(Resumed) Solstice

[Samael]

That was it. We failed.

I slammed my fist on the rickety-looking wooden table in front of me. It clacked a bit against the cobblestone floor but otherwise proved quite sturdy.

This stone home was a textbook Earth Magick construct. You'd think the illustrious and legendary House Fayt would have commissioned something more appropriate of their station. This looked like a peasant's hut in comparison.

If I didn't know better, I'd swear this was a joke to humiliate us. To humiliate me. In point of fact, I still hadn't ruled that out.

"You seem angry." I looked up to find an older bearded man, wearing robes of a Student of Air, standing across from me. His skin wrinkled a bit, but his brown eyes remained ever sharp. His lips curled into what had to be a mocking smile, and his hand graced the air asa pendulum might.

This was Simon Fayt, the patriarch.

I scoffed. "No shite."

"Language, Son of Sargon." The old geezer showed the gall to sit across from me after setting us up to fail! Setting me up to never be able to see a Combat Mission! He knows what this all means to me!

And of course telling him off was out because we're guests in his home and some such.

"Does it really matter?" I couldn't resist. "We failed. Before we even began! All because Emmy up there made the executive decision that picking a fight with the client was somehow a respectable life choice, and neither of the other two morons bothered to hold him down! It's not like this is new either; they both know he's a deadweight powder keg!" If only Father knew just how lousy the lot I was assigned really was, between Grace being a criminal, and Emmett being a useless empty. And Emmett being on the Squad meant Patrick wasn't performing satisfactorily either. Those two had a history, and Patrick really needed to be free of that burden.

Simon kept his eyes focused, not letting a reaction show. "Then why didn't you?"

"That was their job!" I barked, "I was going to manage the situation diplomatically. Besides, I thought I could trust my subordinates!" Evidently I could not.

The smile on Simon's face furrowed into a frown. "If you're going to be so callous in your view of your companions, then consider that it is a poor tradesman who faults his tooling."

I snarled. "And how could I not when one is a wanted criminal and the other's traumatized by sharing anything with the third who betrayed him, who, may I remind you, is an impotent empty who-"

"Silence." The patron of the House stood high over me, eyes narrowing into a threatening scowl.

I gulped. Did... Did I feel fear?

"Samael Michaels, son of Sargon Michaels, you are too blinded by your lust for vengeance and punishment to lead anyone, let alone a task force. That you have been tasked with leading a Squad of your friends and classmates, an even greater task, is laughable and tragic. Your father would be sorely disappointed in your conduct."

What?! Disbelief hung in the air. How in the Heavens and Havens is Squad leadership more daunting than an official military post?!

"Do you know what your father would have done, Scion?" The enmity and mockery in that last word was palpable.

I held my gaze steady. I wasn't about to play into this asshole's mind game. How dare he lecture me about my House?!

"He would have fought the Chancellor tooth and nail, laws be fucked, if one of his were threatened! Were it me, I'd kick you off the Squad and declare Mr. Sinclair the new leader, because he did! He had no Element, no hope worth anything, and yet he did right by his brethren."

Every muscle in me twitched with indignant fury.

"Thankfully for you I can't do that. And kid-"

Don't call me kid! I wisely chose not to say.

"-I won't," he continued, "You know why?"

I had more than enough of this trite. "Enlighten me."

"Because I believe in you." Simon resumed his seat. "You've come a long, long way, and Sargon sees that in you as well. That's why he pushed this opportunity. I don't yell at you because I want to or because I hate you. I yell because I care. I yell because I see the path you're going on, and it ends badly. You are singularly obsessed with fighting Aegis, that you see your comrades as tools to meet an objective. You will amplify all faults you perceive in them, and act on that distortion. Sam,-"

"Samael."

"Sam," he intoned, overriding me, "if you continue the path you are on now, you will betray your own kin, deluded that they have defected to the enemy. I know intimately what your anger can do to you, because I was in your position, and I have failed. I lost my ex-lover for it; the betrayal in his eyes haunt me to this day. I don't want the same fate for you. I owe Charity my life, by the way, because she saved me, when I was far deeper in than you."

For once, I shut up and listened. Truly, listened. If even House Fayt could be turned to the Etsies in anger, and I couldn't see any other reason for the Head of House Fayt to be so sullen... Then what of me?

"One more thing." His voice broke my awe, but I remained yet listening. "While it is true that powerful squads do complete our Missions, I have observed in my decades that the Squads who fail are much more interesting. Did you know that Sargon only ever failed one mission?"

Of damned course I know that you animal, it's all people who know my House ever talk about. It pisses me off and there's no damned way I could live up to that if I literally failed my second Miss-

"That mission he failed was one of ours." 

