[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 115 – Painful Truths

By the time Mel got out of the forest room, most of the Magi had settled in. Collectively, the group behaved like cats. The general idea was to let them adjust to the space without forcing anything onto them.

Being there to greet them would have made it seem like Mel was rubbing her good fortune in their face. The only way she could have made it worse would be to overtly tell them that they were welcome and to enjoy themselves.

That would have collectively put all their backs up.

Magi were weird, but they were the sort of weird that Mel understood.

Unfortunately, there was something crucial Mel forgot.

Hush.

An especially wooly Komachi was running around, having fun being chased by Mel’s familiar, until he got tired and slithered over to the very woman Mel really didn’t want him to get too close to.

Charlie delicately reached out a bare hand to the serpent, who eagerly twisted up her arm to rest on her shoulder. She stroked his snout, watching the tiny creature fondly.

Jacob was relaxing in the sauna without his armor for once. And Logan, that bearded Archer from earlier, was speaking quietly to Gwen off to the side of the main room.

The gruff guy with a deep, cowboyish voice was aptly named. He could give Wolverine a run for his money.

The pair seemed to get along well, even though the guy couldn’t seem to string together more than three words at a time.

More often than not, he grunted noncommittally.

Okay, less like Logan, Mel thought. I’m definitely getting more Ron Swanson vibes. Like…a really buff and fit Ron Swanson.

Mel was intentionally giving the Magi their space, and they treated her in kind. In fact, as Mel gingerly stepped around the groups that had been formed during the Convocation, she started to get the distinct impression that they were avoiding her.

Okay, that’s a little odd.

From what Gwen could tell, Mel was well-liked among the Magi. Her own memories, fuzzy though they were, pointed to roughly the same.

The problem with Mel’s memories was that they didn’t match the current crop of Magi. Sylvie was a Magi, but where was Deklin? Why wasn’t Hal still on Aldim? What about Shannon and Pyx? What about Olivia, Jordan, Amala, Alquis? They didn’t seem to exist.

Some people were the same, but a great many were different. All the Archivists were the same, but that was unsurprising considering they had a specific naming scheme that would work no matter who was attending.

Mel wasn’t sure whether Gwen had forgotten to tell her some things or not. To be fair, it would be difficult to explain everything that she didn’t know without being prompted.

Obviously, not all the Magi made it to this area. Maybe they’re somewhere else in the multiverse now, or still in the hidden realm of Brookmoors.

It was a comforting thought that the academy was still out there somewhere, even if she couldn’t go back.

When Mel caught sight of Ashera, the pale lamora with hair like spun moonlight and small cow horns, she couldn’t stop herself. She made a beeline for the woman, determined to get some answers once and for all.

“Hi, Ashera,” Mel said.

The way the lamora jumped in surprise and a hint of fear confused Mel, but she soldiered on. She was not going to be deterred.

“Where’s Elora?” Mel asked. She chuckled. “Didn’t leave her on Aldim, did you?”

Ashera’s eyes widened in further confusion. However, she was still Ashera, so she smiled politely and cocked her head to the side. “Aldim? Who is Elora?”

The total lack of recognition shattered what was left of Mel’s mental walls, holding back the tide of truth she had refused to let in for so long.

During the Convocation, she had plenty of evidence and proof. She denied it. Even the words of a literal goddess fell on her deaf ears. She didn’t want it to be true. She had even ignored Askara’s remark on Mel’s Heartbound. That was something most people never found.

Instead, Mel focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Compartmentalization was a required skill of any magical practitioner, but more so for Magi who trained on other Worldshards.

If you didn’t keep those lives separate, you’d go crazy.

There was no Convocation trial to keep her attention anymore. She had no excuse to reinforce her mental barricades, and she hadn’t slept at all. There was no greater danger than the one she was smack dab in right now.

“Sorry, my mistake,” Mel said with a forced smile. She hurried away before Ashera could ask anything else. She brushed past a startled Gwen as well, who was carrying a happy pink slime in her arms.

There is no way Ashera would ever forget. I didn’t even forget Aldim.

Mel tried desperately to reassert her barriers, but it was no good. The more she tried, the stronger the suffocating feeling became.

It all came crashing down on her just as she reached the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Miyan, Mel’s thoughts echoed the goddess’ name for her. One Without Place.

Askara had been right.

She didn’t belong.

The more Mel was left alone, the more she realized she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. Seeing all the Magi gathered here, talking amongst themselves while avoiding her, made it painfully clear.

They were not her Magi.

Mel’s breathing grew ragged and shallow. It felt like the walls were closing in around her, forcing her to face the ugly truth that she could no longer deny.

Mel turned to focus her attention on the glittering waters below. The sun had begun its final descent, but parts of the crater lake were already shadowed.

Using an old anxiety-relieving technique, Mel focused on the boats and counted them one by one. She named things she could smell or feel in the immediate area. Anything to keep her grounded. She forced her breathing to be even and steady, though all she wanted to do was scream and deny the truth that battered at the edges of her mind.

