Chapter 63: We Did A Thing

  Emma and Sophie had joined the rest in the woods after getting both more agitated and nervous the longer they had waited for them.

  “His wounds are mostly healed, but I don’t have enough juice for his neck and back right now. It’ll take a lot of—” Jessie started as she leaned back from another short healing session.

  Erik’s eyes flashed open, the whites of his eyes black, with thin red lines like cracks. His pupils, normally a calm blue, were now a torrent of red, which glowed enough to light up the area nearby despite it still being light out.

  His body jerked, and while he didn’t seem able to get up, his face showed no sign of emotion or pain. After a futile second attempt, his third attempt yielded results—his body contorting enough for him to sit up despite his broken bones and neck.

  With a quick snap, Erik’s hands spun his neck back around the right way in one twist. His head stopped, facing forward, staring at Jessie with deadpan eyes.

  Jessie, unlike the humans in the party, remained seated, making no effort to jump back despite the odd motions Erik made. Everyone else had leapt back the moment his eyes opened, and were now standing behind Jessie, looking over her and down at Erik’s puppet-like behaviour. The Witch stared back into Erik’s ghostly black eyes.

  “Witch,” Erik said, though it wasn’t his voice. It was raspy yet stern and sounded more feminine.

  “Yes?” Jessie answered, her voice catching.

  “Repeat,” the voice said.

  Erik’s aura then exploded out of him, luckily without the Authority effect. The aura then tightened back around him while also encompassing Jessie’s entire body. She attempted to do the same with her own aura, following the strange order coming from her best friend. While struggling to expand it in as violent a way and contract it again as finely, she did eventually do something close enough for the voice inhabiting Erik to deem it acceptable.

  The two Remnants now sat facing each other, their auras intertwined and encompassing both.

  “Excellent,” the voice said in a congratulatory manner before grabbing hold of both of Jessie’s hands, not holding back an ounce of strength as her fingers and hands both cracked in response to the pressure he exerted. She reacted, and despite her wincing in pain, she pushed back with her dwindling strength.

  Through the physical contact, the voice controlling Erik started pushing his aura away from him and over towards Jessie—but it wasn’t just his aura. It felt odd, though not in a bad way. She noticed the light from his crest creeping into the aura as it left him, tinging the grey cloud with red.

  A sudden realisation struck her, and she pushed her own magic—what little remained—into her own aura, merging both in the same way Erik’s body was doing. It took a surprising amount of effort, and her low energy didn’t help. She’d already been near fainting.

  The two auras split, each now surrounding the other’s body instead of themselves or both, separated from the owners from their hands. Erik’s aura felt warm and welcoming to Jessie, just as Erik had always felt to her. At that moment, a sudden worry regarding how her own aura felt to him surged through her.

  “I accept,” the voice said.

  “I…accept?” Jessie tried after a few seconds of anticipation, waiting for the voice to do anything else before repeating its words.

  Erik’s mouth then stretched into an eerie grin unlike anything Jessie had ever seen him do before. His eyes shut and his body fell limp on the ground, releasing her hands. His aura retracted and returned to normal, but the dim light from his Crest remained.

  Feeling an odd sensation inside herself, Jessie looked around in confusion. Something was screaming, but not…out here. Right before fainting, she followed the voice into her own mindplace.

  A tall, statuesque armour stood before Jessie. Its red and black hue brought to mind Erik’s eyes from only moments before. Jessie’s mindplace was more abstract than physical, and seeing something so solid in front of her was baffling in itself.

  The armour moved, approaching Jessie with intent. Whatever the armour stepped on turned into multi-coloured smoke, just like it did when Jessie stepped on it. Her senses screamed at her, telling her that the moving armour was unlike anything else in this place. When it started speaking, Jessie realised what—who—this was: Erik’s core spirit. What was it doing controlling him? How was it here?

  “I require your assistance, Witch,” it said.

  “I have a name, you know,” Jessie argued, meeting the red spirit’s tone with a similarly stern tone of her own.

  “You are…alike,” the armour groaned. “Jessie. I require your aid in fixing my Titan.”

  “Your Titan?” she asked, her eyes like slits.

  “Damn it, Witch! I beg for your help,” the armour shouted, though its feelings on the matter still crept through its harsh nature.

  “You’re worried about him…what can I do?” Jessie asked.

  “You must enter his…mindplace…and heal the tear in his core.”

  “How? I can’t…” Jessie started, but realised something else was different. Nearby, not inside her mindplace, but next to it…was something else.

