It took me a minute To realize what she had said
It took an hour for it to fully sink in The worst thing I’d ever heard
The shadows waned as the hours ticked by And still I could not wrap my head around it.
Years would pass before I would ever feel whole again. I hadn’t thought I would be around to see it!
We had been together for so much time. How could it all be over?
I think it took me more than a decade to realize.... What was really gonna happen to me when she told me she wanted a divorce.
Jax’s chest heaved as he fought for his breath. Each one felt like a knife to the ribs, and he wished more for the hundredth time in a matter of five minutes that Janai’s healing hands were here.
Her body is still warm, Jax thought. What are you going to do without her?
Pushing the thoughts of cracked ribs out of his mind, Jax got his hands and feet below him and pushed up with all his might. His arms shook with the effort, and a strangled groan of pain lurched out of his throat without his permission. Greatest wizard in Shrouded Glade, huh? He thought shrewdly. Reduced to this after an invasion.
“Amnerys!”
Bay was limping toward him, one of her arms cradled against her chest. “Amnerys,” she repeated breathlessly, calling him by the only name she knew him by. “Have you seen any of the others?”
All around them, the troops were slowly coming to - those that had survived the explosion. Some were dead; some were crying over the dead, or in shock, or too injured to realize what was going on.
“We should find Maddox and Janai,” Bay told him.
“Janai’s gone,” Jax said, too gruffly.
Bay’s eyes shot wide. She studied each body on the ground around them. “When- when-?”
“She won’t be here,” Jax continued. “She rushed in and helped Gus deliver the final blow. She’s gone.”
“So that magic surge I felt? I thought-“
“That it was just the conflicting magicks? Yeah, what we all felt was probably nothing near as powerful as what you did.” Jax had studied the Warden’s magicks all his life. Probably knew more about them and the Wardens did, except for the rift in the spirit when the incarnates were born this last time around. “I’m betting that as she let her magic go, let it unite in you.”
Bay stared at him in silence. A single tear dripped from her eye. “I don’t want to be the only Warden now, Jax,” she said tearfully.
It was heartbreaking to see the fierce girl cry.
“Especially without her and Maddox.” Bay collapsed against him, and his ribs screamed in pain. He could feel her shaking against him, so instead he held her close. He felt tears gathering in his eyes. The magic in Bay was all he had left of his beloved Janai, the one who had given him a second chance when no one else had.
“We need to look for Maddox,” Jax said finally, pushing her off his ribs and looking her seriously in the eye. “We need to find him. We need to get our strong together so we can bury our dead and treat our injured. Can you help me do that? Warden?”
Bay sniffed hard, wiped furiously at her tears, and they streaked ash across her face. She nodded determinedly. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. It’s what Janai would want.”
The battle may be over, Jax thought, but the realm still needed its heroes.
Reid Stillwater had lived in the Wilds all his life, as his father had before him and his father’s father had before that. The village in which they lived had been named Stillwater Crossing, for the acts of heroism his family had shown in their lifetimes. However, Reid was nearly seventy years old and hadn’t done a single heroic thing in his entire life, and he was feeling especially crummy now.
Robgoblins, tiny, two-foot tall green imps with pointy ears, tattered clothes, and a tendency to thieve and destroy, had been disturbing the natural life on the outskirts of Stillwater Crossing for weeks. Reid had woken up to Mrs. Melson - the retired teacher, so old, no one knew her first name because she had been Mrs. Melson in class, even to Reid - screaming at the top of her lungs about the horse head in her kitchen. She wasn’t exaggerating; Stillwater was known for the wild horse herds that lived in the hills east of it, and somehow they had ended up here, breaking windows and eating crops. After a little digging around, Reid discovered that the horses had all been scared away by robgoblins in the hills.
The horses were a minor disturbance, but what really set the village off was when robgoblins began hurling dynamite into the river. The only fish coming with the current were dead fish; the rest had been frightened away. When Reid found this out, his blood boiled. Fishing not ran only in his blood, but it was the village’s largest export and kept it alive.
Within a few weeks, it was evident that without their fish, not only would Stillwater starve, it would fall into an economic crisis and soon cease to exist.
Reid Stillwater was no negotiator, but he made the hike up the hills outside the village to speak to the robgoblins, to try and work something out. But the selfish little imps refused to listen, didn’t care to negotiate or even know how to care about the well-being of others.
