation, particularly since she had heard rumor of him being part of the dueling scene she also had originated from. He was young if he was, much younger than any other duelist or performer at a ripe age of seventeen. But there was another young one, nineteen year old Kai Dynast, who was also causing a stir and starting to make the Citadel whisper that Drystan may have a serious challenge in the championships. Even the duel’s royal court- Ice King Gideon, Duel Queen Matilda DelRay, Copy cat princess Naomi, and the HypeTwins Ayumi and Mizumi had taken interest in him, taking the rookie under their wing. It could have been that this kid was just an oversight because of the big names around him. It could just be that this year had a lot of younger blood in it.

Fable paused when the group up ahead suddenly went silent. Slowing to a stop, she listened. They had gone deep into the Spirit Woods by this point, and Fable realized it was a location that she personally had never ventured to. The fairies in her lantern poked their heads out curiously, craning their necks as if listening to something. Occasionally, their translucent wings would flick as something caught their attention. Fable listened as well, but had no luck catching what her sharp hearing companions could. She looked down to them, a silent conversation passing between them before the fairies flew out, motioning for her to follow. Trusting that they would not lead her astray, and aware that they knew the importance of not losing the group, she followed. For a while, all she saw was the gentle pink glow of her fairies up ahead as they fluttered through the trees which continued to grow denser. At one point the leaves above covered so much light that she could hardly see her hand in front of her face. Yet she continued to follow, alert and listening for anything out of the norm. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by none other than the group she was following.

“You must be out of your damn mind!” Marco’s voice cut through the air incredulously.

Fable could not hear the reply, but as she got closer she eventually picked up that the others were talking, but at a normal volume.

“It does seem to be coming from there,” Gabriella observed. “And I don’t see another way to get down.”

“Which means there’s likely not an easy way back up,” Marco snapped back.

By now, the trees were beginning to clear, revealing the group Fable was following, stopped near a ravine of sorts. Marco stood a safe distance from the edge, eyeing the others with an expression that clearly stated his annoyance at whatever the current situation was. Gabriella stood near him, trying to placate the hot tempered heir, while Jason was standing at the edge, looking down curiously. To Fable’s surprise, Captain Sean Reinhardt was there as well, kneeling and also looking over the edge as he analyzed the area below.

“I don’t so,” the captain spoke after a short while. He turned to look to Marco. “The drop is steep, but not vertical. There also look like there are good hand and foot holds. I’m pretty sure at the very least I can get back up and give everyone else a hand from there.”

Jason turned to the captain, grinning, “’At the very least you can get back up’? I’ll race you to the top!”

Gabriella nodded, then turned her attention back to Marco, “There. See?”

Marco’s expression did not change. “I see you want to follow a sound into who knows where.”

“A music box,” Gabriella corrected. “You can hear it. Why would there be one here?”

A music box? Fable strained to listen again. At first, she again heard nothing. Then, as if the wind has moved just right, she heard it. Soft, tinkling sounds of a melody that was haunting yet sweet reached her ears, nearly bringing a tear to her eyes. It was beautiful, and in a way seemed to be reaching out to them. For a moment Fable worried that it might be a trap, but then remembered that the beings in Spirit Woods were used to humans and all pretty docile. By her side, the fairies listened as well, and seemed to nod their heads at the sound. It took a moment for her to realize why. They were not hearing music. They were hearing words.

The question was what was this music saying…and why?

#nanowrimo nationalnovelwritingmonth ALiTC Freewrite

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acediting · 1 year

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Nanowrimo Day 3

“Today’s the day!” If Gideon had a quarter for every time he heard one of the freshmen at the North Academy say that he’d be able to buy a yacht. Instinctively the senior kept his thoughts to himself though, opting instead to shove his hands in his pockets as he followed along with a group of thirty some-odd of his peers and juniors. Soggy grass intermixing with mud squelched beneath their shoes, and Gideon was glad not for the first time that he chose hiking boots and some weather appropriate clothes for this venture, unlike some of the others who clearly were either on their first venture to the Spirit Woods, or had forgotten how the area was always a wet, foggy, cold mess. Being prepared for the weather didn’t exactly help his mood though, which for once had people giving him space rather than flocking to his sunshine. It couldn’t be helped. This was his fourth year coming to the Spirit Woods. His fourth year trying to find and connect with any of the spirits residing in there. His fourth year of attempting to make a contract that would make him one of the few coveted summoners. Everyone at every branch of the Citadel’s academies knew what that meant: you automatically became a cut above the rest. Your power increased. Your abilities increased. Depending on your summon, you could do things that no ordinary human could do, particularly if you were able to channel and fuse with them properly. A true summoner could match practically any rogue, best any hunter, win any duel. You were essentially guaranteed a spot as a Champion. Depending on your summon and own talent, you might even get the attention of Citadel Master and Cassandra descendant Oliver himself. Those he took under his wing…well, Thaddeus Benidetti was considered the best of the best. Though he was a shard bearer, so that went without saying. But that new kid, Sean Reinhardt? At fourteen he was the youngest Champion ever, and apparently was being trained up to become a captain of his own team at that! That was the type of backing Master Oliver provided.