I looked up to see the most hideously devilish grin an old man could possibly crack.

I stood, er, sat, defeated, without a response.

[Grace]

There was precisely one advantage to being in an all-Magus village that wanted you dead for your sister trying to do the right thing: Magick was everywhere. This conferred two properties of interest.

First, because Magick was everywhere, I could easily sense where everything was just from touch.

Well, not the touch that a Dreamer or male might think of: Magi, females in familiar, can sense ambient Magick from the ebbs and tides against their Æther, especially if that Æther is faint. The way nature influences Magick is of course other Magick. Magi use this "sixth sense" in combat all the time, and often instinctually at that. This is why you see very few of us rely on Ætheric Sight to locate upcoming threats.

This fact proved monumentally helpful for me since I was wearing a heavy cloak obscuring both my identity and my vision.

Second, Magick being everywhere in a population entirely of Magi means any Magus performing low-level Magick enjoys the privilege of camouflage in plain sight. No one would question, say, a girl in a cloak using her Magick in lieu of her eyes.

Especially if that girl was being escorted by the matriarch of the House of Fayt.

"Almost done," Madam Charity Fayt said, "Just need to pick up some milk and avocados. I want to make some ice cream tonight."

I nodded in assent. Ice cream? I had heard of it, but never tried. Avocados, though, I knew well: they required such water that one needed a Magus on-hand to raise them. It was the perfect luxury to siphon coin from the rest of Sollun. They were smooth, delicious, and required both talent and secret knowledge to produce.

I kept a current of Æther swirling 'round my brain like a moat, for where there are Magi and markets, Mind Magick congregates.

For obvious reasons, I didn't want my identity revealed. Nobody else wanted their thoughts read, also for obvious reasons. Therefore, everyone employed protections. Therefore, I looked completely normal with my own.

At least the cobbled pathways underneath me didn't try to read my thoughts, or breach my body, or kill my classmates. I took solace in that as I stepped across them, keeping well aware of my benefactor's position.

Magick, remember?

"You like the air, hopper?" my apparent tour guide chimed in.

As it happened, I did. "Y-yes, but why?"

I heard an uncomfortably-dark chuckle. "You seem the type who won't share her secrets with the Squad. And while you failed on paper, we'll go through the motions of the mission anyway."

She pivoted right to approach what was hopefully the last stall. Only here would they still be open at nighttime.

I stayed back a fair ways, to keep my distance. The less opportunities to ask Madam Fayt about her mysterious traveling companion, the better.

House Fayt showed an enigmatic face. Why would they provide us tuition if we failed their mission? A pensive hum escaped my lips. They were still missing wedding rings, but they're more than competent in finding them on their own. 

That, and families affluent and influent enough to be called Houses didn't get that way on generosity. No; we were being exploited somehow. That they had the resources to know beforehand I would be coming here, where Lord Fuckwad would execute me?

It was a trap. It kept us loyal, submissive, slavishly bound to them. But why a bunch of erratic first-years (excluding Squad Leader)? When they could dominate almost if not literally anyone they wanted?

Emmett came up on the top of my list for potential reasons to capture us, especially after that stunt about nearly killing Mother, but that was Thurisaz-Perthro: literally no one could have known about that prior to today. To plan around that was fucking impossible.

So it wasn't Emmett. Then... who? what? why?

Could it be a trick of Squad Leader's? The requestor was one Sargon Michaels; they shared a surname. Family? But if that were true, then Sargon would have had the ability to bribe him into a proper squad and not a bunch of misfits, er, Upstarts. 

"You're lost in thought, ain't 'cha?" Madam Fayt's voice cut through my pondering like Fire to fat.

My legs jolted forward to cause a light stumble. "Ah! Sorry!"

A sudden hand clapping my spine sent a chill both up and down it. It was Madam Fayt, but still. Maybe especially, still.

I turned back toward her, and she beckoned for me to follow.

Having no better options, I did.

"Normally I'd do this whole preamble and grandstand, hopper," she said, "But since you're from here and know who we are, I'll cut straight: this is the part where we gift you with tutelage from old legends so you may rise to see us as peers. All free of charge of course, and no debts attached."

For an moment by breath caught; I'd not let it show. Had she heard my thoughts already?!

"First off, what's your Talent?"

A dead simple question. "Mind."

"Well there's a shocker," my newfound tutor said moments before the ground curved upward. I still couldn't strictly-speaking see, but I had to remain hidden. "I notice your Magick is uncharacteristically rigid and unyielding for a Student of Water. Care to explain that?"