Furious, Reid returned to his home and stewed a while longer, until an idea struck him. He sat at the kitchen table, drawing out parchment and ink, and scribbled furiously for several minutes.
The letter was addressed to the Captain of the Royal Guard:
“...you have always been our military and our police. You can right the wrongs in Sacred Grove, save a village which will go under if things are not corrected. If you can spare a few of your soldiers, the people of Stillwater Crossing will be in your debt.”
The next few days inched by, and Reid watched many a person pack up their meager things and leave. His hopes dimmed, until the Royal Guard crossed the river from the eastern hills and announced that they were safe now.
Even the Captain of the Royal Guard himself understood the importance of the meek fishermen’s village, and even he would send his best to protect it.
If my brother had not been so stubborn, none of this would have happened. But here I sat, on the eldest’s throne, where I had always wanted to be - but for not much longer. Here I was, but Marius was dead and it was his own fault. But I was getting the blame for it.
In my youth, I concocted a plan to get rid of my brother for good, so the throne would be mine. I knew I was willing to go to any extremes to do it; I just needed the perfect way for it to happen.
Marius was infamous for not wearing his diadem. One day, I snuck into his bedchamber and found it, slipping my own off and putting his on. To my great surprise, my form in the mirror shimmered, and I looked down in shock as I began to change forms. When I returned my gaze to the mirror, Marius was staring back at me.
No way. He had enchanted his diadem.
I wished to appear as a human, and before I knew it, I was staring back at one, shorter and wider than my elven form, with their silly rounded ears.
Slowly, it began to dawn on me what I could do with this newfound power. I could disguise myself as Marius, and fake my own death. That way, there was no chance of our other brothers getting the throne.
My plan ended up working, and I took the throne. I didn’t even need to kill Marius, because he ran away on his own. And he took the diadem with him, disguising himself as some pixie so he could marry a peasant girl. It was foolish, but I didn’t care because I was deemed most fit to rule Silver Hills.
I had been king for thirty years before the great Cataclysm struck the realm, and I commanded my elven army to seal us behind the Crystal Barrier to keep the magic-binding tidal wave - the Blitz - from wiping us out.
Marius was the only elf outside of Silver Hills that refused to come home. He had fathered a new race, being an elf and Ashya, his wife, being a pixie. Now there were Druids, worthless half-breeds, if you’d ask me. Their magicks had been diluted; no way would their bloodline ever keep up with the elves’ power.
I could honestly care less what my brother wanted to do. If he wanted to stay out there, lose his magic, and possibly die, when the Blitz hit, that was fine with me. But I extended gracious invitation back into our kingdom in front of my subjects. When he refused, I accepted his choice.
But now, sealed behind this wall of ice and crystal, my subjects want to overthrow me for it. With nowhere to go, an overthrown king can’t go into exile. He can only be punished by death.
My stupid brother wasn’t coming back. I suppose the universe rights every wrong in time.
Red roses and frosted glass on my windowpane, Curly fries and kisses blurred in the rain.
Light streaming in on us both in bed, Pre-work kisses pressed to your forehead.
The bliss of not knowing what it is to come, And I guess the lifestyle I chose only works out for some.
Early morning runs and Christmas at the zoo, Red dresses and tattoos and your pickup truck too.
Prom court and countless nights getting wasted, All that precious time wasted...
I’d give anything to go back to those days, All that remains sits wilting in my vase.
These little red roses, like all those times ago, Are all that he left me when he decided to go.
This is what happens when love isn’t forced, But this is what happens when high school sweethearts end in divorce.
The day Harriet went missing was the day the sky split open and turned purple, like a bruise that would just not go away. Briarwood had never been a safe place to live, but it was about to get worse.
Our patrols heard that the Hedge Knights were born from a rift in the world’s dark magic. I never knew whether to believe that or not, but I knew that they were real. Completely, terrifyingly, tangibly real. And when our patrol spotted the Hedge Knight coming, I commanded them to run.
I held back the briar branches so they could escape - predators in Briarwood thrived off the scent of blood - and squeezed my way past. The branches raked the skin of my arm, exposed by my short sleeved shirt.
Blast, I cursed, and heard them calling up ahead. “Commander, run!”