  With a simple step and not a word more to the armour, Jessie vanished from her own colourful world and appeared in front of Erik and his entourage of various odd-looking creatures. All around her was nature, warmth, and calm…except for the looming tear in the world above.

  “Cross Vigor,” a voice sounded from everywhere around the Titan ancestral spirit. A fog of colours gathered into a ball, which expanded in every direction, eventually forming the body of a female humanoid with six arms and a multitude of eyes, all with pupils of different colours. Her skin was purplish-red and her hair, tied in a convoluted knot, was as red as blood.

  “Te Ara. I had a feeling it was you lingering nearby,” the armoured spirit responded in a formal tone.

  “You have the gall to go against the very Accords you signed? All to steal away my Witch?” Te Ara—Jessie’s ancestral spirit—said as she stretched all her arms, the joints in her arms cracking one after the other.

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  “I apologise, Te Ara. I had no choice. My—”

  “Oh. If you’re here, then…a Titan?” Te Ara asked, her red, full lips growing wide in something resembling a slight grin. “The Titan. It’s beginning again, isn’t it?”

  “It’s uncertain. We won’t know for a long while yet. If they survive that long.”

  “Yes. It wasn’t long after her rebirth my Witch found herself…actively in trouble. A harsh yet fruitful awakening. Already she has grown much, and now even Joined with her First…suspect as the reason may be.”

  Te Ara’s plentiful eyes turned to slits as all of them stared at Cross Vigor.

  “I will not apologise again, Te Ara. Her mending was needed for my Titan. His core was…torn,” Cross explained.

  “I don’t mind. I don’t appreciate the risk of completing a Joining so early in her growth, but she made her choice herself. She even completed the deed herself. Your Titan is the one cheating here,” Te Ara grinned, her white teeth peeking out from her lips like the sun through the clouds. She said this even whilst knowing the conditions of a Joining.

  “Her control is…passable,” Cross volunteered.

  “High praise from the Cross.” Te Ara grinned even wider, her eyes all blinking separately as if they were each laughing. “If only I could tell her about it.”

  “I must return. It was good to see you again, Te Ara, despite the circumstances. Since we cannot commune normally…I would like to do this again. Sometime.”

  Te Ara tilted her head to the side, half her eyes blinking in sync, the others staring at Cross unblinkingly.

  “Agreed,” the Witch’s ancestral spirit said, her voice suddenly a more sincere tone.

  Cross bowed her head just as she vanished from Jessie’s mindplace.

  “How are you even here?” A relieved and worried man asked as Cross reappeared in Erik’s mindplace. She appeared behind Erik, Jessie, and most of her Titan’s spirits.

  “We did a thing, and here I am. I think we’re neighbours now, kind of. Or married. It was very ritualistic. Some romantic undertones.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “It was very beautiful.” The reply was strained, but came from the visiting Witch in the middle of casting her healing spell.

  That the spell was touch-ranged had no say in the matter whilst inside Erik’s mindplace. Everywhere she touched—even the false air she was breathing—was part of the construct that was his mindplace, which was a part of the magic core that was damaged.

  “So, the thing?” the Titan asked.

  “Yes, a thing. It was weird, and exciting, and scary, and shut up. Let me focus!”

  “What did you do, Cross?” Erik asked without needing to turn around.

  “What needed to be done to get her here. Now, shut up and let her focus,” Cross said, her tone almost…positive?

  Jessie smiled through her strained breathing as thin, ethereal strings became visible in the tear in the sky. The blue strings seemed to sew the edges of the torn hole, incrementally reducing its size the more strings that appeared to close it.

  “Ignoring the fact that you two are so chummy…that isn’t like your healing spell at all,” Erik commented as his manifested body looked up at the mending tear.

  “No, but I’m not the one sewing it shut, either,” answered Jessie.

  “What? Then who?” Erik asked, just as he realised it was his own doing. “Oh. Does that mean it’s working?”

  Sophie watched her sister sitting beside Erik’s still body in a meditative state. The Crests on each of their chests were glowing the same red colour, showing the use of magic, but something new was happening to both of them.

  Right as Jessie and Erik had finished whatever odd ritual they had been performing several minutes before, a soft glow had lit up in one major ability slot each; Jessie’s middle circle and Erik’s upper left hexagon, the closest to his heart. The light glowed in a pale, multi-coloured spectrum that at most times seemed white. Once again, something was happening between them that Sophie didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. Not yet…

  Every time her sister told her to stay behind, Sophie had to convince herself that the chance of her dying wasn’t part of her reasons to come with them. Not that she wanted to die. She didn’t at all. All she wanted was to be with her sister. But what her sister was doing now would eventually, likely sometime soon, make their being together impossible. Unless…

  “He seems to be breathing easier,” Dunham said, placing his hand on Sophie’s tense shoulder.