Though, Gideon knew full well he was past that. After three years of failing to contract, this was his final attempt to get a summon. Once he had his diploma in hand, his permissions to enter the Spirit Forest was null and void. He didn’t really care what he got. Even a tiny fairy would do. Just so long as he contracted with something!

Maybe that’s why the excited chatter of the freshmen got to him. He had heard it every time a new group made their way down the winding path, all expecting to find and contract with the best of the best on their first visit to the forest. He had thought the same way that first day. And just like him on that first day, the vast majority of students would walk away looking some level of dejected, upset by their luck or trying to give themselves a pep talk that next year would be better, while trying not to appear too openly envious of the few peers who had managed to snare a contract with some tree sprite or earth spirit. Of course the chances of getting something more powerful than that were slim to none. Many summon worthy beings lived in the Spirit Woods, but the truly powerful ones tended to live in the Spirit Woods closest to the Citadel. Rumor had it that the power of the natural shards held by the Shard Bearers living in the city nearby, and the powerful Lunaean blood running in Master Oliver’s veins, attracted the more powerful ones to that particular woods. There hadn’t been any recorded proof of that, but given the tendencies he guessed it was a matter of if it looked like a duck and quacked like one...

Having been so caught up in his thoughts, Gideon narrowly missed that the chatter had dulled to a few murmurs. He brought himself back to the present, slowing to a stop before he bumped into anyone, and followed their gaze. They had come to a stop at a wrought iron railing that curved outwards in a half circle, but clearly marked the end of the road and the start of straight drop cliff. Carved into its side and leading downwards were stairs with the same guard rails for safety, leading down to their destination. The Spirit Woods looked just like Gideon remembered from up here: Acres and acres of deep green tree tops, only just visible at the closest parts while the rest was submerged in fog. It gave nothing away about what could be found underneath, the forest so silent that it may as well be under a spell. Gideon would have thought it was to keep up the mystery from above had he not been in there before and knew it was just as silent within. He was also aware that the deep green and fog hid more than one water network, ditches, ravines, fallen trees, and a plethora of other challenges in the terrain that would make finding their potential spirit partner more difficult.

At the front of the crowd their group leader, a graduate who has successfully contracted in this forest, cleared his throat to get their attention. “We have arrived at the Spirit Woods. Before we go in, does everyone have their map and distress shard?” Gideon reached into his pocket, pulling out the small magenta colored gem and held it up as the others did the same. The leader nodded in approval. “Good. Keep that on you and use it if you get lost or stuck in there. Each of you will have the entire day to search for a spirit and try to contract with it. If you are successful, congratulations, you are a summoner. If you cannot, don’t worry. Many of you will have other chances to enter the Spirit Woods again. Even if you cannot, there is always the chance that you can find a wayward spirit outside of Spirit Woods, though they tend to be more wild than those found here.”

Gideon couldn’t help but feel like that comment was aimed towards him, but then reminded himself that he was not the only senior in the group. Judging from their solemn expressions, their thought processes had been along the same lines as his.

The leader continued, unaware of Gideon’s thoughts and paying no attention to the atmosphere of the seniors, choosing instead to keep his attention on the freshmen. “I expect everyone to be back here by sundown. If you are not, we will have to send a team in after you. Trust me when I say you do not want to have a Champion led team escorting you out of Spirit Woods without some really good reason on your part.”

That was an understatement. Like any higher education a diploma from the Academy could get you many places, especially with expertise in manufactured shard handling. However, most Academy members had the same goal during at least one point during their stay: to be a Champion. Well, that was an extremely rare occurrence. Only one Champion was chosen annually, and that was after proving their skills in the Queen’s Duels, a combat heavy competition that involved earning points to compete in the championships, and then actually winning the championship to be offered the position. Champions ran the Citadel, hunting rogues and developing defense systems for the entirety of Cassa, all while working alongside the sharpest minds and having the latest resources at their disposal. Ultimately, their goal was the put an end to the Rogues for good, finding their leader, the “Mad Queen”, and taking her and her hive down. But that was a big task and they could not do it alone. So the Champions were given the opportunity to hire hunters for their teams, people who showed their skill and worth, even if they did not make top marks. Anyone who was trying to become a summoner was gunning for either of those positions, so making things difficult for your potential future boss was not a good way to set things off on the right foot.

