A Choice To Make

Z woke up with her body sore and itchy. She felt a soft and light something cradling her skin like clouds were rubbing to her flesh, but it made her uncomfortable. All her years, she’d become at home with rough and heavy clothes, so she knew she’s wearing something different.

With a sigh, she raised her hands and saw to her disbelief a gray, long sleeve, twinkling despite the dimly lit room. She sat abruptly, owing for a headache to pound against her brain, seemingly interested in breaking her nerves. Automatically, she massaged her temple, indifferent to its odd heat.

For no more than a minute, she just sat there, feeling her headache, her eyes set at the mirror opposite her, feeling disconnected somehow. It’s as though she missed something and that the mirror should have been cracked.

‘Weird,’ she thought as she looked around. She couldn’t remove the feeling that something had happened while she was asleep.

Her heart skipped a bit. Although she’s yet to be certain, she thought she saw her reflection move without her acting on it. Shaking her head, she crawled toward the mirror, unsmiling.

Now she understood what was making her grind her teeth. Since when has she been fashioned with a cloak? It’s rather weird to see herself in it. She couldn’t deny how fit it was to her, how it complemented her skin tone, how good she looked in it, but she could not ignore the feeling of being forced into it or else having to wear something so preciously tended. It’s so unlike her. She’d never been well-cared for, at least in her opinion.

She was about to extract herself from the cloak when it happened.

There was a flickering of light somewhere, exploding to the mirror, its surface reflecting nothing. Not a single crack dented it but a bluish ray streamed from its edges until, like a metal meeting acid, it melted, wafting the air with the smell of a hair being burnt. She moved a step back, her breathing becoming unstable by the minute. She knew she ought to call for someone but curiosity got the best of her. There was something with the melting glass that rooted her on her feet. It’s as if it holds the answer to all of her questions.

The melted glass rested on the ground, beating, as though something that had been given life. It had certain sluggishness and softness that gave Z the desire to touch it.

Unconsciously, her knees hit the ground, her arms slowly reaching for the beating glass. The moment the tip of her finger touched its hot surface, a heat like no other traveled to her cells. There was a loud creak, and the next thing she knew, she was already leaning on the headboard, her heart and head pounding like there’s no tomorrow.

Before her, the melted glass twisted and twirled, slithering upwards in an unseen post. It was just like that for a moment until it assumed the shape of a human. Z’s eyes widened when a pea-green tint illuminated the hole she could only think as the eyes. It didn’t stop there, because an oceanic color splashed from its rays.

It took her several blinks to believe that she’s awake, that she’s not trapped in some kind of dream, that she’s seeing a melted glass forming into what seemed to be her clone, its skin still bearing the mark of the melted glass.

“Who—who are you?” said Z, quivering.

Instead of answering, her clone or something smirked, the thin line on the lower region of her face—not even assuming a lip’s shape—looked creepy as hell.

“Who are—are you?” Z repeated, her eyes darting from the boarded window and to the door, thinking of running away when the situation required her to.

“I… am… you…” she whispered, pausing in long intervals, her voice sounding metallic and groggy.

Before Z could react, her clone hovered in the air and, with a speed of light, floated toward her, entering her body with a crackling sound. Gasping was the last thing she could do before she lost control of her body. The unknown creature, a clone or not, inside her used her lips so that in her confusion, they both spoke.

“Soon enough, the world will bow down to our feet. Just you wait.” Then she cackled, watching her distorted reflection in the newly-made mirror.

Outside the room, Granny was wiping the sweat from her back and her forehead. It’s already noon, but she still hadn’t seen Z nor George and, feeling a little happy, the students. She knew she shouldn’t be worried because ever since they found her, she’s been collapsing every now and then.

The first time it happened was five days after she woke up a year ago. She remembered calling a doctor out of panic, only to be told nothing’s wrong with her.

“Are you sure, Doc? She doesn’t look well.” Her eyes darted from Z’s pale face. Wires were linking from her temple and wrist, connecting to a machine, beeping loudly.