Charlie rose, approaching Mel, of all people. Mel saw Charlie drifting toward her like a ghost in the reflection of the glass. It felt like it took years for her to cross those few feet. Mel tuned her out and redoubled her counting and naming.

I’m not her!

Mel was so focused on her breathing and counting the small sailboats that she nearly jumped out of her skin when Charlie put a hand gently on her shoulder.

“HEY!” Mel shouted. She clapped her hands to her mouth and swallowed. The eyes of every person there turned toward her. “Hi.”

Charlie smiled softly, studying her face with tender sympathy. “Hello, Mel.” She made a dismissive motion at the other Magi, though few turned away from the spectacle.

Before Mel knew what was happening, Charlie had taken Mel into her arms and enveloped her in soothing comfort. “You’re going to be okay. You’re among friends and family. You’re safe with me.”

Mel expected to be confronted, to be accused, anything but be comforted.

Perhaps, if Mel was a better, more well-adjusted person, Charlie would have guided Mel through the heart pounding, trauma induced panic attack. They could have shared a true moment of connection.

Maybe that would have worked on the other Mel. The one Charlie thought she was comforting.

I’m not her! Mel’s thoughts screamed at her like a banshee announcing a poor soul’s early demise.

Comforting this Mel was the worst possible outcome.

For a moment, Mel let her guard down and felt her eyes sting with hot tears. Before they had a chance to fall, she shoved Charlie aside and sprinted to the portal doors that would take her down to the lobby and away from her pain.

Eyes filled with tears, Mel could hardly see where she was going. She moved entirely on instinct once she was down on the ground floor.

Every beautiful castle had its dirty little cramped backrooms. That was where she fled. Not out the front doors, but into the guts of the Starling Tower where workers and commoners made their living.

The claustrophobic corridors in drab, monotonous colors soothed her. She felt more confident of herself surrounded by people who just worked for a living.

There was no finery here except that which was being cleaned or brought up to the guests. Mel sprinted at top speed past people folding sheets, preparing sumptuous feasts, or simply sitting around a small shabby secondhand table and playing cards on their lunch break.

Someone chased after her, forcing aside people and things in the way, determined to keep up.

Mel found her exit through a dark passage and came up in a tight warren of alleys that nobody with money in their bank was meant to see.

Relying entirely on her intuition, Mel navigated the dirty back-alleys as if she had lived in them all her life.

In a way, she had. These were her streets. She knew them like she knew the back of her hand. The awful and familiar smells were the same no matter what Worldshard you went to.

People were still people, even when you gave them magic and spells to accomplish a thousand tiny miracles every day.

Mel didn’t know how long she had been running. When she finally stopped and took stock of her situation, she was surrounded by several filthy and raggedly dressed men in some back-alley courtyard that clearly saw less than an hour’s worth of light a day.

Though the men smiled at her, Mel could see that there was maybe a full set of teeth between the six of them.

“Evenin’ darlin’. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

***

Things were coming undone around the edges. Cracks spread through the composure Charlie rebuilt brick by brick every single day, no matter how hard it was every time.

No matter who died, or that the entire world had disappeared because so many things went wrong.

The Necromancer summoned her staff in a swirl of obsidian ash, unable to keep the fury from boiling over anymore. She strode into the center of the grand room, demanding the entire Magi’s attention.

Eyes that had just been glued to Mel’s dramatic and sudden exit were transferred to her. All except two. Gwen took one confused look around, saw Mel sprinting with her head down like she was fighting against gale force winds, and took off after her. Heath was close behind.

Sylvie held an especially shaggy and wooly Komachi in her arms, though the chonky pobul was struggling like she wanted to go after Mel.

There were so many things she could say. For one, she could treat them with respect.

Charlie didn’t particularly feel they deserved it anymore.

“Show some sympathy! Do I need to remind you that we are all responsible for the Invocation?” Charlie shouted, scaring them all with a glimpse of the truth they were forbidden to speak. It was only possible with Heath, Mel, and Gwen gone. “When it truly mattered, Mel was the one that paid the ultimate sacrifice! Are you all so ashamed of your Guilt that you can’t look her in the eyes? How dare you make Mel Harper feel unwanted!”

Charlie glared at her witch hat, swept it off her head, and tossed it onto a nearby table. “I’m not even sure I want this anymore if this is the lot I’m stuck with.”

Tanned and clean-shaven, Solomon stood up and dominated the room. He walked calmly and quietly to Charlie’s hat, picked it up, and handed it back to her. “Nobody is without blame here, Charlie,” he said.

The serpent that was Mel’s familiar curled up gloomily on Charlie’s shoulder. Despite her anger, she stroked his snout, giving the poor creature soothing comfort. “And yet, none of us that called Brookmoors Academy home will be abandoned. We are all that we have left in this corner of the multiverse.”