Regrettably, I threw a glance over to my shoulder and it, in all its glory. Huge, nine or ten feet tall, magenta in color. Legs and arms thick as tree trunks, magenta in color. Its clothes were in tatters and its unkempt pink hair stuck up in spikes all over its head. Its eyes were black slits in its pointed face, and its great pointed fangs protruded from its huge mouth. Worst of all, the bright beam of magic encircling it’s hand was crackling with energy, moments before it threw it.
I leaped away with a yelp as the ball of mana exploded a few feet away. As I landed, I rolled my ankle onto the hard ground and stumbled. Don’t fall now, I urged inwardly, and righted myself at the last moment. That’s when the next ball of magic struck me in the back.
“Virgil!” Harriet shouted.
All the breath left my body as I plummeted to the ground. Pain crackled through me and my mind felt strangely clouded.
“Virgil! Get up!” Harriet’s hands were on my shoulders, pulling me up. Confusion washed over me. What was she doing back here? She was supposed to be running with the others.... what were we running from?
Harriet’s body slammed into the ground, and the Hedge Knight roared furiously. Hungrily. I was on my feet in an instant, grabbing Harriet’s hand.
“Go!” she commanded me, shoving me hard. “Run!”
“Come on!” I said. “I’m not leaving you!”
“It’s not going to stop until it takes someone. Get out of here, Virgil! I’ll give you some time!”
I looked up at the rest of our fleeing patrol. She was right, but why did it have to be her? The Hedge Knight’s hand struck her again; she didn’t even have time to draw her sword.
The monster was distracted; I had no choice but to run. We could get away as it took its victim.... but it broke my heart to run as the Hedge Knight claimed my wife’s life...
I looked back a last time, and Harriet and the beast were gone.
Vanished, as if they were a wisp of smoke.
He breathed in the familiar scent of sand and desert sky. It was old country, but everything was different now.
At long last, it was time for Dorn to return home. It had been four long months since the Gloam had chased them from the valley, and longer still since life had been “normal” in a sense.
Life will never be normal again, Dorn thought, as he followed the other Dwarves across the bridge. Now that Gus was gone, not only would the lives of the Freewheelers be changed, but Dorn was about to step into a huge position of leadership not only in their gang but in Sunstone Valley.
The Dwarves had suffered a lot, starting with the attack at the Rumbledome one Friday evening that had left their peaceful villages in tatters. That’s when the Freewheelers knew that Gloam armies had returned to the realm after years of exile. Like everyone in Sacred Grove, the native creatures of Sunstone Valley were hosts of all sorts of natural magicks, but it paled chiefly in comparison to the forces of dark mana the Gloam had harnessed throughout their time terrorizing Sacred Grove.
After the Gloam’s attacks had driven the Dwarves into mass exodus of their home in Sunstone Valley, they had been forced to relocate into Shrouded Glade, the home of the Druids. It was a difficult decision, and Dorn probably wouldn’t have come to it without Gus. He had been so sure it was their only choice, despite being firmly disliked by the stuffy Druids. They seemed to believe they were better than the Dwarves, possibly other races as well, because of their prodigal skill and knowledge in magicks, and their beloved Magic Academy in the northern mountains. Luckily, the Royal Guard’s reinforcements had been enough to bridge the Druids and the Dwarves so that the Gloam invasion in Shrouded Glade could be staunched. Dorn’s brother, Gus, and the Gloam’s General, Drahk, had traded fire in the final hour of the battle and the two sides were at a stalemate. Leaderless, the Gloam were forced to flee. And Dorn had been left to rally the Dwarves and lead them back into the homeland.
The day had finally come to go home. But the acrid tang of smoke in the air was enough for Dorn to realize that Sunstone Valley was no longer a safe haven. Their homes were shells of what they had been, battered and still smoking. Manguana were everywhere, pushed up the cliffs from the remains of the Gloam that still hung around in the valley.
“What do we do?” asked one of the others, Sindri.
“Yeah, Dorn, what are we supposed to do now?”
The crowd’s murmurs rose, as did Dorn’s panic. For the thousandth time since Gus had fallen, he wished his brother was here. He knew what they must do; they had to take back the valley. It would be harder than it sounded.
And it was up to him, now, to lead them.
