Wielder

Chapter 8 - The Calling

Truthfully, Alie had expected a great wave of energy and light to come pouring out of the stone. She thought it would send rays of magic spraying in every direction. There was light, yes, and there was magic; she could feel it revitalizing her with every breath she took. But there was no impressive burst of power blowing up the monster above her, either. Nor was there a shield of glistening gold to protect them, even though she concentrated very hard on placing one there with the stone's magic.

Even so, there was no doubt that the magic had done what it was supposed to. She felt its power crackling all around her, causing the hair on her arms and neck to stand on end. The crystal's light had faded. It lay heavy in her palms, mysterious and beautiful. The butterfly inside lay still, resting.

The air had stilled. The ground had stopped shaking. The roar in the air had ceased. A strange sort of calm now stood in their wake, making her feel like she'd stepped into a meeting she wasn't meant to hear.

Beside her, Michael and Darrel had completely frozen. Michael stood with his arm shielding his eyes, squinting as he strained to watch what was happening. Darrel had clamped his eyes shut and turned away, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders tight against his neck, as if bracing himself for the end. She reached out to them, but the moment she touched Michael's arm, she knew he couldn't feel her.

Time had frozen. That's why everything was so still. As strange an explanation as it was, she knew it was the only one that made sense.

But if the crystal could freeze time, why could the monster above her still move?

Its motions had slowed, but it certainly had not stopped. Its eyes licked like flames in slow, sweeping streaks, stirred by a phantom wind. Its smile curled ever upward, ready to devour her.

Was this all the stone could do? It had unearthly, unimaginable power, and yet all it could do was freeze her friends and slow down a giant shadow monster? What good was it, then, if it couldn't help?! What was she supposed to do now?

No. That couldn't be it. There had to be something else. She shook the crystal, hoping to stir some magic within it back to life. "Come on," she encouraged, rubbing it between her palms. "Come on, you're all I've got. Don't fail me, now."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE."

The voice boomed from behind her, burning with hatred so pure, it made her want to climb into a hole and never come back out. She fought the chill in her spine and turned around slowly, clutching the stone to her chest with shaking hands.

An archway stood where she swore one hadn't been just a few moments before. It looked identical to the one that had led her into the Realm, made of golden twisting metal and glowing of its own, magical light. It led to a space of an endless, empty, white expanse.

A young woman, somewhere in her early twenties, stood just on the other side of the archway. She wore a heavily embroidered black leather vest over a pale grey shirt with long, flowing sleeves, and a pair of glistening black traveling boots with white pants tucked into them. Her silver white hair curled into a bun at the back of her head, held in place by two long pins with dangling black adornments. Her wide, dark ruby eyes burned with fury; her painted pink lips pulled into a taut, stern line.

She wielded a sword unlike any Alie had ever seen. It had no adornments: no jewel encrusted hilt, no runes sketched down the blade. It was little more than a branch in likeness, just a simple, straight blade with a hilt wrapped in old leather bindings. It didn't even have a proper hand guard. And yet, in its simplicity, it entranced her. It had age, the kind that promised of untold stories just waiting to be discovered.