Rigid? Unyielding? "You- you're not making sense, Madam Fayt." Water is the element of change and flow. If my Magick were either of those things it would cease to function. "That's impossible. Water Magick that isn't malleable breaks apart under the wielder's own stubbornness."

"And yet here you are."

I hissed under my breath. What does that show as true, let alone prove? It's literally an unsubstantiated rumour!

"Do you really think the Element of Fluidity cannot be fluid about its own viscosity?" she asked out of nowhere.

Okay, this was one of those philosophical questions that makes people sit in incensed rooms and contemplate the meaning of life for hours on end accomplishing nothing while the outside world decays to rot. "Doesn't change the fact that I have to remain malleable as the sea to actually weave anything."

"Says the girl whose only uses of Water Magick are encasing herself in ice and puncturing others with, again, ice."

I held out my hand, intent on showing Madam Fayt I could handle the liquid form just as well-!!

She clasped her hand atop mine and shook her head. "You lost someone, hopper. We all have. It's scary as the Nightmares of Enday, but you can't endure the world in an armour clad of lies. The Grace your mother raised would never have felt so attacked that she'd resort to hostile Magick just to make a point."

I shook in place, making sure to keep my mind-shield alive at all costs. I wasn't about to show this dangerous woman any sign of weakness. My Aura remained perfectly level underneath my oversized cloak. And that Magick wasn't hostile!

"You're so afraid of being hurt again that you lash out at anyone who so much as emits a shred of good." Madam Fayt finally took her hand off me. "If you keep like this, you'll end up hurting or killing someone you love, all out of misplaced self-defence."

"I have done no such thing, Madam!" This time, I kept my voice level, and my Æther contained. I felt no need to admit to nearly having done any of those things. I wasn't answerable to her, after all. Even if Mother married in, she disowned me, which meant I was free.

"The fact you're rushing to defend tells me you're afraid of yourself!" she countered. "You act in the traits of both Fire and Earth. This isn't you! This is a cold-hearted armour meant to keep the world out. Better to keep yourself alone in the shadows than chance one more burn in the light?"

I opened my mouth to question what she would know of the cold dark of the real world and stopped. I looked at her. To be more specifically, I looked at the opaque black orb of Dark Magick in her hand.

She dismissed it after a few moments, having taken the time to confirm I wasn't going to backtalk. "We are Magi of the shadows, Grace Gardner. We travel to the hells, so our kith can bask in the Heavens. You're startin' to see yourself in a new light. Or shade, no skin off my back."

I didn't give her the satisfaction of a response.

"Before I lose you to the tide of a spiritual revelation, remind me: what was your Talent again?"

This was a trap. This was a trap and I saw no way out. I took a breath. "Mind Magick."

"I see." Madam Fayt gave a grave nod. "Then, you wait here. I will kill Emmett Sinclair-"

The instant that name dropped I froze my Aura solid into the ice armour. So that's her game: She got scared of Emmett's attempt on Mother and wants to dispose of him here and now before he becomes a threat!

I was prepared for subterfuge, but not this. Never this. It was a trap from the start, probably Lord Fuckward working with the Emissaries to finish what they started.

I would die, but I will not yield this bitch a foot's stride!

"-and return." 

I prepared for her to turn away so I could run her lung through and fill it with blood.

Instead, she turned toward me.

My breath froze.

My cloak leapt off me of its own accord, revealing the Ice Armour underneath.

I was dead. I went into a cold war with an expert matriarch and I didn't fucking think.

Grace, you dumb bitch!

"Now that we've had this lovely spat," she mocked from on high, "Tell me what exactly a Talent is."

Best play along and delay the inevitable. Maybe someone would save me. Maybe Em-

No. I quashed that thought. I am Grace Gardner.  I have walked with death since I was nine. This too shall pass. "A Talent is one of Body, Mind, or Spirit Magick usually in the domain of the Unattuned, that all Magi can call upon to complement their Element. They allow for feats such as strengthen-"

"Strengthening, Mindreading, Aura, we get it," Madam Fayt interrupted, "I'm sorry, that one's on me. What I meant to ask was: what do I mean when I refer to a Magus' talent?"

Of course she misspoke and that wasn't an attempt at subtle interrogation whatsoever. I scoffed. "It refers to the talent in which a Magus is strongest-"

"Wrong." 

I blinked. What?

Madam Fayt gave a bow. "Here is the lesson you are missing. A Magus' talent is their foremost response, not their finest."

Why... What was... why was she telling me this?

"Tell me, when I threatened your boy's life-"

"We are not a couple!" Last time I held my tongue because I needed her to stabilize Emmett. Now was different.