The leader clapped his hands together and rubbed them, more out of keeping warmth than eagerness. “If there are no questions….? Okay! Happy hunting!” He turned and with an exaggerated flourish gestured to the stairs. Many of the freshmen started running, only to slow their pace as they caught the disapproving stare from the leader, and then discovered their newly developed fear of heights from the long descent. They looked to each other, uneasiness and doubt suddenly etching into their faces.

Gideon had seen this many times before, and recalled his own initial dread at that sudden plunge. He stepped forward, pushing down his foul mood to place a grin on his face, running a hand through his carrot top hair. He glanced at the other upperclassmen who, though looked less uneasy had yet to move. “Is it finally my turn?” He asked with an eagerness that could have come off completely genuine if people didn’t know him so well. They chuckled, which prodded him to keep moving forward, striding past the freshmen and to the stairs. He caught the eye of the leader, who quirked a brow, then his lip, but said nothing. Good, he knew the routine. Gideon turned towards the others, the largest grin on his face as he bowed. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Allow me to start us off on the journey that may just change our lives forever. With that, he stood up, stretched out his arms, and sprung back, his trajectory clear that he was going to sail over the stairs, and the railing.

Cries of shock and surprise echoed out before he stopped short, a springy, green film appearing at his back and bouncing him back to the stairs where he landed with ease. He stood up, dusting off his jacket and looking back at them. “What? You think they’re going to make an entire school walk down some sort of death trap? Of course they have protective fields. No different than bridges and highway railings.” This earned him a few nervous chuckles and quite a few more profanities. Overall, it elevated his mood considerably as he waved the others to join him as he descended down the stairs. Maybe this time would be different, he told himself. Who knew? Maybe he would get lucky.

However, as the sun began to set many hours later, one thing was for certain. Gideon was walking out of of the Spirit Woods, for the fourth time, without a contract.

#nanowrimo nationalnovelwritingmonth ALITC Freewrite

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acediting · 2 years

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Nanowrimo 2 (another random bit from ALiTC universe)

Kai was starting to miss his bike. He could never fool anyone into thinking he liked any form of cold weather, and taking it through the mountain pass that was near chain conditions was nothing short of suicide, which was why he agreed so easily to Matilda’s offer to give him a ride to his next dueling arena, with the condition that he was ok with her taking a short detour for a possible job along the way. He was fine with that. In fact if he was being honest he was interested in this job of hers. Being a rookie duelist, he wasn’t expected to answer any calls when it came to rogue sightings, especially this far out of the Citadel’s radius. But Kai was no ordinary rookie, and Matilda was not just any veteran duelist and performer. He was one of the duelists that was expected to win the championship this year, which would offer him the official career that would require he hunt down rogues as one of the elites. Matilda had won that championship four times already, but every time turned it down, her reasoning always being so that she could take up the freelancing jobs in places like Riverbend, the city they were heading towards. So, this could be considered a win-win for the both of them. The problem was while he was riding shotgun the twins had been singing the lyrics to every song that came on the radio for the past two hours. They weren’t bad singers. Hell, they were the HypeTwins; most would probably pay to sit where he was right now. It was just too much at once. He pressed his forehead to the window, watching tree after snow covered tree pass by.

Matilda glanced at him from the driver’s seat, a playful smirk crossing her hot pink lips. “You better not get sick in my car.”

“SUV,” Kai corrected with a grunt, earning a roll of her eyes even as she turned her focus back to the road.

“How much further to town?” she asked.

At this, the twins in the back quieted their singing. Soon the music stopped as they ended their playlist to pull up the GPS. Ayu gave a small victory cheer. “We have a signal!” she declared before reading the map. “ETA….20 minutes!”

“Oh! Good!” Matilda sighed. “I was beginning to think I’d have to park it behind a tree.”

“We told you there was a rest stop thirty minutes ago,” Mizumi chided, sticking her head between the two front seats to get a better view of the people riding shotgun.

“Yeah, but the snow was starting to come down and if we got stuck in something we’d miss the meeting for my client.”