  The hand was dark red with a mix of fresh and dried blood. Sophie didn’t mind it. It was warm, and his gentle touch made some of the tension leave her body almost immediately. Comforting words from a doctor were quite reassuring, despite all the magic that had impacted her life in the past weeks.

  “You should all go rest. I’ll keep an eye on these two,” he said.

  Emma grabbed Sophie’s hand and led her away. Sophie didn’t resist, but her eyes struggled to withdraw from the two Remnants. Angela followed behind after sharing a few words with Dunham. When Angela caught up to them by the car, she turned around to look in the same direction that Sophie and Emma were both glaring at. Across the field of beast corpses, they all saw something moving. It was still distant, but it was moving fast—getting closer to them.

  Sophie heard mechanical clicking sounds from her companions’ mundane weapons. As Emma’s rifle barrel lowered in the same direction, Sophie realised how stupid she had been until this point. Not anymore. Jessie would worry either way, but Sophie decided she could stand up for herself.

  “Can I get a gun?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Here,” Angela said, interrupting Emma while holding out a hand towards Sophie, grasping a large handgun.

  Sophie nodded and accepted the gun. She had practised with a gun a few times ever since they went to Africa. Now, that just seemed like a small holiday, hunting singled-out Hellbeasts. Until that day. The day Peter died. The day she understood how unhelpful she had been.

  With a determined grimace, she checked the gun as she had been taught. She flipped the safety off when she was done. She knew the gun wouldn’t hurt any hounds attacking them, but if she were to die today, she would die fighting. For her sister, for Erik, for her new friends. For Peter. Most of all, for herself.

  She raised the gun with both hands, looking down the short barrel. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face as she realised what they were all looking at.

  “Is that…?” she asked.

  “Damn right,” Emma said, lowering her rifle and putting it up against the car behind them.

  Moments later, a slew of military vehicles rolled up on the other side of the pool of death, stopping on the far side. Several officers gawked at the enormous piles of believed near-immortal beasts from hell. A figure pushed forth in the crowd forming near the edges of the battlefield.

  A female husky voice gave loud orders to the crowd through the radio; Sophie only heard it because of the in-car radio behind her.

  “Is that…?” Emma asked this time, turning around to look towards the radio.

  “General Mathisen,” Angela confirmed.

  The general was giving orders to get a path clear through the battlefield, but stopped short to wave back as Angela and Emma both waved ferociously at her.

  A few minutes later, a boat-like vehicle drove through the battlefield, its shape designed to clear a path through anything. Several more minutes went by as the immediate area on Sophie and the rest’s side of the battlefield filled with uniformed men and women. The person Sophie suspected was the general was tall and muscular, but hugged Angela and Emma both in a warm hug the very second her feet touched the ground on their side.

  Then, the general gave orders through the radio once more, and several officers ran towards the forested area where Dunham, Jessie, and Erik were. The last few who dashed towards the forest were carrying stretchers.

  “Sir!” shouted the uniformed man as the medic taking care of the two wounded pointed his gun straight at him.

  The medic seemed confused, his eyes darting between the wounded while scanning the immediate area, his finger already pushing the trigger halfway.

  “Sir!” he tried again. “We’re friendly,” he tried as more officers approached from behind him, having heard him shout. The medic still didn’t seem to believe him. He raised his hands slowly, showing his open palms clearly. An officer behind him did the same, yet approached carefully.

  “Dunham, sir! It’s Jeffrey. Officer Jeffrey Barnes. Remember me? We’re here to help. Please lower the gun, sir.”

  Appreciating his fellow soldier’s guts and realising Barnes had a better shot at calming the medic, the first one stepped aside, letting the second forward. What had this medic experienced to make him so…paranoid? Or was he just being protective?

  “Barnes?” Dunham asked with a deep exhale. He lowered his gun, tears streaming down his dirty, bloodied face the next moment.

  “It’s me, sir. The cavalry’s here,” said Barnes, signalling the first officer to check on the two wounded.

  The officer inched towards them as Dunham cried. Barnes approached Dunham rather than the wounded, letting the medics from the back pass by.

  “I need to know, sir…are they safe to move?” the soldier asked, looking at the medic and Barnes.

  It took Dunham a few snuffles, but he answered back in a normal voice, if not in a bit of a humorous tone. “These guys?” Dunham asked, looking at the man and woman covered in wounds and somehow…glowing? “These two won’t go down no matter what you throw at them. Let’s get them back up there.”