"Honestly I expected that."

Seriously who was this lady?!

"Nevertheless, what were your first thoughts when I threatened his life?"

My mind was racing. Why she would threaten my classmate, and then claim to be teaching me a lesson, one seemingly grounded in actual theory and practice, was baffling. Did she want to die by my hand?!

Anyway, time to piece something together. "I thought that maybe I could-"

"Wrong!" 

My armour grew heavier, and I sensed a trace of Attuned Æther leaking out of it. "Why did you ask if you were going to interrupt?" I knew better than to act impetuous, but a spoilt brat was clearly what she was expecting, so I might as well play the part.

"Because you need to smash that armour of lies you trapped yourself in," she replied sternly. "I knew anything you'd say was a lie because you didn't think. You're the smartest of the four; do you really think you can take me, alone, in the heart of my homeland?"

In hindsight, I felt the glue of idiocy fogging my brain.

"No! Absolutely ridiculous! Not only that, your Magick responded in an instant! A real Mind Magus would have waited for me to turn my back and then lanced me without faffing about armour! Which I prepared for by the way, so it wouldn't have worked. You have trained the talent of Mind stronger than the others, but that doesn't make it your Talent!"

I... I was completely defeated and stood at this woman's mercy and I had just made an attempt to kill her.

"For all you claim to be logical and rational, hopper, the reality is you acted with your Soul. You, like your late sister and not-so-late mother, are a Magus of Spirit. You want to know what a Mind Magus looks like, look at your Squad Leader."

She... she was right. I couldn't believe it. I repeated everything she said in my mind and she was right. 

I didn't even notice when, but at some point I found that she had embraced me in a warm hug.

"You're my granddaughter now," she whispered. "I would never, ever hurt anyone precious to you. I'm sorry I lied and scared you."

Was it wrong for a grown woman to cry?  I hope not. Because if it was, I was a goner.

[Patrick]

I heard Samael and Mr. Fayt talking downstairs.

I wanted to participate, but...

I slammed the wall behind me in my slouched position. I was angry. I was pissed. Fucking Emmy had just cost us our mission! It was very clear: Squads must not engage in combat!

And what did that dumbass do? Fucking engaged the ruler of the village in direct combat! He should have fucking died for that! He should have fucking died five years ago for his lies costing Bryce his life!! He very nearly did die now! Everything was right and just for once!

SO WHY DID I FEEL RELIEF AT HEARING HE WAS ALIVE!!!?

I breathed in for a howl, but kept it to a whisper. I couldn't. I just couldn't.

I had thought all along that Emmy did something to piss off this place. But it wasn't him! It was Grace!

I was angry at Grace for not letting us know. 
I was pissed at Emmett for picking a fight in the first minute of landing.
I was shocked that Samael just let this all happen.
But most of all, I was furious. At myself. For letting Emmett die doing what I should have been doing.

I saw it all through the narrow window of the carriage curtain. I saw the spike of wood rip into his chest. I should have been elated, but instead I was pissed. At the Chancellor and not Emmy.

Then I saw Ser Feylance fend off not only the ruler of Stormingcalm, but also the strongest Magus in all the land when he started sniping. I was afraid, deathly afraid. 

That fear was only amplified with Emmett's bestial scream. That pained clamor still haunted me even now. The walking corpse looked up, screeched and  tore the spike out of himself. 

Æther borne of Emmy's Magick weakened by the throes of Death Itself, towered into the skies, and I ducked for cover and hid. Instead of saving my Squadmate, I hid because there was no way he was even human after what I had just seen.

Evidently the fucking nutcase still had a brain after all that torture, somehow, because that signaled House Fayt to intervene and save all five of us.

Why?... How? How had Emmy gone from a failed apprentice to a mad god?! What fell contract did he sign for that power, and why was he still protecting us after that?!

IT DIDN'T MAKE SENSE!!

And more importantly, WHERE WAS THAT BACK WHEN AEGIS ATTACKED?!?!

I heard someone, an older woman, sit down next to me. I felt her hand on my shoulder. An older, probably middle-aged and particularly thin  woman looked toward me, her green eyes gazing with an emotion I was in no capacity to read, and her chestnut hair framing her face rather well, if a little short for a woman.

Her lips cracked into a smile. "You seem lost. I wanted to check in on you."

Get lost, I wanted to say. "I'm okay, thank you, Mrs. Fayt," is what I ended up saying.

Her hand moved around my shoulder, kneading it gently. "Ah, I should introduce myself. I am Cherish Fayt née Gardner. I'm Grace's mother, not that she would have me anymore, and a Fire Magus like you."