Mizumi pulled a face. “So, we’ll get a hotel and set up a defense base, while you go hunt the monsters.”

“Rogues,” Kai corrected.

Mizumi stuck her tongue out at him. “They’re monsters.”

“Rogues~” Matilda chimed in.

Ayu shook her head. “You’ll never convince summoners otherwise.”

Mizumi sighed dramatically and flopped back into the back seat. “Why do I bother?”

Matilda giggled, glancing in the rearview mirror at the pair. “You know I love you both.”

“Of. Course.” They both halfheartedly replied in unison.

“Do you both rehearse that?” Kai asked, genuinely curious.

“Do you and Jayjay?” Ayu asked.

Kai shrugged at the mention of his younger brother. “Sometimes?” Ayu replied by snapping her fingers and pointing at him. He shook his head and resumed looking out the window as the others continued to chat. Matilda would probably ask him to hang out at the hotel with the twins. Unlike Matilda and himself, they were exclusively hypemen, which meant they were powerful little ladies in their own right, but never used their abilities for combat. Rather, they honed their skills to pull the energy from the air, created by the buzz and excitement of a hyped up crowd before a duel, then powered the arena itself with all the safety measures needed. It was taxing work, and dangerous. With so much power used they could become magnets for the very rogues the duelists were hunting. But one perk of a duelist was that they had to master barriers for their domes. If they were good, like the twins were, they could place up protective barriers that could last for hours, maybe even days depending, and keep themselves safe until help arrived. Likely as soon as they got to the hotel they would set one up in the room, order some room service and camp out for the night.

Kai reasoned that it would make sense for him to be there, beyond his need to at least seem somewhat normal to keep his cover from behind blown. Matilda had worked hard to make sure he and Jay- though raising flags- did not raise the wrong flags. Plus if anything did come for the girls he could be right there to help them while Matilda was away. That would definitely make sure the lot of them were at ease.

…Except he had that itch in the back of his mind. It was annoying, nagging, and one he had grown accustomed to over the years. It was like he had something right on the verge of his mind, a fact that he knew, but couldn’t quite grasp in that annoying brain fart kind of way. It was a sensation he got whenever trouble was about to come knocking, his senses that had yet to fully develop and clamped down by the seals wrapped up and down his arms unable to fully decipher what it was. What he did know is that the last time he had this sensation a king rogue had arrived in an arena during one of his dules, and he wound up getting a name for himself for taking on one of the most powerful types of rogues nearly single handed. Jay was on stage that night and also got into a lot of trouble, being forced to buzz down and hide away in the capital so that the king that got away lost his scent. It was a hard learned lesson to not ignore that little voice in his head.

“Cassa to Kai!”

Kai blinked and turned his attention back to Matilda with a grunt of acknowledgement.

“We should be getting to town soon. Where will you be heading?”

“I can’t go to the meeting?” Kai asked, knowing the answer.

“Not unless you want your dueling license revoked,” she answered.

“And after?”

“Well, if you happen to be walking around with me and I happen to find the problem…”

“I’ll be close by then,” he replied.

Matilda grinned, “I thought you’d say that.” She turned the car around a bend, the trees almost instantly giving way. She squinted against the sudden sunlight, then blinked a few more times rapidly. “Woah.”

Kai followed her gaze, his brows furrowing for a moment, before raising up beneath his brown bangs. Woah was right. Before them was Riverbend, which was a city that, according to reports, had plans to expand considerably from a mid sized city into Cassa’s next metropolis. Unfortunately, twenty years back that was put to a quick stop when one of the titans, a non-rogue but still dangerous entity, passed through and turned the first batch of skyscrapers, barely started on their construction, to ruins. That was twenty years ago, and yet as they looked out at the city the twisted and tilted metal framework of the ruined constructs could be seen on the city’s edge, surrounded by buildings that looked half sunk and left to time before their dusty remains gave way to a city that seemed to have a fondness for parks and greenery.

“Why would they leave those up?” Mizumi asked, eyeing what the pair did.

Matilda frowned. “I have no idea.”

“Could be influenced by that thing…” Kai offered, somewhat distracted and feeling numb as he took in the view before him. “If it’s using the town as a hunting ground then it would need a lair. People won’t go near there.”

“Makes sense,” Mizumi replied slowly.

