“All of this turbulence wasn’t forecasted / Apologies from the intercom”
Everything had been going so smoothly; that’s had with a hard ‘h’ ‘a’ and ‘d’. Sybil’s recovery had progressed without any further trouble, and after the two had taken the time to get over everything they’d just been through, Sybil offered a more cohesive explanation of just what had caused her little episode. Apparently she’d burned away all her magical energy stores with that big-ass magic blast, expending way more than any single spell of that sort should ever need. Why, exactly, she’d done that wasn’t something Sybil seemed willing to talk about. But that had left her exhausted, and also had been the reason her tattoos lost their glow. The snake figurine which restored her functioned as a sort of self-charging magical battery. It gathered ambient magic, and could be used to rapidly recover lost energy when recovery through a good night’s sleep wasn’t feasible. Its appearance was entirely cosmetic; Sybil just really liked snakes. Which was cute, honestly.
All rested and ready to move on, they’d set out, a mere two days walk—which, with neither car nor horse nor flying machine, was pretty good—and made good time to their destination. Things were going well between the two over the course of their journey. They were talking once again, not so distant anymore. Madelyn even, for the first time in a long time, years even, felt like they didn’t need to be anyone besides themself. All things considered, everything was actually pretty nice. Doubts about the future still lingered in the back of Madelyn’s mind. They still got sad from time to time that such an interesting, complex, intelligent and attractive person was already taken. But overall, they felt more comfortable than they had in a long while, both around Sybil, and with themself. The matter of their gender still hung over their head; more than anything, though, it was just a relief not to be called by that other name anymore, or called he anymore. If things extended beyond that, then that could wait as far as Madelyn were concerned. They were enjoying themself, for the most part, so they decided to prioritize that over existential questions.
Along the way, among other things, Sybil had explained just what their newest goal was. She was seeking a particular leafy plant called nyllwev. It was fairly hard to find on Sybil’s side of the planet, as it was native to more tropical environments. But nyllwev just so happened to be cultivated by a group who lived in a—relatively—nearby, but very isolated community. In the past, travelers could simply come and go as they pleased, pick some of the plant, pay the community for their harvest, and be on their way. At some point in the past decade, though, the aforementioned community had been taken over by some kind of cult. A cult which saw nyllwev’s hallucinogenic properties not as a fun little diversion and reason for growing exotic plants, but as a literal divine gift. At present, anyone outside that community who attempted to even touch their crop would be killed if caught. Meaning, if Sybil wanted some leaves—which, as it so happened, were useful in spellcasting because of their hallucinogenic properties; when used as a reagent, they made scrying easier—she and Madelyn would need to risk catching their ire.
It was fine, though; Sybil had a spell prepared that would cloak both her and Madelyn in shadow. It was proper high fantasy witchcraft practically straight out of some tabletop game’s ruleset. They would sneak into the fields to do their dirty work at night and be out before anyone even noticed the missing plant. That was the idea, anyway. As it turned out, it was actually not fine. What Sybil hadn’t known, was that smoking nyllwev not only gave one visions, but apparently made seeing through magical illusions easier. Which, in hindsight, made sense given the whole scrying thing. And, so, consequently, as Madelyn and Sybil crept through the edge of said nasty cult’s territory, making the quickest, quietest getaway they could manage, the passing patrol they ran into had no trouble at all spotting them. It didn’t take long for the cultists to be upon them, hurling all kinds of—admittedly true—accusations of theft and trespassing. They tried to run, but were headed off by two more guards, leaving the two surrounded by six cloaked, glassy-eyed men, with no clear way out besides violence.
The two were back to back, Madelyn gripping their sword with both hands, which trembled in tense anticipation. They’d felt this fear when the eyes of the lumbering dragon opened, gazing at them with hungry rage. Put simply, Madelyn didn’t want to die. Which was probably not supposed to be very noteworthy, but until fairly recently life had been kind of shit and they’d had a pretty ambivalent opinion on its continuation. Not like ‘actively planning on ending things’ ambivalent, more ‘if I died suddenly and painlessly in my sleep tonight that wouldn’t be the worst thing, I guess’ ambivalent. Regardless, there were more pressing matters to attend to. One of the cultists was talking, holding some big scroll which he was reading from, something about a sentence, crimes against their holy hallowed ground, yada-yada.
Speaking of, Sybil was facing him, standing tall and defiant, doing a pretty good job of hiding the fact that she, too, was trembling, Madelyn could feel her doing so. She didn’t seem particularly interested in listening to him finish whatever it was he had to say. This became abundantly clear when her finger lightly traced a shape on the back of Madelyn’s arm, and suddenly they could hear her voice in their head. “Hey, don’t say anything out loud, just think it. We’re not making it out of this without fighting through these guys. Are you ready to go? ‘Cause I’m not interested in waiting around for them to decide it’s time to seize, then kill us.”
Having Sybil in their head like this was strange; on the one hand, Madelyn could hear her voice, on the other, they could feel her less surface level thoughts and feelings as well. More than anything, there was fear and worry. Sybil didn’t want to die, obviously. But just as much, perhaps even more so, she desperately didn’t want Madelyn to die. There was a biting, black spiky cloud of hatred and rage she felt, overpowering her and growing with each word the man before her said. Sybil was getting ready to act. She wanted him dead. She wouldn’t stand by and let him hurt her, or Madelyn, the woman Sybil had grown so fond of in their brief time together. Madelyn shuddered, pushing those deeper thoughts away, trying not to think about how Sybil saw her as a woman, or that such an idea wasn’t at all unappealing.