“I’m certain, Mrs. Williams.” He checked his watch, his lips pursing. “She just needs rest. When she woke up, don’t let her do anything that will stress her body. For now, you needn’t worry. She’s not in immediate danger.”

Her eyes narrowed as the doctor left. Ever since her daughter-in-law, George’s mother, died in their care, she found it hard to trust any of their words. They just seemed to be incompetent and not caring to their patients. She didn’t want to keep perceiving them in such a disgracing way, but they’re giving her all the reasons to.

Shaking her head, she sat on the stool beside Z, trailing the grayish strands of her hair, thinking. There was something about her that intrigued Granny the most. It might have been triggered by the fact that she’d seen her features change when she woke up. George, meanwhile, seemed to have never witnessed it, as he’s not saying a thing about it.

It was when she stood that she noticed a yellowish light flickering from the lower region of Z’s stomach. With brows furrowing, she raised Z’s oversize shirt and found herself face to face with an outline of certain land.

With her eyes open wide, she walked away, trying to erase another series of questions wanting to be accommodated. She couldn’t take it anymore. There were still a lot of things she needed to ponder and any more of it might tweak her sanity.

Z’s fainting didn’t stop from there. It preceded for over twice a month, and each of it was punctuated by the dominating map-like scar, which became prominent every time she fainted. There were times Z seemed indifferent to her being unconscious, thinking she just fell asleep. Although Granny was worried, she didn’t dare inform her of the disturbing facts she’s innocent with.

She even doubted that Z had any idea of this scar’s occurrence, proven by her shadow’s insistence to subject Z in an experiment. It included putting her in a tube where she’d been scanned, identifying each part of her body that might have been damaged without them knowing. However, it’s the scar that intrigued them the most, for it was causing internal bleeding without even cutting any of Z’s flesh.

What did it mean?

Desperate to see some light, she tried acquiring as many books possible that’s heavily connected to a scar. This she read every night, noting each of the new information she learned. Yet, almost three textbooks have already been disposed of in the corner, insightful but useless to Z’s situation.

One rainy night, she came across a tattered book in the pile of books she ought to read. It was the first book the librarian gave her but owing to its old look and almost ruined cover, she neglected it and decided to have a look at those with an eye-catching cover.

Now that she looked at it again, she felt a certain spark of magic twinkling from it. She traced the pattern embossed on the cover, thinking that it would have been better to see it freshly printed. From the stains and dirt blurring the illustration of an eye pierced by an arrow, she’d seen the words, ‘Scars: Magic Unknown,’ and hearing it in her mind’s ears gave her creeps. Below these words informed her of the date of publication which was way back in 1920.

When she accidentally touched the minuscule diamond in the farthest corner, her eyes widened. Words were spilling out of the book. She let go of it abruptly, but instead of falling, it hovered in the air, tattered-looking phrases weaving out from it.

     Not much is known, but scars are way powerful than one can imagine. It is interlinked with deeper magic only the brave ones will dare unravel. It results in both a gift and a curse, depending on how the host will want it.

     Now scars are believed to have resulted from one unhealed wound; however, Ancient Shadowest neglects the emotions encrypted to each created scar. It is said that the heavier the feelings involved, the more powerful the Wielder became. This scar acts as a catalyst, boosting not only a Shadow’s energy but its ability as well.

     However, behind its enchanting effect, it causes disturbance to a Wielders’ growth, for as the power pent-up inside them, the tendency of the explosion becomes unparalleled. This triggered a monstrous creature to slither from their consciousness, taking control of their whole body, until they can no longer bear the heavyweight and fell in a sleep like death.

Death.

Death.

Death…

Her heart drummed loudly as a streak of light drawn the sky overlooked by the open window, followed by the rumbling of thunders. The book reflected yet another lightning from outside before finally settling down to the bed, its cover now ripped from its pages.

She gasped when someone tapped over the counter. Shaking her head, she tried pulling herself together, ignoring the goosebumps all over her body. That recollection’s still fresh in her mind as though it just happened yesterday. She said not a thing about it, though. She’s not even sure if it happened because she was tipsy that night. So, she holds on to the belief that it was just the influence of drinking.