Matilda gave Kai a questioning look, but decided against what she was going to ask. “Well, I’m not going in there until I know what the client knows. And I’m not risking something powerful enough to keep people from wanting to take care of THAT getting even a remote whiff of you girls outside of a dome. Hotel first.” She accelerated, but not before giving Kai another pointed stare. She had questions, he knew, but it was better to wait until the twins were packed away. This might take more explaining about things that the twins weren’t privy to, nor ready to hear about. If they thought rogues and natural spirits were the only types of supernatural and magical beings about, then they were in good company with the rest of Cassa.

So he stayed quiet as Matilda drove through the streets, counting the seconds as he inhaled, held his breath in, and exhaled. It kept his pulse steady and allowed him to keep his expression schooled, calm and passive as they passed a park filled with green trees and shrubs with a bridge that crossed a narrow part of the river that the city was named for. This led to a street that was lined with shops with colorful store fronts. At the edge of the city this marketplace had managed to keep its small town feel. Kai found himself wondering whether this might have actually been an outdoor market at one point in thime that had slowly gone the way of storefronts as the city grew. He might ask one of the shop owners. Might.

Once they were through it was only a few blocks into the city before they arrived at the hotel, some four star that had made its way there back when the city was expected to expand and never really left. The twins were quick to grab the luggage, promising to order Kai and Matilda some food and send them the room numbers before heading into the building. Matilda watched them as they entered the sliding doors and made their way to the reception desk. Then her attention swiveled to Kai. “That thing?”

Kai nodded, his attention still on the window. “It’s not a rogue.”

Her brows furrowed. “Okay…I’ll bite. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “It could be a specter. Maybe something sinister. All I know is that there are no rogues that attack and feed like that thing does.” He suppressed a shiver, pulling his jacket a little tighter closed.

Matilda regarded him, her expression growing more serious even as her voice held a tone of disbelief. “Have you seen this thing?”

Kai was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he replied. “I have.” He finally turned to face her. “I lived here when I was a child. It haunted me until the day I left.”

#nanowrimo nationalnovelwritingmonth ALITC freewrite

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acediting · 2 years

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Nanowrimo 1 (already behind!)

That was the seventeenth time that the waiter had glanced at her. The Domin knew this because, well, he had tried to catch the guy’s eye to get a refill on his drink just as many times. But the fidgety new hire had been just shy of meeting his gaze each time. Each time his eyes landing on the college aged brunette who sat, the quiet one among her friends on their lunch outing. It didn’t take The Domin’s talents to know he was into her, not with how his gaze lingered, or how it quickly shifted away and he busied himself with another table when she got the sense that someone was looking at her. Unfortunately, every time he turned to busy himself, it was the opposite direction of the teen.

He stared down slightly mournful at his empty tea cup. He guessed he COULD just call to the waiter, but he kind of wanted to see how this played out. Similarly, he COULD just use his talent to refill the tea cup. But the manufactured shard in his pocket was meant to be for his spell etching class tomorrow, and he couldn’t use the JEG because of his current buzzed down status. Any other tricks up his sleeve were off the table at the moment for the plethora of other reasons, even if one of those tricks in particular was painting the picture that was making this interaction interesting.

If it was just the fact that the waiter was mooning over a pretty customer, well that would be boring. However, The Domin could feel that very slight tug every now and then, casting his own glance at the brunette. He had to down the rest of his tea to suppress his grin when he had seen her shyly cast a glance back. From there is had been a dance. She’d glance at him, he at her. And likewise The Domin had busied himself with the game of filling in the blanks. Though the girl was quiet, her friends were happily chatting about the many happenings, which happened to land on schooling. Since what they were saying made no sense to him he guessed they were part of the community college rather than the Academy. Similarly, the waiter, when he wasn’t busy being distracted by his little crush, had been quite social and spoke to The Domin when originally taking his order about his own education, taking general ed at the community college before his plans to transfer to a university. Both the girls and he had mentioned an anthropology class. He mentioned that it was named “Magic, Witchcraft, and Religions”, which was a study on the lesser known religions and those with a witchcraft or magical element to them. The girls retold a story to their friends about a class where some people came in dressed in wizard robes, and promptly left when the professor told them they would not be learning magic there. He idly wondered if he could work with that.

Technically, he was not supposed to “work” with anything along those lines. Of all his skills, working on one’s desires, no matter how innocent or whimsical they seemed, was something he was not supposed to be playing with here. He and Kai had been working Cassa for a long time, and even though his own part of the job had taken a slight job to the left-what with the buzzing down and forced to stay in the capital as a student at the Academy- he probably would get his bell rung if he started tampering with things.