“Yeah. I’m good,” they answered, or at least hoped they had. If nothing else, it was much easier to avoid sinking back into the whirlpool of Sybil’s thoughts while Madelyn was focusing on broadcasting their own.
“Good, then get ready, cause I’m going to fucking kill this guy.” They’d never heard such ferocity before. “Also, maybe close your eyes? Things are about to get very, very bright.” Sybil had only just finished sending Madelyn that last thought, when a blinding flash of white light erupted from her hands, pouring out in all directions. They’d barely had enough time to squeeze their eyes shut, and even through their eyelids the light glowed red as an ember. The light was still dissipating when, behind Madelyn, they heard a second noise rising above the sudden din of confused, pained, enraged shouting and groaning. Madelyn felt the heat of whatever Sybil had just done rise up and tickle their back and neck. The confused shouting and groaning was eclipsed by one man in particular’s yelps of pain. Madelyn opened their eyes, facing down their first dazed opponent. He was wielding some kind of mace, and was still staggering and blinking. Madelyn solved that problem for him, driving the sword downward hard at the base of the mace, knocking it from his hand and taking his index finger with it, then smashing his face in with the butt of their sword. He collapsed without further trouble; they’d forgotten just how strong they were for a moment.
Confidence surged, but only ever so briefly. Then the reality of what they’d just done sank in. His finger was completely gone now. Forever. And yeah, he’d have done a lot worse. Plus, Madelyn had definitely been in fights before. Had punched a guy’s lights out one time for being a drunk asshole at a party. This was different, though. For a moment, they seemed to choke upon their own throat as the sights and sounds and smells of combat set in all around them, and Madelyn quickly realized they weren’t cut out for this. Fighting the lumbering dragon was bad enough, but fellow human beings? They couldn’t kill a sentient person. A second cultist advanced. Taking advantage of their distracted state, he raised an axe into the air, then swung it downward toward their head. Acting on instinct alone, their arm rose to parry the blow, but their posture was all wrong; it rattled against their sword, the heavy blow sending painful vibrations through the metal, then up and down their arm. Madelyn’s eyes went blurry with tears even as they found themselves barreling forward to knock the man prone. They aimed a swift kick to the downed cutlist’s head, then a second into the one whose finger they’d severed, and did their best to stand upright.
The sound of something—actually two somethings—hitting something else right next to their ear snapped Madelyn out of their daze. The throbbing in their arm was still vibrating with rolling, slowly dissipating pain. At some point they’d started coughing; the smell was terrible. Their vision was still blurred, but somehow they were able to pierce the wall of sensory static and determine the origin of the sounds. Two arrows were in the midst of plinking off a shimmering barrier inches from Madelyn’s face. They followed the light to its origin, and for some reason their heart picked that moment to swell. Sybil was standing gazing at them with a look of fear and relief, panting, hunched over with eyes wide and mouth open. A dumb, useless part in the back of their brain wanted to melt. She’d saved them. Again. She cared. Then they saw the look in her eyes, and they felt everything. Sybil had never severed her mental connection to Madelyn. And when their eyes met, raw feeling poured between them.
Sybil was terrified. The spell she’d cast was very nearly deadly, leaving its victim incapacitated. But she’d meant for it to kill. To end a human life. The regret she was feeling was packed into each and every thought. And that guilt was undercut by the understanding that, by being unwilling to kill him, she was putting herself and Madelyn in more danger. She’d made the wrong choice coming here. Sybil wanted to be anywhere else. Didn’t want to die. Didn’t want the pain which thrashed in her gut. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened had ‘Ruuk not wound herself around the man who stabbed her there. She didn’t want to watch as her pet snake squeezed the life out of him either. Sybil wanted out. Wanted home. Wanted someone named Illis. And those arrows. She’d nearly been too late. Nearly lost Madelyn, the woman she—if the sound of brakes squealing, a record scratching, and nails scraping a chalkboard could be condensed into a feeling, that would begin to approach the harsh, sudden emotional stopgap they felt as Sybil forced them out of her head.
Madelyn took a step toward the trembling, hyperventilating girl, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder, cupping her chin to bring her gaze to their own. “It’s okay,” Madelyn whispered, pulling her into a grateful hug. Then Madelyn saw it. Behind Syibl, directly in their line of sight, the two bowmen were readying another volley aimed directly at Sybil. There wasn’t time. Sybil didn’t know. They couldn’t let her die here. Sybil needed to survive this; what would the point of it all be if she didn’t get to cast the spell in the end? Madelyn didn’t think. She acted. She tackled Sybil. Two arrows whistled through the air. Sharp pain exploded within them, but it was quick. Soon everything went dark.
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What Sybil hadn’t known, was that smoking nyllwev not only gave one visions, but apparently made seeing through magical illusions easier. Which, in hindsight, made sense given the whole scrying thing.
Oh that's not good
Oh no
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