Grace's Mother... married into House Fayt?! "Guess that explains how we got this Mission. Sorry Emmy failed it for you." 

"No, I had nothing to do with that," she replied, "And if you are so condemning of this 'Emmy' character, why are you huddled up outside of his room?"

"Like I need to answer to you."

She gave an annoying trite little hum. "You're right. You don't."

Silence lingered the air a while. For about several seconds too long, in my opinion. "So... you just gonna stay, then?"

"I don't see why not." She shifted her hand to my back. "You seem in a crisis of faith. That's dangerous for us, you know, so I want to offer my ear."

I shrugged. I still knew Emmett was a sack of shite, but I suppose the conversation didn't hurt. "Alright. So, Emmy, or Emmett, was a childhood of mine back when we lived in Charade Gin."

"'Was', you say?"

"Correct. Then the etsies attacked. Aegis and four others."

"Ah yes, the first raid."

"We were all scared shitless. We lost our village and nearly all of our villagers. We were left for dead."

"And during this time, Emmett Sinclair was your friend, and then ceased to be your friend?"

"Yeah!" I shook. "He... lied about something major after I gathered the courage to fight."

"I see." She tilted her head slightly. "And what was this something major?"

Like you give a shit, but then again, neither do I. "He lied that Aegis had trapped the village with transparent Magick only he could see."

"And that's why you hold him in contempt."

"Because Bryce went to kick him in the balls, and Aegis murdered him for daring to attack a 'fellow blessed one' or some shit when he was just beating Emmett's entitled lying arse!"

My voice destabilized. "My brother... I lost my big brother to that jackoff!" For the first time in a long time, I was sobbing. First, Big Sis Celeste abandoned us, then Bryce died for us! It isn't fair; IT ISN'T!

"You know," Cherish said, "You could walk in that door and kill Emmett Sinclair right now if it would make you feel better."

"You'd stop me."

"No, I wouldn't." Her smile morphed into a wicked grin. "He nearly killed me, you know."

I looked to her in shock. "Wait, what?! When?! He was bleeding out and dead from the Arbor Magick!"

She nodded. "I saw my daughter and my soul roiled in a murderous rage. That wench and her dead sister caused me a lot of grief, you know? They abandoned me after my ex-husband cast me aside. But when I was about to give her a piece of my mind, Emmett noticed my deep-seated hatred and desire to kill..."

"And he attacked?"

"With the strongest spell he could muster, while hanging on death's door, in my Mother-in-law's arms, protecting my own daughter from myself."

I froze, stunned.

"Naturally, I have an inkling of revenge. I can even get Angel out of that room if she's in there. You can burn his brain out, and no one will fault you for it. I'll even take the fall for you. I promise."

I looked at her. If what she said was true. then it at least made sense. But if what she said was true, then...

"I can't." If she was right, then that meant I had something fundamentally wrong in my understanding of my ex-friend.

She nodded and gave a gentle, more genuine, smile. "I know. That's why I offered. I retract my offer, by the way, now that you declined it."

I tilted my head. These House Fayt people were nothing if not as crazy as they were powerful and scary.

"Celeste tried to fight Lord Adams and paid with her life. Grace stood up for her, against the baleful Lord at the age of nine. It tore me apart, having to care for a daughter who left her own mother to die for someone who'd follow that infidel into Charade Gin. I was... a bitter, used, abused, and abandoned widow. Then I met Destiny. She showed me that even an old crone can spread new wings."

"You're not even that old, ma'am."

She responded with a light slap. "Jest not of a woman's age, lad, but thank you for the compliment. My Spirit is much older than my Body, for all it has weathered. I understand I've done wrong in my time, and Grace is right to never let me in. I suspect Emmett is right to never let you in either."

A minute ago I'd have killed her for that. Now? I could only listen.

"But us Fires? We light new flames, blaze new trails. It's never too late to consider who you are and what you truly wish for." She slowly brought herself back to standing. "The door's unlocked, by the way."

I took a glance at the door. Emmett, I asked myself, Was she right about you? Did I fuck up?

"Hey, Patrick?" I heard Cherish ask.

"Y-yeah?"

"Take care of my daughter. I think you're good for her." She left without a word after that.

Clearing that intrusive thought out of my head, I brought myself back to my own feet and stepped toward the closed door. I touched the doorknob...

"No, Patrick! Don't you see?!
The white-robed man, his magick!"
"Your village used you as tools."

I retracted my hand. As much as I wanted to look at him, to get a feel for, well, how I feel, the memories and years of him having gotten Bryce killed got the better of me.

I turned and walked away.

I couldn't face my past yet. I first needed to find myself again.