It wasn’t the book that made her think otherwise, but its content disturbed her much as she hadn’t thought it would.

Clearing her throat, she said, “What can… what can I do for you, Sir?”

“One cappuccino with a rose-petal, please!”

“Right away, sir!”

After brewing his tea, she asked him to stand on the right side of the counter wherein he’d be facing a scanner for his payment.

Just as the man was paying, three Wielders barged inside. She was about to greet them when she realized who the two men were. Her smile vanished. They were walking as though they own the world, as though they were the definition of beauty.

In truth, they really were.

Hail was wearing a simple hood, his features yet again concealed in its shadow, his hand resting on its pocket. Such simplicity, and yet, he looked like a shining gem. On his right was Briane who gave Granny a wink. He fashioned himself with a leather jacket which added to his sex appeal. No doubt he’s ready for any seduction the situation might require.

Meanwhile, on his left was a lady from whom Granny had never seen before. She had this bitchy feature that made her look like a savage snake, ready to bite whoever obstructed her way. Her porcelain skin was exposed with her shoulder split body-con dress. This resulted for Granny to snort, thinking of telling her off but deciding against it.

“A pleasant day, m'lady!” Briane leaned on the counter, smiling widely.

“I see you’re here. Do you want tea?” She hoped her disappointment and frustration weren’t obvious but she thought otherwise.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not here for any tea. I don’t even know if that tastes well.” Michelle crossed her arms. “Just call Blame, so we can get this over with.”

Granny smiled. “I promise you won’t regret a tea—”

“Are you deaf? I told you, we don’t need an effing tea—”

“Manners, Ms. Dela Vega,” interjected Hail who was sitting comfortably at the nearest table, his feet crossed.

“It’s okay, Hail—right?” Granny stared directly at Hail, her hands busy with brewing some tea. He simply nodded. “I encountered a lot of bad-tempered patients and all of them ended liking me—”

“Fat chance!” said Michelle, one of her brows raised.

Briane cupped his cheeks. “Oh, babe, don’t be like that to m'lady! Don’t you know she’s already old but still manage to keep her fresh glow? She’s a legend, she is.”

“You know what, Speedy? Continue calling me that and I’ll give you a ticket to hell!”

“Lost souls will be happy then.” He chuckled. “They’ll be facing a handsome Wielder like myself, and I’ll be making their life pleasurable. It’ll be interesting as we’ll be surrounded with the literal fire.”

Michelle wrinkled her nose. “Even in hell you’re still perverted.”

“Is that your way of saying you love me?” He wet his lips, his head tilted toward her. “Because I do love you.”

“Yeah, you do, just like how you pledge love with thousands of unidentifiable women. Have some class, Speedy.”

“The tea is ready,” said Granny who found the need to interfere, as both Wielders were already releasing deadly glares.

She handed them their teas and the two Wielders, still glaring with each other, accepted it unconsciously.

“Are they always like that?” she asked Hail, slipping past the other two to stand beside him.

Casually sipping the tea, he said, “Not really. They have no time arguing like that in the school as they’re always busy going on with their days.”

“Are you going to take Blame there now?”

He looked at her for a moment, sizing her up. “Yes. I already told the headmaster of her current situation, and he agreed to take custody of her. After all, she’s the school’s responsibility.”

Granny noticed the way his jaw clenched at his last statement, but she decided to ignore it. Staring at the continuous bickering of the two, she went on, “It’s still summer, though. Can’t she stay—”

“You already know the answer to that, Mrs. Williams. Blame belongs to the school—”

“We’re not sure about that,” she whispered absentmindedly. “She might be someone other than your Blame, I mean. You know that there’s something inside her that’s struggling to come out—”

“I am yet to verify that. I’m clinging to your assumptions, but there seemed to be a missing piece in the puzzle. I couldn’t complete it. Tell me, Mrs. Williams, are you still hiding something from me?”