Still, this back and forth was getting painful to watch. The girls were too caught up in their conversation to catch the waiter in the act, and the waiter was too quick to turn for their eyes to meet. The Domin could feel it- all they needed was for their eyes to meet. That would be enough of a spark. Nothing would happen then and there, but they’d bump into each other at the anthropology class, realize they met and go to the same school, the same class, and…well, the rest was up to them. What happened from there he couldn’t guess and didn’t even bother to try guessing. Sparks like this could go many ways. The desire was there, but subtle. It could be acted on, or it could not. It could turn into something big, or it could fizzle out and they go on their merry way. After all, likely the first zing was based on appearances. The brunette was pretty, with a small frame and black rimmed glasses that framed her hazel eyes. She had that a studious vibe to her, and he was pretty sure he could see a book in her lap, which was what she kept turning her gaze down to before getting pulled back into the conversation at the table for a moment. From the fifteen minutes he had been observing the situation, The Domin pegged her as polite, reserved, soft spoken, but friendly with a nice gentle laugh. Maybe the waiter picked up on that too. He seemed nice with an easy going attitude, and was able to keep up conversation naturally with those around him. It might have been his customer service skills at work, but The Domin was pretty sure the conversation skills couldn’t be faked. Besides, his smile seemed to reach his eyes when he spoke, a quality The Domin had always pegged as genuine. That along with his ruffled dark hair and striking grey eyes on a lean build- well- he wasn’t exactly hard to look at either.

So, he made up his mind. He wasn’t a Cupid normally, but he hadn’t been able to play with his tricks since he had got to Cassa, and those connected to desire were starting to feel a bit pent up. A little string pulling wouldn’t hurt, but only a little. Juuuust a little. He picked up the cup when the waiter turned again towards the brunette, this time waving it enough to get his attention. Their eyes locked for a moment, and the waiter’s eyes opened wide as he realized he had been neglecting The Domin’s table. He gave a quick nod of response before hurrying off to get a refill of hot water. Finally. The interaction had been brief, but it was enough. People that had no idea they were or could be read had no reason to learn how to mask themselves. Add in a little flustered want and suddenly the forefront wants were practically being shouted at him, stringing along a bunch of others. It wasn’t necessarily mind reading, what he did, though many considered it close. Desires could speak volumes, and they had in that moment when the Domin connected to the waiter. Many superficial desires came up, idle things that were more like wondering and whimsical wants about her. Wanting to know her favorite music, her favorite color. Was it blue like his? Was she interested in the Queen’s Duels? Did she follow the current hypemen, particularly the royals? While these made the Domin curious, the one thing that did catch his attention was the want at the forefront. He wanted to know her name.

Bingo. Glancing back to the group, he focused momentarily on the brunette. He did not need her eye contact for this, though it was trickier…and he would have to probably take his leave shortly after if there were any RIDs nearby that would mistake him for something more sinister. Well, he guessed he could be considered sinister with what he was about to do. After all, he was going to make a college student pay for the lunch of her entire group of friends when they already agreed to split the bill earlier so that it would not cost any of them too much. Silently, he let a want of his own build. You want to pay for the others, he thought, until his own voice was loud and clear in his mind. Then, with a soft exhale, he pushed the want outward, towards her. There was a natural defense there, he knew. All humans had it to some extent. But he was not planning to try any form of mind control or hypnotism. He just wanted to give her the nudge. So, when he felt it get close, he let it go the rest of the way naturally, turning his attention to his pay kiosk and sliding his own card. This was the part that miiiiight get him in a little trouble. As he slide his card, he let his fingers brush across the screen, feeling the pulse of energy from the kiosk. He wasn’t an expert in frequencies, but he got enough of a feel for it. He waited for his receipt to print then tested the kiosk, watching with satisfaction as the screen went black. Perfect.

He stood, gathering his belongings and the receipt as he moved quickly past the table with the girls. As he did, he causally twitched his fingers, letting the small pulse go into their kiosk as well, letting it go blank. There was surprised chatter from the group as they realized it had gone out, and they quickly started trying to figure out who bought what and how they would break up the bill. He kept walking, feeling satisfied even as he passed the waiter coming back with his hot water. He clapped his hands in front of him in apology and tapped his watch before waving the receipt, quickly leaving. But not before he saw the waiter react to the commotion from the girls and go to their rescue. As he reached the door, he saw the quiet girl take out her card and hand it to the waiter. He glanced at it and her ID before saying “that’s a nice name”. The Domin held in his satisfied smirk until he was out the door and well on his way.

#nanowrimo nationalnovelwritingmonth freewriting ALITC shittybutwritten

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