Granny was caught off guard when Hail removed his hood. His orbs were brightly shining, but unlike the first time she’d seen it, it looked far more different. There wasn’t a blue or red tint, only gray. It’s so dull that it made her swallow hard.

However, he’d been distracted when the door near the counter opened and came a tear-stricken Z. Her eyes were turning from pea-green to oceanic blue splashed with pea-green, and her skin had resembled a burnt metal, sluggish something flowing from it.

Hail and Granny ran toward her, but it was Briane who arrived first. Michelle, meanwhile, stayed in the corner, her eyes narrowed.

“You looked different, Sweetie,” said Briane, rounding her with temptation brimming in his eyes, unable to see the constant changing of her skin from metallic to normal, then normal to metallic.

Z didn’t dare look at him, her hands were covering her face, thinking not of the heat surging from every part of her body.

“Can you—” Granny started, her voice betraying her for once. “—see what I see?”

Instead of answering, Hail wheeled around. There were about ten Wielders who were looking at Z, some of them were staring out of vain curiosity, while some were able to see through the odd transition of her skin.

Gently waving his hand in the air, smokes issued from it, spreading from the space, filling the gap until it trapped the ten Wielder in a barrier made of smoke. It would, in the meantime, keep them from seeing anything while the smoke worked in tampering the memories of what they’d seen.

“What are you doing?” whispered Granny, quivering as the barrier allowed a cold sensation to seep through her flesh.

Again, she received no answer, because Hail was already staring at Z, convincing himself that she’s Blame even though his guts told him otherwise. Briane, on the other hand, was already convinced, for he’s talking in a marathon, unaware of the tears trickling past her cheeks.

Although Michelle could see Blame’s feature, the wind whispered differently. Just like Briane, she wasn’t aware of her tears. All she knew was that Blame’s standing in front of them, listening to Briane’s animated talk. Both of them were even indifferent to the Wielders who were now trapped inside a barrier.

“Blame,” Hail started, his hand in the air, his face screwed. “Please come back to us, to me!” He whispered the last two words, his heart jerking a little.

Z felt her system locked. The cold wind danced in the air around her, and the heat burning her body vanished in a heap. Along with it, her body settled to its normal resting state, her eyes flickering back to pea-green, and the weight pressing her down had been lifted.

Slowly, hiccoughing a little, she looked up. Something tickled her stomach when both their eyes set to each other. It’s as if any other thing were washed away, leaving both of them, interlinked in a world from where they only existed.

She’s fully aware of what her decision might cause. If she went with them, unsure of her identity, she’d be leaving George and Granny. They’d been her sanctuary in a year of confusion, and where were these students have been? Happy with their life, unmindful of Z’s absence. She thought they have such a thick face for showing too late, for subjecting her to a year of an uncertain life. She wanted to say no, screamed it to their face, just so they’d leave her alone; however, she couldn’t find her voice.

As she stared in those pair of gray orbs, the barrier Hail made exploded, its smoke spreading in the restaurant. Michelle’s shrieks echoed for a moment before it was muffled by simultaneous coughs. She felt big hands wrapped around her waist, rubbing it affectionately. She tried to move away from it, but it was so strong.

“Ssh, Sweetie, I’m here!” The voice sounded seductive, but she’s got goosebumps hearing it.

It took a moment before the smoke vanished, by which time, everyone’s already stinky, sweaty, their lungs filled with smoke.

“Is every–everyone okay?” came Granny’s voice.

To her surprise, her ten customers were already on their knees, their hands closed together, begging for forgiveness. Brows furrowing, she followed their stares and, heart skipping a bit, found herself face to face with one of the councils.

He’s wearing a heavy coat and a sleek hat that covered his eyes, its rotting nose and mouth emitted a smell that’s incomparable to a corpse. He raised his decaying, distorted hand, pointing it toward Z.

“You’re under arrest for breaching the seventh Imperial Principle.”

His voice made the whole shop shook, and Z found herself wishing to just die on the spot.